And that sucks because as much as I know that I can’t do anything about him, wanting him, I do want to do something. Like maybe just have some meaningless sex to lay those ghosts to rest and for once get the upper hand.
Like use him the way he used me.
But to what end? It’s not as if he’ll feel anything anyway, so wanting to use and hurt him won’t work. He’d just screw me and probably walk away from the experience without so much as a sniff of emotion.
Because he never loved me, not the way I loved him, I think miserably, my unseeing gaze fixed on the horizon and what is probably a great sunrise.
Stop.
Stop thinking and focus on what is important, I yell silently, my cold fingers gripping the cup till they turn white with strain. I need to stop rehashing these old hurts and the sense of betrayal that’s been festering inside me for years and concentrate on what is important. Like healing from my ordeal and finding a way to get the guys to include me in their mission.
And most importantly, I need to stop just existing and actually start living again. For a long time, maybe even before I left Nick, I was just going through the motions. My life has been nothing great. No excitement. No happiness. Just surviving.
That is sadder than hell if I actually think about it because it tells me that I may have let a part of me die with Gunny on that explosion-filled battlefield.
I don’t want that though, so I push it away violently and ignore the whispers in my head that keep telling me that without him, I am lost. I can’t be, because I feel nothing for him now but contempt, I assure myself, closing my mind to the fact that despite my anger, I haven’t felt this alive in a long time.
Can it really be that I’ve just been waiting—?
No!
No, I hiss to my inner self, my voice a grating snarl inside my mind, I am not doing this to myself again. I won’t let myself feel anything for a man who not only set me up to be caught and hurt, but also left me for years, knowing that I loved him.
I’ve been down this road before in the last few years, and while it’s not quite the same, the situation with Rachel opened my eyes in a way that I can’t come back from.
Love? Not in the cards for me because, frankly, I don’t want it. I hurt. Too much. Too badly.
After Gu— dammit, Trace “died,” I existed in a place where every day was a new challenge. I had the guys and Nick, so yeah, I was okay enough to not have a total breakdown at that point. It hurt, God it hurt so bad remembering that night, seeing that explosion, hearing King yell out as Jericho and Nick dragged me from Hell.
I remember with crystal clarity seeing the man I love throw himself into certain death. The explosion was deafening, the heat and brightness from the blast so harsh that I was blinded by it before my throat started aching with my hysterical, incomprehensible screams.
It was more than pain at that stage, though not the pain from my injuries. No, that agony came from the sorrow that took root in my chest and refused to subside.
Of course, we all made it out of there alive. Nick being Nick, and ever the commander of his crew, wouldn’t allow anything else, but we were all broken in some way after Trace Matthews was killed.
I recovered physically, and then in a small way mentally because despite what I felt, I realized that I had to keep moving. So, I did. I let myself want Nick, ignoring the initial stab of pain that came from what I considered a betrayal to Gunny’s memory.
In short, I forced myself to move on from him and live because I had to, and more importantly because I had others to think about now too, what with Nick and the four brothers I acquired.
And yes, I did love Nick. Not just as a friend, but in no way close to what I felt for…
Well. I loved him, and for a while as hard as it was, I allowed myself to be happy. As Rachel. Because I didn’t want to be Jess, not that girl who loved and lost.
And then the other stuff came. I lost my job…though truth told, my heart was no longer in it anyway. That, I could deal with, even with the sense of failure that bombarded me even with the relief that I felt.
What broke that last chain was Rachel coming back and taking her life back. Not because I lost what I had left then, though that was hard, but because with her return I learned that life will keep kicking you in the teeth unless you bite back.
See, my sister, the other half of me, my Vulcan-mind-meld partner in crime, she left me, too. Not completely; I am her family after all, but in a way that made it more than clear to me that she was going to suffer me only so far.
I can’t blame her though. Being around me is dangerous, or it was, and honestly, I don’t think even Rachel knows how to deal with whom I have become.
