After kicking off her shoes and shrugging out of her jacket, she pulled off his T-shirt. He toed out of his sneakers and pulled off his socks, then stood immobile while she carefully unwrapped the tape on his hands.
She went as slowly and carefully as she could, but she knew she had to be hurting him. His skin was cut, raw and bruised. Blood seeped from open wounds. He looked as if he’d been in a hell of a fight and she supposed he had been. She wondered who the opponent had been and suspected it had been himself. But why?
When she was done with the tape, she opened the shower door. “Finish undressing,” she told him. “Take a shower. I’ll be back in five minutes.”
He nodded. She went out and closed the bathroom door behind him. She exhaled slowly when she heard him close the shower door.
She changed her clothes quickly and then dug out an old first aid kit. By the time she returned to the bathroom, Angel was toweling off. His blood left stains on her towel, but she didn’t care.
After he was dressed, she took him to the dining room, where she’d set out her supplies. At least now his hands were clean. She used an antiseptic spray and the largest bandages she owned to patch him.
“Is this going to be okay?” she asked. “Should you go to a doctor or the hospital?”
“Just a few scratches,” he told her.
His voice was low and rough. As if he hadn’t spoken in days. Or had been screaming until he was hoarse. She knew neither was true. She kept her hands lightly on top of his, careful not to put any weight on his wounds. She studied him.
His hair was mussed—damp and sticking up in places. He was pale. Still broad through the shoulders. Powerful, yet not fully with her.
“Angel? What happened?”
He looked at her. There was something in his eyes, she thought. A vacancy. For a second she wondered if he even knew she was in the room.
He swallowed. “We were both so damn young, Marie and I. Kids, really. I was a new recruit and she worked in her uncle’s store. Her family wasn’t happy about us dating. Not at first. But I was like that stray dog you can’t shake. No matter what, I wouldn’t go away. So they accepted the inevitable and we got married. Two months later, I shipped out.”
He was still staring at something she couldn’t see. Telling the story to her or to someone else? Maybe himself? She knew it didn’t matter. That in the telling came whatever healing he would have today.
He swore. “I missed her and I loved what I was doing about the same. Which made for a difficult time. When I got home a year later, she held out a baby boy. She’d been pregnant and hadn’t told me. She’d said she didn’t want to worry me. That I was doing dangerous things and needed to concentrate. She’d named him Marcus, after my dad.”
“That must have made you feel good,” she said quietly. “Happy.”
“I was. We were. We were a family and I loved them both.”
She moved her hands to his forearms and squeezed. She didn’t know why he was dealing with this today, but she could feel his pain. “It’s not your fault. It was an accident.”
“If I had been there... If I had been driving...”
“It’s not possible for one person to protect another from life.”
“I know.” His voice filled the room as he roared the words and stood. “I know that I couldn’t shield them from accidents and pain. But I should have tried. I should have been there. I loved them and I didn’t keep them safe.”
He crossed to the window and stared out at her small yard. She watched him, not sure what to do. She could intellectually understand his pain but couldn’t know what it felt like in her heart. Because she’d never allowed herself to love that much. Not even Jack, who had squeezed his way in more than anyone else.
She’d never been in love, had never wanted to be. Faced with his tangible grief, she wondered if it was ever worth it.
“What happened today?” she asked.
“I talked to Raoul Moreno. He wants my help with an antibullying program he’s starting. I said I would and he took me to the high school. I talked with some teenagers there. Boys.”
He turned slowly and faced her. His jaw tightened, as if he was holding in as much as he could.
“You know the irony?” he asked. “When I went to see Mayor Marsha about volunteering and she told me about the FWM, I thought I’d be working with boys. I figured I knew what that was like because of Marcus. Then, when I found out about the girls, I freaked.”
She smiled. “Yes, I was there.”
His mouth curved up slightly, then twisted again. “I was wrong. Being with those kids nearly did me in. All I could think about was Marcus. What he was like, how he died. I could barely talk. Raoul covered for me. I’m going to have to tell him what happened.”
And get over it, she thought. Because there was no way Angel was going to back away from the challenge.
“I didn’t know what to do,” he admitted. “The bag’s a safe place.”