by Jo Leigh
All she could do was turn away. She shut her eyes, willed the tears back. If she were going to cry, it would not be in front of him. Memories came at her fast and furious, the nights she’d sobbed herself to sleep, feeling like an empty shell for days, for weeks. How everything had reminded her of Luke and how she’d loved him and how wrong she’d been. How stupid.
She gripped the bottom of her seat, struggled to breathe. If this was hashing it out, she wanted no part of it. Because it felt too much like being shattered. Again.
Slowly, other thoughts came to her, and with them, a measure of reason. There was no doubt Luke meant what he said. He was sorry, and while that mattered, it wasn’t at all what she’d imagined. She’d thought…
So many things, depending on what was going on in the rest of her life. At first she’d wanted him to suffer, to feel every moment of her pain. Later, she’d practiced being cold and cutting when he’d beg to have her back. She’d been rehearsing this moment all these years, trying on every emotion she had until at last she’d come to indifference. Although, now it was obvious she’d never been indifferent for a second.
Mostly, though, she’d thought his apology would mean it was over. That once he’d said it, admitted how horrible he’d been, she’d finally be able to begin her new life. That Luke and all he’d meant to her would disappear without a trace as she moved on. But that was years ago when the pain had been fresh. It should have been better now. Instead, here he was. Again. As always, in her heart.
“Sara?”
“I’m not ready yet,” she said.
“Okay. No problem. Just…the wind is getting pretty bad, so I’ll put her down. Get you back to the motel. I promise.”
She nodded. Stared at the sky and concentrated on breathing, in and out, aware that the buffeting she felt had nothing to do with the wind.
11
NOT A WORD HAD BEEN SAID all the way back to the motel. Luke made up scenario after scenario, imagining what was going on in Sara’s head. Her expression gave him no clues. She looked stoic, blank, as if she were pondering about something that didn’t touch her, a purely intellectual query.
He’d seen her first reaction, though. How she’d flinched as if he’d slapped her. He hadn’t been prepared for the “when” question, and he still wasn’t sure he had been right to answer her honestly. He’d told himself he didn’t want to ruin her year, so he’d kept his mouth shut. He hadn’t believed that, even at the time.
The fear that made his stomach churn as they headed to the motel entrance was that she had gone back to hate. A deeper hatred, now that she knew what he was really like. A hate strong enough to make him repellant, to make her ashamed that she’d wanted him then, that she’d touched him last night.
He should have told her on day one. Hell, he should never have come down here, except on leave. He could have sent her a letter, kept everything distant and vague. He’d have been better off, and so would she. But then he would have missed pizza in her room. Kissing her. The scent of her. The proof of her softness, and how they fit together.
As they walked down the hall to her room, it came to him—he was in love with Sara. He had been since long before the crash and he was right now. Today.
Alf had hinted, but Luke hadn’t listened, hadn’t believed it. Luke had never stopped loving her, and being with her for these last five weeks had proved it. He loved her, and he’d just ruined any chance he had of winning her back.
As if there had ever been a chance. He’d lost this round seven years ago. Nothing he could do at this stage would make her love him again.
They were at her room, and she got her keycard out of her purse. He wasn’t sure why he was even waiting. All he’d get now was a door slammed in his face, but if she wanted that, he’d give it to her. He’d give her anything.
She looked at him again as if she was seeing the bastard he was for the first time. He wanted to tell her something that would change things, but those words didn’t exist. “Are you okay?” he asked.
She nodded before she turned and opened the door.
He still didn’t move. Even when she stepped back, holding the door open.
“It’s okay,” she said. “Come in.”
“Are you sure?”
“I need you to.”
He kept his distance, not wanting to do or say the wrong thing.
She walked inside and put her purse on the table. “I don’t know what to do,” she said, turning to face him.
“You don’t have to do anything.”
