She finally released her hold of the bag, giving in to him—again. “Be careful.”
“Always.”
She circled the car, got inside, and strapped in. “Should take us less than two hours to get to the lodge. Tell me that you got your own room.” Her eyes widened when he stared at her blankly from behind the wheel.
When he still didn’t say anything, she said firmly, “You’re not staying with me.”
The sudden pat of his hand on her thigh did something strange to her stomach. It created a warm, fluttering sensation, like hummingbirds inside her core. She kept her eyes locked on his hand, the same hand that had the scars, and it had her whistling out a low breath.
She hadn’t been there for him when he’d been hurt in the Middle East. He hadn’t let her be there for him, at least. And she really hated it.
“Of course not.” His paw of a hand lifted, and he tapped at the controls and powered on the heated seats. “But we used to sleep in the same bed.”
Well, that was true, but only until they’d turned fifteen, and then things had become a little too gray.
“We were kids.” She looked out her window as he began to drive, exiting the airport terminal.
She needed to remind herself of the relaxation techniques she taught her patients, or she’d never get through the weekend.
“Shit,” she said and groaned a minute later.
He slowed the car a hair and glanced over at her. “What’s wrong?”
Her shoulders slumped. “I forgot my essential oils, and I really wish I hadn’t.” They did wonders for easing her tension.
He picked up speed again, but he couldn’t hide a grin.
She shifted in her seat to get a better look at him. She wasn’t sure when he’d unzipped his black North Face jacket, but she noticed a chain around his neck, partially tucked beneath his dark cotton shirt. She wondered if they were his dog tags from the military. Ben had never been into wearing jewelry, but she assumed this type of metal was different.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“Then why are you still smiling?”
“I’ll do my best to stop promptly, ma’am.”
Oh, he was trying to rile her up even more, wasn’t he? But she refused to let him. “Just get us there in one piece, please. My patients need me on Monday.”
“Will do.”
She reclined her seat and closed her eyes, hoping the drive would blur by so she could get into her room and not deal with Mr. Baseball until tomorrow.
“Riley?” Her name off his tongue twenty minutes later had her stomach knotting.
She shifted her head to the side to look over at him. “What?”
“I meant what I said on the plane back there; I just need you to know that.” Gone was any hint of humor in his eyes.
“Sometimes it’s too late for apologies.”
He looked back at the highway, his shoulders arching back, his spine going stiff. “Is that what you’d tell your patients?”
She looked up at the car ceiling and pressed her fingers to her throbbing right temple. “No,” she answered honestly and left the conversation at that.
Chapter Seven
The mountain lodge, nestled in a forest of red spruce and Fraser firs, looked like something out of a Hallmark movie. It was a few weeks until Christmas, so she wasn’t sure why she hadn’t anticipated the decorations.
Strings of golden lights, fresh pine wreaths, and red satin ribbons made the place almost majestic. But it also felt too festive and romantic for the purpose of her visit.
“You good?” Ben removed his hat and scratched his head before putting it back on.
“Um.” Her gaze fell upon the massive stone fireplace at the center of the lobby. The flames roared, dancing and licking the air as if trying to escape. She felt the same. “Uh, yeah,” she lied.
She had planned on booking a room at the cabin where Nate and his dad had always stayed. She and Ben had gone on a lot of the family trips, too. But those cabins weren’t available. And honestly, she was relieved. She didn’t know if she could handle the prickly feel of the past nipping at her skin quite that much. She was already getting a heavy enough dose of it with Ben at her side.
“You want to grab a bite to eat before we put away our bags?” he asked.
“I think I’d like to shower.” She smiled and immediately regretted it. She didn’t want him to misinterpret her slip of emotion.
“You look fine to me.”
She reached out and tipped up the hat bill to better view his eyes. They’d already checked in, but they were still standing off to the side of the front desk, and she couldn’t seem to get herself to move.
“I don’t know how to do this,” she whispered, her hand still touching the rim of the cap.
He cocked his head, and she started to lower her arm, but he captured her wrist, holding it between the two of them. “Do what?”
She could’ve sworn his voice faltered, but she was too dazed to be sure. It wouldn’t matter anyway, she had to remind herself. Even if Ben was emotional about all of this, too, she needed to ensure she kept her walls up. She didn’t want to get hurt again.
Her heartbeat kicked up, and he’d be able to feel her pulse escalate in her wrist. “I, um . . .”
Why wasn’t he letting go of her?
Why didn’t she want him to?
“Water,” she sputtered and blinked. “I need some water.”
His eyes tightened to thin slits as he assessed her—it was the same look he used to get standing on the pitcher’s mound before he reeled back his arm for the pitch.
She had never missed even one of his high school games. She and Nate had been his biggest fans. Of course, Nate had always been more of an extreme sports kind of guy, but Ben’s talents had spanned every sport. The man was frustratingly good at everything.
Well, almost everything.
