by Kaylea Cross
Heading to the kitchen to search for leftovers, he hesitated when he heard Emily humming in there. Things between them were awkward enough without him compounding it, and he didn’t want to add to her stress level. She was dealing with too much shit already.
“You might as well come in,” she called out, and he hid a smile.
“How’d you know I was there?”
“My sixth sense kicked in.”
Dressed in a cream knit sweater and snug jeans, Emily stood at the island kneading dough, her hands covered with it. The dark brown wig she wore was long, coming to her shoulders in waves, and it made her look almost as young as the day they’d met. She was still beautiful enough to tie him in knots. “Biscuits?”
“Yeah, I was in the mood for some.” Her hands continued to work the dough, and since she was focused on that it gave him time to get a good look at her. Dark smudges lay beneath her eyes though she’d tried to cover them with makeup, and she was still pale. He didn’t like the flush that rode on her cheekbones or the hollows beneath them. His immediate instinct was to go over and put a hand on her forehead, but he held himself in check. He didn’t want to make her even more uncomfortable.
“You running a fever?” he asked instead.
She looked up, and her vivid green eyes were slightly glazed. “A little one. No big deal.”
Dammit, why wasn’t she taking better care of herself? She’d just had a frigging chemo treatment. She should be in bed, or at least lying down someplace with a blanket on her to stop the chills. “Should you be making biscuits right now?” He kept his voice even, but he caught the answering spark of anger in her eyes.
“I feel much better than I did after the first treatment. Besides, I’m tired of lying around and wanted something to do. I’m used to keeping busy, and it helps pass the time.”
That’s how she’d always coped with stress, by puttering and cleaning. She always needed a project to work on, as though having a physical task to complete helped keep her mind occupied. Crossing to the island, he sat on a stool at the far end to give her some space. “I know this isn’t easy on you.” And it was getting increasingly hard on him, too.
Rather than answer him, she tossed some flour on the granite surface and began rolling out the dough with practiced ease. “These’ll be ready for the oven in a minute,” she said. “You can stay and have some if you want.”
The tentative overture almost broke his heart because the offer wasn’t merely an effort to be polite, though Em didn’t have it in her to be rude. She was trying to ignore all the unfinished business that lay between them, plus she was worried as hell about him finishing this mission. He hated leaving her to face everything on her own, but she wasn’t letting him in and he couldn’t stay behind on this one.
He waited in silence while she cut the biscuits out with the rim of a glass and arranged them in a pan before brushing them with melted butter. It had been so long since he’d seen Em at work in the kitchen that he’d forgotten how much he enjoyed watching her. She seemed much more relaxed when she popped them into the oven and set about cleaning up that he didn’t dare break the spell by speaking or offering a hand. She wouldn’t let him help anyway.
She’d never know how much it had meant to him when she’d asked him to stay with her during her treatment. The whole time he’d sat in the chair watching her, he’d ached to pull her into his arms and cradle her while she slept. But he hadn’t.
Em was wiping the already gleaming countertop for the second time when the timer went off. She exhaled almost in relief and pulled them out, and the heavenly scent had his mouth watering. She slid a few onto a plate and set it in front of him. “Want some butter?”
“No, this is perfect.” The tentative truce between them was starting to grate on his nerves. There was so much left unsaid and too many questions filling his head. What he’d said to her out by the pool was merely the surface of what he needed to. He chewed his biscuit slowly, savoring the familiar, delicious flavor. Maybe he should just get this over with and put it out in the open once and for all. Like lancing an infected wound. He watched her carefully controlled expression as he ate his second biscuit, the warm, fluffy layers melting on his tongue. “These are great, Em.”
“Thanks,” she said without looking up, concentrating on her food. She barely picked at it. Was she uncomfortable about how exposed she’d been a few hours ago? Or was she feeling sick to her stomach? His fingers itched to reach out and touch her flushed cheek and see how hot it was. He suspected she felt a hell of a lot worse than she let on, but at least she was attempting to eat so maybe the nausea wasn’t bothering her as much as it had the first time. His gaze lowered to her chest, the outline of her breasts beneath the heavy knit of her sweater. Had she had a reconstruction done or was she wearing a prosthetic bra? He hadn’t asked her and wasn’t about to now.
Emily swallowed the last bite of her biscuit before glancing at him, and the impact of her gaze hit him like a bullet to the heart. “So. How are things...coming?”
“Operationally speaking?”
She nodded. “Any good news?”
“Some. We’re following up on some leads right now, but we’ll know more when I’m on the ground tomorrow.”
Her shoulders tensed. “You’re going out tomorrow?”
“Maybe sooner.”
“Oh.” She lowered her lashes, picking at one of the biscuits. “For...for how long do you think?”
“Not sure. Couple days, maybe.”
“By yourself?” She pushed the plate away as though she’d suddenly lost her appetite.
“No, with Rhys and another team.” When she nodded and started plucking at her cuffs, something she always did when she was agitated, he wanted to reach for her. “I’ll be fine, Em.”
She nodded again, an anxious frown creasing her pale brow.
