Healing Trace by Debra Kayn

he was back on a horse three days after
surgery, while wearing a cast on his arm."
    "You're
kidding?" She shook her head. "Never mind. I believe you. I'm
learning Trace is tougher and more stubborn than anyone I've ever met
before."
    Brody's
smile faded. "He's the best friend I have. I wish…"
    She
waited for him to explain, but he shook his head and walked back down the
hallway. She closed the door and leaned against it for support. Curious about
what Brody was going to say before he caught himself, she had to admit it
wasn't the first time one of the guys seemed to hold back from speaking their
mind when the subject came to Trace.
    Ten
minutes later, Joan stared down at herself and had second thoughts. Despite how
much she liked all the men, and had grown comfortable around them, she was
still Trace's nurse, and a bikini meant for backyard sun tanning was not
appropriate clothing.
    Digging
through her bag, she found a yellow, oversized T-shirt and slipped it on. More
confident now that she had less showing, she relaxed. She'd just sit beside the
pool, dangle her legs in the water, and make sure Trace did nothing to get his
cast wet.
    Downstairs,
at the back of the house, the lights under the water lit up the pool area in
the night. Joan slid the glass door open and paused. Her stomach fluttered.
This wasn't a shared dinner or conversation in the living room with the guys.
    Swimming
was an intimate act, with bare skin, muscles, and moonlight.
    "Great.
You decided to join us." Devon stood behind the freestanding bar, smiling.
"You caught me playing server. What's your pleasure?"
    She
strolled to the mini bar. "What's everyone else having?"
    "Pop,
ice water, and lemonade." He shrugged. "But, we have beer, wine, juice,
and anything else you can imagine."
    "I'll
take lemonade. Thank you." She turned and found Trace. Brody had been
right.
    Trace
sat at the end of the pool with his bad leg stretched out on a towel, and his
other leg dipped in the pool, keeping his cast out of harm's way. He slouched
with his gaze directed toward the water. The ripples on the surface Brody
created in the pool when he jumped in reflected on Trace's face.
    The
glow emphasized the tired expression, as if he'd given up on ever getting rid
of the cast on his leg that kept him from normal activities. Raven hair lay
loose around his shoulders. She headed in his direction, her heart softening.
    Trace
didn't watch her approach, but kept staring down into the pool, lost in his
thoughts. She reached out and touched his shoulder.
    With
a wounded cry, his arm flew back and knocked her glass out of her hands and
into the water. However, it was the way he jolted, ducked his head, and flung
his arm over his face that made her physically sick. She reached out, but his
mouth hardened and his eyes shot out wounding her. Gone was the frightened mask
she saw seconds before, and in its place was anger, ready to lash out at her
once again.
    "What
the hell are you doing out here? You're a nurse, go find someone who needs
their ass wiped and leave me the hell alone." He leaned back for the
crutches.
    Shocked
and traumatized, she'd never, in all her life, forget the fear that'd spilled
out of him and poisoned the night.
    Many
times over the past weeks, she wondered what would cause his defenses to come
out and shut him off from her. The pain she witnessed on his face on occasions
wasn't coming from his leg. It came from deeper inside of him.
    How
many times had he stepped away from her touch, turned his back on her, or
snapped at her to push her away? Her chest tightened, until she thought her
next breath wouldn't come. She swallowed past the cry stuck in her throat. It
all made sense.
    They'd
taught her how to spot abuse in college, but she'd misread the signs in Trace
because he was an adult, a man. She stopped herself from covering her mouth.
Somewhere in his past, he'd suffered from the hands of someone else.
    Without
thinking, she kicked his crutches out of his reach