Singing, dancing, writing, and anything involving acting . . . not so much. She used to always laugh whenever he’d had to act or share a poem in class. One thing he had been good at was making her crack up, though.
So. Many. Memories.
And that’s all she had left—memories.
And it was like a slow burn traveling up her chest as she thought about how much she’d lost when both Ben and Nate had disappeared from her life. She’d become so empty, and as much as she loved helping people in her job, she’d spent years trying to replace that dull hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach.
“You want to let go of me now?” She swallowed. “There’s probably water in my room.”
He released her arm and went for her bags.
Chivalry, huh?
Riley followed him up the cedar steps that were behind the fireplace, careful not to study his glutes on the way up. He was carrying three bags and making it look effortless.
He waited for her to join him at the top of the stairs. “I think we’re this way.” He tipped his head to the right.
“Is your room near mine?”
“Next door.”
She side-eyed him as they began to walk. “Coincidence or . . .?”
“Or what?” He stopped before a door that was trimmed in red lights. “This is your room.”
“How’d you manage to get a room by me? And a seat on the plane next to me, for that matter?” She lifted a brow, but he simply smiled and cocked his head to the door, motioning for her to open it.
She wouldn’t be getting anything out of him, apparently. Not too surprising. And so, she removed her key from the envelope and stuck it in the lock. It was a traditional key, not an electric swipe card.
“Well, uh, thanks for the baggage assist,” she said after they’d entered the room and she’d set her luggage on the bed.
“Do you want to get something to eat after you shower?” Hesitation passed through his words.
Her stomach burned with hunger pains. She hadn’t eaten all day or even touched the in-flight snack on th
e plane.
“I think I’ll order room service.” She moved to the window and parted the drapes to get a view of the outside. “The mountains are even more beautiful than I remember.”
In the reflection, she saw him approach from behind. She forced her attention away and toward a couple down below, building a snowman. They were probably not even of drinking age, and they looked so carefree and happy. And she was jealous.
Riley gave him a quick look out of the corner of her eye, and he pressed a palm to the glass. “How’d you get those scars? Was that from the IED?” Her eyes fell shut. She was disappointed in herself for even asking the questions. Acknowledging she’d kept up with his health over the years—even if by force from her mom—wasn’t something her stubborn self wanted to admit.
“No. The scars on my hand are from an animal attack earlier this year. I was rescuing someone, and a guard dog got the drop on me.”
She could almost feel his smile—it was that strong.
“Can you believe that?” He chuckled lightly. “Damn dog bit me and ripped his claws down my hand and arm.”
“What happened to the dog?” She opened her eyes and looked at his hand.
“I’d never kill a dog. He’s fine.”
“And what happened to the person who owned the dog?” She faced him, suddenly forgetting about the happy couple below, losing any lingering feelings of envy.
“Not so lucky.” He flashed her a quick, confident smile, pushed away from the window, and headed to the desk next to the bed. He reached for a pen and scribbled something. “If you decide you want to eat, call me. If not, ring me when you’re up tomorrow, and we can head out.”
He was giving her his cell number. She didn’t want it, though. What if she had a drunken night and a moment of weakness a few months from now and called him up, begging for answers as to why he’d never once returned her emails years ago?
It’d be too risky to save his number in her phone. Seeing him here, being near him, it felt like home, and she knew, once he was gone, it’d hurt so much more. The temptation to call him would be too great.
“Okay. I, uh, need to grab some shoes in town before we make the hike.”
He faced her and glanced down at her ankle boots. “You can’t hike in those?” His lips curved at the edges.
“Funny.”
“I guess I should go.” He lifted his own bag and started for the door. “Goodnight, Ri.” He stilled. “Riley,” he corrected and left.
She collapsed onto the bed, her energy spent. It was exhausting wrestling with her current kaleidoscope of emotions.
She eyed the minibar and chewed on her lip. She probably shouldn’t touch the little bottles, especially since she had Ben’s number now.
Pushing to her feet, she started to undress. As her hands went around to her beige lacy bra, the door swung inward, and she shrieked.
Her arms shielded her breasts, and Ben stared at her with parted lips.
“Jesus, Ben. What the hell were you thinking?” She grabbed her shirt off the bed and held it in front of her, thankful she hadn’t taken off her bra yet.
“I was making sure you locked the door. I didn’t expect it to open when I turned the handle, and when it did, I was pissed that you’d be so goddamn careless as to leave it unlocked.”
Without thinking, she marched toward him with the shirt still clutched to her chest. “Are you really swearing at me? You just busted into my room without so much as knocking. What if I had been naked?”
His eyes dropped below her collarbone. “Lock up when I leave.” A gravelly undercurrent swept through his speech.
“Is that really all you have to say for yourself? Not even an apology?”
“Yeah, you’re right. I should be yelling. Always lock your door.” He found her eyes once again, and there was a pulse in the side of his jaw as if he were clenching his teeth too tight.
“I can’t believe you.” She stepped back, bumping into the wall alongside the bathroom door.
