by JM Stewart
He expected some sort of sassy comeback, but her hand paused beneath the water, and her expression sobered. She studied him for a long moment, then touched his cheek. “Tell me.”
He sighed and straightened, focused his gaze on the frosted window covering the wall opposite the tub. He couldn’t look in her eyes when he said the words. She’d strip him bare in two seconds flat. “Got a phone call this afternoon, not long after you left. One of the guys in my support group committed suicide this morning. His name was Jason. He was new to the group and just off a deployment. His wife called me. She found him in the upstairs bathroom. In the tub of all damn things.”
Mandy drew a sharp breath. “Oh my God. His poor wife. Did you know him well?”
“Just from group. He was army and much younger than me. Barely twenty-five.” He sat silent a moment, idly walking his fingers over the skin on her forearm. He owed it to her to tell her the truth, but he wasn’t sure he could get the words out. “There’s more.”
“I kind of figured there was.” Mandy rested her chin on his shoulder again, her voice lowering to a murmur. “You don’t have to tell me.”
“Mmm. But you’ve been very patient with me.”
“That’s what friends do, right? We care for each other when needed and don’t ask questions.”
“Is that what we are? Friends?” He repeated the word, tasted the flavor of it on his tongue. Why did it sound all wrong coming from her? That had been his rule when they’d made this damn agreement in the first place. Now? He didn’t know if he could ever consider her only a friend. He wanted her too much.
She went silent, so still behind him even her breathing seemed to pause, and he could almost hear the things she wasn’t saying. He couldn’t be sure if he wanted her to voice them or not. He’d opened a can of worms, and some part of him insisted it shouldn’t bother him.
Finally, she picked up the washcloth again, rewashing his shoulders this time. “No. We’re lovers. But the idea is the same.”
He grunted. Something deep in his gut rebelled against the idea. She’d been his lover for what, two days? A week? Hell, at this point, he’d lost track. All he knew was that the word “friends” left a bitter taste on his tongue. Friends meant she’d go back to dating other men. Just the idea made him want to put his fist through something.
He shoved the thoughts away—the same way he always did—and forced himself to focus on what he could have with her. If he truly wanted a friend when this was over, he’d have to learn to talk to her. The problem was, spilling his guts didn’t come easy or natural.
He drew a deep breath and blew it out, releasing pent-up emotion along with it. “I suppose I owe you the truth. Why my friend’s death bothers me so much, I mean.”
“You don’t owe me anything.” Her voice came warm and soft in his ear, lacking the judgment he’d expected.
He squeezed her fingers in a vain attempt to tell her what he couldn’t find the words to say. “It’s just…not easy to talk about.”
“Never was for Trent, either, but I’m here if you need someone to listen.”
He appreciated that. More than he could tell her.
He focused on the feel of her hand in his, on her body against his back, and let her presence soothe the wound itself. He needed that connection. Not to anyone. To her. There was something about her that calmed the storm raging through him. “If you took a tour of the house, then I assume you’ve seen the pictures?”
The washcloth paused on a stroke across his chest. “The girl? Yes. You have a lot of her. Who is she?”
“My sister, Ava.” God, just saying her name hurt. Four years had passed, but the wound was still fresh.
“She looks nothing like you.”
He gave a bitter laugh. Ava had been a dark blonde with bright blue eyes that always seemed to laugh at him. “No. She got her looks from Mom. I took after Dad. We were like night and day.”
Ava had always told him he was too serious, that he needed to lighten up a little. At least she had when she was in a manic phase. Ava had been like a bouncy ball in a small room, bright and fun and filled with energy. When the depression hit, though, it snuffed that light like someone had flipped a switch.
Mandy went still again behind him, only her breathing in his ear for a moment. “Something happened to her.”
“She died.” The memory of the phone call he’d received four years ago rose in his mind, and his chest tightened. “She committed suicide. Swallowed a bottle of prescription pills.”