“I waited such a long time,” she said, as if she hadn’t heard him. “Even when I thought I’d gotten over you, I hadn’t. You’ve been in my head since I was sixteen.”
“I didn’t know leaving would hurt you that badly,” he said. No, honesty. He’d promised. “Wait, that’s not true. Of course I did. I ignored it. I’m good at that.”
“Oh, I believe you,” she said, “but what’s got me stuck is that I had no idea. I was utterly convinced you loved me. How is that possible? You knew for a year that we were over, and I never got a hint. You have feelings. You had them back then, I know you did. That’s why it was so painful. You loved me and then turned it off like a light switch, and I didn’t see it. I thought I knew you, and I missed the biggest thing of all.”
He could tell she didn’t mean this to hurt, but it did. That he’d treated her, of all people, with such callous disregard made him the lowest thing crawling on this earth. What she was asking for now was a way to understand. She wanted closure. An ending. “Sara, you weren’t wrong. I did love you, all through senior year, but it wasn’t love the way you mean it. It was completely selfish. I loved you like a kid loves a favorite toy, until he gets a newer, shinier toy. All that’s on me, my fault.”
She nodded, and it was as if he could watch her put the pieces together, stuff him into a box she could finally throw away. “That makes sense,” she said, leaning against the table, her hands braced behind her. “Everything came to you effortlessly. Friendship, attention, success, popularity. You still do that, you attract like a magnet. You had no reason to think it wouldn’t continue. That it wouldn’t keep getting better.” “It didn’t.”
“What do you mean?”
He started to tell her that he’d never loved anyone else. All that time, and all that playing around, and nothing had come close to the experience of being with her. But he was here to make amends. Nothing else. Not to muddy the waters, or make it easier on himself.
“Luke?”
“It got different, not better,” he said. “Just, I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused. I would rather cut off my own arm than hurt you again.”
Sara smiled. A little smile. “I believe that, too,” she said, pushing up off the table. “You did a horrible thing. I doubt you’ll ever really know why it was so awful. I loved you unreservedly, and you made me doubt everything.”
She sighed. “But I also appreciate what you’ve done by coming here. You’ve given it your best and it’s made a difference in the tour and in my career. I should have said something yesterday at lunch. You were great during the interview. Generous as hell. I never would have guessed. I know you meant it when you said you’d come to help. You have. Helped.”
“It’s not enough,” he said.
The look she gave him made his heart seize. “No. It’s not.”
“Right,” he said, going toward the door. “I’ll leave you alone.”
“There’s one more thing.”
He steeled himself. “Okay.” At least if she had questions, he knew all he had to do was tell her the truth.
“Thank you for the apology.”
The fact that he loved her cascaded through him, filling him with regret as deep as the sky was wide. Karma was a bitch.
EIGHT DAYS HAD PASSED since that flight in the Cessna, and Sara was finally feeling like herself again. It had helped that she’d been incredibly busy. The move to Los Angeles the day before plus the additional job-fair booking had mea
nt long hours with not enough sleep. Today was no different. It was 1820 hours when she dragged herself into the motel, and she’d been up since 0500 and had worked through lunch.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t go directly to her room. Or to dinner. Her crew had been spread out all over the place today, most of them at the job fair, where Van Linn was the featured speaker, some at tomorrow’s junior college site, and a few here at the motel, finishing the unpacking. Each team leader had agreed to meet in the lobby at 1830 hours to give their status reports. Sara was tempted to go sit in one of the big leather guest chairs, but she was afraid she’d fall asleep in an instant.
Her plan was to finish the check-in, grab a yogurt, an apple and some aspirin, take a swim, then sleep like the dead until the alarm woke her at 0600 tomorrow. It was tempting to skip the swim, but she had to make sure she didn’t lie awake in bed, thinking about Luke.
She’d done enough of that. He’d been on her mind every spare moment. When she had dealt with him, it had been strictly professional. She’d replayed last Saturday’s conversation dozens of times, cried so hard she’d had to fake a late-summer cold, and faced some painful truths, not only about Luke, but about herself.
