She yells the last bit and comes at me with fists flying, hits me squarely in the chest, struggles when I wrap my arms around her and pin her to me. I hold on as she fights to get free, as she shouts obscenities.
I close my eyes and hang on. Wait out the storm.
She eventually stops shouting, stops fighting and starts crying hard. I press my lips to the top of her head as she soaks the front of my shirt with tears, wishing more than anything that I could shoulder it all for her – the pain, the guilt, the anger, the grief. But I can’t because she has to work through this herself. I don’t know how long it takes before the storm recedes, but eventually the only sound in the apartment is her breathing as she tries to gain control.
The cool girl, always in control of her emotions. I want to tell her that it’s okay. That it’s okay to let go, especially now.
“Alexis,” I say. “What happened to your mom isn’t your fault. It would have happened anyway, even if you hadn’t been thinking about me.”
I reach up and take her hands, hold them and push her away from me so I can look at her. Her cheeks are slick with tears, her lower lip trembling, and it doesn’t matter. She’s so beautiful.
“You can’t protect the people you love all of the time,” I say. “That’s life.”
Her breath hitches, and her eyes search my face with something like desperation. Like she desperately wants to believe my words but doesn’t know how. And in that moment, I realize how much I need to believe it myself. I’ve always blamed myself for Laura because I hadn’t been there to protect her from Cruz. Thought that if I hadn’t been late coming home that night, that Cruz wouldn’t have drugged her. That he wouldn’t have ruined her life. And while that might be true on some level, what happened to her wasn’t my fault – it was Cruz’s.
I look into Alex’s eyes, seeing her struggle with the truth of what I said as I try to do the same. For years, I’ve let my guilt over that incident prevent me from getting close to anyone. I’ve let my guilt shape all of my relationships with women.
All except for this one.
“Sweetheart, your mother didn’t almost die because of you.” I place my hands on either side of her face, gently wiping the tears from her cheeks. “You didn’t give her the embolism.”
Her face crumples as she sags against me, and I hold her. But this time, it’s not to restrain her. This time it’s to show her that I’m here for her, in no uncertain terms.
She whispers something that’s too quiet for me to hear, and I stay very still and wait for her to say it again. She draws back from me, reaches up to touch my face.
“I care about you, too,” she murmurs.
I lean down and kiss her cheek, and she turns her head and very gently presses her lips against mine before releasing me. It’s sweet, and I lay her down on the bed and lie down next to her.
“You’re so beautiful,” I say.
“Whatever,” she rasps. “I’m pretty sure I look like hell.”
“Nope. Beautiful.” I stroke her hair. “And I’ll keep telling you until you believe it.”
She closes her eyes, and I do the same. My body immediately reacts to her as she rolls over so she faces me, her breasts, hips, and long legs pressing up against me. She feels so fucking good, but I work to keep myself in check. Now is not the time.
She makes a small sound, and I open my eyes to see her looking at me. I watch as pain floods her expression again.
“See?” Her eyebrows draw together in a frown. “I’m doing it again, thinking about you when I should be thinking about my mom.”
I give her a small smile, reach up and smooth her frown away with my fingers. “Your mom knows you’re thinking about her. I don’t know her that well, but I’ll bet you anything she wouldn’t want you worrying yourself sick about her.”
She stares at me and sighs. “You’re right. She wouldn’t. I can’t stop worrying, though.”
“Well,” I say, tracing my index finger down her jawline. “That’s where I come in. I’m here to distract you.”
Her lips part, and damn if I don’t want to kiss her.
“Connor…”
I pull away from her, get out of bed and concentrate on stamping down my desire. I want her, yes. No question. But it wouldn’t be right if I did anything about it, not now. I don’t want to take advantage of the situation, don’t want to take advantage of Alex.
Although maybe the old Connor from only a few weeks ago would have.
“Come on.” I hold out my hand to her. “Distraction time. Help me make dinner.”
24
Alex
I can’t breathe. I’m drowning. Disoriented. Can’t tell which way is up. It’s so dark that I can’t find the surface. I fight for it, swim as hard as I can, but my limbs suddenly feel like they’re encased in the earth.
My eyes fly open to a dimly lit room, and I gulp for air. Strong arms immediately tighten around me as I thrash around.
“I got you, sweetheart,” I hear him say.
Connor. I grip onto his shirt and press my face against his shoulder, finally able to breathe.
He’s got me. He totally does.
I open half an eye and remember that we’re in Elle’s apartment. I remember making these huge frittatas with him and both of us being so hungry that we ate an entire one apiece. I remember taking a really long shower and brushing my teeth with the toothbrush Elle gave me, changing into Connor’s t-shirt – so yummy-smelling – and cinching his sweats around my waist as tightly as I could so they wouldn’t fall down.
Don’t remember falling asleep in his arms, but I think I must have needed it. I remember lying down on Elle’s bed with him before that. Listening to him talk about everything like he was reading me bedtime stories. He told me a little bit about what it was like to be in the SEALs, about his friend Neil and how they work together now. He went back further than that and told me about the crazy workouts he did to prepare for all of that when he was a teenager. Back even further…
I run my fingers over his arm, and he tenses but then relaxes. He told me about the day he got that scar, about his father and Cruz.