“And your friend’s death reminds you of it.” Her arms released his shoulders only to wrap around his rib cage. Her legs tightened around his waist. “I’m so sorry. Who found her?”
For a moment, Marcus sat in stunned silence. She’d essentially wrapped her entire body around his back, and despite the warm water, it was her warmth that suffused him. Every breath he drew filled his lungs with the scent of soap and her, drawing him from the painful memories. He hadn’t a fucking clue how to tell her what that meant. So he set his arms over hers and held on tight.
“Gram. I was in Afghanistan. My last deployment. I’d been over there for six months when she called to tell me.” He’d never forget that conversation as long as he lived. Gram was one of the strongest women he knew, softhearted but formidable, but that day, she’d crumbled. “I should have been there for Ava. That was my job. To take care of her.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” She tilted her head, her breath warm, voice low and soothing in his ear. “You go where you’re told to go.”
The guilt washed over him, tightening in his chest. “I volunteered. I’d been home for eighteen months, and I wanted to be back out there. There was a unit shipping out soon, and I needed a break. I loved Ava, but she was exhausting. She was bipolar, but she had a tendency to decide she didn’t need her meds anymore and would stop taking them. It was hard to get her to understand that she felt fine because of the medication. If she hit a depressive episode, she talked about suicide a lot, so she needed to be watched.”
Just like a child needing supervision. It was how he knew he’d never make anyone a good father. He’d lacked the patience Ava had needed.
Mandy hugged him. “Did she go off her meds while you were overseas?”
Guilt shuddered through him, catching in his suddenly full throat. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, desperate to keep the wayward emotions at bay. When he was sure he could speak again without sounding like a goddamn blubbering idiot, he opened his eyes and drew a cleansing breath. “When I volunteered, she was taking her meds, seeing her therapist. Things were good. I should never have gone.”
As abruptly as she’d wrapped herself around him, Mandy released him. She braced her hands on the side of the tub and stood.
“Come on. We’re getting out of this tub.” She stepped out onto the floor mat and faced him. Buck naked and dripping, she held out a hand. When all he could do was watch the water drip off her nipples and slide down her belly, she wiggled her fingers. “Come on, sailor. Get your ass up.”
He couldn’t help his smile. God, he loved it when she was bossy. That impish glint in her eyes drew him out of the shit raging in his head.
He took her hand and let her pull him onto his feet. “Where’re we going, angel?”
Because right then, he’d follow her anywhere. She was the sun and he desperately needed her light.
She handed him a towel and smiled, eyes soft, skin glistening in the low light of the room. “My mother always insisted a full belly was the first step to solving anything. I brought dinner. I thought maybe we’d take it to Chism Park. We could take Cammie. She could get a nice walk. We could have a picnic by the water…”
Marcus shook his head as he took the towel from her and wrapped it around his hips. “I’m touched, but you really don’t have to go through the trouble. You being here is enough.”
“I know. It was supposed to be a surprise.” She cocked a brow, that sassy glint lighting in her eyes again as sh
e picked up a second towel and wrapped it around herself. “I had plans to seduce you.”
He chuckled. She really had no idea. “Angel, all you have to do is show up.”
A smile bloomed in her face, tender, alluring. “Good to know, but I’d imagine you’re not much in the mood for that tonight.”
She was wrong on all fronts. His whole body buzzed with the need to drown in her. He’d love nothing more than to let her seduce him, but he wouldn’t use her that way. He wasn’t really in the mood to be in public, either, but she’d gone through the trouble and going out would serve as a much-needed distraction.
He smiled. “Sounds great.”
Chapter Ten
Mandy turned away from her view of Lake Washington and laid her head on Marcus’s chest, listening to the soothing thump of his heartbeat. He lay on the blanket beside her with one arm tucked behind his head as he stared up at the dusky sky above them. Cammie napped contently at their feet.