He closed the gap and placed a palm on the wall above her shoulder.
“Why are you still in here?”
“I’m angry.”
A humorless chuckle fell from her lips. “You’re angry? Are you out of your mind?”
“You need to think about your safety. When I go back to Vegas, I can’t be worried about whether or not you’re locking your damn door at night.”
He wasn’t wearing his jacket now, and so she could see the hard planes of his well-defined muscles beneath the long-sleeved shirt.
Maybe he was the only one who actually posed a threat—to her mental well-being, at least.
His last words finally hit her, though, and had her shoving at his chest with her free hand.
“Worry about me? Are you kidding? That takes a lot of damn nerve.” She pushed harder, but he wouldn’t budge. He was made of steel. “Get the hell out of my room.”
He finally dropped his hand from the wall and backed up. “Lock your damn door,” he said and left.
* * *
If she’d thought things had been awkward last night, they were brutally uncomfortable now.
Ben had only managed to spit out a good morning and a formal hope you slept well when they met in the lobby that morning.
Now, inside the shoe store, her jaw went slack as he knelt before her and brushed away her hand. “You’re doing it wrong.”
She reached down to slap at him, but he caught her wrist, just like last night, and held on to it. But this time, he didn’t make eye contact. “If you tie it too tight, you could lose feeling in your toes. Too loose, and you could twist your ankle. The trail isn’t going to be easy, and I’ll be damned if I’m carrying your ass two miles to the car and taking you to the hospital for a sprained ankle.”
She glared at him, but he still wouldn’t look at her. Instead, he released her hand and began working at the laces.
“First, I’m not that heavy. And second, I remember how to hike and can lace my own damn shoes!”
He smothered a quick grin before shoving upright. “There. Stand and let me know how they feel.”
She rolled her eyes but stood. She wanted this day over with.
He pinched the skin at his throat, and she walked past him, testing out the boots.
“You, uh, still hike and climb?” she asked.
“I’ve only climbed if it entailed scaling a building to go after some scumbag or rescue a hostage.”
“Hm.” She wasn’t really sure what to say to that response, but she’d always wondered if he had given up climbing after Nate’s death. She’d never so much as gone near the side of a mountain ever since.
Why the hell couldn’t Nate have used a rope that day?
She winced as her mind replayed the images of him falling. She had been holding on to Ben’s rope, but she had wanted to reach out for Nate—as if she could have actually caught him—but if she’d let go, Ben could’ve been hurt, or even killed, too.
She knew she couldn’t have possibly saved Nate by trying to catch him, but the guilt of doing nothing other than watching him fall was still unbearable, even to this day.
Ralph had said there’d been nothing she could have done, but still . . .
Ben hadn’t spoken a word that dark and gloomy day at Nate’s wake. And before he’d left town to join the Marines, he’d simply whispered goodbye in her ear, given her a hug, and hadn’t even bothered to meet her eyes before turning away.
“How do they feel?”
“It hurts.” She gripped her chest.
“Too tight?” He crouched down and worked at her laces, and without meaning to, she placed a hand on his shoulder.
He looked up at her for a brief moment, and his mouth tightened.
“No, I wasn’t talking about that.” She blinked. “The boots are fine. We should buy them and get on the road before the storm hits.”
“You’re sure?”
She lifted her hand, and he stood.
“Yeah, I’m sure.” She
walked toward the register.
They didn’t speak again until they’d reached Sugarlands Visitor Center.
He parked the SUV. “I don’t think we should go all the way to the summit. There’s a tough rock scramble near the top, and in these weather conditions, I think we’re asking for an injury.”
“You mean me, right? Because you’ve never backed down from a challenge before.”
Except for the challenge of staying after Nate died . . .
She opened the door and zipped up her jacket once outside. She was thankful for the thermal leggings beneath her pants. The wind whipped harder than she’d anticipated. But the snow had yet to fall, and thankfully, the normally low-hanging fog had already lifted.
“It’s two miles up and two miles—”
“I can count. Four total. Got it.” She carefully slung her bag that held the urns over her shoulder.
Ben came before her, his mouth doing that tight-lipped thing again, which he’d clearly mastered. He could win an award for the scowls she’d witnessed so far.
“I’m going to the summit, with or without you.”
“Are you always this stubborn?”
“When it’s important.” She started past him and headed for the trail without another word. The parking lot was empty, but had it been any other season it would have been bustling with cars.
“Go right,” Ben said a little later when she’d started to go left at the fork in the trail.
She hesitated at the crossroads, and that’s kind of how her life felt right at the moment.
“I’d prefer you stay at my side or in front of me, so I can keep an eye on you.” Ben stood next to her, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.
“You need to stop worrying about me.” Her heartbeat quickened, and she was almost grateful because it helped warm her up a little.
“I’ve never stopped, and I never will.”
“And that’s pretty damn hard for me to believe. More like impossible, actually.” A cold swirl of air blew from her mouth with her last breath.
The Final Goodbye Page 6