Connor doesn’t move as I trace over the shiny skin of his scar with my hand. I lift my chin, stare at his face, breathe in. His scent surrounds me. From his clothes. From him.
I missed him this week. Now that he’s here, I could get used to this.
“Hey,” I say. My voice sounds hoarse.
“Hey.” He pins me with that vivid blue gaze, and little explosions go off in my chest and make it harder to breathe again.
“What time is it?” I manage.
I’m lying on his arm, and he lifts his wrist from behind me, his gaze flicking briefly to his watch before resting on my face.
“Ten-thirty.”
At night? Really? It feels like it’s two in the morning. I must have crashed not too long ago, but I suddenly feel hyper, like getting all of that anger out of my system somehow gave me my second wind.
He goes on. “Elle texted me a while ago, and I told her you were asleep. She doesn’t have to work her entire shift and will be back within the hour.”
At the mention of a text, I scoot away from him and reach down to my bag for my phone. Dad had left me a voicemail, and I hit the button to listen, my hand shaking. Connor’s eyes are on me the whole time, but I focus on the message.
I start breathing normally again and send Dad a quick text, my fingers still trembling as I type.
Got your message. See you in the morning. Love to you and Mom
“Well.” I sit up and hug my knees to my chest. “She’s sore and exhausted, but whatever they gave her to break up the clots is working. They need to monitor her to make sure they dissolve completely and that she doesn’t develop any new ones.”
“Good. That’s good.” He sits up next to me and puts his arm around me. “I’ll take you to the hospital in the morning if you want.”
“I’d like that.” I reach out to him and hesitate. Drum up th
e nerve and run my hand through his hair, like he always does and as though I have a right to. He closes his eyes, like he’s enjoying it.
“Hey, Connor?”
He opens his eyes and smiles at me, and it’s full of sweetness. Maybe there’s some relief in it, too. “What?”
“I’m really sorry I took off on you that night at the pool. I was mad at you for saying that you were using me to get over Laura, but I should have told you that instead of just taking off like that.”
His smile vanishes, genuine surprise taking its place. “Oh. Wow.” He raises his hand like he’s going to push it through his hair again, but it falls to his side. “Alex, I got over Laura a long time ago.”
I stare down at my toenails, at a chip in the blue polish on my big toe that needs to be fixed. This whole thing still stings when I think about it, but I want to give him the chance to explain this time. I hear him exhale, but I don’t look at him.
“I’m over her, but I still feel bad about what happened to her. And okay, honestly, I admit it did cross my mind – when you were sitting on that bench outside QE2 and we first figured out you got roofied. Elle even said to me something like that, that I needed to make up for the past…” He stops and makes a quick gesture of his hand, like he’s waving that notion away. “But that’s it. I guess I really meant that the more time I spend with you, the more I realize how much of a better place I’m in now.”
Look at him.
I raise my head and see that same emotion in Connor’s eyes from before, from when we were together in my bed. The color rises to my cheeks, my own feelings muddled as my brain tries to fit that look into what he’s saying to me. I try to ignore the fluttering in my chest and make myself chew on this for a minute.
I don’t think he’s trying to bullshit me. I know more about him now, about where he came from, and if I can help Connor realize that he’s in a better place now, I’m totally okay with that.
“So I guess I could have found that out if I’d only asked, huh? Instead of blowing you off?” Ugh. “I seriously don’t know who that crazy person was.”
He shakes his head. “I do. It was this really cool girl. And I happen to like her, so watch what you say.” He gives me a stern look. “And stop trying to find new ways to blame her for everything.”
My grin appears out of nowhere, and I lean over and give him a quick kiss. It feels good, almost more intimate in a way than when we go at it full bore. Familiar. Comfortable.
His eyes shine at me, and I know I surprised him again, but in a good way. “Elle’s gotta be on her way by now. You’ll be okay here tonight if I leave?”
I don’t want him to leave. I almost tell him that I changed my mind, that I’ll come and stay with him at his place, but I stop myself just in time. Maybe he’s right about it not being my fault, but I still think the universe slapped me in the face today and that I shouldn’t ignore that.
“I’ll be all right. Thank you. For being there for me today.”
I hope he can hear the sincerity in my voice, feel the gratitude that’s filling me up right now. His lips part as though he’s going to say something, but then we both hear it and look over at the door at the same time. The sound of Elle’s key in the lock reminds me. “Oh. We still have to talk about Cruz…”
“You have a lot on your plate right now. Don’t worry about Cruz.” He touches my chin. “There are much better things to think about, anyhow.”
I reach out and rub my hand over his jaw, loving the roughness of his stubble. Happy that he was stubborn and followed me here. Glad that he opened up to me. I bet he doesn’t usually tell people the things about himself that he told me tonight. I’m glad that he felt like he could.
I watch him get out of bed and greet Elle as she walks into the apartment, and I smile as he gives her a big hug and strict instructions to take good care of me. Mom is still in the forefront of my mind, but I think it might be okay for me to also be thinking about Connor. Going to his house wouldn’t have been a good move. Given how desperate I am for comfort right now, I have a pretty good idea that we wouldn’t have just slept. I don’t want to have sex with him only because I happen to need someone right now. That would cheapen what we have.
