Reviving Dade

by Becca Jameson

  Dade started asking Zeke questions. “Were you shocked when you first found out it had been ten years?”

  Zeke nodded. “Stunned. It’s still strange. There’s this entire new team rushing around the bunker. They look just like we did a decade ago. Ants in an anthill on a mission. I find myself feeling like I’m out of body, watching them move, unable to do much else yet, and so far behind the times that my head spins.”

  Dade nodded. “That’s a perfect description. How is everyone else? Kate? Grayson? Colton?”

  Besides Zeke, three other people had been reanimated at the same time. They were the first group since three more chambers had been added to revive them.

  “They’re all good. Grayson is bossing everyone around. Colton only tells jokes. And Kate is quiet.”

  “Good to know their personalities are intact,” Dade joked.

  “Yep. How are you?” Zeke asked, sucking the air out of the room.

  Dade sobered, shrugging. “Hanging in there.”

  Zeke must have known better than to bring up anemia, so he went another direction. “It was crazy riding out here in the back of that delivery truck.”

  “Yes. I was only a few days’ further post-reanimation than you when we came here. I thought I was going to get tossed so hard against the side of the vehicle I would break a bone.” Dade looked at Blair for the first time since everyone came in. “Luckily Blair was riding with me. She kept me from getting thrown from the back.” His smile was warm as he held her gaze.

  She didn’t think he had looked at her for that many seconds in over a week. And he sure hadn’t smiled often. Besides, his side of the story was a fabrication. She hadn’t touched him during the drive. She’d worried he was too weak to hold on, but she hadn’t reached for him out of fear for her life.

  So far all he’d done at the time was grumble and complain. She hadn’t known him well enough to be sure he wouldn’t backhand her if she insulted his masculinity.

  When Dade finally looked back at Zeke, the two of them joined Ryan in shop talk, discussing their research on several diseases.

  Blair left them alone to go grab the groceries from the back of the truck. She restocked the fridge and set a few drinks on the coffee table next.

  They continued talking for a long time, and then Ryan took a blood sample from Dade.

  Blair was in the kitchen, pretending she belonged there and trying to look busy when she heard Ryan speaking. “Think about what I said. The choice is yours, but we need to make some decisions soon.”

  Dade nodded, not lifting his gaze.

  Blair’s heart rate picked up. She was always on edge lately, but they’d been living in a zone for the last few weeks. No, she didn’t have all of Dade. She only had a fraction of him, and it was a distracted fraction. But it was better than nothing, and she’d learned to live with it. She would rather freeze time right where they were and have a quarter of the amazing man that was Dade Menke than have to give him up altogether.

  The clock was ticking. Every time they had to make another decision, she flinched. She was scared out of her mind, both for herself and for Dade. And she hadn’t spoken to a single person about her feelings. There wasn’t any way to do so. It wasn’t like she could call Emily or Temple and air her concerns. The cabin was too small for that kind of privacy. So, she sucked it up and pushed her emotions down deep, the burden growing by the day.

  She couldn’t even cry except in the shower for fear he would hear her. And the last thing she wanted to do was cause him undo stress. Though they slept in the same bed at night, and he usually tucked himself against her back, they were growing more estranged by the day. It hurt.

  She also wasn’t unaware that he was exhausted at night and slept longer. He never said a word, but she often saw him rubbing his temples when he was awake as though he had a constant headache.

  She knew Dade and Ryan had been discussing his options at length, but had they decided on a path? And when would he tell her?

  As Zeke and Ryan made their way to the door, Ryan spoke again. “We’ll get everything set up to bring Lawson Danforth here in a few days.”

  “Sounds good. Let me know if you need me to do anything from my end,” Dade said.

  Blair recognized the name. Danforth was the executor of Dade’s grandfather’s will. She hadn’t realized Dade had plans to meet with the guy, but she was glad he was finally making something happen.

  As Dade opened the front door, Blair came closer to say goodbye.