Despite everything, she still cared about him, probably loved him on some level, and she’d given up beating herself up for it. Her attraction to him was alive and kicking if her dreams were anything to go by and she’d quit denying that as well, although she hadn’t acted on it. But she hadn’t eliminated the possibility.
For the last three nights, instead of thinking about the end of their relationship, she’d been remembering the rest of it. For five years they’d been a couple, and those years, except for the last few weeks, had been the best of her life.
She saw Senior Airmen Boyd from the motel crew, and he’d brought along Sergeant Wilson. Sara returned their salutes, and then the final team leader came in from the back entrance. They appeared as exhausted as she felt, so she made it quick. Seven minutes, to be exact. Finally, she was alone and wondering if yogurt and fruit was going to cut it.
“Hey.”
She heard Luke’s voice behind her. She turned around and saw him standing beside the motel entrance. He lifted a large brown bag. “I come bearing food.”
“What kind?”
“Chinese. Didn’t have time to try samples, but it smelled great. I took the liberty of ordering dinner for you and O’Malley.”
Nice. Considerate. Either she was too tired to be worried that a meal was breaching the professional distance of the past week, or that boundary had reached its natural end. The way her stomach was grumbling, she didn’t care which. “What did you get?”
“Most of the menu.” He held up another bag, equally large, that she hadn’t noticed in his other hand.
“Wow. Okay. Great. I have no idea where O’Malley is. Probably still with the trucks.”
“I caught him outside. He should have things wrapped up in ten. Said we should gather in the conference room.”
She nodded, reminding her of the headache she’d had since this afternoon. “Why don’t you go set up? I’ll join you in a minute.”
“Great. Two questions, though. Where’s the conference room and do you still like Dr. Pepper?”
She gestured toward the hallway on her right. “Three doors down. It’s unlocked. And yeah, I still do.”
He smiled at her and she managed to return it with a tired lift of her lips. As he passed her, her gaze moved down his back and paused at his butt. Yeah, the attraction was there, all right, and it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that something could be done about it. But not tonight. Her head hurt, her stomach rumbled and she was determined to swim and sleep. First, though, she needed to freshen up, then eat.
LUKE HAD PUT THE BOXES in the middle of the table along with the chopsticks, paper plates, fortune cookies, napkins and the waxy bags that held the fried stuff. Their sodas were in cans, which were cold, but he’d also brought an ice bucket and some plastic glasses. The room smelled fantastic.
O’Malley had taken the seat closest to the door and made himself at home. The sergeant worked his way through each box, piling food on his plate in concentric circles. So mesmerizing was his methodology and attention to detail, Luke didn’t hear the door open again, and when he finally glanced up, he caught Sara’s tired grin.
“This,” she said, “is awesome.”
How she managed to look so beautiful after the heat and pressure of the day was a mystery he’d probably never figure out. “Glad to be of service,” Luke said. “Dig in.”
She took a seat next to O’Malley and grabbed a plate. Luke put together his own dinner, but he couldn’t help noticing that her tastes in Chinese hadn’t changed much. Broccoli beef, chicken and mushrooms, lots of veg, fried rice, no noodles. But she must have been really hungry because she also had fried shrimp, an egg roll and three crab Rangoon.
“Excellent initiative, Solo,” O’Malley said, and Luke noticed that he was eating in the same circular pattern.
“It’s appreciated,” Sara said.
They were quiet for a long time. Luke darted glances at Sara, but she wasn’t glancing back. She was looking at her can of Dr. Pepper. She’d relaxed into her chair, her chopsticks held easily in her long, slender hand. But there was a difference in how she’d spoken to him, how she sat. He’d been studying her for eight days. Discreetly, because he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. None of the words they’d spoken to each other since that Saturday had been like Sara’s brief thanks just now.
