“What does that mean?” I asked, immediately suspicious.
She pointed toward the glass-paned front doors. Or, more specifically, to the enormous, glowering Russian leaning against the hood of his car on the other side of those doors, with Wade at his side. Dima had both his arms and legs crossed. Wade had his back to me, legs shoulder-width apart in a stance meant to intimidate Dima, but there wasn’t a chance in hell of that happening.
I sighed. “How long have they been out there?” I asked Terri.
“Since not long after the end of your Disabled-But-Able meeting. Probably an hour or more. They did some yelling at first. Scared a little elderly lady, and I had to tell them to knock it off or I’d call the cops on them. So they stopped yelling at each other, but they haven’t budged. Most people are skirting around them. I can’t say I blame them, either. They’re both kinda scary-looking, aren’t they?”
When they wanted to be… “I have a feeling one of them will be taking me home tonight, so you can go on whenever you’re ready.”
“You sure?” she asked, warily eyeing the two most bullheaded men I’d ever known.
“Positive.” I might not be happy about it, but there wasn’t any way around it. Besides, I was even more bullheaded than the two of them combined. Someone had to break these two up before they killed each other, and it appeared I was the lucky someone in line for the job. Not that I had a clue what they were going on about, but apparently I’d find out soon enough. “Can you lock up?”
“Got it. I’ll see you in the morning.” She took another glance out the windows. “You sure you don’t want me to call the cops anyway?”
“I’m sure. I can handle those two.” I put on my coat and headed out into the warmer-than-it-appeared air, immediately wishing I’d left the coat off. We must have had a warm front blow in while I was otherwise occupied doing my job.
Dima raised a brow when he saw me come out, and Wade turned around to face me, planting both feet in the same kind of stance as before, with his arms crossed in front of him. They should get a look at the pair of them. Good grief. They might as well be twins with the way they were posturing and glaring and whatnot.
“What the hell’s gotten into you two to make you scare off a little old lady in front of my community center?” I demanded once I got close enough that I wouldn’t have to yell. “You were getting along just fine while we were all inside, so what went wrong?”
“There were people around us inside,” Wade said, “and besides, it wasn’t about us in there. It was all about Joyce.”
I scowled, trying to ease my arms out of my coat so I didn’t roast alive. It didn’t matter how many years I’d been living in Oklahoma—I still hadn’t gotten used to the rapid changes in the weather, and I doubted I ever would. They came up on me out of nowhere and took me by surprise every time. “So you were on your best behavior.”
“Yes,” Dima said.
“And you can’t be if you don’t have an audience? Why not?”
“Because I don’t think he’s good enough for you,” Wade said.
I rolled my eyes. “Who asked you? I think I should be the one to make that call.”
“You don’t think he’s good enough for you, either,” he shot back as Terri made her way out of the building and hurried to her car, not making eye contact with any of us.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because you didn’t talk about him at all the whole time he was gone, other than when I asked you what you wanted me to do about him. You didn’t even know he’d shaved off that rat’s nest of a beard until he showed up today. I could tell from your reaction when you realized he was there.”
“Oh, so I didn’t talk to you about him for a few days, when whatever’s going on between us is none of your business, and I didn’t stalk him online to see if he’d done something different in a few days, so suddenly that means he’s not good enough for me? Whatever, Wade. Get over yourself.”
“Get over myself?” he shot back.
“Yes. Exactly.” I rolled my eyes. “You know, if anything, maybe it means I’m not good enough for him, hmm? I didn’t pay enough attention to him while he was gone, so why should he want me anymore?”
Dima let out a chuckle, and without the beard hiding it, you could actually see the smile so often hidden underneath.
“Oh, that’s funny, is it?” Wade drawled.
“Just nice to see her going after someone else for once,” Dima replied.
“Don’t think you’re getting off any easier than he is,” I shot in his direction. “What are you doing here at all? You’re supposed to be coming to the support group tomorrow.”
He shrugged. “Wanted to see you. Missed you.”
Wade snorted.
But I melted a bit inside. I didn’t want Dima to know that he could have that kind of effect on me, though. Not yet. Not until I had time to figure out how I felt about it, at the very least, and maybe not even then.
That kind of knowledge was power, and I wanted to have the upper hand if at all possible. I wasn’t good at letting someone else have the upper hand over any part of me, since I had lost control in so many areas of my life already.
“So what are you saying?” Wade asked.
This wasn’t an easy answer to give him because I knew, without a doubt, he wouldn’t like hearing it. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt Wade Miller, but I didn’t see any way around it while still staying true to myself. “I’m saying that, while I appreciate the sentiment behind what you’re doing, I don’t want you to keep doing it.” Sure enough, as soon as the words were out of my mouth, his jaw set and locked—anger and pain, both colliding within him the way they always did. Wade had made a lot of changes in the last few years, but he still had a long way to go before he was ready for the kind of relationship he wanted. And he’d never be able to have it with me, whether he still thought he wanted us to be an item or not. I couldn’t go there with him. I couldn’t be the one to slay his dragons, and I couldn’t allow him to think he was taking care of the demons lurking in his closet by looking after me.
