by Kaylea Cross
“No. Anything on your end?”
He shook his head, helping himself to the last half of his sandwich. “It’s good that he came to on his own so soon. And he’s got a lot of support to help him through the recovery.”
“I’d like to see him again tomorrow. If it’s not too much trouble,” she added.
“Of course not. I’ll take you over in the morning.”
She let out a relieved breath. “Thank you.”
He nodded but didn’t look up.
She stared at him from beneath her lashes, her whole chest aching. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.
She held the words back, sensing they would be yet another mistake where he was concerned. But Kevin’s parting words at the office kept coming back to her, haunting her with their truth and multiple meanings about her and Malcolm.
There are no do-overs.
Yeah. Wasn’t that the damn truth. And a helluva bitter pill to swallow.
Chapter Ten
In the darkness of his bedroom, the glowing blue numbers of the digital alarm clock read 2:18 a.m. when Malcolm rolled over in bed to check it. Rowan was up. Her door had opened a few seconds ago. She’d tried to be quiet, but he was a light sleeper, something he’d picked up during his Navy days, because many times during a mission, his life had depended on it.
He scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed into the darkness. What the hell was he supposed to do with her? She’d been unusually quiet ever since the hospital, almost…deflated. At first he’d thought it was shock and worry about Kevin, maybe fear for her safety. But during that awkward dinner earlier he’d realized the way she’d closed up was at least partially because of him. He’d purposely been shutting her out, so that was his fault.
Her quiet footsteps faded on the hardwood floor of the hallway. Had she had a nightmare? Gotten a phone call about her brother?
He lay there another minute, wrestling with himself. If he was smart he’d stay the hell away from her. It wasn’t his place to be a shoulder for her anymore, but damned if he would leave her to deal with all of this alone right now.
Getting up, he snagged a pair of pajama pants and T-shirt from the closet, tugged them on, and walked down the hall to find her. She hadn’t turned any lights on but there was a faint glow coming from the kitchen.
He found her sitting at the table, her back to him as she opened something on her laptop, a stack of files set next to it. Working at this hour? After everything that had happened?
“Hey,” he said softly.
Rowan gasped and whirled in her seat, putting a hand to her chest. “God, you scared me.”
“Sorry.” He leaned a shoulder against the wall. “Couldn’t sleep?”
Lowering her gaze, she shook her head. “Sorry I woke you.”
“It’s okay.” He crossed to the table and sat across from her. She definitely shouldn’t have to work right now. “Someone call?”
“No. I just can’t sleep. I’d doze off for a bit, then my subconscious reminded me of what happened and jerked me wide awake again.” She closed the laptop, leaving them bathed in light from the streetlamps in the park that streamed through the edges of the blinds on the kitchen windows.
No surprise she couldn’t sleep, considering what she’d seen yesterday. She was so confident and composed all the time, it tugged at his insides to see her this vulnerable. Her white-collar world was totally different from his. She had no training or experience to help her cope with what had happened, and it had shaken her badly.
“That’s pretty normal,” he said in a low voice. “Seeing something like that happen to someone you care about is hard.” It never got easier, either.
She lifted her gaze, those sapphire blue eyes studying his. “How do you deal with it?”
“I put it in a box for later.” The Navy had drilled that into them relentlessly. Now, he did it automatically. And it had always worked for him. Until Rowan.
She pushed out an aggravated breath. “Well I don’t know how to do that. Unless you count burying myself in work as a way of compartmentalizing, and I can’t even concentrate on that right now.”
Malcolm leaned back in his chair, unsure what to say. Compartmentalizing shit wasn’t always healthy, especially if it wasn’t ever taken out of the box and dealt with. A box could only hold so much before it burst open and everything fell out. She needed to talk about what had happened, needed someone to tell her she wasn’t to blame for Kevin getting hurt. “It wasn’t your fault.”
Pain filled her eyes. “Yes it was. They were targeting me. It should have been me, not Kevin.”
The thought of her being caught up in that explosion, of lying so still and pale in a hospital bed right now sent a wave of ice through his veins. “It shouldn’t have been either of you. And Kev’s gonna be okay. You saw that yourself before we left.”
“I know, but…” She dragged a hand through her thick, glossy hair. “I just feel responsible. Like I should have known somehow.”
“Not your fault,” he repeated, stifling the urge to reach across the table for her hand.
It was hard enough keeping detached from her. Having her here in his space, just the two of them, looking so alone and lost…it was killing him not to touch her. But he knew damn good and well where he stood with her and had no desire to get his heart mashed again by opening up to her now and having her walk out of his life when she left in a day or two.
Elbows resting on the table, she rested her forehead in her hands, her inky hair spilling onto the wooden surface. He wanted to stroke his fingers through it. Gather it into his fist and squeeze gently until her head came up and he could look into the blue of her eyes. Make her look at him the way she once had. As if he was the only man she wanted, as if what they had together would last.
“I’m not going to be able to go into the office for a while, am I?” she asked.
“No. Not until we find out who was behind this and whether the threat’s over with.”
She groaned softly. “I’ve got so much work to get done, you have no idea. And how am I going to visit Kevin outside of the hospital?”