Something shifted in him, relaxed. Not completely, because he still didn’t know what it meant, but the pressure in his chest wasn’t quite so bad. Of course, her tone could mean she’d decided not to care at all. After a week of being polite and distant and in the dark, he would prefer to know.
“Something bothering you, Captain?”
He looked at O’Malley. “Not a thing.”
“Good. ’Cause that dumpling’s gonna fall in about two seconds.”
Luke hadn’t realized. He shoved the food in his mouth, trying to recall when he’d picked it up.
Sara pointed her chopsticks in his direction. “Have you checked out the workout room and the pool?”
“Not yet,” he said.
“I was assured they would meet our requirements. For the price per room, they should.”
“I’ll have a look before I turn in,” he said. “In fact, I think a swim before bed would be just the ticket. I’m stuffed.”
“Hmm,” she said. “Me, too. And yet, I have enough room for my fortune cookie.” She plucked one from the pile. The restaurant had thrown in a large handful, considering the sheer volume of his order. The crack of the cookie was loud enough to say the cookies weren’t fresh and she pulled out the slip of paper.
Her lips turned down a bit.
“What?” he asked.
“‘Use your head, but live in your heart.’”
Luke chose one for himself, unwrapped and broke it. He read it.
“Well?” O’Malley said.
“‘There’s a good chance of a romantic encounter soon.’” He stuffed half the cookie in his mouth, and stared at the wall behind O’Malley.
The old man picked up a cookie and grunted as he read the strip of paper. “‘Your winsome smile will be your sure protection.’”
Luke laughed, covering his mouth quickly so he didn’t spray the table with cookie fragments. Sara’s laughter was louder, and Luke hadn’t even realized how much he’d longed to hear it. O’Malley kept eating.
FROM HER VANTAGE POINT in a darkened section of the fenced-in swimming-pool area, Sara watched Luke exit through the back door of the motel, stride past the gate with the closed sign, then plant himself between the fence and a tree. He eyed the chain link, paying particular attention to the pointed wire that ran along the top.
He continued his walk around the perimeter to the next tree, then flung his towel over to the grass on her side of the fence. Barefoot, s
hadowed and stunning, he began to climb.
Watching him changed her chemistry. He didn’t have to be near enough to smell or touch. All it took was looking at him for her hormones to go crazy.
She’d finally and truly accepted his apology, and not just the words, but the intent. What he’d done to her had been selfish and cruel, but he’d gone to a lot of trouble to get this TDY and he’d come with the express objective of making amends.
The dichotomy had given her pause. She’d done things she wasn’t proud of when she was in college and after—some very disturbing and humiliating. She wasn’t above thoughtlessness or cruelty and she knew it. Joining the service had helped her become less of an ass, actually. The breadth of humanity she had to deal with was a great teacher. You either got patient or petty.
O’Malley had been right. Luke had grown a conscience. Maybe as a result of his crash, maybe as a byproduct of growing up. Whatever the catalyst, his actions proved that he was no longer a class-one prick.
She didn’t quite know what to do with her conclusions. Could they be friends? Friends with benefits? Were they already friends? Was friendship too risky altogether?
She watched him swing his leg over the top of the wobbling fence, all smooth grace and strength. The benefits package was sounding better and better.
Luke did it for her. Always had. Since day one, he was what she meant when she talked about her ideal lover. They’d done it, in her dreams. Not just against the wall, although against the wall had been hot as hell. No, they’d all but broken the bed in last night’s dream, waking her panting and sweaty.
He dropped to the grass with the agility of a cat, then rose slowly, as if he were in enemy territory. She laughed as she walked toward him. So superspy. Jeez.
He spun to face her, his wide shoulders back, his chest muscled with perfect definition. Even his legs were strong and chiseled. She tilted her head to the gate. “It wasn’t locked, Sherlock.”
His grin changed him again, and it was a good smile, self-aware but not self-conscious. “I should have checked.”