  Zeke turned toward her. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You too. Don’t worry. You’ll get stronger every day, incrementally.”

  He nodded. “I hope so.”

  Ryan hugged Blair. “You okay?” he asked, holding her a few inches away, his eyes narrowed with concern.

  “Of course,” she lied, forcing a smile.

  He drew his brows in farther. “I’ll have Emily call you.”

  As she pulled back and glanced at Dade, she found him in a tight embrace with Zeke. She had to swallow over the lump in her throat as it became perfectly clear why Ryan had taken a chance and let Zeke in on Dade’s location. Zeke had wanted to say goodbye to his friend.

  “Sounds good.” It won’t change anything, though.

  She stood next to Dade and watched them drive away. The air in the room was dense when they shut the door.

  “So, Danforth is going to come?” she started.

  “Sounds like it. I’ve exchanged a few emails with Ryan about it.” He pointed at a folder on the coffee table she hadn’t noticed. “Ryan brought me several things. Birth certificate. Social security card. The will.”

  “Oh, shit. I never thought about you needing identification.”

  “Temple has a way of getting things expedited. I’m the fourth person to reenter society after all. It’s weird when someone has been declared dead to get them un-dead and get their status changed. If I hadn’t needed the documents in order to collect whatever my grandfather left me, I would have told her not to bother.”

  Blair stiffened as Dade headed for the kitchen and started pulling out stuff for sandwiches. She detested when he spoke like that.

  She followed him, choosing to ignore his fatalistic comments. “Zeke seems nice.”

  Dade chuckled. “No, he doesn’t. No one describes Zeke as nice. Serious maybe. Surly even. But not nice.”

  “Well, he’s not mean. I was just making small talk.” She sounded sharp even to her own ears, but she was unable to hold back her frustration all of a sudden.

  He dropped several things on the table and then paused to look up at her. “Are you mad about something?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  He sighed. “You’re pissed.”

  “I’m not.” She didn’t want to fight with him, nor did she want him to have to stress over anything to do with her. Her job was to protect him, and part of that job had begun to include protecting him from himself and from her. If he wanted to keep stuff from her, she would let him. If he wanted to pout, she would let him. If he wanted to have a tantrum, she would let him.

  More importantly, she wanted to be there for him to fill whatever need he had, emotional or maybe one day physical again because this wasn’t about her. She didn’t have a right to be pissed. He was the one dying. Not her.

  He finished making the first sandwich and handed it to her. “I’ve been a bit of an ass lately. I’m sorry.”

  She took it from his fingers, leery about where this conversation might lead. “You haven’t. You’re preoccupied, and you have a right to be. You have a lot on your mind, and it’s understandable. It would eat into your time to stop and explain things to me throughout the day. You don’t owe me explanations. You have a job to do. And so do I. They don’t exactly cross.”

  He perched on the stool across from her, but set his sandwich on the napkin. “Damn, I really am an ass.”

  She flinched. “Didn’t I just say you were not?”

  He laughed. “Your wor
ds maybe, but your tone indicated otherwise. I haven’t been sharing anything with you. It was rude. Even if we meant nothing to each other besides roommates or client-slash-bodyguard, it would be insensitive to leave you out of the details.”

  She shrugged. There was an apology in there. She needed to take it. “I don’t expect you to coddle me. I’m a grown-up. I understand.”

  He reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “I’m sorry.”

  “Okay.” She tugged her hand free and pointed at his sandwich. “Eat. We must have some research we should be doing.”

  He shook his head, not meeting her gaze. “Not really.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that we’re out of options and time. I’m going to do the stem cell transplant.”

  She sat up straighter. “Seriously? When did you decide that?”

  He exhaled slowly. “Kinda this morning. I mean, I’ve been thinking about it a lot. I need to act soon. My chances of success go down incrementally with every passing day that AP12 gets a stronger hold on me. The transplant has a much higher likelihood of working if I’m healthy at the time.”

