Page 35 of The Marine's Homecoming

If any woman can hold her own, I fully believe it's Hannah Brooks, but my feet carry me out the door and down the pieranyway. This woman I love is carrying my baby, and I'll be damned if I’m going to let a crooked prick like Dorsey speak to her with anything other than the utmost respect.

I'm about ten yards out when Dorsey shoves the folder under his arm and straightens his tie, still snapping at her. He turns on his heel and passes me with a curt nod and a tight smile. I almost grab him by the arm to force him to stay and tell me what the hell is going on, but poking an already riled-up hornets' nest doesn’t seem like a good idea. It's obvious he saw me coming and doesn’t want me interfering.

Hannah stands with her arms still crossed, staring at the water. Her whole body is tense, and she's facing away from me. I slow my pace as I get closer, giving her a second to hear me coming so I don't startle her. But she doesn't turn to face me yet.

Dorsey is such a sick bastard. I can't prove it yet, but I feel it in my gut as real as anything. And I've never seen him raise his voice or be anything other than fakely polite, but the real him is leaking out now. I just wish it weren't seeping out at Hannah. I'd gladly take his ire if it spared her.

"Everything okay?" I ask, stopping a few feet away and keeping my hands in my pockets.

She turns, and there's a flash of raw emotion in her face before the mask slides back into place. "It's fine. Just a disagreement about some of the vendor contracts." But Hannah is shaking. She doesn’t look fine. She looks scared and angry.

"Looked like more than a disagreement." God, no matter how much I want to rush in and rescue her, I can't push it. My instincts are good, but I know she asked for space.

"It's festival business, Luke. I've got it handled." She doesn't sound upset, just defeated, but that only makes me want to pull her into my arms and hold her even more.

"I'm not trying to step on your toes with any of this, Hannah. I know the festival is yours and you've worked hard on it." My chest still feels tight. Seeing Dorsey raising his voice at her infuriates me. I stare down at the water lapping at the pylons and listen to Paul's crew working across the way. I feel so trapped by her desire to be independent that I'm getting upset with her for shutting me out, and I know that's the wrong response.

"Thank you," she says carefully, and then she acts like she's going to walk off. But I can't just let her have a spat with a dangerous man like that and ignore it. Dorsey is a criminal. There's no doubt in my mind. And while I can't prove what he's doing here, there's enough suspicion behind him that I also can't let this go on any longer. If Hannah's going to rile him up, she needs to know who he is.

"Look," I say, stopping her in her tracks, "I need to tell you something and I need you to hear me out." I catch the faintest eye roll, like she's already written me off before I speak, but I speak anyway. "Dorsey's not who you think he is, Hannah. He's dangerous, and he's up to no good."

Her arms tighten across her chest but I see a shift behind her eyes. It could be doubt or it could be the beginning of her finally trusting me. I get the feeling she has her doubts too.

"I'm not telling you what to do," I say. "I can't prove anything, but I'm worried he's going to suck you into this and I know it's not good. I just want to protect you."

The wind pulls at her hair and she reaches up to tuck it behind her ear. "I appreciate the warning," she says softly. For a second when our eyes meet, I think she might say something else, but her lips stay sealed. My warning may have fallen on deaf ears, but I'm not about to let Hannah become a casualty in Dorsey's scheme.

"I—"

"Thank you, Luke," she says again firmly, crossing her arms over her chest. "I can handle it from here."

I can see I'm getting nowhere, and this firm but professional angle she's taking feels like she's still shutting me out. It's frustrating as hell, and I hate it. But what am I supposed to do?

I sigh and watch her cross over the passerelle onto her boat and then duck into her salon where she shuts the door and is gone from sight. Why is she being so impossible? Can't she see I’m trying to help her?

I don’t know if it's anger that she's pushing me away like I'm the problem or if it's years of guilt built up over how I failed Nick, but I feel this overwhelming urge to save her. Sometimes, I think that means saving her from Dorsey, but sometimes, I know that means saving her from herself. She's stubborn and mule-headed, and if she doesn’t let me help her, I might just go insane.

God knows how hard I’m trying.

22

HANNAH

Isleep until almost ten, and it feels like a miracle. My body has been running on fumes for so long that when I finally open my eyes and see the clock, I just lie there for a minute, grateful that I finally feel rested for once. The nausea is mild this morning, and I take that as a sign that the universe is giving me one good day.

I eat two pieces of dry toast and drink a full glass of water before I even think about getting dressed. Then I pack a bag with a blanket, a bottle of water, sunscreen, and a bag of crackers to stave off any further nausea. Then I pull on a bikini and my sundress and flip-flops and drive down to the beach just south of the marina ready to absorb some Vitamin D and enjoy my day off.

The beach is packed. Memorial Day weekend has brought out every family in Bandon and then some. Kids are running through the shallows screaming while their parents sit in tide chairs with coolers between them. Somewhere down the beach, someone has a speaker playing country music, and it blends with the crash of the waves welcoming in the official start to summer.It couldn't be more perfect, and with less stress on my shoulders, I plan to absorb every bit of it.

I find a spot away from the thickest crowds and spread out my blanket. The sand is warm and the sunshine feels good on my skin as I strip off the dress and crack open my book.

It’s still only late morning, and I've been stretched out reading for less than fifteen minutes when a shadow crosses over me, someone passing by. But the shadow stops, blocking my sun, and I look up to see who might be standing over me, only to see Luke dripping with sweat wearing nothing but a pair of running shorts and sand-covered sneakers.

"Hey," I say, suddenly feeling awkward in my bikini as I force myself to a seated position and try not to look embarrassed.

"Hey…" He shields his eyes with one hand and looks down at me. "I almost didn't see you there."

"That was kind of the point." I pull my knees up and rest my arms on them, hiding what I swear feels like double my normal cup size. My boobs just barely fit this bikini now. "Day off."