The Drowning Man

by Sara Vinduska

  Nathan looked down at the rough wood of the table. He couldn't stand the look on his brother's face, a mixture of fear, rage, and shame. He closed his eyes. He didn't want to think about what it would have been like to be in a situation where death seemed like the best option. It was a miracle he still had a brother. He felt tears burn the back of his throat. He opened his eyes, struggled to speak. “I …” his voice broke and he rubbed his forehead.

  Trent leaned closer. “It's okay.”

  Nathan shook his head. “No, it's not okay, dammit. You're my little brother and you've been through something no one should have to go through and there wasn't a goddamn thing I could do to protect you from it.” His chest hitched. “Ah, fuck,” he said as the first tear leaked from the corner of his eye.

  Trent put a hand on his brother's shoulder. “You did everything you could do. You've always been there for me. And you're here. Now.”

  Nathan drew in a breath, leaned back, wiped his eyes, and looked into his brother's dry eyes. “You're stronger than I could ever be.”

  Trent looked down at the floor. “Don't be so sure of that.” He paused. “And I know I'm not handling it well, or at least how everyone thinks I should be, but I am handling it.”

  “I want to kill her for what she did to you,” Nathan said, his voice hard and steady now.

  Trent smiled but kept his gaze down. “Detective Tatum told me you refused to give up on me. You were the only one.”

  “I just wish I'd been there that day at the river. Maybe I couldn't have saved Eddie, but at least then his mom would have blamed me and not you.”

  Trent's eyes shot up, piercing his brother's. “Don't say that! You have Amy and the girls to think about.”

  “I just … I just want you to be okay.”

  “I will be.” Trent met his brother's steady gaze. “I will be,” he said, softer this time.

  Chapter 26

  Trent still wasn’t well, but the more he went through the motions, the easier it became. He still looked for Chad sometimes when the alarm sounded, still turned to search for him in the middle of a fire. Chad had been the only other person in the world besides his brother, that Trent had completely let in.

  But he couldn’t fight fires alone.

  He needed the guys in the house and they needed him. He was part of something good again. He made a difference. They made a difference.

  He forced himself to eat, he ran, he went to work, and he did his best to appear normal. Most of the time it worked and the days turned into weeks.

  Times like this, late at night when he couldn't sleep, he tried to remember those first days in the hospital. He couldn't see one detail, one minute, until the day he'd come out of whatever unresponsive state he'd been in. He was torn between frustration at the lack of memory and thankfulness that he didn't have to relive those days again. It was bad enough having the fragmented memories of his time in Caroline’s house. They came out of the blue, occurring at random times with no pattern whatsoever. Nothing he could pinpoint as the trigger for them. For the first time since being in the hospital, he considered taking Dr. Hender's advice and talking to someone.

  He threw off the covers and got out of bed. Pacing, he ran a hand through his hair.

  No. That wasn't the answer. Not for him. He would figure this out on his own. As much as he didn't want to think about what had happened to him, he had to face it down to fix whatever about himself that was damaged. A part of him was broken, that was all too clear. Some part of him was missing and he didn't know if he'd ever find it again.

  Eventually he'd have to slow down and deal with it, he knew that. But not now. Not yet. He wasn't ready to face down those demons. He wasn't strong enough, as much as he did not want to accept that fact. It was easier to force himself to keep going forward without looking back. To pretend he was normal.

  And dating was normal.

  He needed a break, needed something pure and real to hold onto. Images of Lora's naked body wrapped around his filled his mind and he smiled. That was what he needed, not some damned shrink. It didn’t have to be anything complicated. They were simply two consenting adults.

  Lora sat in her car, not yet ready to get out. The last man she had felt anything for had died in front of her and she hadn't been able to stop it. As often as she'd told herself what she felt for Trent was nothing but simple lust, she'd known all along it was a lie. He was special. A survivor, just like her. It was only natural that she and Trent shared some sort of connection after sharing such a traumatic experience. That didn’t mean what she felt for him was anything more.

