North of Normal

Chapter Twenty Two

"We have to stop meeting like this," Polly grinned in the dark as she scooted over, giving Chase a few more inches of room to stretch out beside her on the bed.

"It is becoming a bit of a pattern with us," Chase's voice echoed in the darkened room.

"At least Jack is content," Polly said, catching a glimpse of Jack, illuminated by the moonlight streaming from the windows, his tail curled around his supine body, his breath snuffling against the floorboards.

"Well, that's the most important thing," Chase said, his voice laced with sarcasm. He shifted against the pillows, angling his body so he could see her in the semi-darkness. "Do you have enough room?"

Polly's breath caught at the husky tone in Chase's voice – he looked so damn delicious with his bed head and sleepy eyes on the pillow beside her. "Yeah, I'm okay."

"Warm enough?"

Polly contemplated her answer for a second too long, and then bit back a devious grin. "Still kind of cold. I think the fire is dying down."

Chase's eyes met hers for a long moment, and then he shifted his body close to hers with a small grin, wrapping his arm across her waist and tugging her closer. "Better?"

"Mmm..." Polly closed her eyes and gave a small smile as Chase's touched his nose to hers, but going no further. She snuggled against his chest, her fingers feeling a raised line near his shoulder. She raised her head and looked at it in the dim moonlight – a scar.

"How did you get this scar?" she asked softly, meeting his eyes.

Chase looked chagrined but resigned. "I took shrapnel in my shoulder when a home grown bomb went off in Afghanistan. We were patrolling at night after having been dumped in under cover of darkness amid reports of an insurgent cell planning an attack, searching these deserted houses for them and clearing each one as we went when one of my buddies went in and set off a booby trap. I took damage in my shoulder..."

"And him?"

Chase shook his head silently, and Polly understood that the soldier had lost his life. "This looks... bad," she said, examining the white, puckered line that was at least six inches long, the skin pale white and jagged.

Chase shrugged slightly. "I was down for a long time, and when the guys finally pulled me out of there and onto a chopper, I'd lost a lot of blood, and surgery was more to save my life than to keep it neat and tidy."

"You almost died?" Polly whispered, not daring to believe it.

Chase didn't meet her searching eyes. "I'm fine."

"Is this why you aren't a SEAL anymore?" Polly tried again, her finger still tracing the scar up and down lightly.

Chase nodded once. "I wanted to go back on duty, but the shrapnel tore up some ligaments and significantly reduced my strength in that shoulder, so since I wasn't fit enough to be a SEAL, I was honorably discharged."

Polly lay silently beside him for a long moment, absorbing this. "Even after being so badly hurt, after having a colleague get killed, you would have gone back?"

Chase nodded without hesitation. "Absolutely. It was my job, and those were my guys. And I was damn good at my job, and at keeping them alive – until that night. I still think about it every day, and sometimes wonder if I should join up in the regular regiments, where the physical requirements are a little less demanding..."

Polly shook her head no. "No. You can't. I forbid it. And I'm going to pretend like we didn't have this conversation at all, or else I'll stay up all night worrying about Parker."

"You don't worry about him now?" Chase asked seriously.

"Every time I think about him over there, my heart literally stops for several beats. When he first deployed after BUD/S training, I wasn't sleeping or eating at all. Eventually, I convinced myself that the SEAL thing is a cover, and that he actually has a desk job in Jersey that he's too embarrassed to tell me about. The thought of my twin getting hurt, or getting... I can't handle it. And I'm so glad I didn't know about you and this injury until it was all over, or I would have never stopped crying..."

"You would have cried over me?" Chase asked, sounding surprised.

Polly was glad he couldn't see the blush of her cheeks in the darkness. "Of course I would have. We were friends once, weren't we?"

Chase gave her a small smile. "Friends. Sure."

"You don't even remember if we were friends, do you?" Polly asked, poking him in the ribs.

"Oh, we were friends," Chase said softly, his lips near her ear. "Why do you think I made so many excuses to hang out with Parker? I wanted to hang out with his twin."

"Riiiight," Polly shot back. "All that hunting and fishing and snowmobiling was a cover so you could admire me doing homework and watching 'Doogie Howser' or whatever I watched when I was eight."

"Doogie Howser? Seriously?" Chase asked, deadpan. "If you were a Doogie fan, this friendship might be off."

"Better than lusting after Winnie on 'The Wonder Years'," Polly shot back.

"Hey, don't knock Winnie," Chase replied. "What were we talking about?"

"You lying about being my friend when we were kids, but nice try on ducking out of it," Polly said amiably.

"What makes you think that until we met a few days ago, I didn't consider you a friend?" Chase asked, his tone serious.

Polly froze, suddenly transported back to that night in the back of his truck, and the fact that he hadn't mentioned it – not once – since they were reunited. "Not a thing, Chase. Not a thing." Her jaw cracked as she yawned, though she hurried to cover her mouth with her hand.

Chase wrapped his arms more tightly around her, tugging her body against the warmth of his. "Go to sleep, kitten. You're tired."

Polly was still forming a protest as her eyes drifted shut and she fell into a deep, restful sleep.