by Claire Kent
“Stop!” Julia screamed desperately, uselessly.
Mike was bigger than Drayton, but he was also wounded. He must be acting solely on adrenalin, because Julia was sure his injured body was just not up to this sort of violent aggression. She couldn’t distinguish any specific moves—just a blurred sequence of brute, ugly blows and wrestling moves.
Neither one of them seemed to get the upper hand. Until finally they paused as if by silent, mutual consent. Mike, who’d been trying to pin Drayton down, rolled off of him.
They both lay panting on the hardwood floor, not far from the staff which was still embedded in the ground.
“This is crazy,” Julia said, wishing she was strong enough to shake both of them until their teeth clattered. “Stop acting like idiots!”
“The inevitable consequence of my endless self-restraint,” Drayton rasped, hoarse but irrepressible. “I should have killed you both when I had the chance, if only to shut you up.”
This time, Julia was almost sure he wasn’t trying to bait Mike. In fact, she couldn’t suppress a twitch of her lips, at the familiar, clever irony in his tone. She’d opened her mouth to say something to diffuse the situation, when Mike heaved himself to his feet and attacked Drayton again.
A very faint glimmer of something like pride ignited inside her for just a moment. Mike was a laidback, easy-going, good-natured man. And yet he’d turned into a snarling, raging animal.
In defense of her.
A tiny—very unworthy—part of herself couldn’t help but like that his feelings for her went so deep. But the rest of her, and the part that would always compel action, knew she had to put a stop to this.
Soon. Immediately.
Mike, in his adrenalin-fueled surge of fury, was beating Drayton down without mercy. Drayton was no longer even putting up a fight.
Julia understood. Mike had held back for too long, and he had finally unleashed all the anger he’d restrained for the last months.
It was his aristeia.
But Mike would hate himself for doing so as soon as he could think clearly and reasonably again.
“Mike,” Julia snapped, walking over until she was right behind him. Idly, she wished she had some clothes on. “Mike! No. No! Look! He’s not fighting back!”
Something in the sharp tone must have gotten through to him. With an agonized groan, Mike managed to hold back his bloody fist. Panting, his eyes glazed over, he stared down at Drayton’s limp form.
Then he looked back at Julia for a moment. Then down to his hand, still clenched in a fist.
With a strangled sound, he jerked himself off of Drayton and stumbled over to use a table for support. Blood had seeped through the bandage on his shoulder, and Julia was amazed he was still on his feet.
Drayton coughed a few times before he sat up. His face was bloodied.
“I suppose I always knew we’d come to this,” Drayton said, chuckling weakly. His tone was stretched and uneven, but still rich with wry pleasure at the irony of the cliché. “How deliciously predictable.”
Mike didn’t look amused. There was blood on the right side of his face, and his jaw was reddened in a way she knew would bruise. He braced himself with both hands on the wall.
“But I do find it interesting,” Drayton continued, catching his breath and leveling off his tone, “That you’re possessed with such self-righteous zeal for vindication, when it was you—you—who committed the first act of betrayal.”
Julia made a small noise, automatically objecting to this. But she cut herself off, feeling like she was somehow intruding on a private conversation.
“Because I fell in love with Julia?”
“Because you broke faith with me.”
Julia felt a shudder of chill run through her hands and the back of her neck. She’d never known what the nature of their relationship was before she’d gotten together with them. They hadn’t been lovers when she’d met them, but she didn’t know whether or not they had been previously.
She still didn’t know. Love wasn’t always sexual. And sometimes it was. And she realized now it didn’t matter. She didn’t need to know.
They’d loved each other once—however it had worked itself out.
And they didn’t any more.
Mike didn’t bother to argue, even if Drayton’s claim was untrue. “The one thing I will apologize for is keeping my feelings to myself for so long—when my feelings started to change, I mean. If that was a betrayal of you, then I admit it. I should have done better.”
It couldn’t have been an easy admission, given the situation and the rage Mike had displayed toward Drayton only moments before. Some might have seen it as a surrender, but Julia wasn’t so foolish.
Mike had always been stronger than any other man she’d known, and his strength had never been evident merely in his aggression.
To her surprise, Drayton nodded his head, as if he’d silently accepted the apology.
Neither one of them spoke for a long, awkward minute. Drayton hauled himself up to his feet.
“But that’s all I’m willing to admit,” Mike said at last, anger once more palpable in his voice.
“I never expected anything else.” Drayton sounded almost amused, although he was clearly unable to stand without the support. “What kind of noble hero would you be if you didn’t hold me accountable for my dark depravity?”
Mike turned around at last. “Bastard.”
“Maybe I am. So why don’t you just take her and go?” Drayton said coldly. “I’ve already made my choice.”
“But you were coming back up the stairs,” Julia gasped, suddenly realizing the implications. “You changed your mind.”
“I assure you I did not.” His words were as cool and arrogant as always, but she knew they were a lie, and she felt a wash of affection, appreciation, relief, that her faith in him wasn’t completely misguided.
