A Broken Christmas Read Free Page A

mind, or she’d understand. One way or the other, she wasn’t leaving North Carolina without some sort of closure. Six years of marriage didn’t just up and vanish overnight.
    Taking a deep breath, Aimee summoned her courage and stepped beyond the crowd, out onto the tarmac, putting herself smack dab in the middle of Kyle’s path. There, she pulled off her knitted hat and struggled to maintain a jittery smile.
    ****
    Kyle came to a dead stop, his heart kicking hard. Aimee. What the hell was she doing here? They’d been divorced for two months now. She should be gone. Away from Bragg, away from this life.
    Away from him.
    Hair the color of rich milk chocolate glinted in the bright winter sunlight as it whipped around her face. Her smile had always reminded him of youth, and as he stared at her, the same old warmth stirred in his blood. God, she was a sight for sore eyes. What he wouldn’t give to feel that soft body pressed against his, to taste the hungry kiss she always greeted him with.
    Silently, he cursed. Those days were over. He’d spent one too many nights feeling like an ass for not being able to confide the deepest parts of himself and, unintentionally, driving a wedge between them. Each time he changed the subject, each time he diverted her questions away from what he’d seen in war, he knew he wounded her. Hurting Aimee was the last thing on this earth he wanted to do. She’d suffered enough when they lost their child.
    He had realized then former combat-nurse Aimee Garland wasn’t as strong as she wanted everyone to believe. For two months, she’d hardly left the bed. The third saw her in heavy therapy. Not wanting to distress her further, he’d pulled inside himself, keeping his own grief silent. When he deployed, he realized she worried about him more than she admitted. He didn’t want her sitting home alone, her imagination running rampant, when he went weeks without a means of contacting her. Sometimes months. She didn’t need that when she’d just begun to heal.
    Having seen more than he could bear of Aimee’s grief, he’d done the only thing he knew to do. Though it killed him, he set her free.
    Now why the hell was she still hanging around?
    Walking up to him.
    Reaching out for his bad hand.
    Kyle took a step forward, forbidding her to touch the deadened nerves in his fingers. Looking straight ahead at the open hangar where families reunited, he asked, “What are you doing here, Aimee?”
    “I came to see my soldier home.”
    Hers. How he wished that were true.
    Leaning his weight on his cane, he resumed his shuffling walk toward the parked golf cart that would take him to Bragg’s front gates and a taxi. Even if things had been different, if he hadn’t forced her into a divorce his heart didn’t want, she’d never look at him the same once she realized he wasn’t the man who deployed fourteen months ago. He could walk, yes, but only for short intervals before destroyed nerves screwed with his balance and lifting his foot turned into dragging it behind. The cane helped some. Yet the same damage in his right hand forced him to use his left, and he hadn’t mastered that coordination. Everything felt off. Discombobulated.
    Broken.
    Kyle sucked in a sharp breath as Aimee slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. Elegant fingers gripped firmly, offering unexpected support. A gust of wind stirred her hair into his face, bringing the scent of her fruity shampoo to his nose. He resisted the instinct to inhale deep and savor the sweet fragrance. It held such familiarity. Such damning comfort.
    It also stirred to life all the memories he’d tried to bury. Good things that he didn’t deserve—not after killing his friend. His friend, for God’s sake. Why the fuck had Walsh dragged him out of that hell hole? Kyle deserved to die with Denton, Parker, and Jones. He’d had the suspicion. Failed to act on it.
    Aside from the unforgettable fact he’d pulled the damn trigger, he had been