“Who are Christopher and Benji?”
He blinked in surprise like it pained him to hear their names out loud.
“Dead soldiers.” He didn’t move for the laptop to shut the lid or come any closer to her. He simply folded his arms over his chest, and stared her down.
“Oh.” Her heart ached from what she’d read, but she guessed telling Eli as much would silence him before opening him up. She licked her parched lips and told him the other thought in her head. “I didn’t realize your injury was caused by a grenade.”
A beat, then two, passed before he spoke.
“We were lucky. Some guys drive by roadside bombs and none of them walk away from it.” His voice betrayed his words.
“You don’t sound like you feel lucky.”
“Doesn’t matter how I feel. I am lucky. Many men have lost a hell of a lot more than I have.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him it wasn’t a contest, that pain was pain. But she bit back the retort.
“I shouldn’t have—”
“No,” he agreed. “You shouldn’t have. What are you doing here so early?”
“I’ve been awake for two hours, so I thought I’d get a head start. You’re always up early.”
“Marine,” he said in explanation, his voice stone cold.
“Are you going to fire me? Because if so, there’s no reason to unpack my tote.”
The corner of his mouth flinched into an almost-smile. So close. She’d give anything to see it, to hear a full-on belly laugh from him. To know what caused a man like him to smile or laugh. She wondered if he’d ever been the laughing or smiling type, or if he’d always been serious and quiet.
“I take it you don’t need coffee.” He dipped his chin at her paper cup.
“No, I…I should’ve called and offered to bring you one.” She clucked her tongue. “No wonder you fire me all the time.”
A sound came from Eli that made her snap her head up and look at him. She caught the tail end of a smile as he turned and strode into the kitchen, her chest lifting with pride. She’d made him laugh.
She grinned at his retreating back, wishing he hadn’t robbed her of the full effect. Did the brief laugh light his eyes? Twist his lips? She put a hand on her belly where butterflies came to life.
Someday she’d find out.
***
Isa spent the rest of the afternoon half in work mode and half in wonder.
When she’d first taken on this assignment, she’d sent the handful of potential assistants to sensitivity training so they knew how to deal with a man who’d literally lost part of himself in war. And while Eli definitely had signs of mild PTSD, she could now see it wasn’t the main motivation directing his life.
She would brew a pot of coffee to share with him this afternoon, and then she’d find out what that motivation was.
“Sent you an e-mail,” he announced as he strolled into the kitchen.
“Okay. I’ll check it in just a second.” She finished measuring fresh grounds and pressed the button to start the brew. When she turned, she found him scowling—nothing new there—but he didn’t look angry. He looked…worried?
“What’s wrong?”
“I”—he pulled in a deep breath—“need help.”
“Well, that’s what I’m here for.”
His frown didn’t let up. “I wasn’t going to ask for help but you’re you and you’re good at what you do and I need help.”