So yeah, I honestly had nothing left after that, and you know what I figured out from losing so many people so soon? You can’t cry about something you never had. So, I decided that love wasn’t for me. After all, I’d loved and look where it got me. Alone. Abandoned. Betrayed. Empty.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
My gasp is as much shock as annoyance at myself when Trace steps out onto the porch and sits down beside me. His big body fills up way too much space as I feel his body heat reach out to me, sending shivers down my spine.
I tense at his proximity and look up reluctantly, praying that I still have the ability to school my features. I can’t let him see my vulnerability, not before I can dig deep enough to shore up my defenses against him.
“Avoiding you? Not likely,” I snort, giving him a look that could strip paint. “I just have nothing to say to you.”
“Really? Nothing? No, ‘Hi Trace, I sure am glad you survived that IED you took to save my sweet ass?’ No, ‘Gosh, you look good, even if this face isn’t as pretty as your other one?’” he mocks, his eyes going hard when all I can manage is a sniff and a casual shrug.
“How about, ‘Gee, Trace, you ruined my life when you put something on me that was never mine to fucking bear?’” I mutter, slamming the cup down on the table so hard coffee sloshes all over my hand.
“Jess—”
“No. You do not get to mosey your ass on down here today and try to sweet talk your way out of this. I spent months of my life thinking you were dead, months feeling guilty for wanting to love another man, and months telling myself after I lost everything and everyone I cared about that it was worth it because I did it for you, to keep your memory as clean and pure as I thought it should be.”
For nothing, I now see, glaring at him angrily even as my body starts heating, betraying me in the worst way. How is it even freaking possible to want this guy this much? I rage silently, forcing myself to be still even as his eyes sweep over me and a wicked grin lights his face.
“I don’t? Why not? First off, no one asked you to fall on that blade, my little martyr. I was well-aware that the guys would find out what I was up to, hence my new face and the fact that I am for all intents and purposes dead. Gunny, that chump, is a ghost as far as Uncle Sam is concerned. Trace is just a mover and shaker in the fine world of underground arms as far as the underbelly is concerned.”
He keeps yapping and the more he does the angrier I find myself becoming. Four fucking years! Four years of grief and then betrayal, and he’s honestly sitting here trying to tell me that my misery was of my own making?
“Why did you stay Rachel for so long, Jess? Why not just tell Storm who you were and save what the two of you had? Once the Agency booted your ass, you had nothing more to lose, babe.”
I know! Don’t they all think I know that? But to have stopped would have been to let go of him entirely, and that I could not do! Gunny was a bastard, a fucking asshole, who played me in the worst way, but I loved him and letting it all go would have been like admitting that it was all gone. That he was all gone.
I guess I was a schmuck, huh? Because clearly this douche asshole didn’t hold the same torch I did, and he finds my sentimental outlook completely laughable.
That pisses me off. A lot, and I want to
slap his smug, cold face and yell obscenities at his ass. I refrain though, because as I’ve already realized in this situation, all I’ve got left right now is a smidge, and I mean the tiniest smidge of pride, and I’m keeping that shit for as long as I can grasp it in my bloody fingernails.
“I don’t want to talk to you about any of this, Trace Matthews. The past is done, or it will be as soon as you six yahoos get rid of Fazir. Then I can move on.”
And then what? Then I leave this place where my only real family is and go it alone again. This time fully aware of the fact that I messed up what was left of my life for this stupid ass!
Stop being so freaking pitiful already, Jess. You’re alive, somewhat healthy, and you have a future to build. At least you didn’t die in some sand-infested hellhole with those idiots torturing you.
Yeah, but only because Trace decided to keep giving me CPR, I think morosely, totally hating him for saving my life, as ungrateful as that sounds because it means we’re actually squaresies right now, and I don’t want that.
