“If we’re friends, why would you think I’m not capable of feeling?”
“Not feeling in general. I’ve seen your compassion—I’ve never known anyone as kind. I just didn’t think you—”
“You don’t see me as male is what you’re trying to say.”
“No.” That was definitely not the case. She took a breath. “You’re unique, really special, and people don’t always understand you. Including me, obviously.”
He sighed.
“I didn’t mean to offend you like that,” she said. Vaguely, she realized how odd this conversation felt; she wasn’t used to not being in control of every interaction, every situation.
“I want to be friends with you, Kadance. I just can’t get too close.” He sighed and closed his eyes. “And I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable around me.”
“Don’t worry about me.”
He opened his eyes, and his gaze seemed to burn into her. “I will always worry about you. I’m not those other people in your life. I care how you feel. I care that you’re comfortable in my presence. I care about you.”
Her voice came out as a whisper, almost choked. “You’re not like anyone else in my life.”
They watched each other for several seconds. She couldn’t get herself to look away.
She had a sudden urge to wrap her arms around his waist and rest her head against his chest. She wanted him to hold her, pull her tightly against him.
She tried to shake the insane thought from her head but couldn’t manage it.
He shifted toward her.
Then he turned, walked into the bathroom, and closed the door.
twenty-one
LYNDON SAT ON THE BATHROOM FLOOR with his back against the wall next to the tub for a while. He wasn’t sure how long. He kept praying he hadn’t ruined the best friendship he’d ever had. But then he’d remind himself being friends with her obviously wasn’t an option, and he knew that once all this was over, she’d leave.
And it wasn’t as if she saw him as a man anyway.
He sat there on the floor for a while, trying to rein in his frustration. She’d referred to him as gorgeous once. He hadn’t known what to make of it at the time. It’d seemed flippant when she’d said it. Perhaps because she hadn’t thought being called attractive would have any effect on a eunuch.
He rested his head back against the wall.
None of it matters, he kept telling himself. He was frustrated over nothing. She obviously didn’t see him the way he saw her, she’d leave as soon as she could, and he’d decided a long time ago not to allow a relationship again.
But then he’d remember her silky hair flowing over the bare skin of her shoulder.
He eventually forced his frustration under control, but there was still something lingering, like an ache in his chest.
Finally, he decided the ache wasn’t something he could control. It wasn’t going to go away.
He made himself stand up and walk out into the main room.
She was asleep at the desk with her head rested on her folded arms. Her face was so beautiful. Nothing he’d ever seen or imagined could compare. There was something about her beauty he still couldn’t quite comprehend, but somehow it didn’t frustrate him, not anymore. He accepted she was simply beyond his mental capacity. There was a certain freedom in that.
Before considering if it was wise, he walked over, slipped one arm under her knees and the other around her back, and lifted her. He walked over to the bed. He was shocked she didn’t immediately wake and go into attack mode. Instead, she rested her head against his chest.
He forced himself not to look at her or else he might lose his mind and kiss her. Then she’d definitely go into attack mode.
He carefully laid her down on the mattress with her head on the pillow. Then he gently pulled the blankets over her.
He stood there and looked at her for several seconds.
The ache in his chest splintered out, through his veins, until his entire being throbbed with it.
And he understood what the ache was.
Why, God? Why her?
He forced his gaze away from her, walked around the bed, took the other pillow, and lay down on the floor, as far from her as he could get in the small room. He tried to close his eyes and sleep, but he knew it was a lost cause.
Why did this have to happen? Hadn’t he done well all these years? He’d stayed away from relationships, purposefully didn’t interact with women if he could possibly help it. And then Kadance dropped into his life. Like a punishment. A punishment he knew he deserved. After what had happened to Angela, he knew he didn’t deserve anything less.
Please, Lord, give me the strength to get through this. Please help me make sure Kadance doesn’t get hurt. Please, God, I can’t live through that again. Not Kadance.
He knew Kadance was different, so very different from Angela, but that didn’t stop the terror from strangling him. The same thoughts kept circling his mind until pain spiked through his head. He lay there and let the thoughts continue circling. He endured the pain, accepted it.
He deserved it.
KADANCE WOKE, BOLTED UPRIGHT, and grabbed the handle of her knife. How’d she get to the bed? Last she remembered, she’d laid her head down on the desk. She looked around the room. Lyndon was on the floor, no blanket, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were open, staring at the ceiling, but he didn’t seem really there. Maybe lost in thought, rereading something he’d memorized?
Barely moving his head, he looked over at her. She could see how tight his jaw was.
“You have another headache,” she said.
He resumed staring at the ceiling.
Mac scooted backward out of his spot behind the TV, jumped down, and went over to Lyndon. He stood with his front paws on his chest.
Lyndon unfolded his arms and petted Mac’s head, thumb gently rubbing up his nose like he liked. “Thanks, buddy,” Lyndon murmured. He kept his focus on Mac while he said to Kadance, “You can shower first.”
“If the hot water will help your head, you can shower first.”
