Pivoting sharply, Alex walked outside. With his hands on his hips, he took a few deep breaths. Opening his heart had never brought him anything except pain. How many more times did he have to be taught this lesson before it finally sank in?
Slowly, deeply, Alex inhaled, then exhaled. He couldn’t stay out here long. He had to go back inside, had to be there for Ravyn and Damon if they needed him. As much as this was hurting him, it would be a billion times worse for them.
Shit, maybe there was a reason he couldn’t come up with a way to woo Stacey. Maybe it was because he was meant to spend his life alone. He should let her go, let her find someone who was easier to live with than he was. It was probably best for him too. After she left, his feelings would eventually fade, and Alex wouldn’t allow another woman close. He’d do what he’d done before she’d swept into his life and turned it upside down—he’d take them to bed, enjoy them, and forget them. And if that existence seemed empty after three years with Stacey, well, he’d get over it. Someday.
“How long are you going to stay out here?” Stacey asked, her voice slicing through his thoughts.
“A few more minutes.”
“Have you considered that you might be needed in there?”
Alex didn’t say a word. Who needed him? His sister? She had her husband. Cam? He had his parents, and the doctor. Stacey? Sure, that’s why she was getting on a shuttle bound for Earth. He was on the fringes, a fifth wheel—unnecessary.
The thought was enough to prompt him to try. “The house is empty without you.”
“Right,” Stacey said with heavy sarcasm. “I’m supposed to believe it’s me you miss and not the sex.”
“Sex?” Alex laughed derisively. “I’m damn near forty years old. Do you think with the kind of hours I’ve been putting in, and the situation I’m dealing with, that getting off is high on my priority list right now? I don’t know whether to be flattered that you believe I’m that big a stud, or insulted you believe I’m always thinking with my—” he paused, decided Stacey didn’t deserve crudeness, and substituted, “thinking below my belt.”
“What am I supposed to believe? That you miss me?”
Carefully, slowly, he reached out and brushed a tress of her red hair off her cheek. When that didn’t bring an adverse reaction, Alex cupped her face in his hand. “It’s the truth.”
For a split second, hope seeped into her hazel eyes, but with a blink, it was gone, and she jerked away from his touch. “Sure it is. You just hate to lose. You’ll say or do anything in order to come out on top.”
His temper spiked again, and Alex struggled to tamp it down. “So I’m damned if I do, damned if I don’t? Nice.” A sudden suspicion dawned on him. “Of course, maybe that’s just an excuse. You want out of our relationship, and instead of telling me that, you list all my faults. Then, when I try to do something about my cited deficiencies, you accuse me of lying to get my way, so nothing I do will be good enough.”
“That’s not true!”
“Isn’t it?” Alex jammed his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for her. “You tell me, what can I do or say that you’ll believe? Name one thing that you won’t doubt me on.”
Stacey’s lips went tight and she wrapped her arms around her waist.
“Yeah,” he said, “that’s what I thought. As far as you’re concerned, it’s over, period, and I might as well save my breath because I’m screwed. Well, you know what, Stace? I’m not giving up on you—not because I have to win, but because you mean something to me—and if you board that shuttle to leave, we’ll both know it’s what you wanted.”
“This is just like you to take your issues and turn them around onto me. Well, let me tell you—”
Alex leaned forward, got in her face. “Who are you trying to convince, Johnson? Me or yourself?”
He watched fury flame in her eyes and he bit back a smile. This was good. This level of anger meant there was still something between them. Maybe he’d hurt her feelings, and she was trying to save face. Maybe she really believed the bullshit she was spewing, but he knew better. His case wasn’t lost yet.
“Now,” Alex said, mood much improved, “why don’t we head back inside and see how Cam is doing, or if Ravyn and Brody need us to do something for them.”
“Alex Sullivan...” Her voice trailed off.
Raising an eyebrow in question, he waited.
“You are,” she said, voice vibrating with fury, “a piece of work. Everything always has to be turned to your advantage. Let’s say you ‘win.’ How long until things return to normal, and you’re shutting me out again?”
Her question left him floundering for some kind of answer. “People don’t change overnight,” he finally offered.