I want a reason to justify capping his ass, not some squishy feeling flowing through me recalling Lex’s words as he told me how nuts this guy went when he thought I was dead.
“Maybe.” He finally shrugs, his eyes holding me captive, pulling me in even as I struggle not to stare at him. “Or maybe it’s just what we need, little girl. Tell me, Jess, when you were screwing Storm, did you think about me? Did you think about the way we’d attack each other and fuck for hours till you hurt so good you couldn’t move?”
That drawl sets my body on fire, traitorously quick, and I feel everything clench as pictures, sounds, smells bombard me: Gunny ripping my clothes off and tying me to the bed, his hands tracing every curve, his mouth devouring me in ways that still make me blush, years later. His body in me, owning me, and filling me to the point of pain that felt so good… I feel my sex convulse as moisture floods my panties.
He was my first, and though I loved Nick in my own way, and can never say that the sex was not good, it was nothing like what I had with Gunny. With him, it was hot, raw, dirty, consuming, and so damn out of control that I craved him like a drug.
And still do, I think furiously, as my nipples bead and send shooting fingers of arousal to my aching clit.
“I loved Nick,” I say, my voice flat, my eyes flitting away to stare out into the distance.
“Love? You loved him? Then why not tell him the truth, Jess? He would have understood.”
“Yes, I would have. So why not?”
I whip around at that dark growl and swallow as Nick comes onto the porch, his eyes hard as he takes in the closeness of Trace who’s practically sitting on top of me at the moment. Damn asshole! How’d he move so fast?
“I-I…” I swallow and glare at Trace, who seems tickled by my discomfort as Nick hands me a cup of coffee.
“Get gone, Gun. Jessica and I have things to talk about, or Lenny is likely to have my balls in her purse by the end of the day,” he growls, shoving Gunny off the porch swing with a scowl.
I ignore the jackass and his smug smirk as he saunters back inside, whistling under his breath because, quite frankly, this is awkward as hell and I don’t have it in me to focus on both men at once.
Especially knowing that Nick overheard his little sex speech as well.
“Nick—”
“Before you say a word, I want you to know that I am still pissed at you, so don’t think that you can get one over on me just because my wife is forcing me to do this. I’m glad we got to you in time, and that you’re okay, but as far as—”
“I get it. And I understand, so don’t stretch your honorable self, trying to say things I know you’ll feel guilty about,” I cut in, knowing that despite his anger, Nick would just stew later after he said something hurtful.
I’ve caused this man enough pain, no more.
“When we were together, you were the only thing that saved me. I loved Gunny, it’s true, but after he died and I lost everything I was…lost. Or I would have been if you weren’t there. And I know that you think I used you, and maybe it’s true to some extent, but I did love you, Nick. I loved you a lot.”
“But…”
“But it was always going to be him, and I had to accept that when my sister decided it was time for me to give her identity back. I had to choose between coming clean and keeping you, or letting you guys keep Gunny,” I whisper raggedly, breathing deep against the pain in my chest.
“Jess—”
“And for me, too, because even loving you—and believe me I did, I was planning a wedding and babies and the whole shebang, Nick, even though I knew deep down that I was hurting you, too. I thought at first that if I just…if Rachel never came back, if she continued to push her fiancé away and…I was a fool, okay? I trapped myself because I was a little messed up and trying to pretend that I was something I wasn’t.”
“Because you didn’t want to let him go entirely,” he says quietly, grimacing with what I pray is a measure of understanding.
“No. And because I didn’t want all the pain you guys had endured to be for nothing. He was your family, as much as I fooled myself into believing he was mine and…and I thought we could…but I was stupid. I knew that once I gave Rachel up, all I’d have left was the Jess that belonged to someone else and…you were too good for her, Nick. She didn’t deserve you. I didn’t deserve you. And you know, I was always hopeful afterward that you’d find someone like Lenny,” I say, smiling widely.