  Realistically, the chances of them having a successful relationship were slim to none. She could think of a dozen reasons to justify her thinking, the least of which was the fact that their jobs required so much of not just their time, but of them. Then there was the fact that it had taken him two weeks to call her back.

  And yet, she hadn't been able to say no when he'd asked her to come over to his place for dinner tonight. Just dinner. They'd eat, then she'd tell him she couldn't see him again. Too easy. She got out of the car.

  Lora did a quick scan of the area around Trent’s apartment as she waited for him to open the door. She rang the doorbell again, looked at her watch. She closed her eyes and waited for that twinge in her gut that something was wrong before she broke in or called dispatch. Nothing came. She relaxed and sat down on the brick step to wait for him. Ten minutes later, his truck sped into the parking lot.

  “I’m sorry,” he said as he jumped out. “Last minute call.”

  His clothes were clean, but there was a smudge of soot on his left cheekbone and he smelled like sweat and smoke. Her heart skipped.

  Lora stood up. “Well, let’s get you inside and cleaned up.”

  Trent unlocked the apartment door and let her in. “I thought we’d order Chinese, if that’s okay.” He pointed at the couch, then patted the top of the cushion. “Have a seat. I’ll just grab a quick shower.”

  Lora sat and watched him pull off his shirt as he walked down the hall. She heard the water start and imagined Trent standing in the shower, water streaming over his naked body. Enough. She shook her head. She was here for dinner. Nothing more.

  She got up and made her way into the kitchen, found the phonebook, and flipped to the menu section. Her mind wandered, her eyes not seeing the words or pictures. She looked up as Trent stopped inside the doorway, barefoot and wearing a white T-shirt and jeans, running a hand through his damp hair.

  “Anything look good?” he asked.

  Oh yeah. Lora looked at him and bit her lower lip. She wasn’t used to the intense sexual feelings he brought out in her. They made it damned hard to think. And she hated anything that made her feel out of control. Another reason to stop this before it went any further.

  “Umm, I know Panda King delivers to this area,” she said.

  He continued to watch her from the doorway.

  “And they have really good egg rolls,” she stammered on. “And the fried rice is good too, and … Ah hell, just get over here and kiss me.”

  Trent grinned and crossed the distance between them in two long strides. He loved how her green eyes darkened when she was angry. Or aroused. The sight of her standing there in his kitchen, eyes wide, mouth ready and waiting was the most erotic sight he'd ever seen. He'd been right. This was exactly what he needed.

  After a kiss that left them both panting, he took her hand and led her down the hall to his bedroom. This time the bed was made. He stopped once they were inside and turned to face her.

  All thoughts of food gone, Lora let her eyes devour the man in front of her. She reached out and tentatively ran a hand inside his shirt, sighing as her hands made their way up his chest, feeling the hard muscle lightly covered with soft dark hair. She closed her eyes. Instinct took over. Her body had a mind of its own when it came to Trent. Her tongue explored his mouth as her hands roamed over his body.

  They bumped against the bed, sank down on
to it.

  Trent groaned and forced himself to slow his body down. They were still half-dressed, lying next to each other on top of the covers. He ran a hand gently along her ribs. She put her hand on his, easing it lower.

  “Don't stop,” she said.

  “Are you sure?” He looked down into her face.

  She smiled, her desire for him clear in her eyes. “Oh yes.” She hooked a bare leg over his hips. “But thank you for asking.”

  He grinned and bent his head to taste her lips. This time he would take his time, savoring every inch of her. His lips traveled from hers to her full, round breasts, lingering until she writhed and moaned underneath him, her hand gripping the sheet.

  Her other hand reached for him, guiding him inside. His eyes swept down the rest of her body. “But I wasn't finished,” he said.

  “Now, Trent,” she gasped out.

