“Nah, I think I like it. It’s a little far from the rehab facility, but that’s what podcasts are for, right? Besides, it’s quiet out here, and I like that.”
“Doesn’t get much quieter. I think it’ll be good for Mal to have someone around right now anyway.”
Scarlett turned to her. “Why do you say that?”
Haylee shrugged. “He’s not very talkative about what happened, but I think sacrificing himself to save Dean took a mental toll as well. Not that he’d ever say so to me.”
Scarlett could only gape at the other woman as she put two and two together. Dean was Haylee’s fiancé and Mal’s teammate. And Mal had taken a bullet for him. The man who was marrying the woman he loved.
Daaaamn.
Her heart went out to him as she thought about what he must be feeling. The guilt and pain. The longing.
“You say sacrificing himself. What happened?”
“They won’t really talk about the details—can’t talk about it—but they were on a mission when an enemy combatant took aim at Dean.” Her voice caught on his name. She swallowed hard. “Sorry, still not used to it sometimes. The danger, I mean. All of it. Even though I met Dean when his team rescued me from a Guatemalan jungle—that’s a story for another time though.”
She sniffed and Scarlett put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed.
“I know better. I really do. I’m just so emotional lately.” Haylee drew in a deep breath before continuing. “Mal saw what was happening and put himself between Dean and the shot. You know the rest.”
Not entirely, but she knew Haylee was talking about Mal’s leg. Scarlett wanted to know the rest of it, though. What had been going through Mal’s head when he’d tried to save his teammate. How he’d gotten out of the combat zone, and what he felt now.
“I don’t know him well,” Scarlett said carefully. “But he seems fine in rehab. Honestly. He jokes with me, jokes with the nurses, and he’s curious about many things. He asks me about myself, my training, where I’m from. I know that’s not a lot, but it’s a normal interest in stuff. I’m no psychiatrist, of course, but I think that’s a good sign.”
Haylee nodded. “I think so too. I just feel so guilty. I mean I know it’s not my fault. Dean keeps telling me it’s the way they’re trained and all that, but I can’t help thinking if Mal hadn’t intervened, Dean might not have come home.”
“I don’t think he’d want you to feel guilty.”
“No, probably not. I know you aren’t going to take this apartment with the idea of being Mal’s caregiver or therapist or anything, but I’ll feel better knowing you’re here. Knowing there’s a friendly face nearby if he needs anything.”
Scarlett thought maybe Haylee was making Mal a lot more helpless and feeble than he really was, but she wasn’t going to correct the woman. If it made her feel better that Scarlett was there, then so be it. Not that she expected it would make a difference at all. Mal wasn’t depressed. He just wanted what he couldn’t have. What Haylee took for the mental toll of the mission and its outcome was most likely Mal repressing his feelings for her.
Poor Mal.
“Like I said, I don’t know him well, but if he’s going to be my landlord, I guess I’ll see him a lot more than just at appointments. Maybe he’ll come borrow a cup of sugar or something.”
She said it jokingly, but Haylee nodded. “Yes, that’s true… Are you single, Scarlett?”
Scarlett felt herself closing in. She forced a smile. “Terminally so, I’m afraid. The last one was no picnic, so I’m done for the next decade or so.”
“I’m sorry. But I understand. Been there, done that. Then I got lucky and met Dean. It happens when you least expect it sometimes.”
Scarlett didn’t think Haylee had quite been to the same place that she had with a guy, but most women hadn’t. Thank heavens.
“That’s what I hear. Still, I’m not looking.”
“Gotcha. So, should we go tell Mal the news? Or do you want to look around some more?”
Scarlett threw another glance out the window. She loved the trees and the green field behind it. So pretty. It helped with any hesitation she felt over the distance, or the fact she’d be only steps from a military warrior’s house. But Mal wasn’t Josh. He wasn’t going to turn into an obsessive, controlling dickhead when she least expected it. Hell, the man had thrown himself in front of a bullet for a teammate—at least partly because of the woman standing beside her now. That wasn’t the act of a psycho.
Maybe, finally, things were going her way. For the first time in months, she felt happy with her decision. Happy with what the future could bring. Josh was a bad memory. He wasn’t going to find her ever again. She might never relax fully, but she could learn to enjoy each moment.
“I’m good. Let’s go.”
Chapter Seven
“You can stop clutching the armrest,” Mal said, throwing a glance at his passenger. “It isn’t that bad.”
Scarlett let go and sniffed. “Sorry. I’m just used to driving myself—and you did run a yellow light.”
“It’d just turned yellow.”
“But it was still yellow.”
“Yellow lights are merely suggestions.”
“A suggestion to stop so you don’t get creamed when it turns red.”
“Relax, Scar. We’re fine. I’ll stop at the next one if it makes you feel better.”
“I’m just ribbing you, Mal. Though you did kind of floor it when the light turned.”
They were in Mal’s truck, headed for a thrift shop where Scarlett had bought a couch that folded out into a bed. She’d been at the garage apartment every day for a week, cleaning and moving some of her things in. He’d offered to help, but she’d declined. Until now.
She needed help picking up a couch, and she wasn’t fitting it into her little SUV. When he’d asked her earlier when she was moving in, she’d said as soon as she got her bed into the apartment. Then she’d told him she was going to rent a truck from Home Depot so she could pick it up. He’d told her that was ridiculous when he had a truck and could help her.
She’d been reluctant, but she’d finally agreed when he’d pointed out that his help was free. Better than renting a truck from a home improvement store.
“Yeah, well, we’ve got a couch to pick up, don’t we?”
She laughed softly. “Thanks again for offering to help. I really appreciate it.”
“That’s what friends are for.”
“I know. I’m just not used to it. I’ve only been in the area for three months now. I don’t know many people.”
“You have friends at the hospital.”
“Some, yes. They work long hours, though, so I couldn’t ask any of them.”
“I feel like you aren’t an asker anyway.”
“Why do you say that?”
He made the turn into the thrift shop parking lot and found a spot near the door. “Not sure. You just seem very… enclosed is the word I’m looking for. Like you don’t want to bother anyone.”