Free A Broken Christmas by Claire Ashgrove Page A

birth on a stretcher in my driveway and buried my son the next day.” As anger fueled her response, Aimee’s voice rose. “I didn’t suffer a job-related tragedy and people still side step around me because I couldn’t handle it. You know what would happen to Kyle. Slap a PTSD label on him, and no soldier will look him in the eye again!”
    Betty wrung her hands together. She lifted her gaze, her flush deep crimson. As she nervously glanced around the room, she opened her mouth to speak, then quickly snapped it shut with a shake of her head.
    “Tell me. Tell me how to help Kyle.”
    Her hard exhale stirred the blonde bangs framing her face, and Betty looked at Aimee, once more the cool, reserved, Major’s wife. “If you want to help him, get him to talk to Walsh. They were there together. Meanwhile, there is one thing I can tell you.”
    Relief surged through Aimee, easing the building tension in her spine. She gave Betty a jerky nod. “Please.”
    “His career is only over if he chooses to leave. Wilson offered him another position. He’d stay with Sind Krait , but in a strategic capacity. He would lead through intelligence analysis, source assessment, asset management, and essentially everything he’s doing now, but in a capacity that doesn’t depend on physical capabilities.” She smoothed her long wool skirt down her thighs. “He has until Sind Krait deploys again to make a decision. If he doesn’t respond, Wilson will assign someone else to the position, and Kyle will have to submit his resignation.”
    Aimee blinked. Although the tidbit Betty imparted was nothing along the lines of what Aimee had hoped to achieve, it helped. Kyle wouldn’t forfeit his career. She knew the idea of a desk job gave him the heebie jeebies, but if she used the right angles, she could make him see the merit in Major Renfield’s offer. He still had a duty to do. Still had professional purpose. She just needed to make him realize it.
    “Thank you, Betty,” she whispered.
    A warm smile drifted over Betty’s mouth. “I’m sorry too, Aimee. For not being able to tell you more…and for sidestepping , as you call it.”
    Nodding, Aimee went to the door. “Thank you for seeing me. I’ll let you get back to cooking.”
    “You could stay for a cup of coffee, if you’d like.”
    No way, no how. Aimee shook her head. “I appreciate the offer, but I have some Christmas shopping to do.”
    Rising to her feet, Betty crossed to the door. “Then come and visit with me soon. It really is good to see you.”
    “I will. Thank you.” Aimee flashed her another forced smile and let herself out.
    ****
    Sitting on the couch, Kyle stared at the empty hole on the top of the Christmas tree where the star should have rested. That barren patch of dark evergreen only made him feel four times worse than he had before Aimee left. It symbolized the gaping hole inside him, the incompleteness of his life. Like the box resting on top of the television that held the gold tinsel topper, everything he needed was right in front of him. Waiting for him to put things back together the way they were supposed to be.
    But supposed to be didn’t play a part in reality. What he needed from Aimee, he didn’t dare seek—he knew all too well just how fragile she really was. He couldn’t tolerate the idea of putting her through the kind of emotional turmoil she’d suffered last spring. His duty was to protect her, not bury her in a quagmire of pain like he was rapidly doing.
    He didn’t want to hurt her, but no matter how he tried, he inflicted injuries each time he turned around.
    Dropping his head into his hands, he let out a heavy sigh. Images of the way she’d held on to him in the hall, how she urged him to give in to the enormous tidal wave rolling through him, flashed behind his closed eyelids. He’d been almost brutal, and she had somehow found pleasure in that. How?
    Why?
    His head snapped up as the front door opened. Aimee burst in, the rustle