Snowbound - Harlequin.com

270 SNOWBOUND
of developing posttraumatic stress disorder. I think I’m
one. I mean, I didn’t handle war very well from the beginning.
The things you see.” He looked down, startled
to realize his hand had tightened on hers to a point that
had to be painful, and muttered an oath. Letting her go,
he said, “God, I’m sorry!”
Fiona shook her head. “No, it’s okay. Really.” She
touched his thigh in reassurance.
He kneaded the back of his neck. “I probably would
have come home a normal, screwed-up vet if it weren’t
for this.” He gestured at his scar and all it symbolized.
“Maybe I’d have had nightmares. Some pictures in my
head I couldn’t get rid of.”
The compassion on her face was almost his undoing,
but he forced himself to continue. “But me, I decided I
could do some good while I was there.” He gave a harsh
laugh. “Prove that Americans were decent.”
He told her about the nearby field, if you could call
the bare, dusty ground a field. About the makeshift
goals that had caught his attention. How there were
often boys there, kicking soccer balls around.
Expression arrested, Fiona said, “That’s why it upset
you so much when Hopper asked if you had a soccer
ball.”
“Yeah. Having them around awakened enough unwelcome
memories. Having them heading a soccer
ball…” He almost shuddered, even now.
“Did you start playing with the boys?”
He nodded. “I’d played in college, so… We worked
on skills. Eventually I organized them into a team. We
started playing some games with other teams. Nothing