He knew she was thinking of all the times he’d deployed on a mission without being able to tell her where he was or when he might be back. This time the mission wasn’t classified and at least she’d have an idea of where he was. Not that he could tell her everything, but he could tell her more than he used to. Damn, he didn’t want to leave her now. Especially not after this afternoon. “It’ll be different this time. Sam and Ben will be monitoring everything, so they’ll be able to reach me if something comes up.”
“And update me if something happens to you?”
His heart squeezed painfully. She was scared for him, and he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to cause her any more worry. “Nothing’s going to happen to me. I’m too mean and stubborn to die.” The second he said it she went white beneath her fevered flush and he cursed. “I just meant—”
“God, I can’t believe I’m doing this again,” she muttered, tilting her head back to look up at the ceiling. “It’s like I’ve been thrown back in time.” Her lashes fluttered when she blinked fast, and it hurt Luke that she battled tears.
Because she still cared that much about him. Even now. The knowledge burned like a red-hot coal beneath his sternum.
She shook her head, the ends of the long wig swinging around her shoulders. “I swore I’d let you go.”
A deep ache settled in the middle of his chest. “Em...”
Her head righted, and the pain in her eyes stabbed him. “You wanted me to be more authentic, right? That’s what you meant earlier. You hated that I put on an ‘everything’s fine’ front when you knew it wasn’t. Well, careful what you wish for.”
She seemed to be working up a head of steam, her anger rising palpably. He could only watch and wait to see what would happen.
A moment later she nailed him with that vivid green gaze. “You want to know what’s really going on with me? Fine, here it is.” She punched a forefinger into the air at him. “I want to forget you and move on, but I can’t, not even now when I know I might only have a few months left. How pathetic is that? What’s wrong with me that I can’t let you go?”
Aw, fuck.
She di
dn’t give him the chance to respond, just kept on with words that tore him up inside. “You’d think my heart would finally realize it’s over, but it doesn’t care. It doesn’t care that you walked out and never came back, and it doesn’t care that you don’t love me anymore—” She covered her face with her hands.
Luke stood, pulse pounding in his ears. This was his penance. Having to watch her suffer and not be able to hold her or make it better. But the fight brewing was way overdue and she needed to get this out. Question was, how much should he tell her in return? If he spilled his guts now and something happened to him out there tomorrow, she’d be in even more agony than she already was. He owed her the truth, but could she handle that right now?
More importantly, could he afford to take the chance to wait?
“It would’ve been easier if you’d died,” she told him as she lowered her hands, bottom lip trembling slightly. “At least then I could have grieved and learned to live with the loss eventually. But having you leave when I knew damn well you still loved me? How the hell was I supposed to live with that loss?” She tossed her head, cheeks alight with building anger along with the fever. “For God’s sake, Luke, we barely ever fought because you weren’t home enough for us to get on each other’s nerves. You know what? I’d have loved the chance to get sick of you. Life as I knew it ended when you walked out.”
Years of buried regret, love and anger rose up in a dark tide. Pushing out a ragged breath, he shook his head. “I gave you every chance to make a new life and find someone that would make you happy, but you wouldn’t. Why, dammit?” The words were torn right out of his soul.
Her eyes glittered with fury. “Same reason I never changed my last name or signed those damned divorce papers you had your lawyer send me. I wasn’t ready to give up.” The suppressed rage pulsed around her like an aura. “Too bad you weren’t man enough to stick around and fight for us,” she flung out. “But oh wait, I forgot—you only do that for your country, so I guess Rayne and I didn’t count.”
He was around the island and facing off with her without even being conscious of moving. Of all the things she could have said, that was the worst. “You’d rather I’d stayed after what I did? I almost slit your throat!” Their gazes clashed.
“Sometimes I wish you had.”
He reeled back, a cold wave sweeping over him. “What?”
A fresh sheen of tears glistened in her beautiful eyes. “If I’d known then that you’d never come back, if not for Rayne I would rather have died than go through the next twenty years without you.”
He couldn’t believe she’d said that. It horrified him that she’d ever thought it. “Christ, you don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Is that right? Well, what about your lofty statement you left me because you wanted me to find happiness? Like some pathetic version of ‘if you love something set it free’? That’s bullshit, and you know it.” She thrust her finger at him. “You left because you were too frigging scared to face what was happening to you, and because you didn’t know how to handle it. You thought I’d just move on and find someone else? For God’s sake, Luke, it took me over nine years to date anyone, and the first time I slept with him I cried the whole time.”
Every muscle in his body stretched taut, ready to snap. “Did he hurt you?” The words came out a low growl.
Emily threw him a look of disgust. “No he didn’t hurt me. I cried because it wasn’t you. Even after all that time I still felt like I was cheating on you. After that horror show, I didn’t date anyone until Alex.”
He covered a flinch at her ex’s name. “I know he treated you well.” He almost strangled on the words. He’d been so sure she’d marry the guy and settle down again, much as that would have ripped his guts out. Being a wife and mother was what Em had been born to do. “Why did you break it off?”
“Because I didn’t love him, and it wasn’t fair to keep him hanging. So there’s my love life over the past twenty years, Luke. What about yours?”