With a growl, Stacey walked away from him, heading back toward the infirmary. Alex caught up with her, and using his hand to hold the door shut, he asked, “What?”
“What? What?” She yanked hard on the door handle, but he kept it closed. “I gave you three years! If I’d seen even the smallest indication that you were trying, we wouldn’t be in this position today. But you never put out any effort at all. None. And I’m supposed to believe that suddenly you’ve seen the error of your ways? I might be from Iowa, but I’m not
that
gullible.”
“All I’m asking,” Alex said evenly, “is that you keep an open mind and give me a chance.”
She jerked on the door again. He knew better than to push for a response, so Alex released his hold, brushed her hand out of the way and opened the door for her. With a last distrustful glare, Stacey entered the prefab building.
Alex stopped short to avoid plowing into Stacey. Following her gaze, he found out why she’d hung back. His sister and her husband were still the only two present, but something had clearly happened. Brody appeared murderous, and Ravyn was sobbing. His heart froze, air caught in his lungs, and he wondered whether it was worth breathing again if Cam was gone.
“What happened?” Stacey asked and Alex sucked in some badly needed oxygen. “Is Cam okay?”
Brody’s arm went around Ravyn and he held her close as he said, “They want to keep him overnight for observation, but all of Cam’s tests came back normal. He should be fine in a couple of days.”
“What’s the bad news?” And Alex knew there was some of that. Brody tended to be even keeled, so it took a lot to piss him off, and even more to leave him looking violent.
“The bad news?” His brother-in-law’s eyes were ice cold and promised hell. “The injury came from blunt-force trauma. Some bastard hit my son in the head.”
Chapter Fifteen
Kendall wanted to look at the image on her palm, but Wyatt seemed disinclined to release her hand. Those faint paisleys morphing into deep, dark patterns had her a bit freaked out, but she was concealing that—she hoped.
The weird design made her anxious, but she didn’t understand why Wyatt had become so furious. She doubted he would have gotten that pissed off just because he didn’t like her leaving him uninformed. The anger had abated since yesterday, though, and Kendall had no desire to reignite it.
She looked around, trying to find something to take her mind off her hand. They’d been walking in these endless corridors for days, though, and there was nothing exciting here. Even the rooms they found had become monotonous because of the sameness. Of course, that didn’t mean she didn’t want to come back after they took care of the smugglers, but Kendall didn’t find their surroundings much of a distraction right now.
She glanced at Wyatt, her most surefire diversion, and wished she hadn’t when her arousal intensified. She’d ached since the dream—it had never gone away—and Kendall wondered at it. On rare mornings, she’d wake up feeling a need, but it had always been faint, and quickly gone. Not this time.
The worst part, however, wasn’t the throbbing hunger. No, what made her heart race was the realization that the fever wasn’t merely for sex, but for sex with Wyatt.
Her determination to resist him was wavering, and she’d begun to wonder if sleeping with him would be as destructive as she feared. What if she went into it with her eyes open—if they spelled out the ground rules up front? Then maybe their friendship could survive. If they knew from the start that it was temporary, how badly could it end? They’d simply wish each other well and resume a platonic relationship. It could work.
Yeah, right. Kendall bit back a sigh. She suspected it wouldn’t be that easy. Not for her.
Besides, maybe Wyatt didn’t want to risk their friendship either—but given the way he’d kissed her, she doubted it. Males thought differently from females. She’d seen a lot of types of men go through her mom’s life—all socioeconomic classes, all races, all religions, all ages—and one thing was always the same: Men didn’t view sex the same way women did. For them, it was more physical, less emotional. Kendall had absolutely no doubt that Wyatt could sleep with her, then treat her like his buddy again. But she wouldn’t be able to keep their relationship separate like that. For her, it would become more.
She didn’t want to think about this either; it sure wasn’t conducive to a relaxed state of mind. What she needed was a good, strong dose of reality. “Marsh,” she said quietly, “tell me some stories about your childhood.”
“What for?”
To remind me how unalike we are, Kendall thought, but she didn’t say that aloud. “To pass the time.”