“Depends on where he goes after he’s discharged. If we can’t get you over there in person, you’ll have to make do with your phone or Skype for the time being.”
“All right.” She sounded resigned. Exhausted.
Silence spread between them when she didn’t say anything else. He became aware of the quiet hum of the fridge in the background, the sound of her even breaths. He should do something to help her get to sleep. Something that didn’t involve him touching her or being any closer to her than he was now. She liked peppermint tea, but he didn’t have any. “Want some water or something?”
“Sure, thanks.”
He got two bottles from the fridge, handed her one. She took a sip then set the bottle on the table and rolled it between her hands, the crinkling sound of the plastic becoming an annoyance after only a few moments.
If she were his, he would scoop her out of that chair, carry her to his bed and tuck her in close beside him. Then peel that tank top and pajama bottoms off her and make love to her until she came apart in his arms, until she was sated and drowsy with him there to hold her through the darkness.
“Wanna watch a movie or something?” he asked instead, trying his best to ignore the twin bursts of yearning and sadness the erotic image brought. She was so close, but he couldn’t have her.
“No.” She sat up a little straighter, watched him in a way that set his instincts on edge before she spoke again. “I’m sorry I hurt you, Malcolm,” she murmured.
His stomach muscles contracted as if in response to a blow. “You didn’t,” he lied, not wanting to go there.
She shot him a look that said he was full of shit and crossed her arms. “Yeah I did. But I didn’t mean to. Didn’t want to.”
She hadn’t wanted to? What the hell did she think would happen when she metaphorically slammed the door in his face that day? “It was a long time
ago, don’t worry about it,” he said as he shoved to his feet. Dammit, he should have stayed in his room when he heard her get up. “Ancient history.”
“Then why are you walking away?”
That stopped him, the awareness that he was basically retreating rubbing him the wrong way. Because I was falling in love with you, and I thought you were falling for me too. No. He was sure she had been.
Christ it stung to realize just how wrong he’d been. “You should go back to bed and try to sleep,” he said without turning around. Wasn’t this a kick in the ass? Big bad former SEAL, and he didn’t have the balls to face her again.
“There’s no way I’m getting to sleep anytime soon,” she said. “Much as I appreciate you letting me stay here, I don’t want to invade your space if you’re not comfortable with it.”
It wasn’t that he was uncomfortable. Fighting not to act on his feelings, that was the real problem. “Rowan, it’s fine. I wouldn’t have brought you here if I felt that way.”
“Yes you would. That’s just who you are. You’re all about duty and honor and sacrifice.”
Malcolm heaved out a breath. It was true and he couldn’t deny it. He could never turn his back on someone he cared about. No matter what they’d done or how much they’d hurt him in the past.
He made himself turn around to face her. “I wanted you to feel safe. You told Oceane you would trust me with your life.” That had surprised him, but he’d never forget it.
She nodded, holding his gaze. “I did. I meant every word, too.”
Well, that was something. And damned if her complete trust in his ability to keep her safe didn’t hit him square in his bruised, aching heart. “Good. That’s all that’s important right now.”
“No, that’s not all that’s important. I can’t leave things like this between us.” Determination stamped her expression, but also a sadness that simultaneously made him angry and feel like an asshole.
Fine. “You really wanna do this now?” Because this had eaten at him for the better part of a year now, and he wanted to know the damn truth so he could put it behind him and move on. Or at least try to.
“Why not?”
Because you’re scared and shaken up about your brother and I don’t want to add to that? No. He wouldn’t do that to her. If they ever had this conversation, it would be when they were both less stressed. He shook his head, exasperated. “Go back to bed, Rowan.”
She stood so fast the chair legs scraped against the hardwood floor. She spun around to confront him, hands on hips. “No.”
He dragged a hand over his face, fighting for patience. The right thing would be to walk away. Give her time to settle down, hopefully get some sleep. But maybe it was kinder to have this out here and now, get it over with and out of the way. Closure, for both of them.
“Fine. You want me to talk? Then you can start by telling me why you up and walked away all of a sudden.”
She swallowed, seeming taken aback by his directness. “Because I thought it was best, and decided it was kinder to end things before we got too involved.”
Before they slept together, she meant. “So you saw us breaking up as inevitable right from the start?”
“Yes.”
Shocked, he stared at her, trying to read her, to understand. “Why the hell is that?” It better not be because she didn’t think he was good enough for her.
“Because I knew.”
No. No way. He refused to believe it. She’d been just as into him as he was into her. “What did you know?”
“That it wouldn’t last. That we were just too different.”
Too different, my ass. “It wasn’t because you didn’t have feelings for me, and it wasn’t because you didn’t want me.” He stared at her, daring her to deny it.
She didn’t. And now that he was on a roll, he couldn’t stop, all the frustration and pain he’d bottled up for so long bursting free. He refused to let her hide from the truth. Refused to let her believe whatever lies she’d told herself about why they wouldn’t work.
