Tears streamed down Nathan’s cheeks as he stared up at the sky, so brilliantly blue. It ought to be red for all the bloodshed and yet it was pristine and soft.
“Don’t go. Don’t leave me, Shea.”
The words broke painfully from his raw throat. He hadn’t realized he’d been screaming just a moment ago. He closed his eyes as pain engulfed him.
“Who the f**k is Shea?” Sam demanded.
“Mine,” Nathan murmured. “Mine.”
Donovan knelt to wrap Nathan’s leg to stop the bleeding. He didn’t even flinch. There was simply too much pain, too much loss.
Shea. Don’t go.
He caught a vague image of her curled into a tight ball, suffering alone. It was more than he could bear. And then his mind went blank. No Shea. It was as if she’d never existed.
“Get that f**king helo here!” Garrett yelled.
“Down! Down!” Sam hollered.
None of what they said made sense but suddenly Nathan found himself covered. Donovan pressed him to the ground.
“They’re American!” Ethan hollered. “Hold your fire! Hold your fire!”
Donovan pushed himself off Nathan and then stared down at his brother. “Looks like Uncle Sam decided to come along after all.”
Nathan turned his head, squinting into the sun. The valley was swarming with soldiers. It was too much to take in. He’d been on the verge of giving up all hope of ever returning home.
Thanks to a faceless woman with the voice of an angel and the strength of a warrior, he’d survived.
CHAPTER 9
SIX MONTHS LATER
KELLY COMPOUND, STEWART COUNTY, TENNESSEE
NATHAN hammered a nail into the two-by-four and then leaned back and wiped the sweat from his forehead. His hands shook and it pissed him off. He was still weak. Not fully himself. But then it was doubtful he’d ever be one hundred percent again.
He’d gained some of the weight back, but he was still whipcord lean and a good twenty pounds lighter than his normal size.
His house was framed. It could already be built by now, but he’d shunned a contractor. He couldn’t explain his drive to build the house himself, but it had become all-important for him to drive every nail, to create the refuge exactly as he envisioned it.
These days, it was all that kept him sane.
The mere idea of small, closed-in spaces made him break out in a cold sweat.
Weeks in a hospital had in some way been as hellish as his captivity. He’d felt helpless and he fought a daily battle over whether or not he’d imagined Shea. And worrying about her if she did in fact exist.
After having her as a shadow in his mind for so long, his head was frighteningly quiet. No comforting presence. But at other times, while he slept, he could swear he felt her. Warm and soothing, easing his pain and anxiety. When he awakened, she was never there. Still, he couldn’t discount the fact that the agony that should have incapacitated him simply didn’t exist.
The medical staff marveled at his ability to withstand and block out pain. What could he tell them? That he’d imagined a savior with the ability to take his pain as her own? They would have carried him away in a straitjacket. He’d probably still be locked up in some damn institution for psychiatric evaluation.
So yeah, he’d kept his mouth shut. During debriefing he’d kept to the facts. He’d been captured, tortured, and he’d managed to escape when they intended to kill him. Swanny must have kept his mouth shut too, because the incident where Shea and her sister had helped Swanny had gone unmentioned. Maybe Swanny himself didn’t even remember what had happened. Or maybe, like Nathan, he thought he was crazy.
Not as easy was answering his brothers’ questions when he was well enough and lucid enough to face them. They’d all hovered in his hospital room. His parents had flown in. The whole damn Kelly clan had gathered and had stayed in shifts until he was finally discharged.
One night when his parents had gone to eat with Rachel, Sophie and Sarah, his brothers had remained behind in his hospital room and they’d asked about the person who’d emailed Donovan. They asked who Shea was and why Nathan had screamed her name.
It was against his nature to lie to his family. He hated lying. But neither was he going to delve into his experience with Shea. She had to be real. How else would Donovan have received the emails he’d gotten? Van had even showed them to him.
He merely told them there was a sympathetic guard who’d promised to contact Nathan’s brother on Nathan’s behalf. Nathan had seen the disbelief in his brothers’ eyes. Questions that burned on their tongues, but they didn’t press. It probably damn near killed them.
As for Shea, the moment they mentioned her name, he refused to respond. He had no ready explanation, no easy way to explain away why he’d screamed for her not to leave him. So he said nothing, and his stony silence became a source of frustration for his brothers.
Nathan sighed as he hammered another nail. He knew his brothers worried. Nathan had changed, but hell, how could he not? How could anyone go through what he’d endured and not be fundamentally a changed man?
It wasn’t like he wanted to be different. He’d love to have his old life back. The same confidence. His resolute belief in his abilities. He’d give anything not to go to bed at night in a cold sweat because he couldn’t bear to close his eyes in case he woke up and was back in that cave being cut into ribbons again.
He hated the panic attacks. The loss of control. His sudden, unexplained fears at the most inopportune times. He’d come a long way since being discharged, but he still battled his demons on a daily basis. There were times, even though he was only six months out from his rescue, when he wondered if he’d always battle them. They seemed as much a part of him as breathing.