He breathes deeply and closes his eyes before focusing on me again; this time with so much sadness I feel my throat burn and my eyes tingle with unshed tears.
“You are Jess.”
“Yes. But I wasn’t with you. With you, I was Rachel, the woman who hadn’t betrayed all the people she considered family. I was the reporter who had a home, a man, a purpose. Once I realized that I had to stop, had to come clean…I couldn’t tell you all of it because…because then…”
“We’d all know that you gave everything up for a man who just left you?”
“For a man who let me be taken and tortured,” I say softly, blinking away to look out at the view, though all I can see is the sand, the blood, and the sneering faces of men who would have killed me without a moment’s guilt. “Echo…that last…I knew when I woke up in that cell that he’d given me up so that he could get you guys to come for me.”
The confession makes me cringe, not only for them or myself, but for Gunny, too. I’m not just telling Nick that I was a casualty, but that the man we all loved was willing to kill us all to complete his mission.
“Christ!”
“Yeah, but you know, even then I convinced myself that the mission was all that mattered, that he would save me because he had a plan, that he would never…but—”
“You loved him, and he betrayed a trust that you’d given him for some bum-fuck mission we should never have been involved in! Jesus, Jess! You were half dead when we got to you,” he snarls, jumping up to pace in front of me. “I could kill him.”
“That would serve no purpose, Nick. I knew what I was getting into with him, and I should never have put myself in that position. I was there on false pretenses to do a job too, so don’t go feeling too sorry for me. The point here is not what happened between Gunny and me, it’s that I fucked you over.”
“For him! To preserve his memory for us all when, really, he was an ass. He could have told us any time what was up and we’d have helped him get that fucker Zulu.”
“He was Zulu! Don’t you get it? He was tracking himself that whole time, playing both sides to draw out the other cells and Fazir.”
Stop defending him, Jess. Christ, what is wrong with you? I yell silently, sipping at the fresh coffee that I don’t want—just to silence myself.
“As were you, Jess. You…I know you, and dammit, I respect your skills now that I know who you really are. You found Zulu, didn’t you? And the little shit played you.”
“Yes,” I whisper softly,
looking away in shame. “He did.”
But so much worse than anyone can ever imagine, I think, pushing the old pain away, shoving at the memory of that time, not wanting to recall the doctors and their pity or the absolute devastation of finding out that—
Stop! Not now, you will not think about that now, Jess. It’s done. There’s no coming back from it.
Nick snarls again beneath his breath and falls into the seat beside me, sighing loudly.
“This is a fucking mess, you know. I want to throttle him and let Jericho beat him to death but…”
“He saved your woman and ultimately saved me, too,” I mutter, rolling my neck to relieve the headache building behind my eyes as I look over at him ruefully. “I have got to hand it to the ass, he is loyal. And handy to have around.”
Nick snorts and I get the first real smile from him since so long ago before I screwed him over and left his heart trampled when I ran from myself and the demons that were chasing me.
“Fuck.”
“Hell, yeah, I second that. If not for the fact that I owe him for saving my ass, I would so have already put a bullet in him.”
Another chuckle escapes him before I feel his arm come around me, pulling me into his side. My head settles on his shoulder and I push back tears as I relax into him and take in the comfort of his warmth and what I hope is a new beginning, even knowing I don’t deserve it.
“Lenny likes you, kid, and dammit, I missed you, too. Jericho almost beat my ass black and blue for being an asshole, and Lex is threatening to kill me in my sleep as well, so I guess it’s time to get things squared away and get on with life. Speaking of which, Lenny won’t hear of you leaving when this shit is over, so it looks like you’re staying in Mayberry. We need to find you a place.”
I rear up at those words and feel my eyes tear up. No matter how many times I blink or try to tell myself that crying is for the weak.
“Nick.”
“Shut up, girl. As far as I can figure, you’ve spent the last few years alone with no goals other than to—”
THE WATCHERS: 6 Military Romance Bundle Page 80
