Brody's Vow (Colebrook Siblings Trilogy Book 1) by Kaylea Cross Page A

ground and turned away, his tail drooping, looking like the most dejected animal ever born. His nails clicked on the old plank floor as he slowly headed for his bed and curled up there with a mournful and slightly accusatory expression, as if Wyatt had banished him to the ends of the earth rather than the end of the room.
    “Drama queen,” Wyatt muttered, rolling over and stuffing his pillow into a more comfortable position. Dog was lucky Wyatt had kept him this long.
    Five minutes later, Grits was snoring lightly and Wyatt was thinking about hunting down some earplugs. Freaking earplugs , just so he could sleep in his own damn bed, in his own damn house. Because of a damn dog he hadn’t asked for and didn’t want.
    And now he couldn’t sleep. This time of night was always the hardest. Sometimes his dreams tormented him, but the ghosts never went away even when he was awake.
    That hellish mission never let him go. It was always there in the back of his mind, just waiting to dig its claws into him. The guilt was way tougher to handle than the grief, and a thousand times harder to deal with than his injuries or the suffering he’d endured after.
    Their faces were so clear to him. All the guys who had died that day on his watch. The agony and horror in their expressions as they’d died around him.
    And Raider.
    How that incredible, heroic dog had given her life to save Wyatt’s.
    Covered in a thin film of sweat, he sat up and dragged a hand over his face. Fuck. Was it ever going to get any easier? It was hell, reliving it over and over again. All the therapy in the world wouldn’t erase his memories, and it sure as hell wouldn’t soothe his conscience. Those men and Raider had died that day because he’d fucked up. Their deaths were all on him.
    Shoving the sheet and quilt off, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached for his prosthesis where it rested against the nightstand. Grits jumped out of his bed and came racing over, tail waving and body wiggling with excitement.
    Wyatt ignored him, another arrow of guilt slicing through him when he looked at that adorable little face. He’d sworn he’d never get another dog, that he wouldn’t replace Raider out of respect for her memory and the sacrifice she’d made.
    He really needed to call Piper and tell her he wasn’t ready for a dog, make her come take Grits. It was better for Grits that way. Things were busy enough around here, and the last thing Wyatt needed was another responsibility.
    Such as an unwanted female houseguest who might pose a security threat to his family.
    Frowning, he thought about this woman, Trinity, his brother had brought home. Who the hell was she and just what kind of trouble was she in? He didn’t like unknowns and didn’t appreciate a stranger possibly bringing trouble to his dad and brother, let alone on their own property that had been in the family since before the Civil War.
    After putting on the protective sock around the stump that ended just below his right knee, he pulled on the artificial leg, standing to ease what was left of his tibia down into the base of the socket. The titanium-carbon piece that served as his new foot bent and flexed with each step.
    Naked, he strode to the armoire that functioned as his closet, dragged out jeans and a T-shirt then put them on. He was on his way to the kitchen to find something to eat when Grits suddenly stilled and perked his ears, looking toward the cabin’s front door.
    The back of Wyatt’s neck prickled, his training kicking in. He watched the dog closely, noted the alert posture. Then Grits let out a soft woof and ran to the front door.
    On guard, Wyatt went to the window beside the door and pulled the curtain aside. Sure as hell, a figure emerged out of the shadows alongside the house and started across the lawn.
    Curvy. Unmistakably female.
    Brody’s houseguest had apparently tired of their brand of Southern hospitality. Where was she sneaking off to at this time of