He looked at her hard, then shrugged. “I’ve told you plenty about how I grew up. Why don’t you tell me about your childhood instead? That’s something I’ve never heard much on.”
Kendall’s immediate reaction was to close down, but before she could give into it, she stopped. Why not tell him? Apparently, the interest was mutual, and although he’d pulled back the other day, she’d figured out that had more to do with their being pursued than the fact that he wasn’t tempted. Heck, when they’d kissed yesterday, she’d felt proof of how much he did want her. If she threw caution to the wind and did something stupid, she wanted him to know her—really know her.
But what did she tell him? “I’m not very interesting.”
Wyatt squeezed her hand. “There’s no one I find more fascinating than you.” Before she could truly register what he’d said, he continued, “What was it like moving from place to place like you did?”
“That’s a broad question.” Kendall sighed, and tried to think of what she wanted to share. “Always being in a new place made it tough to be part of the group. Sure, I made friends wherever I went, but they were superficial.” Except for you, she thought, but swallowed the words. “With the way the army shifts us around, it’s actually been good experience for adulthood.”
He ignored her smile. “You don’t keep in touch with anyone you knew while you were growing up?”
They reached another fork in the halls, and without him having to ask, Kendall pointed to the right. “Other kids I knew? No. I lost touch with them shortly after I stopped going to whatever school we all attended.”
“And adults?”
She’d left herself wide open for that question, but since Kendall had already mentioned her mom’s boyfriends, maybe this was a good time to tell the whole truth. “My mom had lovers—lots of them—and I keep in contact with most of them. Usually it’s just a birthday wish, but I correspond with some regularly.”
Tugging her hand to draw her to a stop, Wyatt asked, “Bug, did one of them hurt you? Is that why you shy away from men?”
It took a couple seconds for the ramifications of his questions to sink in. “No!” she said emphatically, trying to reassure him. “My mom may not have been good at making relationships work, but she always picked honorable men. No one even eyed me funny, I promise.”
Wyatt studied her for a moment longer, then his lips quirked. “I’m glad, darlin’.”
“My mom, well, she could have been a better parent in a lot of ways, but I always knew that if one of her boyfriends touched me, she’d go after him with a meat cleaver.” Kendall smiled at the mental image. “She never had to, though. That’s what made it so tough when she’d break up with whoever we were living with at the time. I liked these men, all of them, and there wasn’t one I wouldn’t have chosen to be my stepfather.”
“So what happened?” Wyatt asked. He pulled her into motion.
“To prevent her from marrying one of them?” she asked for clarification. At his nod, she said, “I’m not completely sure. She’d tell me that the man who she believed to be her soul mate wasn’t after all, and we’d move on searching for her
true
love.”
“You sound awfully scornful. You don’t believe in soul mates?” Wyatt’s tone was casual, but there was something in his voice that had her hesitating.
“No. There’s no such thing as one soul mate.”
“You must not believe in reincarnation then.”
Again, Kendall paused. Wyatt wasn’t looking at her, but something was definitely going on. “I
do
believe in reincarnation,” she admitted reluctantly.
“So do I. I told you not to make assumptions about me,” he said, and Kendall realized she must have looked as shocked as she felt. “But from the reading I’ve done on the subject, the consensus is that soul groups reincarnate together, that they even make plans before being born to meet in the upcoming life.”
Kendall nodded, but while she did think there were soul groups, she didn’t agree that there was only a single soul mate. The sparks, the fireworks her mom pursued were figments, there and gone in the blink of an eye. If her mom had understood that there wasn’t a perfect love out there, maybe Kendall would have known her father—or at least had a stepfather.
“Bug?”
“Sorry.” The determined expression he wore made something inside her flutter and Kendall jerked her gaze forward. “Just because we go through life after life with the same set of souls, doesn’t mean there’s only one soul mate. If you’re going by that criteria, we have hundreds, even thousands of kindred spirits.”
There was a long pause. “You don’t recall your past lives.”
Kendall felt her tension ease. This was less personal, and a lot more comfortable to talk about. It wasn’t a question, but she answered as if it were. “No. A few times I thought about having a hypnotist regress me, but decided not to waste the money. If I was supposed to remember, I would.”