  He lifted her hips and slid deeper inside, until they couldn't get any closer. His eyes closed with the intense pleasure, all thoughts of taking it slow and easy gone. He opened them when he felt her getting close, her muscles quivering around him. The sight of her head thrown back in pure ecstasy sent him over the edge.

  When his vision returned, he rolled onto his side, still inside of her, his hands caressing the smooth lines of her skin.

  Like before, her body tensed as soon as his fingers got near the scar. Trent stopped moving. He slid out of her and pulled the sheet up to cover them.

  She sighed and rolled onto her back. “I'm sorry. I hate that damned thing. It's a constant reminder of my failure.”

  “Your failure?”

  “I was caught off guard. I didn't react fast enough. If I'd been just a few seconds faster …” her voice trailed off, then she shrugged. “Stupid, I know, but there you have it.”

  Trent shook his head, linking his fingers together with hers. “No. Not stupid. Sometimes I wonder how many more lives I could have saved if I'd been just a little faster, a little stronger, if I'd gone down one hallway instead of the other. They're like ghosts that haunt me, these unknown faceless people I should have been able to save.”

  He looked down at his hands, at his own scars. “I met the mother of the boy I saved when I got these. She told me that God had saved me so I could save others. But now they're both dead.” He shrugged. “So much for miracles.”

  He threw off the covers, turned away from her, and pulled on his jeans.

  “You are a miracle.”

  His shoulders tensed. “Lora,” he started.

  “I’ve talked to the doctor, to your brother. No one should have been able to survive what you did.”

  Trent closed his eyes, feeling unsteady on his feet. He’d thought of his survival as a curse, or blind luck at the most when he was through feeling sorry for himself. He turned around. But the truth was sitting right there in front of him. In his bed. “You,” he said finally.

  “What?” Lora asked, uncomfortable under his intense gaze.

  “You,” he said again. “If anything’s a miracle, it’s you. You found me.”

  “That’s not a miracle. That’s me doing my job.”

  Trent shook his head. “I’m no cop, but I know there’s no one else who would have figured it out. No one else could have found me in time.”

  She tried to wave him off.

  He bent and grabbed her hands. “I mean it, Lora. I was dying. I don’t think I would have survived another dunk in that water. I was done.”

  He swallowed. He'd gone this far, might as well get the rest of it out. “It was bad. Towards the end, all I wanted was to die. I was sick. I stopped eating and drinking. I prayed she wouldn't be able to bring me back. I'm not proud of it. But I wasn't strong enough to take it anymore. They knew where my brother lived. The only way out was for me to die.” He stopped, unable to look at her face anymore.

  “Trent,” her voice broke the silence. “I honestly don't know anyone who could have survived what you did for as long as you did.”

  “It nearly cost me my sanity.”

  “But it didn't. You survived.”

  He still couldn't look at her. “I hated you for saving me. I didn't think I deserved to be alive.”

  She used a finger to gently raise his chin up until he was looking at her. “And now?”

  Trent's throat tightened. He couldn't talk anymore. He kissed her instead.

  So much for just dinner.

  Lora closed her eyes against the wave of sensations she felt flowing through her body and swirling through her mind. She did not want to think about Trent dead, did not want to see him broken like he’d been the day she’d found him. She opened her eyes and saw him now. Alive. Healthy. Whole.

  She wanted to tell him that he’d done as much for her as she’d done for him. More even. Her life hadn’t been in mortal danger, but she hadn’t been happy for a long time. He made her feel things, good things, things that had been dormant inside of her for a long time. But she couldn’t say the words. Not yet. If she did that and he rejected her, if she opened her heart again and he crushed it, she was afraid it would be closed forever.

  So she kissed him back and reached for the snap on his jeans, their bodies response to each other taking over, drowning out all thoughts of conversation.

  Chapter 27

  “Do you like football?” Trent asked the next morning over coffee. They'd already devoured scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast after not getting around to dinner the night before.

  Lora blinked at the out of the blue question, though she was glad the topics of conversation were much lighter than they'd been last night. “I love football,” she answered.