He wasn’t a good man. He would probably never be a good man. But he’d genuinely cared about her—about both of them. And he wasn’t completely selfish.
She covered her mouth with her hand, holding his gaze for a moment, the feeling palpable between them.
Then Mike said, “I called the cops earlier, by the way, so if you don’t want to get rounded up with the rest of the bad guys, you better get going.” He sounded casual, slightly bitter, but she knew the words were a gesture of grace.
He was giving Drayton a way out safely, if he wanted it.
Drayton nodded, acknowledging the gesture, and he turned to leave the house.
“Goodbye, Drayton,” she said, her voice breaking.
There would be no friendly visits or Christmas cards—not after everything that had happened. The parting was real. And final.
And it hurt.
He paused, turned, took a few steps toward her. Then kissed her gently on the lips.
Drayton took a step toward Mike, but didn’t say anything.
They’d been roommates in college, which meant they’d been friends or closer than friends for fifteen years.
Mike was stiff, and he was obviously in pain. And his expression was shuttered, although no longer angry. “Goodbye.”
Drayton reached out—a handshake, a hug, a kiss, something.
But Mike jerked his head to the side and withdrew before he could do so.
Whatever had been between them was irrevocably broken.
Rebuffed, Drayton didn’t object. He instead he gave an ironic little salute before he turned to leave for real.
Mike limped over toward her, put his arm around her as Drayton disappeared through the door.
After a minute, there were sirens. Then the police. Then a lot of chaos and questions and an ambulance for Mike. They kept the story simple and true—their roommate had gotten them involved with criminals but he had gotten away. They had no idea where he was. They had no idea what Alexander, Gia, and the other guy were up to. All they knew was that Mike had been shot, and Gia had held him, wounded, in the basement of the house until
he’d managed to get away from her by pretending to pass out and then overpowering her. He’d taken Alexander and the other guy by surprise, so three of the bad guys were available for the cops to round up.
But Drayton had gotten away.
The whole thing was so strange, so inexplicable. But, in a strange way, it felt like all the simmering tension of her complicated life had suddenly burst into visceral chaos—but in such a way that everything might now settle back in a better way.
It was a long time—endless hours—before they were in the car together and Julia turned the key in the ignition.
She looked over to Mike.
He was battered, wan, disheveled, still adorable. And so loved.
He met her gaze, a matching emotion in his own eyes. “Let’s go home, baby.”
She took them there.
***
Mike didn’t say anything on the way back from the hospital.
Julia started to worry about him again, but this time not about his health.
It was nearly four in the morning on Sunday when Julia finally pulled the car into their parking deck. She tried to help Mike out of the car, but he pulled away from her rather grumpily.
Frowning, she walked beside him up to their apartment, but she didn’t say anything. He was in pain. Capable men tended to handle injury particularly badly.
The apartment felt strangely empty and unfamiliar, like she hadn’t been there for months. It seemed impossible to fathom that she’d fucked Drayton in his bedroom only the morning before.
Mike headed for his room, and Julia went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. She drank it down in several long gulps and refilled her glass for more. She poured one for Mike too and went to find him.
She didn’t care if he was crabby. She was going to make sure he was all right.
He was trying to get off his pants and obviously having a hard time with it. He reluctantly let her help him undress, and then took the water she offered him with mumbled thanks.
When he went into his bathroom to pee, she took off her clothes, which felt gross now, and put on one of Mike’s t-shirts instead.
“Do you need anything?” Julia asked, when Mike reemerged to limp toward the bed.
“No.” He lowered himself with a groan and stretched out with care. In an obvious attempt to be polite, he said, “Thanks for your help.”
“You’re welcome.”
She figured he wanted to be alone, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t sure she could be alone right now, and Mike was the person she needed to be with. So she lay down on the bed next to him, resisting the urge to cuddle up close.
He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. It had been so long since he’d shaved that his dark bristles were becoming the beginnings of a beard. And he probably needed a shower. But the sight of him beside her—even pained and grouchy as he was—was the most comforting thing she could imagine.
She was too exhausted to think very much through. Too much had happened. Too much that had the power to tear her apart.
She just wanted solace. She wanted it from Mike.
“I can feel you staring at me,” he said, without opening his eyes. He didn’t sound particularly pleased.
“Sorry.”
“I’m not going to pass out or fall off the bed, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“It’s not. And why are you so grumpy? Are you angry with me?” Her questions were more annoyed than worried, but there was a genuine anxiety underlying them.
Mike opened his eyes and turned to look at her. His gaze softened slightly at the sight of her face. “I’m sorry. I’m not angry. I really appreciate you wanting to take care of me. I’m just not really in a sociable mood.”
“Yeah. Me either. Getting almost killed by a former lover takes the sociability out of you.”
Mike’s breath hitched as he tried to turn toward her, only to halt abruptly with a pained grunt. “Shit. What a selfish jerk. I can only imagine the trauma you had to go through, and I’m acting like an ass. I’ve only got one good arm, but I can…I can hold you if you want.”