He kicked a rock with his toe, staring at the asphalt between us. “So that’s it, then? You’re kicking me out of your life and letting him in?”
“I’m not kicking you out. But I’m not kicking Dima out, either. If you want to be part of my life, you’re going to have to accept that I’m going to make choices you don’t always agree with. I’m going to have people involved in my life you might not like. You don’t get to determine who I see and who I don’t.” It was hard enough loving him when he couldn’t love himself, but allowing him to pick and choose who was good enough for me wasn’t something I could do. Not ever.
“So if I think you’re making a huge mistake, I’m just supposed to bite my tongue and pretend I don’t see it?”
“No. You’re supposed to love me anyway, the same as I’ll love you even when you’re being an enormous ass.”
“But you don’t love me,” Wade said. “That much is clear.”
A part of me deflated, but I refused to look away. “You’re wrong about that. I’ve loved you for a long time, Wade. I just can’t love you the way you want me to because you won’t take care of yourself.”
He kicked another rock and spun around, the muscles in his back bunched like he was looking for someone or something to hit. I doubted punching something would help him, but it might allow him to blow off some steam. Only there was nothing out here for him to hit other than Dima or me, so I hoped he would just leave. Walk it off. Go to the gym and punch a bag. Maybe find one of the other guys from the Para-Pythons to have a beer with or something.
Every bone in my body wanted to comfort him, but that would negate everything I’d just said. So I couldn’t. This time, he was going to have to sort it out on his own.
“You gonna take her home?” he finally ground out, glaring at Dima.
“I’ll take her home,” Dima replied, keeping one wary eye on Wade and the other on me, ga
uging my reaction.
I nodded my agreement with the plan.
Without another look in my direction, Wade stalked across the parking lot and climbed into his truck, slamming the door before revving the engine and peeling away so fast his tires squealed on the pavement.
After Wade was gone, I turned back to Dima. “Well, that was awkward.”
“You’re not kicking me out?” he asked.
“No. Not yet, at least.”
He grinned, even though it was obvious that he was trying to hide it. Cocky bastard. “So where that leaves us?”
“I don’t know. Where do you want us to be? You’re the one who asked me to leave, if you’ll remember.”
He held up the back of his right hand for me. “I don’t forget. Not anything.”
“No, you tattoo it all over yourself so you can’t forget even if you try.”
He chuckled and gave me a sheepish expression.
“Come on,” I said, closing the distance between us. “Take me home and we’ll talk about it. Figure out what’s going on with us.”
“Fine. Since you can’t jerk my beard.”
I winked. “I have a few other tricks up my sleeve.”
“That’s what makes me nervous.”
“Good. A smidge of fear never hurt anyone. Too badly…”
STANDING IN LONDON’S house, I’d never felt quite so big, awkward, and clunky. Everything in her space was neat and tidy, with plenty of room between every piece of furniture to allow her to move in her wheelchair with ease. The halls and doorways were wider than normal, too. This was a house clearly designed with accessibility in mind.
Being here should have left me feeling like I had enough space to move around, for once, but it did the opposite instead—I felt like I was taking up too much of London’s ability to move freely, and everywhere I stood, I would be blocking her.
“You planning to stick around long enough for us to talk?” she drawled after we’d been inside for a few moments—long enough for her to get a couple of bottles of water from the kitchen and set them on the coffee table. “I thought that was why you wanted to bring me home. Have a seat. Get comfortable.” She shifted from her chair onto the couch and patted the seat next to her.
No chance I’d be able to relax being that close to her. Not unless I could drag her up against me and bury my nose in the citrus-vanilla scent of her hair. I’d caught a couple of whiffs of it in the car, and the reminder had taken me back to the first day she’d been at my house.
The longer she’d stayed, the less I’d been able to make out the scents of her shampoos and soaps and whatnot.
But now they were all back full force, doing a number on my already frayed nerves.
I sat in the armchair across from her instead of where she’d indicated, stretching my legs in front of me. Her furniture was too small for a man my size. It felt almost delicate.
“So you were hiding scars under all that facial hair, hmm?” Her gaze flitted over my face, taking in every part of me. “Not a surprise. But they’re not that bad, you know.”
Subconsciously, I ran a hand over my jaw, feeling where the skin bubbled up. They weren’t as bold and purplish as they used to be. These days, they were more of a soft pink, almost white in places. I hadn’t seen them in years, though, because of all the facial hair covering them. “Not too pretty, either.”
She chuckled. “You’re not supposed to be pretty. You’re a hockey player. I can’t think of a guy who doesn’t have at least a few scars from sticks and skate blades and surgeries. Most have missing teeth, too, but you seem to have at least most of those. It’s not that bad. Besides, my brother always told me that chicks dig scars.”
I couldn’t stop the grin from curling up the corners of my lips. “You like my scars?”
London shrugged, smiling. “I never said I like scars.”
“But do you?”
“I like them better than the beard.”
“Why?”
“Because they allow me to see you. All of you. Even the parts you’d rather hide. They let me know who you are.”
