Page 53 of Chasing Amanda

Mark dropped his bag again, seemingly unaware of the crowd streaming by in both directions. He wiped a tear from her cheek. “It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t matter.”

“It’s true?” He hadn’t argued, so he must agree. This was a nightmare.

“My mother’s opinion is irrelevant, Amanda.” He trailed his fingers on her cheeks and into her hair, sending tingles across her scalp. “I like you. I more than like you.” He skimmed his lips on hers, the lightest kiss that wasn’t anywhere near what she craved. Then, he held her against his chest, and his heart thumped in her ear. “It’s so good to hold you. I thought… I wondered if it would be different. If you would be or I would be or…” He leaned back and looked down at her, eyes narrowed. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I’m pro-honesty.”

His lips tipped up at the corners, and though it was barely a smile, she realized it was the first she’d seen from him in a long time.

“It’s just that we knew each other such a short time before I deployed, and then…” His words trailed, and dark scenes played across his face. There had already been so much about this man she didn’t know, and now he’d been to war, a whole world she wouldn’t understand even if he did open up to her.

But, for all her talk of being pro-honesty, there was a lot in her past he didn’t know, either, and she wasn’t about to tell him. As much as she wanted to know all of his secrets, she was hanging onto her own.

He’d called her innocent.

What would he think of her if he knew the truth?

In his expression, she saw wariness—or was it fear?

She had a million questions, but the important ones had been answered that November weekend eighteen months before. She gripped his hand, tapping his duffel bag with her toe. After he picked it up, she started walking again. They stepped outside into the warm afternoon—he let go of her hand long enough to put his hat on—and crossed the busy loading zones to the parking garage. “I figured you’d decide you could do better than a lowly chef.”

“Lowly?” He chuckled. “Try talented. And kind. And generous. You’re lovely, not lowly.”

A blush warmed her cheeks. “Well, at work, I’m as lowly as can be.” Not that she wanted to talk about her job. And he didn’t want to talk about his mother, obviously. Now that Amanda had grown accustomed to his presence again, she saw things she hadn’t noticed at first. Beyond his tan, he seemed pale. And though he’d put on muscle, he looked drawn. Dark smudges below his brown eyes told her he hadn’t slept much on the long trip—or maybe in days. “How was your flight?”

“Uneventful.” But at the thought of it, he rubbed his shoulder.

“Are you in pain?”

“No.” He dropped his hand, looking around at the rows of cars. “What section?”

“I know where I’m going.” They took the elevator, and she led the way to the proper aisle. “Your shoulder? That’s what was injured?”

“It’s fine.”

She stifled a sigh. She could drop it, but how many subjects were going to be off-limits? “It’s a simple question, Mark.”

He shot her a look, lips flattened in a smirk. “Yes, my shoulder.”

“What happened?”

“It’s a long story.”

She stopped to face him, crossing her arms. “Are we together, or aren’t we?”

He blinked. “We are. I mean, aren’t we?”

“You were injured badly enough that they sent you home. I think you could spare a couple of words to tell me what happened. Or at least in what way you were hurt. Were you shot?” He shook his head, but by the way his lips were pressed closed, had no intention of elaborating. “Step on a landmine? Trip over a tree trunk? Slip on a banana peel?”

That brought only the slightest quirk of his lips.

“I don’t need the whole novel. Summarize.”

“Fine.” He hitched his duffel higher on his uninjured shoulder. “I had a run-in—a slight run-in… It was no big deal. It was just a local and a little…knife.”

“A knife?” Her volume rose, the words pitched too high. “Someone stabbed you?”

“It’s fine, Amanda. I’m fine.”