“But you did fight?”

Tapping his fingers against the kitchen island, he shrugged. “Every soldier is in a battle against terrorism.”

She nodded as if she understood, but he doubted she did. He doubted anyone did unless they’d lived it.

“You were a good soldier.”

He’d thought so, but then he’d awakened to screams, awakened to die inside even though his body had somehow managed to survive. A good soldier would have protected his unit.

His gaze shifted to hers. “What makes you say that?”

“Because I know you.”

“You’ve known me a couple of weeks,” he said. “You know very little about me, much less whether I was a good soldier.”

“Knowing a person is about so much more than just time.” She put the dishtowel on the counter and closed the few steps between them. Reaching out, she touched his chest with her pointer finger. “I know what’s in here. It tells me that you live by a high code of ethics.”

Her finger burned through his shirt, warming the flesh as if she touched him with a branding iron.

“It comes out in everything you do.” She stared at where her finger touched him. “Although you have this big bad aura that warns not to mess with you, you’ve got a big heart.”

“Don’t fool yourself into thinking that I haven’t done bad things,” he warned, not liking her assessment. She was making him out to be a hero when he was anything but. He wasn’t good. “I’ve done things that would make you not like me very much.”

He’d done things that made him not like himself very much… but he’d still done them because they’d been necessary to get the job done. He’d still be doing the government’s bidding had he not gotten injured.

Flattening her fingers against his heart, she studied him. Bodie’s heart pounded against his ribcage, against her hand.

“I believe you’ve always acted for what you felt was the greater good.”

She was making him out to be heroic. He wasn’t, and he didn’t want her thinking he was.

“Greater good is oftentimes a matter of perspective.”

“I trust you.”

“You shouldn’t.” After all, in a way, he was deceiving her by being there without telling her the reason why. He’d come to thank her and instead had gone to work for her.

“I don’t believe you’d ever hurt me,” she continued, staring up at him with her big brown eyes filled with exactly what she claimed—trust.

“Not intentionally.” He wouldn’t. He’d do everything in his power to leave her as bright-eyed as he’d found her.

“But unintentionally you might?”

“It’s possible.” Feeling more and more uncomfortable with their conversation, he straightened his shoulders, pulling himself back just enough that Sarah’s finger fell away. “Let’s decorate the tree.”