by Elise Faber
Hannah laughed. “Hell, no, I don’t.”
Lily rolled her eyes but deliberately threaded her arm through Hannah’s and tugged her from my room. “See you in the morning, Jesse-bug.”
“Jesse-bug?” I asked archly.
A grin. “Okay, it’s not the perfect nickname, but I’ll work on it.”
“We will work on it,” Hannah said.
The door opened and closed, and I reclined on the bed, blinking after the hurricane of the last hour.
And thinking that we sounded perfect.
Chapter Nineteen
Leo
I was waiting outside Hannah’s quarters.
Had been waiting, for almost two hours now.
She hadn’t been in her office, or Lily’s, or Linc’s, or Jesse’s. She wasn’t in the cafeteria or the pool or the shooting range. She almost seemed like she was avoiding me, except . . . why would she be avoiding me?
She didn’t know Jess had asked me to leave.
She didn’t know I was going to.
Right after we figured out who’d shot her.
So I waited, propped against the wall next to Hannah’s room as the hours passed, trying to formulate some sort of plan to track down the traitors in our midst, yet also knowing I had nothing that no one else hadn’t already thought of. I only managed to grow my frustration. It whipped through me, barbed and slicing, and making it nearly impossible for me to breathe.
I’d nearly lost her. No, I had lost her.
And I was the asshole who hadn’t realized what I’d had until I’d lost it.
Not true. Well, not entirely true, because I was only just starting to recognize that I’d shoved Jesse so firmly into a box, into friendship because some part of me understood that just peeking beneath the lid would be a Pandora’s box of emotions that I couldn’t allow to grow.
Just thinking about having her in my life that way made terror rip through me, even more powerful than the pain of never seeing her again.
“At least if I don’t see her, she’ll be safe.”
“Are you sure about that?”
My head jerked up from where I’d been studying the artistic qualities of my shoelaces to see Hannah in front of me. Lily slanted a glance in my direction before disappearing down the hall and into her quarters.
Some secret agent, huh?
I hadn’t even heard them approach.
“I’m leaving.”
A blond brow arched. “What are you doing, Leo?”
I didn’t know. I didn’t fucking know.
My chin dropped to my chest, and I went back to studying my laces. “She wants me to leave, so I’m going.”
“She wants you,” Hannah murmured. “Has wanted you for years.”
I shook my head. “No. I ruined that, and even if I didn’t, Jess and I couldn’t ever—”
“Because she’s not pretty enough for you?”
My anger flashed, and I had her pinned between my body and the wall before I even realized I’d moved. “She is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” And she was. Maybe I hadn’t recognized that before, maybe I’d been too much of a fucking ostrich to acknowledge it and what my draw to her might mean, had known it was safer if she were my friend and nothing more. And maybe someone else wouldn’t see what I did, but when I looked at Jesse, I thought of moonlight and silver skin, of freckles and a sweet smile, of a strong, smart, kind woman who was burrowed deep into my heart.
Why had I ever thought it would be safe with just friendship?
I was so fucked.
I pressed harder. “Anyone who says differently will have to answer to me.”
“Easy, dumbass,” Hannah said with a smirk, her hand coming to my wrist, her thumb digging into a pressure point that made fingers I hadn’t even realized were clenched on her neck spasm open to release her.
A flash of movement, aided by my shame at hurting another teammate, and I was the one slammed against the concrete wall.
“Too bad I’m not straight,” she muttered. “What with those flashing green eyes and those lips, you’d”—she released me, chef-kissed—“be a treat.”
I rolled my eyes, gritted. “I know I’m not your type.”
She smiled, her eyes dancing. “Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate pretty.”
Fury was tearing through me, weaving with fear and hurt and inevitably. None of this would make any difference. I turned away, inhaled, exhaled slowly. “I’m going to find out who hurt her.”
The amusement left her voice. “And then you’re leaving?”
My throat was tight, so I just nodded, gaze on the opposite wall.
She grabbed my shoulder, spun me to face her, jaw clenched. “Seriously?”
“It’s all she’s asked of me,” I said, jerking out from beneath her hand. “It’s all I can give her.”
“Bullshit.” A sharp slap of a curse.
“I’m leaving,” I repeated.
“So, you’re just going to give up?” she asked, tossing her hands up, her rage a mirror of mine. “You’re not even going to try? You’re in love with that woman, and you’re just going to walk away?”
I balled my hands into fists, a heartbeat away from slamming them into the wall. “What the fuck am I supposed to do? I can’t be with her, not like she deserves.”
“Why?”
As if that were an easy question to answer, as if it wouldn’t reveal every dark and pitiful and shameful thing inside me. Just why? Bile rose, burned the back of my throat. I gave in to the urge, slammed my fist into the wall, felt the skin over my knuckles break open, and because that pain felt so good, I kept punching, over and over and over—
Hannah gripped my arm, yanked it away from the concrete, her nails biting into my flesh.
“You fight for her,” she said.
A simple statement.
