They sat in silence for a few moments. Watching the flames dance as they caught onto the new log he’d added. Absorbing the warmth of the crackling fire. Appreciating the silence from outside as a layer of snow insulated them.
“It happens almost every night,” he said.
“That dream?” she asked.
“The memory. Nightmare. Both,” he said.
She remained quiet, letting him talk if he wanted to. Not demanding more if he didn’t. It didn’t seem her place to ask for more. At the same time, it did seem like her responsibility to listen if he needed to talk.
“We were scheduled to head out when I tested positive for Covid. So they quarantined me, assigned a replacement and my unit went without me. The mission went sideways. The ones who didn’t die instantly lived long enough to get airlifted to a hospital and die there.”
“Holy shit,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.
Lost in his memories as he stared into the flames, he didn’t seem to hear her anyway as he continued, “I was just over a month away from the end of my contract. I’d been planning to re-up. After that I couldn’t do it.”
Finally, he looked at her.
“It wasn’t that I was scared of dying. It was because I’d lived. I should’ve been there. If I had been, instead of a last-minute replacement, things might have gone differently.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No. But I know it messed with my head. And with my sleep. I wasn’t sure of myself anymore. I didn’t know when or if it would hit me. If I’d freeze up. Fuck up. That made me a danger to others depending on me, so I got out when my contract ended.”
“And came back here,” she guessed.
“Only after I’d hand delivered the personal effects of every man in my unit into the hands of their families.”
She couldn’t even imagine the emotional toll those visits had taken on Linc.
He drew in a breath and looked back at the fire. “Then I came home and moved in here. I needed space. To be alone.”
“I’m sorry,” she breathed.
He let out a short bitter laugh. “Please don’t thank me for my service next.”
“I won’t. But I wasn’t saying sorry over the loss of your men, although I am sorry for that. I’m apologizing that I’ve invaded your space. I truly am. I know what it’s like when you need to be by yourself and people won’t leave you alone.”
He angled his head to look at her. His expression changed, as if he was seeing her for the first time. “It’s okay. It’s been over a year. I’m not quite the hermit I was when I first got home. And you’re not nearly as annoying as Ethan.”
She smiled. “It’s not hard to be less annoying than Ethan, but I’ll accept the compliment.”
His lips bowed in a smile, before he shoved the chair back another notch, putting him almost completely horizontal as he said, “Good night, Eva.”
“Son of a bitch,” she mumbled in amazement as she pushed her chair farther back like he had until she lay almost flat.
This was one amazing chair. Almost as amazing as her having an honest and meaningful conversation with a Wilder male. It had been an eye-opening night…and it wasn’t over yet.
Linc was snoring in moments.
Leave it to a man to go from night terrors, to pouring out his guts, to being sound asleep once again, all within half an hour.
Unfortunately, she was not so blessed in the sleep department. She was wide awake, with nothing to do. That was the part that sucked the most. If she could manage a connection, even a weak one, she’d at least be able to get something done online.
Maybe…it was worth a try.
She eased her chair down, slowly, as silently as she could so she wouldn’t wake him.
Creeping across the floor, she lifted the lid of her laptop and looked hopefully at the upper right-hand corner of the screen. No signal. What else she found was no better. Her battery was about to die. Slamming the lid closed she sighed. There was no power to charge it but with no internet, there was no need.
She glanced at Linc. Still asleep.
Now what? Was she going to have to resort to doing one of his damn puzzles?
Looking at the staircase, she admired their work from that night. It was perfect. Well, almost. There was one cluster of balls that was just a little too close to another.
Freeing the thin metal hook from the greenery, she was about to move the ornaments when one fell. It bounced on the floor with a racket that sounded loud enough in the otherwise near silent house to wake the dead. She froze, her gaze shooting to Linc.
His slow, steady deep breaths proved the man could sleep through anything—except his nightmares apparently.
Happy she hadn’t disturbed him, she crept across the floor to retrieve the rogue ball. She’d have to secure it better to its two companions before putting it back on the staircase. But when she bent to pick it up, she found the hook was stuck between two floorboards. Like really stuck.
With a huff, she gave up trying to get it loose while standing and just sat on the cold wood floor. Luckily, Linc’s sweats were thick enough she didn’t get frozen ass cheeks.
Squinting in the shadow of the sofa, which blocked most of the light from the fire, she entered into a tug of war. Woman against wood. A test of the trapped metal of the hook against her own mettle in a battle of wills…and she’d be damned if she lost against a little tiny ornament hook.
With one final tug, the hook came free… and the floorboard momentarily lifted before slipping back into its proper place along the neighboring boards.
Shit. Had she broken the floor in Linc’s historic ancestral lodge?
And why wasn’t the board nailed down anyway? She looked around where she sat. Everywhere else, square nail heads—the old kind you only saw used in antiques and old homes—marked the wood floor every six inches or so. Except for the one-foot area around where the board had moved.
There was something hidden under those floorboards. She’d bet money on it.
Heart pounding she used what little fingernails she had, hooking them in the crack between the boards to no avail.
A tool. She needed a tool.
Spinning on her knees, she looked around the room.
Her gaze landed on a hammer Linc had left on a table near the front door. He must have used it to hang the greenery around the doorframe.
Launching off the floor, she scrambled toward the door. She grabbed the hammer and skittered back, landing on her hands and knees over the suspicious floorboards. She spun the hammer around to use the claw, cursing under her breath when it was too thick to get between the boards.
She needed something thinner but sturdy and not as flimsy as the ornament hook.
The kitchen.
Again, she jumped up and skidded her way into the kitchen, only to curse again when she realized it was too dark to see. She ran to the living room, grabbed a flashlight off the table and headed back, amazed Linc could sleep through all of this excitement.
Opening drawers, she found the cutlery. A butter knife. That might work. If not, she’d come back for the boning knife with the thinner blade but the higher likelihood of breaking. Or her slicing herself open.
Back on the floor she slid the butter knife between the boards. Pushing the handle down lifted the tip up, and along with it, the board. Excitement fluttered in her chest as she slipped her fingers beneath it. She lifted it completely out, laying it down beside her before reaching for the next board. And then the next.
Grabbing the flashlight, she illuminated the space she’d exposed. A hidden compartment, beneath the floor, with something square inside.
With her heart pounding and adrenaline flowing, she pulled up the final floorboard, set it aside and lifted out the obviously old piece.
It was a wooden box. A locked box. And there was a keyhole.
Her heart leapt.
Where was the key?
She was up again, racing toward where he slept, her eyes peeled for the key. Where had Linc put it? It wouldn’t be in his pajama pants. But had he stuck it in his jeans before he changed for bed?
She was about to go up and invade his privacy by rifling through his laundry in his bedroom when she spotted the bowl on the table by the front door.
It certainly looked like a good place to put keys. Car keys. House keys. Mysterious ancestral keys.
She ran for the door and bingo! There it was.
Her fingers shook as she kneeled on the wood one more time and set the box on its side. Aiming the end of the elaborate old key she’d spent so much time studying—that Linc’s grandfather, James Wilder, had spent so many years carrying—she inserted it into the lock and turned it.
And heard a click.
Holy shit.
It fit.
With a gasp, she whipped her gaze to Linc. He was still asleep.
With no one to share the victory with, she didn’t take the time to stand up. Instead, while kneeling on the floor that she no longer cared was cold and hard, she eased open the lid of the box.
She sucked in a breath with amazement as she had to assume that this was the first time in decades a human had gazed upon the contents of this box.
And, unlike the secret compartment in the desk in the mansion which she found was empty after picking the lock, this box was full.