“You know who I am.”
“I mean on the inside. That’s not the same as what you show the world. None of us are the same on the inside as what we let everyone else see.”
“You’re different?” I scoffed. “Not just a demanding, mouthy know-it-all?”
London shrugged. “I’m those things, sure. But there’s more to me than that. I also care too much about other people. I have to be that way to protect myself from getting hurt, because so often, they don’t help themselves when they should. Part of it is a barrier. It’s a way to keep myself from getting too close to people who won’t ever make the changes they need to make if they want to live a better life.”
“Like me.”
“I hope you’re not going to be like that,” she said quietly. “Because I really care about you, Dima. I’ve already let you in too far if I’m going to be able to keep myself from getting hurt if you don’t choose to deal with all your stuff.”
“Like Miller.”
“Yes, like Wade,” she said, nodding. “I care too much about him by half, and it kills me that he doesn’t care about himself.”
“He loves you, though.”
“In his own way, yes. But if he can’t ever start to love himself again, how can he really love someone else? How can he let someone else love him if he doesn’t think he deserves to be loved? He hates himself because he came home and his team didn’t.” She leaned forward, and some of her hair escaped from the clip holding it back behind her head. It fell down to frame her face in waves that I wanted to run my fingers through. “What were you thinking when he said you weren’t good enough for me?” she asked after a long moment.
“Thinking he’s right.”
“He’s wrong. He thinks you’re not good enough. He thinks he’s not good enough. It’s all wrong. That’s the problem. And I need you to see the truth. I need you to see yourself for what you are.”
“Trying not to hide from you,” I said.
“It’s not me I’m worried about here. I wish you weren’t hiding from yourself.”
I shook my head, not following. “How can I hide from myself? Doesn’t make sense.”
“Exactly. You can’t, but you’ve been trying to. From yourself. From Sergei. From everyone.” London leaned forward and grabbed a bottle of water from the coffee table, then took a sip. “You’re a study in contradictions,” she said after a moment, eyeing me over the top of her bottle. “You tattoo your hand so you won’t forget, but the rest of your body is covered in tattoos meant to hide the evidence of your past. Instead of putting ink on your face, you grew that god-awful beard to hide the most visible remnants of your accident. But then you hold charity events to raise money for other people dealing with the same problems Sergei has, and you sent me money to fix up a car for my needs after my accident.”
My head whipped back like she’d struck me. “I didn’t—”
London held up a hand to stop me before I got too far. “Don’t lie to me about that, Dima. I’ll know, and I can’t stand being lied to.”
“All right.” I wasn’t a good liar anyway, unless it was lying to myself, apparently.
She raised a brow. “So you admit it? You’re the one who sent me the money, aren’t you?”
“Wasn’t just me. Got every guy on the team to donate.”
“But you’re the one who was behind it.” A statement, not a question. “It was your idea, you organized it, you probably hounded the rest of the guys until they forked over some money, and you arranged to get it to me. I’m sure it was the same thing when you dragged half your teammates into participating in the sled hockey game, too. You got it in your head that you had to do it, and then you worked your ass off to make it as good as you could for the fans by getting the other guys involved.”
I tried to shrug it off.
“So what’s all that about?”
“Why does it matter?
”
“Because you seem to want to be with me, even if you don’t want to want me. And I can’t for the life of me figure out why, but I want to be with you, too. But I can’t be with someone who’s trying to hide from the past like it’s going to catch up to him. No, that’s not entirely right. I can, but I won’t.”
“I shaved,” I said on a frustrated sigh. “What else do you want?”
“I want you to figure out how to let go. It’s not just about the beard and tattoos, and you’re deluding yourself if you think otherwise. It’s about what you’re trying to hide with them. I want you to move on so you’re not constantly trying to make up for your mistakes. That’s no way to live.”
“I don’t know any other way.” Constant reminders of the things I’d done wrong had been the only things holding me together for so long now I didn’t have a clue what it would be like to let any of it go.
“Well…if you want to be with me, you’re going to have to figure it out. You can start tomorrow when you go to the support group.”
“What if I don’t go?” After watching what she’d put Joyce through this afternoon…
London stared at me so hard and for so long I thought she might start in on me that same way. But finally, she said, “You saw what happened with Wade this afternoon.”
I nodded.
“I love him as much as I love my parents, my brother, my nieces and nephews. Wade Miller is part of my family, and I would do anything to see him happy. Including push him away because he’s still stuck in the past. Even if it hurts us both, which I promise you…what you witnessed this afternoon ripped us both to shreds, even if you think I’m just a coldhearted bitch. I might not break down and start crying over things, but that doesn’t mean they don’t tear me apart limb from limb on the inside.”
“So I don’t go, you cut me out? That’s what you’re saying?”
“Not exactly, no. But I am saying I won’t sit by and let you keep doing exactly what you’ve been doing all along, hoping things will get better. You’re going to have to make an effort to make things better. Or I’ll cut you off.”
Ghost Dance (Tulsa Thunderbirds Book 3) Page 15