Her question threw him. “What about mine?”
Em folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. “Yeah, how many women have you slept with since me, Luke? I’ll bet it’s more than two.”
He gripped the edge of the countertop until his knuckles ached, fighting the need to roar his response. Did she expect him to admit he’d screwed his way through a long list of women he couldn’t even remember the names and faces of? Not frigging likely. “What the hell does it matter now?”
“It matters,” she said venomously, “because it proves how easy it was for you to get over me.”
Fuck this. “You think it was easy for me? That I just flipped some sort of fucking switch and turned my feelings off?”
“Yes.”
The haughty eyebrow she raised set his blood boiling. “I regret what I did every single day of my life,” he said through clenched teeth, “but I knew leaving was best for you and Rayne.”
Her shrill laugh was full of disbelief. “You did not just say that to me.”
Luke folded his arms and glared right back. “I didn’t want to hurt you anymore, can’t you see that? It hurt you every time I went on a mission or a training exercise, let alone when I was home and you having to be afraid your husband might come after you with a knife. I didn’t want you to have that kind of life. Rayne, either.”
“It wasn’t your place to make that choice for us.” Her voice shook. “I was prepared to deal with long absences and watch CNN every day in case it might tell me where you were. I was prepared to deal with all the baggage that came along with being married to a SEAL officer. I was even prepared for the fact I might lose you to combat or training, but I was not prepared for you walking away because you didn’t want me anymore.”
“Not want you?” The tenuous hold he had over his temper snapped. He stalked over and grabbed her hand, ignoring her gasp as he brought it to cover the aching length of the growing erection straining against the fly of his jeans. “Wanting you was never the problem.”
They were both breathing hard, bodies caught up in the maelstrom of sexual hunger and the pain they’d suffered for too long. Then Emily wrapped her fingers around the length of him and squeezed. “This isn’t what I’m talking about. I meant this,” she cried, laying her other palm over his heart.
“So did I,” he fired back, wanting to back her up against the sink and kiss her until she couldn’t breathe, then tear her clothes off and bury his throbbing cock inside her. “Because with you, they’re connected.” There, he’d finally said it. “I’m not over you, and I never will be. Got that?”
Em sucked in a breath, shock igniting the depths of her eyes. “Then why won’t you—”
“Because I can’t! I want it more than anything, but I can’t.” His heart tried to pound its way out of his chest as he tore away from her. “I have to finish this mission, and until I do I can’t give you what you deserve.”
“Yes, you can.”
The aching whisper undid him, had him wrapping his arms around her back, bringing their bodies flush against each other as he stared down into her eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you again, Em.” But he was so scared of losing her if he didn’t act.
“Then don’t.” Her answer was so simple it broke his heart.
He closed his eyes, praying for strength. When he opened his mouth to tell her he still loved her, voices from the hall stopped him. He turned his head and when Rhys saw him holding Emily he stopped so fast Neveah smacked into him.
“What the hell, Rhys,” Nev grumbled as she tried to push past him. Rhys stopped her by throwing an arm out and corralling her into his side.
Her eyes went wide when she saw them. “Oh. Sorry.”
“You looking for me?” Luke asked as he released Emily.
Rhys nodded. “Sam needs you. Something new just came in.”
“I’ll be there in a minute.”
A few awkward seconds passed while Nev and Rhys did an about face and headed back the way they’
d come. With the moment for life-altering declarations gone, Luke stepped back and thanked God he hadn’t completely laid his heart on the line.
When he didn’t make a move to touch her again, Emily turned away and put her arms around her waist. “You should lie down for a bit,” he told her. “I have to take care of this.”
She nodded, every line of her body radiating defeat. “Sure.”
Feeling like he was ripping off his own skin, Luke walked away for what seemed like the thousandth time.
Chapter Eight
That night after dinner, Emily was too tired to visit with the girls, so she headed upstairs.
“Hey, wait up,” Nev called, jogging after her.
She waited at the top of the stairs, and when Nev grabbed her hand, followed her into one of the guest baths. The elegant chandelier threw off a warm light that made the white marble floors and vanity glow.
“Got something for you,” Nev said. She pulled a drawer on the vanity open and withdrew a small paper bag, and when Emily opened it her eyes popped wide.
Oh my God. “Lube?”
Nev gave an amused laugh. “Just in case.”
Emily stared at her, her face flaming. She didn’t have any idea how to respond.
Nev shrugged. “After I saw you two in the kitchen, I thought it might be a good idea because of the side effects of the chemo,” she said in her matter-of-fact way. “You’re already blushing, so do you want me to go into this more?”
“No.”
Nev let out a strangled chuckle. “Well, like I said, just in case. Have a good night.” She winked.
Standing alone in the bathroom, Emily closed her eyes on a hard sigh. So everyone else could see the sparks between her and Luke too. She hadn’t seen him since that confrontation in the kitchen because he’d been holed up in Jamul’s study and hadn’t even come out to eat.
Her body still tingled all over when she remembered the heat in his eyes as he’d stalked toward her. And when he’d grabbed her hand and pressed it against—