They’d been at Chism Park for two hours now. While making idle chitchat, they’d polished off roast beef sandwiches served with thick hunks of cheese and fresh fruit. Cammie, she’d noted, had sat at attention beside him the entire time, though she’d quickly discovered why. Whether he did it consciously or not, Marcus would take a bite of food and then hold out some for Cammie to gobble up. It told her Cammie wasn’t simply a pet to him but a companion, and that he had a kind heart. A guy who was good to animals was sexy in her book.
After they’d eaten, they’d taken the dog for a walk around the lake. The night was beautiful, clear but cool, allowing a few stars to peek through the patches of clouds. Somewhere during the walk, Marcus retreated into himself again. He’d taken her hand, threading their fingers, but went silent. She’d watched Trent do it enough over the years to recognize it and simply let him have his space.
Now, half an hour later, he had yet to say much of anything. It gave her too much time to think. Being with him this way, allowing herself to get close to him beyond the bedroom when their relationship was destined to end, was dangerous at best. But how could she turn her back on him when he clearly needed someone?
Determined to draw him out of himself, she tilted her head and stroked his chin with her fingers. “Tell me about her. Your sister, I mean.”
Marcus glanced down at her and stared for a moment, eyes searching, as if perhaps she’d caught him off guard. A heartbeat later, his arm came around her, his warm palm settling on her lower back. “I’m sorry. I’m not such great company tonight.”
She caressed the side of his face and lifted her head enough to smile at him. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. Lauren said it always helped Trent, when she could get him to talk.”
He blew out a heavy breath, his voice quiet in the evening air. “I miss her.”
“I’d imagine you would. I don’t know what we would’ve done if Trent had died over in Iraq. Dad was disappointed when Will didn’t want to enlist, but Mom was glad. It meant he came home safe every night. I thought about it, enlisting, because I wanted to be like my father.”
His head turned, his gaze burning into her. “Why didn’t you?”
She shrugged but couldn’t force herself to look at him. She was sharing things she probably shouldn’t, that had old insecurities rising from the dead. If her tomboy tendencies bothered him, she didn’t think she could handle seeing the disappointment in his eyes.
“Because the last thing I wanted was to be any more masculine than I already was. Growing up with brothers, with Dad, I’d always been more comfortable around men. Because of it, I had a hard time feeling feminine. Guys were…” She sighed. How did she put this in a way that didn’t sound pathetic? “Let’s just say it doesn’t get you a lot of dates when you can kick a guy’s ass in football. I would’ve joined a team if there’d been one, and I got called names a lot. But what I wanted, deep down, was to be more like the popular girls. Soft. Feminine. Pretty. Since clearly modeling was out—”
“Don’t do that.”
The gruffness of his tone stopped her rambling in its tracks. She jerked her head up to find him staring at her, brows furrowed, eyes stern.
“There’s nothing wrong with you. I know a lot of guys who’d kill for a girlfriend willing to sit in the garage with them or not complain about football on Sundays.”
“Yeah? Know where I can find a guy like that? ’Cause they’re not exactly beating down my door.” She quirked a brow, tossing his challenge back at him. He had a point, but this whole conversation dug into all those raw places. The self-doubt. The one too many men who were either turned off by her or invited her over to watch the game on Sunday. It had taken her years to realize that when they invited her over, it wasn’t because they hoped to get her naked.
Marcus went silent for a moment and his body went rigid. Tension filled the air between them until it all but crackled and snapped. Mandy’s stomach knotted as she waited for the fallout of her little confession.
“Me.” Spoken so low she couldn’t be sure she’d really heard him.
Heart now hammering her rib cage, she sat up, turning her gaze to the water, and wrapped her arms around her knees. Took a moment to put a lid back on the romantic notions bubbling in her chest.
“I told you. You in a pair of jeans covered in grease is a thing of fantasies. Believe me, that first day we met, when you barreled into me, I noticed you.” Marcus followed her up and leaned his head over her shoulder, his body warm against her back. His voice came as a low hum in her ear. “You were wearing a white T-shirt covered in oil stains and a pair of jeans that hugged your fantastic ass.”
She laughed. “You are so full of it. I’ve heard about the women you date, Marcus.”