I’m not even sure what it is that we have. I just know that it’s good.
Connor shows up at Elle’s to pick me up bright and early. It’s only seven, but I’m ready to go. He looks like he just got out of the shower, and he smells fresh and manly like the shirt I’d slept in last night. I changed back in my clothes from the pool again, leaving Elle where she’s still crashed out in bed. She’d been wiped out when she got home from work last night and tried to stay up with me, but we both wound up falling asleep almost right away. So much for my second wind.
“How’s your mom doing today?”
“Dad said she’s tired but doing well, considering.” That was all he said when I called him this morning, even after I pressed him for more details. I could hear from his voice that he hadn’t slept very much, and I’m anxious to get to the hospital.
I notice that Connor’s holding a cardboard tray with four steaming cups from Starbucks, and I smile.
“Do you need a pick-me-up this morning?”
He shrugs, looking a little embarrassed. “Not exactly. I didn’t know what you liked, so I brought you some options.”
That’s almost enough to melt me into a pile of goo. I don’t clutch my heart or anything, but really, that was so thoughtful of him. I pick out a frappuccino, he takes a plain coffee, and we leave Elle her choice of the other two and a note that says we went to the hospital. Hotel first, though, so I can look more like a human being. And Dad had asked if I could please bring him a few things from the hotel room.
Connor takes my hand as we walk to his car, and I pretend to be totally absorbed by drinking my coffee but I’m secretly looking at him. He’s frowning as he unlocks the car and holds open the passenger side door for me, and I have to wonder how much doing all of this for me is getting in the way of his own life – work, Cruz, everything. I’ll let him know when we get to the hospital that he’s not obligated to stay.
We’re both silent as we go to the hotel via some side streets that he knows, and he waits for me in the living room of the suite while I get ready. I’m already showered, but I change my clothes, do my makeup, and throw my dad’s stuff together. I wind up packing a second bag for myself in case I decide to spend another night at Elle’s. She’d offered last night before she fell asleep and had even given me a spare key, and I may take her up on the offer. I scan through the suite, and it takes me only a fraction of the time to know that I prefer the cramped, messy studio apartment over the empty, pristine suite.
Connor’s standing by the window talking on his phone when I’m done with everything I need to do. There’s something about the way guys talk on the phone to each other, like they have to make their voices more manly-sounding or something. Connor’s maybe doing some of that posturing but not a lot. His tone is brisk and business-like, and I’m guessing he’s talking to Neil. I don’t want to eavesdrop, so I go back into my room with my two bags to wait.
I remember Connor telling me that he essentially took administrative leave, which I assume means he turned over his work to his partner, until he could get a handle on this Cruz thing. Man, if I ever run into his twin, I might need physical restraints to keep my claws in. He sounds like a douche.
I wonder if they’re identical or fraternal. If I ever do get the chance to meet him, it would probably be weird either way. Not that outward appearances are everything. When I first met Connor, I thought he was gorgeous but also a total dick.
I’m grinning to myself right as Connor walks into my room. He looks almost relaxed now, and I direct my momentary glow at him, but my smile fades as he stops short and stares at me.
“What’s wrong?” I instinctively look down, wondering if my shirt is inside-out or something.
“What’s so funny?” he asks at the same time. “N
othing’s wrong. You look great, is all.”
“Thank you.” I smirk at him. “And I was thinking about what a jerk you were when I first met you.”
He laughs, and I surprise myself by laughing with him. Just for a second, but it feels good despite my sides hurting a little from crying so much yesterday. Connor walks over to me and takes my bags.
He winks. “You need to work on your sweet-talking skills.”
I poke him in the ribs. “That’s more or less what you said at the bar.”
“Yeah, I remember. Unfortunately.” He shifts both bags into one hand and takes my hand with his other. “I don’t know why you’re even with me.”
With him. I think about that the entire elevator ride downstairs and most of the way to the parking garage. Not sure if Connor said that deliberately, if he wanted to let me know that he considers us to be together. I mean, obviously we’re together in the literal sense right now, but I wonder if he thinks of himself as something more.
I’m not going to ask him what he meant. I don’t think that all things necessarily have to be defined like that. And I’ve had guys get all needy on me after a couple of dates and demand to know how I feel about them or ask what we “are.” My gut reaction has always been to run screaming in the other direction.
I ask instead, “Everything going okay with work?”
“Yes.” He puts my bags in the back seat of the car as I get into the passenger side. “My client was being…stubborn for a day or so and not playing as much as she needed to. Things are much better now.”
“Oh.” I think about this as he gets behind the wheel. I know he’s probably being deliberately vague because of confidentiality, but I’m curious about what he means by things being better. “Do you get paid depending on how much time they play?”
“No, we charge a fee based on number of days and evenings we block out for that client, regardless of how much they play. But it’s always in a high roller’s best interest to get out on the floor.” He shoots me a sideways glance. “You know, to work off all of the comps.”
Losing Enough Page 22