I shook my head, skittered back like a fucking coward.
I couldn’t fight for her. Not when it might mean—
Hannah moved with me, clenching tighter until I felt her nails puncture my skin, blood oozing down my arm. “Jesse deserves to have someone fight for her,” she snapped. “She deserves to be with someone who’ll rip off every barrier and be vulnerable, who will protect her, to show her that she matters when she questions that herself.” Hannah released me, shoved me back a step. “Be that man, Leo,” she whispered.
“I can’t—” I bit my tongue until I felt it bleed. “I just . . . can’t.”
Hannah’s hazel eyes were filled with disappointment, with disgust. But she couldn’t look at me with any more repulsion than I already felt. It was soldered into my bones, clung to the DNA in my every cell.
“Then heaven help you when Jesse finds that man who will.”
She placed her palm on her lock, pushed open the door to her quarters.
“Because she will,” Hannah said. “And it won’t take long.”
Chapter Twenty
Jesse
A week later, I was sitting across the table from a man I didn’t want to look at.
A man who’d hurt me.
A man who I’d allowed to hurt me.
And I was struggling with distance, to hold on to the fury that had finally pushed me to declare it was just enough.
Because of the shadows in his eyes.
Haunted.
He was . . . broken, changed, altered, and he wasn’t hiding the fact. It was written all over his face, and I hated that I was the one who’d done that. Was it truly his fault that I’d loved him and hadn’t done shit about it? Of course not. Did he deserve my censure just because he’d never looked at me the same way I had him? Yes, it was true he’d hurt my feelings, had been a bit of a jerk. No, he’d been a raging asshole.
But he’d been my friend before that.
So . . . guilt.
Even though I was telling myself—my new and improved, no longer hiding self—that it wasn’t my fault.
Leo had been a jerk. He deserved it.
And I’d—God,
why couldn’t I just lie to myself? It would be so much easier than feeling guilty, especially when I’d spent the last week trying to convince myself that I had absolutely nothing to feel guilty about.
I wasn’t the one who’d been an asshole.
I wasn’t the one who’d looked at me in disgust, who’d revolted at my touch.
I was just the one who’d created a shit-ton of expectations and fantasies, and even while telling myself they could never come true, I’d still hoped that maybe . . . he might see me as someone who he could want.
It wasn’t his fault that I wasn’t what he wanted.
Even despite Hannah’s talk of bright and shadows, and her being convinced his lack of interest in me wasn’t because he didn’t feel anything, but rather because he couldn’t allow himself to feel anything. That was fantasy, and I couldn’t allow myself to go back there.
But . . . I could be a nice person.
I didn’t have to make myself small to show him kindness, especially when he was clearly feeling guilty about hurting me.
I cleared my throat, felt his gaze come to my face, though I deliberately kept mine directed toward the window until I could speak with an even tone. “Where’s everyone else?” I asked, meeting his eyes.
He shrugged. “Not sure.”
And we went back to silence, waiting for a meeting that was supposed to start ten minutes ago, waiting for Linc, Lily, and Hannah to walk through the door. Supposedly, they had intel we needed to see and a mission in the imminent future.
I waited another five minutes before I pulled my phone out and sent Hannah a text.
Then waited another five—with no response—before texting Linc and Lily.
Was cell service down?
No, I had four bars, not to mention we had a satellite backup, thanks to a mission gone wrong with Dan and Ava, where their phones hadn’t worked. We were supposed to be able to reach each other under any circumstance.
Which meant—
I dropped my cell on the table, lurched up out of my seat.
“What?”
I strode to the door, yanked on the handle.
Locked.
Leo was at my side in an instant, spice and male surrounding me. “What is it?” he asked, and I realized the shadows under his eyes were even darker up close. I wanted to stroke my finger across them, as though I could wipe the small bruises away, as though I could take his hurt.
Take his hurt?
Why would I do that?
I heard Hannah’s voice in my head, Because you’re a good fucking person?
I was. I could think that with confidence now—progress made. But I still wasn’t going to do it. Instead, I moved back to the table, picked up my cell, and called Hannah.
Nothing.
Then Lily. Also nothing.
Then Linc and Olive and Ava and Dan and Laila and Ryker.
Conveniently, none of them were available to take my call. Frustrated that they were pushing this, that they were forcing me to take a step with Leo I didn’t feel ready for—absolution? resolution? closure?—I stomped around the table and picked up Leo’s phone, repeating the process with calls.
All to no answer.
What did they think would happen? A locked door and some forced proximity would resolve everything, and we’d fall in love, happily ever after?
I’d just stopped kidding myself.
I didn’t need to hop back aboard the fantasy train.
Leo’s cell buzzed, and I glanced down at the screen, saw it was a text from me.
I’m sorry.
I glanced up, saw he held my phone, and sighed, wanting to tell him his apology didn’t make one bit of difference.
Except, it kind of did.
My fingers moved on the screen, and I sent a reply.
I’m sorry, too.