According to a conversation she’d overheard between Marcus and Trent, Marcus preferred blondes with big boobs and legs for miles. Everything she wasn’t. And if she let herself ponder that, she’d have to admit the thought of him with one of those blondes made her stomach twist in a very ugly way.
His nose nudged her earlobe. “Doesn’t mean I don’t find you attractive as well. That first day? I was ready to charm you right out of those jeans. Right up until Trent walked out of the back room and called your name. I realized who you were and squashed that feeling like a spider under my boot.”
A shiver raked the length of her spine. She drew a shuddering breath as she attempted to shove all the unwanted emotions back down where they belonged. Neither could she resist the desire to learn more. About him. About his life. About who he was as a man. “Tell me about Ava.”
He shifted again, setting his legs on either side of hers, then slid his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. “She could be very sweet and giving. She always made me laugh. She’s the reason I have Cammie, actually. She worked in a no-kill shelter. One day, she tells me about this little dog who’d been dumped by a family who grew tired of her once she stopped being a cute little puppy. Ava said she’d lay curled up in her kennel, wouldn’t look at anybody or interact. A week later, Ava brought her home, said she couldn’t stand to see the dog so sad.”
Mandy couldn’t resist a smile. “You fell in love. And you said it wasn’t possible.”
Marcus nodded to where Cammie lay snoozing contentedly at the edge of the blanket. “Tell me you could look at that face and take her back?”
She glanced at Cammie. Technically, she had a leash attached, but she hadn’t left Marcus’s side for a single second. “She really is a sweet little thing. She had no problem giving me a grand tour of the house.”
He drew a deep breath and blew it out. “When Ava was manic, she tended to be very impulsive. She’d go on shopping sprees, buy things she didn’t need. She stayed up late one night and bought all kinds of shit off those infomercials they play at two in the morning. She also loved to dance. She’d go to a club, drink until she could barely walk, then bring someone home with her. Some of the guys she ended up with were assholes.”
His bod
y tensed against her back. Mandy reached down to find his hand and curled her fingers around his. “I take it she lived with you at the time?”
“No. When I deployed, she stayed with Gram, but I heard about everything when I came home on leave. I ended up with Cammie because she up and decided one day I was hers.” He let out a soft laugh, then sighed. His voice lowered to a pain-filled murmur. “When Ava was depressed, she wouldn’t eat, to the point that she’d grow scary thin. Instead, she’d sleep all the time. When she was awake, she talked about suicide a lot. The doctors said it’s hereditary. We think she got it from Mom, because Mom tended to act the same way.”
“It wasn’t your fault, you know, that she died.”
“On some level, I know that, but I just can’t convince myself of it. Gram was getting too old to have to deal with someone with the mentality of a child. She needed my help. It’s why she lives so close.”
He went eerily quiet, his heavy thoughts all but filling the air around him. Was he lost in the memories? She squeezed his fingers in support but waited him out.
“Take care of your sister. That’s the last thing my mother said to me before she left that day. She needs you. Take care of her.”
The haunted, pain-filled words wrenched at her gut.
“My God, Marcus.” Unable to hide her surprise and irritation, she twisted out of his embrace and turned, sitting sideways between his thighs. “That’s a heavy burden to put on a child.”
He made a sound of agreement from the back of his throat but didn’t look at her. Instead, he sat staring at the lake.
She could only watch him for a moment, the pieces settling together like a jigsaw puzzle in her mind. It suddenly made sense why he’d closed himself off from the world. Why his relationship with Trent and the guys at the shop was so important and why he’d go through so much trouble for his grandmother. He’d essentially lost everybody he loved. The thought made her heart ache for him. When push came to shove, at least she had her family.
Unable to help herself, she turned to face him, setting her legs on either side of his hips. She laid her head on his chest, wound her arms around his ribs, and hugged him. “I won’t tell him, you know. Trent, I mean. He’s bound to find out. We all do too much together to be able to keep this a secret for long. But the news won’t come from me.”