“It won’t.” He continued petting Mac.
She stood, grabbed what she needed out of her bag, and headed for the bathroom.
After showering, dressing, and braiding her hair, she came back out to find Lyndon sitting in the desk chair staring at nothing. Mac was curled up on the bed. He looked up and meowed at her.
“I think he wants breakfast,” Lyndon said without looking up. “But I didn’t want to get in your bag for his food.”
“Is your head better?”
“I’m reviewing everything I looked up about Dr. Pearce.”
She walked over to her duffle on the desk, and he slid the chair back, away from her, gaze still unfocused. Mac started meowing loudly. She grabbed the ziplock bag of Mac’s food, opened it, and set it on the bed in front of him. He sat up and started eating.
“I thought you couldn’t find anything much about his work with Doctors Without Borders online,” Kadance said. “Assuming he’s the right Dr. Frank Pearce.”
“I’m reviewing everything else, mostly social media posts.”
“While still holding a conversation.” She resumed her usual teasing with him, hoping to get their same comfort level back. Hoping they were still friends.
He lifted his gaze and focused on her. “I didn’t mean to offend.”
“You didn’t. You heard and comprehended everything I said. Have you found anything useful?”
“I figured I could try talking to him about something he cares about to build rapport, so I’m cataloging anything about which I’m knowledgeable as well.”
“So, everything, basically.”
“I don’t know the first thing about grandchildren or cooking greens.”
She felt the corner of her mouth twitch. “I assume you want to get there later in the morning. A polite hour.”
He nodded. “It’s frustrating to have to wait.”
“That’s
the worst part of any job.” She sat on the end of the bed and stroked Mac while he crunched his food.
“I assume there’s plenty of waiting involved in being a sniper.”
“I’ve laid there for hours waiting for the right shot.”
His gaze fell away from her, and he resumed staring at nothing.
She wanted to keep pretending last night hadn’t happened, resume the friendship that’d grown between them. But the tension was still there.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
He gave no reaction.
“Lyndon.”
He didn’t look at her. “Please just let it drop.”
“I don’t know why I thought that about you, that you don’t feel passion. You’re not the one who has trouble with emotion. I am.” She hadn’t let herself think about his admission that he was attracted to her. She didn’t know what to do with that information.
Finally, he looked at her, but she didn’t see the anger she’d expected. “You have every reason to have trouble with emotion.” He stood and walked around the side of the bed, then turned and faced her. “I’m just asking that you’re more cognizant of your actions.”
“What actions?”
“Your tank top, your hair, trying to get me to share a bed. But then expecting me not to feel anything.”
“I didn’t . . .”
“It’s fairly obvious you have no idea how beautiful you are. I just really need you to try to be aware of it.”
She nodded.
He turned back toward the desk chair but then stopped. “I know you’ve had an unusual and difficult life, but haven’t you noticed how men look at you?”
“I didn’t know anyone but my family growing up, and then I went straight into the CIA. The areas where I was stationed were heavily dominated by extremists. Being attractive was a liability.” A lot of those men thought it was their right to have a woman if they wanted her.
“How long have you been back in the States?”
“Long enough. I just, I don’t have a lot of experience.”
“I understand not having experience. I guess I don’t understand how you can look in the mirror and not realize what you look like.”
She wanted to throw that back at him—how he’d walked around yesterday morning without a shirt on. “I won’t try to share a bed with you again.” She made her tone as nonargumentative as she could. “I don’t know what else I did.”
He ran a hand through his hair, and she saw how tense his arm and chest muscles were. “I guess it was all innocent. Your shirt showed your figure so well, and with your hair down . . . I’m just extremely attracted to you. I’m sorry—it’s nothing you did. It’s something I have to deal with.” His tone changed, less frustrated, more concerned. “I’m more worried about making you feel uncomfortable.”
“I’m not uncomfortable around you.” She considered asking him not to go shirtless again but decided against it. She felt like they’d reconciled, and she didn’t want to risk messing that up. Her voice softened. “Thank you for your thoughtfulness.”
A few seconds passed. Then he resumed his seat in the chair.
“It’s interesting,” she said. “Our conversations aren’t at all normal. We tend to talk about things most people keep to themselves.”
“I’m not good at normal conversations.”
“I’m just better at faking than you are.”
“I wish you could take the lead with Dr. Pearce.”
“I think finding things in common to build a bond is a good idea. And just for the record, I don’t want you to be better at being fake.”
She was relieved the conversation had shifted. She wasn’t sure how to deal with the admission of his attraction, how intensely he seemed to feel it. It didn’t really matter, right? He was perfectly willing to put it aside. She knew he would never come on to her and certainly wouldn’t try getting her into bed. So, why did she keep thinking about it? She didn’t want to get involved with a man. She’d let her guard down once, and it’d almost gotten her killed. But she also knew—with perfect confidence—that Lyndon was not like James.
twenty-two
KADANCE PULLED TO A STOP at the curb in front of a large house with white siding and a huge porch that wrapped around the house. The street was crowded with houses of different styles but all of a similar quality. Some of them even had white picket fences.