  “But you’ve been working so hard to find another option, and you haven’t had any symptoms. What about a bone marrow donor or even a cure?” She had no idea why she was arguing with him. It was stupid. She had believed all along he should take the stem cell transplant route.

  Now that the decision was at hand, she was downright scared, though. What if it didn’t work?

  He lifted his head and met her gaze. “It’ll be okay.”

  Would it?

  No. It most certainly would not. Not if he died. It would never be okay. She’d lived a lifetime in the past few weeks. She couldn’t imagine a life without him.

  Her throat squeezed shut. The sandwich suddenly held no appeal. Her vision got blurry.

  Shit. She didn’t want him to see her emotional. She pushed from the table. “Excuse me.” Attempting to remain calm, she headed to her bedroom and shut the door. She needed to be alone to pull her shit together. She didn’t want him to see her like this.

  She was supposed to be strong and indifferent. For him. For herself. For both of them.

  She was failing.

  Chapter 16

  Dade cleaned up the kitchen, mostly to give Blair some time. He knew she had been emotional, on the edge of crying in fact. And she’d gracefully left the room to keep it from him. Unsuccessfully.

  He also knew this was his fault. He’d held her at arm’s length for two weeks. For his own self-preservation or hers? He didn’t know anymore. But it had been stupid, and it had backfired.

  He’d thought if he gently pushed her away, it would hurt less when he had to leave her for good. Hurt him less. Hurt her less.

  She had plainly told him otherwise, but he hadn’t listened. He’d been pigheaded and ignored her. He’d done a fine job of ignoring her ever since.

  What he should have done was spent the last two weeks enjoying every moment with her. Also for both their sakes. Right? He wasn’t sure he could repair the damage, but he sure as hell had to try.

  Soon, he would leave her. She would never see him again. He had a plan. And it was time to implement it. In a few days he would sign the papers Danforth needed to get him his inheritance. He would also sign new papers that willed whatever money remained.

  A few days after that he would get two injections, one to cure AP12 and the other to fill his blood with his own stem cells. And then he would disappear. He figured he had about a 40 percent chance of surviving. Those odds were not good, and he didn’t want anyone he knew to walk through the end of life with him. So, he would leave. It would hurt Blair, but not as badly as watching him die. She’d already held her sister’s dying body. He wouldn’t add to those mental images with his own body.

  But first, he needed to talk to her. Make her understand.

  He wiped his hands on his jeans and headed for her bedroom. After knocking softly, he waited. It took her a few seconds before she said, “Come in.”

  At first he couldn’t see her anywhere, so he stepped around to the far side of the bed, and there she was, sitting on the floor, her back against the mattress, her knees drawn to her chest. She was rocking forward and backward slightly, facing the floor.

  Fuck.

  He crouched near her to one side. “I’m sorry.”

  “I know. Don’t worry. I just needed a few minutes alone.”

  “I gave you a few.”

  She said nothing.

  He sighed. “I’ve botched everything.”

  She kept rocking.

  “I thought it would be easier if I put some distance between us.”

  “I told you it wouldn’t be. Not for me.”

  “I know. I didn’t listen.” He lowered to the floor, sitting on his ass. He wanted to reach out to her, hold her, stroke her hair. She didn’t seem receptive to that.

  “When is this Danforth guy coming?”

  “In two days.”

  She nodded at the floor again. “So your plan is to sign his papers, collect your money, get the treatment shot for AP12, follow that with the stem cell transplant, and then take off to die alone. Do I have that right?”

  His breath caught. He’d hidden nothing from her. She was too smart.

  Suddenly, she released her knees and lifted her face to glare at him. “Do I have that fucking right?”

  He blinked, shocked by her outburst.

  “At least have the balls to admit your plan to my face before you fucking leave in the middle of the night without telling anyone where you’re going, you selfish asshole.”

