Warrior (First to Fight #1) by Nicole Blanchard

Author:Nicole Blanchard [Blanchard, Nicole]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: A First to Fight Novel
Publisher: Bolero Books, LLC
Published: 2015-09-05T04:00:00+00:00

“Local art teacher Olivia Walker will be released from the hospital today in stable condition after a vicious attack Monday morning. The shooter, identified as an individual wearing dark clothing and driving a white sports utility vehicle, remains at large. Her son, the other victim in the attack, did not sustain any wounds and remains in the care of his father, war veteran Benjamin Hart. Stay tuned to WTVB, your station for breaking news.”

Ben pauses in the doorway, his eyes glued to the T.V. even though the anchor has moved on to another topic. I’m likewise frozen, my good arm hovering over my bag, clutching a handful of dirty laundry.

All of the things that we’ve put off while I was recovering hang between us. We lock eyes over the hospital bed and I fumble with the clothes I was attempting to sort neatly. Instead I dump them in a tangled mess and feign interest in my toiletries. The pain in my side is, thankfully, curtailed by a cocktail of drugs and luck, but that doesn’t help, as the bathroom proves to be more of a trap than an escape.

“We need to talk,” Ben says from the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I know.” I don’t turn to face him. I can’t. Instead, I hobble to the sink to grab my toothbrush. Keeping my hands and mind busy is easier than facing him.

His footsteps sound behind me and I can feel his warmth against my back. I close my eyes, my entire body freezing at his touch. It was easier to be mad at him. I almost prefer it. Being mad at someone is a whole hell of a lot better than being raw and open to them. I open my eyes and find Ben watching me in the mirror. His hand covers mine on the sink.

“I’m sorry.” He maneuvers my body gently so that I’m facing him. “I’m so damn sorry, Liv.”

I fumble with the toothpaste. “Um, what do you mean?”

“For leaving you.”

Unable to look him in the eye, I stare at the tile floor. “Don’t be sorry for that. You didn’t leave me. I don’t blame you for any of it. I shouldn’t have kept Cole from you for this long. When you came back, I fully intended on telling you before you left for your next assignment. I understand what it must have looked like, coming home to see me with a kid.”

He wraps his arms around my waist. One hand on my thigh under the first bullet wound, careful not to touch me. The other splays across my back. I’d be lying if I said the heavy weight of his touch wasn’t reassuring.

“That was all me,” he says. “I don’t want to get into what happened to me, but I was raw. It was a bad time and I overreacted. It scared me more than I want to admit to myself to come home and find that you’d almost been hurt. Now you have been hurt and I can’t help but feel like it’s because of me.

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