“All you gave me was bullshit excuses about why it wasn’t good timing for you. You were new to the job, had a lot of big cases lined up, didn’t have time for a serious relationship. But you know what? Those aren’t even close to being good enough reasons to walk away from what we had. So why?” If she’d been trying to let him down easy, it hadn’t worked.
Her chin came up, the set of her jaw pure Irish stubbornness. “I told you. Because it wasn’t going to work out long term.”
He blinked at her. “Says who?”
“Me. And you’d have seen it too, if you’d thought about it.”
“No, I wouldn’t have, and you’re still feeding me bullshit, so stop.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Give me the truth. I deserve that much.”
She seemed to falter a second, that tightly controlled lawyer façade cracking a little. “We’re too different.”
Yeah, she’d said that before, and he still didn’t buy it. “Really? How?”
“Our jobs. Our backgrounds. Our goals.”
It felt like she’d just punched him in the chest. “What, I’m too blue-collar for a high-class girl like you? Is that what you’re saying? Because excuse me, princess, but you might remember your dear old dad once served in the Navy too before he made it big.” Emotion swirled through him in a chaotic haze. Anger. Confusion. Hurt.
“No,” she bit out, her eyes burning with frustration, “that’s not what I meant! Believe me, I’m extremely aware of my father’s military service. I spent my entire childhood moving from city to city every time he was assigned to a new post, and it wasn’t until he got into the JAG corps and moved us to D.C. when I was in eleventh grade that I finally had a permanent home. It seemed to me like he was gone more often than he was around.” She paused, set her jaw for a moment before continuing. “I hated that life then, and I sure as hell don’t want it for my future.”
What the hell? “Huh? I’m based out of Arlington. You wouldn’t have had to move at all if we’d stayed together.”
“I would if you got transferred someday, which is always a possibility while you’re with a government agency. And you’re gone all the time as it is. And,” she continued, holding up a hand to stop him when he would have argued, “it’s no secret that my father is a hard taskmaster. I had a good home with parents who loved me and we eventually had money once he left the Navy and his law career took off, but believe me, it came with a price.”
She drew in a breath, kept going. “I had to work harder, longer than everyone else. At everything. School, piano, ballet, chores around the house. Charity work. Why the hell do you think I’m such a workaholic? Because I like it?” She shook her head. “Only the best was ever good enough for him. Growing up, if Kevin and I weren’t out of bed by five a.m. every morning when he was home, there was hell to pay. And if we did anything that disappointed him, he withdrew his love and support until we fixed it and met his exceedingly high expectations. Kev was the smart one, he stopped giving a shit and got on living his own life when he graduated college. Me, not so much.”
Mal struggled to keep his expression calm. “I know your dad was always tough on you, and I’m sorry you grew up like that. No parent should ever do that to a child. But what’s that got to do with me? You’re saying you think I would treat you that way?” He raised a skeptical eyebrow.
“You hadn’t yet, but it’s in you. You were a SEAL, for crying out loud, and you guys take self-discipline and work ethic to a whole other level.”
“Because we have to if we want to survive,” he argued. “That doesn’t mean we’re controlling assholes when we come home. It’s nuts that you would think that. What the hell, Rowan? That’s not just unfair, it’s ridiculous.”
She broke his gaze, studying her hand as she fiddled with the edge of the table. He knew about her ex, but not the details or how the relationship had impacted her. “I also lived with a former military guy for a little while before I met you.
He was Special Forces.”
He’d known she’d dated a guy, but hadn’t realized they’d been living together. “And?”
“And, things started out okay, but pretty soon he was riding me about every little thing I did wrong. Leaving a wet towel hung on the shower door, or not keeping the kitchen spotless. Not being out of bed at the crack of dawn every day or working out every morning or spending eighty hours a week at the office. Nothing was ever good enough. It was like living with my father on steroids, and when I pushed back he acted all confused, like why was I reacting that way when all he was trying to do was help me live to my ‘full potential’.”
Now Mal was just insulted. “So the dude was an abusive asshole with OCD issues. That’s not me.” He waited until she met his gaze again. “That’s not me, Rowan, and you know it. You think I give a shit if you leave wet towels all over the place? What time you get out of bed or if there are dirty dishes on the counter and in the sink? I never once did anything that would make you think I was like that. So why. Why, Rowan?”
Her eyes blazed at him. “Because you got too serious too fast!”
Chapter Eleven
The shouted outburst shocked her as much as it did him, her eyes widening slightly because she hadn’t meant to blurt that out. Yet even as she said it, the memory of the breakup played in her head.
She’d been distracted all day, thinking about him and their upcoming date that night once she got off work. Everything had gone downhill from there.
“Rowan?”
She jerked awake on her office couch to find her assistant standing over her, frowning. The ring of her phone alarm finally penetrated her awareness. “Oh, God, what time is it?” she muttered, sitting up to clear the cobwebs from her brain. She’d only meant to have a twenty-minute power nap.
“Almost one-thirty.”
Rowan gasped. “What? Nooooo…” She leapt up and bolted for her desk, scooping up the paperwork and stuffing it into her briefcase. The meeting started at one-thirty, and she was at least twenty minutes away from the location. She stopped, glanced around. “Am I forgetting something? I feel like I’m forgetting something.”