  His mouth fell open to respond, but he wasn’t sure what to say. This was the second time she’d called him that. If the words fit… She was right. He was selfish, but he was protecting himself as well as her.

  She reached out and grabbed his shirt, tugging his chest forward so he was forced to face her. “You’re a coward. You can tell yourself you’re doing all this to save me from having to watch you die, but the truth is you’re too scared to feel anything yourself. You’re afraid to show vulnerability.

  “You’re afraid to admit you’re fucking scared to death. You’re afraid to cry in front of anyone, or scream, or stomp, or throw things. You’re also afraid to live. Afraid to enjoy yourself because it will hurt more.” She shoved him back and released his shirt.

  He lifted his face as she pushed to standing.

  She stared down at him, fury in her eyes. “Stop lying to everyone, especially me. This has very little to do with me. You can tell yourself you’re doing all this to spare me or Ryan or Tushar or Trish or Temple or Zeke from having to watch you die, but you’re fucking lying. You’re doing it because you’re afraid to feel anything for anyone because it will hurt you.

  “You’re right. It will be so much easier to drive away from here, cut all ties, and find some out-of-the-way hotel on the beach to spend your last days. You can sit and watch the sunset all by yourself, and no one will see you cry or have to watch you suffer. It will be easier, but you’re going to be the loneliest bastard on the planet lying in some hotel room martyring yourself for humanity.” She stomped around him and left the room.

  He was still sitting there, too stunned to move, when he heard the back door open and slam shut. He flinched, but he still didn’t move. He couldn’t. Her words hurt him, but she was totally right. He was indeed a world-class selfish asshole who was afraid to let the best thing that had ever happened to him get close enough to love.

  He’d done this himself. She’d been nothing but patient while he spent day after day acting like an idiot. She’d honored his wishes and let him wallow in self-pity, and now she’d had enough. Rightfully so.

  The question was how was he going to fix this? Was it too late?

  He shoved to his feet and took a deep breath. He would go after her and grovel at her feet if it was the last thing he did.

  Because it turned out there was something worse than hu
rting her by letting her watch him die. He just hadn’t let himself recognize it. Pushing her away until she was bitter and angry with him and seeing that on her face and how badly he’d hurt her with his actions was far worse.

  Yep. He was a dick. And he headed for the back door to chase her down and do his best to right this wrong. Based on the rhythmic sound of her axe, he wouldn’t have to go far. He just hoped she didn’t cut a finger off in her anger.

  Dade didn’t even bother to grab his coat on his way outside. Neither had Blair. She was wearing just as much clothing as him—jeans, boots, a long-sleeved thermal shirt. Her hair was pulled back in her usual ponytail. And she was chopping the wood in front of her into tiny shards that could now be used as kindling, or perhaps toothpicks if he gave her much more time.

  It was dangerous, however, for her to continue in her current state of mind. So, he rushed across the yard and wrapped his arms around her middle, grabbing her axe-wielding wrist with one hand.

  She struggled against him, elbowing his stomach and shoving him with her shoulders.

  He didn’t let go. In fact, he held her tighter, seriously concerned about the damn hatchet she still held. He shook her wrist. “Drop the axe, Blair.”

  She fought him for several more seconds until he set his lips on her ear and whispered, “Drop the axe, baby. Please.” Finally, she released it. The second it hit the ground, she let out a piercing cry that reached his soul.

  He pulled her tighter, her back against his front, him now holding her arms to her sides to keep her from hurting either of them.

  After long seconds, she went limp, sobbing, muttering unintelligibly.

  “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He rocked her, trying to soothe her enough to get her back inside. It was fucking cold out.

  As if all the energy drained from her body, her legs gave out.

  Dade nearly dropped her. She almost slid between his arms to the ground. But he caught her, lifted her into his arms, and carried her back inside.

  Shocking him further, she seemed to recover enough of herself when he shut the door to squirm free of him. “Put me down,” she shouted, furious. She pushed against him, causing him to nearly drop her again as she fought to free herself.