“Would you be all right pretending to be my girlfriend again?” Lyndon asked.
“It’ll make you seem more approachable and explain my presence. As long as you’re all right with it.”
“It’s the smart thing to do.” He opened the car door and stood.
She got out, lowered the driver’s side rear window for Mac. It was cooler in Knoxville, cold enough that she was wearing her jacket, but she reminded herself Mac had a very thick coat of fur. She came around the car to Lyndon, and they headed up the front walk.
“We should hold hands,” she murmured.
“No.” Then he looked over at her. “It’s not a good idea for me.”
He’d held her hand before and had been fine.
Lyndon rang the doorbell.
Kadance glanced around, pretending to be interested in the neighborhood, the children riding bikes and giggling as they played in front yards, but was really cataloging and assessing each person, each car, each sound.
The door opened, and Kadance splashed a smile on her face.
“Can I help you?” The man was older with thick white hair and plenty of wrinkles, but he still had a strong frame, with just a little pudge at the waist.
“I’m sorry to bother you. My name is Lyndon Vaile. Are you the Dr. Frank Pearce who worked with Doctors Without Borders in the Congo?”
The man narrowed his eyes. “Who’s asking?”
“I’m sorry to just show up like this. I believe you worked with my parents, Dr. Aurel Vaile and Dr. Lee Vaile.”
The man lifted his white brows.
“Do you remember them?” In Lyndon’s voice, she could hear the anticipation.
“What’d you say your name was?”
“Lyndon Vaile. Doctor.” Lyndon took out his license and showed the man.
“Doctor? Followed in their footsteps, did you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Yeah, I remember Aurel and Lee. Hard to forget those two.”
Lyndon smiled a little. “Like I said, I’m sorry to bother you. I wanted to meet someone who knew them, and I talked someone at Doctors Without Borders into giving me a couple of names. I hope you don’t mind.”
“What sent you on a journey like that?”
Kadance wrapped her hand around the crook of Lyndon’s arm. She wanted to support him, help him know he was doing a good job.
Lyndon glanced over at her then back to Dr. Pearce. “I’m sorry— this is Sarah.”
The man smiled at her. “Awful pretty name.”
She smiled back. “Thanks. It gets the job done.”
“Why don’t we have a seat on the front porch here and chat a minute about those parents of yours.”
“I would sincerely appreciate that,” Lyndon said.
Kadance and Lyndon sat in a small wicker love seat, and after grabbing a jacket off a hook on the wall by the door, Dr. Pearce took a matching chair.
“You said you’re a doctor?” Dr. Pearce asked.
“He has three doctorates.” Kadance gloated like any girlfriend would.
“You sound like Lee and Aurel’s son, all right. And you have your mom’s eyes, that same gray-green. You must’ve been young when they passed.”
“Yes, sir. Just eleven.”
“And what made you come looking for someone who knew them?”
Lyndon glanced at Kadance. Surely, he didn’t want to lie, but how could he tell the man the truth? He’d think he was a nut and throw him off his property.
Kadance answered Dr. Pearce, “We’re getting married, and that got Lyndon to thinking about his family. He doesn’t have anyone
left.” She slid her arm through his again and rubbed her other hand over his. “He wants to feel closer to them if he can. You know?”
“I’m sorry to hear you don’t have anyone left,” Dr. Pearce said. “Your grandfather has passed as well? They said he took you when they were out of the country—I assume you stayed with him after they died.”
“Yes, sir,” Lyndon said. “He was killed just before I finished high school.”
Killed? She’d figured his death had been natural—a heart attack or stroke or some kind of illness. Maybe it was something like a car accident? But Lyndon still had his grandfather’s truck. And it’d looked to be in great condition, no evidence of a life-ending crash.
“Well, I’m glad you found yourself a sweet young lady.” Dr. Pearce smiled at them. “You look to be very much in love.”
“Yes, sir.”
Kadance looked at Lyndon. His gaze flickered to her and then back to Dr. Pearce.
“May I ask you what you remember about my parents?” Lyndon asked. “I know it’s been a long time.”
“Those two were difficult to forget. Your dad—you knew when he was in the room. He had that booming, jovial voice and presence. There were only a few times I saw him completely serious. Your mother, on the other hand, she downright scared some people.”
“She wasn’t good at being diplomatic.”
“She was blunt as a hammer. But smart. That woman—she always knew what she was talking about. I never once saw her make an error.”
“She was kind, though,” Lyndon said. “It was just hard to see sometimes. People didn’t understand her.”
Kadance squeezed Lyndon’s arm. He could be much like his mother.
Dr. Pearce sat back in his chair. “That woman would give her life for a stranger. And she almost did several times. After the elections, the civil unrest turned violent. Families ran to our camp for safety. I saw your mother stand in front of a gun to protect a young mother and her baby.”
The look on Lyndon’s face told Kadance how much he missed his parents, how much he’d loved them—maybe even idolized them. And maybe still did. And then his grandfather had been taken too.
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