He froze when my cell buzzed then glanced down at the screen, and I saw everything inside him relax as he read the simple message.
“But we’re still trapped,” I said, “and unless you’re about to go Hulk on the door”—because only a superhero would be able to bust through the thick concrete-based doors and reinforced hinges—“we’re stuck here until Hannah and company decide to let us out.”
His eyes went surprised. “You think they locked us in here?”
“You think for a second they didn’t?” I asked, rolling my eyes. “They were done with us fighting and wanted us to talk.”
A beat of quiet, then, “Well, I guess it worked.” He crossed over to me, my phone still gripped in his hand, his in mine. “Are you okay?”
I was more okay than I’d been in a long time.
But all I said was, “I’m getting there.”
Deep green eyes holding mine, searching, peering down into the depths of my soul. He’d never looked at me like that before, and my heart beat faster, my throat went dry. Want. It was there in his gaze.
Except, he didn’t want.
I turned away, strode to the windows, stared out through the tinted glass, watching the common area. The sun was going down, so the space wasn’t full, just a few stragglers walking across the grass, probably on their way to dinner.
“Did you come up with a name for your owl, yet?”
I hadn’t, so I just shook my head.
Quiet, but I sensed him drawing nearer. My nape prickled with awareness, the scar on my thigh throbbed.
His thumb brushed over the bullet wound on the back of my neck, and I had to lock my knees against them buckling. God, I hoped I’d find another man whose touch made my bones feel like they would melt. “I’m sorry about this, too.”
I frowned, spun. “That wasn’t your fault.”
His eyes told me he didn’t believe me. His words confirmed it. “You nearly died saving me.”
“It’s my job to have your back,” I said, echoing his words from that night.
“I don’t like seeing you hurt. Whether it’s from a bullet or from me.”
“I know.” I finally gave in and brushed one dark circle then the other.
“I’m sorry.”
A laugh slid out of me. “You said that already.”
“This wasn’t about that night or the days before. This was”—his eyes were pained—“for all the rest of it.”
An apology for me falling in love with him. Because he thought he didn’t deserve it? Because I wasn’t the only one with self-worth issues? Because we’d both made mistakes and missed—
Our bodies drifted together. His fingers skated across my cheek, gently tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear. Our lips were nearly touching, and I could feel his breath on my skin.
And . . . I gave in.
I pressed my mouth to his.
Electric.
Sparks shivered down my spine, my nerves exploded with sensation. His tongue trailed across my bottom lip, daring me to open, and I did, was rewarded when it slid into my mouth, danced alongside mine, those sparks turning into fire, coalescing into a moan that drifted from my mouth to his.
A moan that made him freeze.
That had him pulling back, his fingers thrusting deeply into his hair and gripping tight. “I can’t do this,” he said, soft and tortured. Then he was across the room, his fist colliding with the door, as though he were taking my earlier joke about Hulk seriously and was going to bust his way out of here. “I can’t do this.”
“Because I’m me?” I asked, the question slipping out, even though it went against every bit of the last week, of my new leaf, of those pieces slipping back into place.
The words floated across the room with almost palpable weight, and when they hit Leo’s ears, the reaction was instantaneous. He went ramrod stiff, spun away from the door, and was in front of me in a second. “God no, Jesse,” he said hoarsely, his hands on my cheeks. “This isn’t—“ He broke off, released me with a tortured shake of his head, spinning away, his chest rising and falling like he’d run a marathon.
“It’s not you. It’s me. It’s—”
Pai
n in those rasped-out sentences.
Pain that called to the pain inside me.
I gently placed my hand on his shoulder. “I understand,” I said, squeezing lightly. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.”
Then I released him and went back to the window.
A weight had disappeared from my chest. Not me. Not me. Hannah had been right. Whatever Leo had going on wasn’t on me.
And for right now, that was enough.
Because it gave me hope that maybe, one day, we might find our way back to being friends.
Chapter Twenty-One
Leo
I didn’t even realize I still held the cell phone in one hand until it buzzed.
Fight for her.
“It’s not that fucking easy, Hannah!” I wanted to roar up at the ceiling, my eyes going to the camera in the corner of the room, as I glared into the black lens.
Another buzz.
I’m turning it off.
My fingers tapped across the screen.
Unlock the fucking door.
Nothing. Then,
Fight, Leo. For her. For you.
If it was my cell, I would have launched it across the room, would have stomped on the pieces with pleasure. But it was Jesse’s phone, and I didn’t want to hurt her, even by ruining her electronics.
I’d done more than enough of that already.
So, I carefully set it on the table and moved to one of the chairs, sinking into it and knowing they couldn’t keep us here forever.
At some point, they’d need to feed and water us, at least.
Or take us to the bathroom.
Another buzz.
There’s a portable toilet in the corner and MREs in the cabinet.
I glared at the camera.
I promise, it’s going off now.
The phone didn’t buzz again, and I sighed, my gaze glued to Jesse’s back as she stared off into the yard. Probably, looking for her owl.