  “I've got an extra ticket for Sunday's game, if you're interested.”

  “Nate cancel on you?” she asked, looking up from her mug.

  “Maybe,” Trent answered with that grin she couldn't say no to.

  “I suppose I could fit it in.”

  “I'll pick you up at 4.”

  “It's a date,” she said.

  “Yes, it is,” he said, giving her a kiss on the check. “Now, I've got to get ready for work. The chief's a slave driver.”

  “I'm sure that's because he has to deal with guys like you all day long.”

  “Yeah, he's a lucky bastard.” He paused in the doorway. “Want to join me in the shower?”

  Lora stood and rinsed out her mug at the sink. “Better not. Then you'd really be late for work. I'll let myself out.”

  “Call you later,” Trent said with a grin over his shoulder then continued down the hallway, humming to himself.

  Trent had never taken a woman to a professional football game before. Most of the women he’d dated had no interest in the sport other than watching men in tight pants bending over all day. When he’d picked Lora up, he’d found her dressed in jeans, tennis shoes, and a red Chiefs long sleeve tee, her hair pulled back. He’d never seen a woman look more attractive. He wanted to have her right then and there. But she'd seemed more excited to get to the game than he was, grabbing her purse and coat then pulling him out the door.

  For the first time in all the games he'd gone to, his attention was not fully focused on the players on the field, but on the woman next to him. She ate two hot dogs, stood and cheered just as loudly as he did, and cursed at the refs when they made a bad call.

  “We might actually make it to the Super Bowl this year,” she said, as they followed the crowd down the steps and around the side of the stadium after the decisive win.

  “That would be-”

  “Lora.”

  They both turned towards the direction the brittle cracked voice came from.

  “Pops,” Lora said, quickly moving forward and kissing the cheek of the old man sitting in the back of the shiny black limo parked at the curb, a crystal glass with an inch of dark liquid clutched in his veined hand.

  “What are you doing? Why weren’t you in the press box suite with us?” the old man asked.

  “I came with a friend.” She gestured behind her. �
��This is Trent Barlow. Trent, my grandfather, Drayton Nabors.”

  The old man’s eyes narrowed in recognition. “You’re a brave man,” he said, shaking Trent’s hand.

  Trent cleared his throat and carefully shook the extended hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, sir. Congratulations on the win.”

  The old man looked from Trent to Lora, a bushy white eyebrow raised in question.

  “We need to be going, I’ll call you later,” Lora said, squeezing the man’s hand and shutting the car door.

  They walked on in silence. Lora kept her lips tightly together, moving forward at a brisk pace through the crowd. Everyone in Kansas City knew who Drayton Nabors was. What Trent didn’t know was why in the hell Lora hadn’t told him she was his granddaughter.

  “You told me you didn’t have any family,” he said when they were halfway across the parking lot.

  “I told you my parents were dead.”

  That at least explained how she’d been able to afford her luxury condo. Family money. Damn. Just when he thought she was letting him in, she blindsided him again. Would she ever let him get to know all her secrets?

  “It’s not a big deal,” she added.

  He didn’t want to argue with her, not after the great day they’d just had, but it sure as hell was a big deal. Her grandfather owned the damned football team they'd just watched play and she hadn't said one word about it.

  She reached out and took his hand in hers, one of the few times she’d initiated contact between them. “I just don’t like talking about my family, okay,” she said quietly with a quick sideways glance at him.

  “Okay,” Trent answered. For now, he thought but didn’t add. The feel of her soft, smooth hand in his eased his anger. Sooner or later he’d get her to open up to him. It was a worthy challenge. And that was another first for him, wanting to know more about a woman than she was willing to give.

  Simon Hewett had watched them through his binoculars from across the stadium. He followed them as they moved towards the parking lot. He saw the affection between Lora and the older man, saw the uncertainty in Barlow's body language. She hadn't told Barlow who her family was. Simon couldn't help but smile. How perfect.