For some reason, the awkward offer struck her as incredibly sweet. But instead of agreeing, she shook her head. “No. I’m all right. You’re injured and need to sleep. But thank you.”
She knew he was relieved by her response, and it hurt just a little bit. But she didn’t let it upset her. She just lay on her side and kept studying the nuances of his face, even after he relaxed and closed his eyes again.
After a few minutes, he spoke again. “I can’t sleep when I know you’re still staring at me. Tell me what you’re worried about.”
“Well, everything has changed.”
His eyes opened. “Yes, it has.”
“And you’re acting prickly and kind of weird. I know it’s taken me a long time to figure things out and break ties with Drayton.”
He was watching her now with intense scrutiny, even weak and groggy from medication as he was.
“And I hope you haven’t decided that I took too long. Or that I didn’t treat your feelings, your…your heart the way it deserves.” He made a sound of protest that she spoke over. “Because I didn’t. I know I didn’t. There were reasons. Maybe good reasons. But I’m not sure I did right by you.”
Mike’s face softened even more, to the point where he smiled at her tenderly. “You did fine, baby. Really. I was angry before, and I’ll probably be angry again. But what happened with Drayton just now can’t help but put things in perspective. And I wouldn’t love you the way I do if your heart weren’t so faithful—to everyone you care about. You did fine.”
Something hard and guilty loosened in her chest, and she returned his smile for a minute. But then she returned to the topic at hand. “So why does it feel like you’re withdrawing?” When he opened his mouth, she added, “Don’t try to deny it. Ever since we left that house, you’ve been withdrawing.”
He didn’t attempt to argue this time. He just lay and stared at the ceiling for a minute before he worked himself up to explaining. “I’m not sure I can put it into words. And I’m not sure you’ll understand.”
“Try me.”
It was hard for him. She could see the effort in the twisting of his mouth and hear it in the thickness of his voice. “It’s about me. I don’t like who I was—back there at the house. It makes me cringe just thinking about it. And I hate that you saw me that way.”
She did understand. She knew exactly what he was talking about. Mike was a normal, healthy, intelligent man whose emotions were normally kept in check under a demeanor of casual composure.
And he’d turned into an animal, a raging beast, for a few minutes earlier that evening. Unleashing that part of his nature had to have taken its toll on his psyche.
“I thought it was perfectly natural,” she said lightly, hiding her nervousness about saying something wrong when it mattered so much. “He was baiting you. And he’d taken a lot from you. Anyone would have reacted violently, given the circumstances.”
Mike looked away from her. “I should have done better.”
Julia’s stomach roiled with anxiety and emotion. He was hurting—not just physically—and she wanted so much to make him feel better. Embracing him now wouldn’t help. He’d simply pull away. And any trite cliché about human behavior would only sugar-coat over the reality of what he was feeling.
Suddenly, she knew what to say.
She propped her head up on her hand so she could look down at him. “You did fine, baby.”
He adjusted his head, staring at her with obvious surprise.
Smiling with just a touch of irony, she continued, “Really. I loved you before, but I think I love you even more now. I love that part of you as much as all the others. You stopped when you saw it wasn’t a fair fight. And you apologized when he’d done nothing to deserve it. You’re a better, stronger man than anyone I’ve ever known. Really. You did fine.”
Her words meant something to him. She could see the softening i
n his face. But, after smiling at her fondly, he just cleared his throat and closed his eyes again. “Well, at least you don’t think I’m some kind of freak.”
Julia almost giggled. Mike looked more relaxed now, and he didn’t seem so withdrawn. She supposed he had some more to deal with on his own, but at least he wasn’t so unbearably prickly.
It was hard to believe she’d been kidnapped not long ago. She’d been tied half-naked to a bed.
She’d been completely vulnerable. But not, as it happened, completely helpless. She’d gotten herself out before either Drayton or Mike could come and save her.
She was kind of proud of that.
Mike’s breathing was slowing down, and she hoped he was falling asleep. But she smiled to herself in the silence.
“What are you smiling at?”
She had no idea how he’d known she was smiling. He hadn’t opened his eyes. But she answered him simply, “I don’t know. I’ve just always kind of thought I was a little bit of a wimp, but I think I did okay in the crisis. I didn’t know I had it in me.
Mike finally opened his eyes again and met hers. “I did.”
It was all he needed to say. Melting inside, she reached out and took his good hand. They wove their fingers together in a tight grip.
Unable to resist anymore, Julia hugged his forearm to her chest, without releasing their clasped hands. He was injured. She really shouldn’t drape herself all over him.
But she had to hold him. At least one part of him.
Cuddling his arm and squeezing his hand, she whispered, “Get some rest. We’ll talk more later.”
With a long exhale, like he was releasing more than just his breath, he closed his eyes one last time.
Before he fell asleep, however, he murmured in the dark room, “In the cabin, earlier, you weren’t ready to make any decisions. About us, I mean.”
“I know. I wasn’t.”
“Are you now?”
She hugged his arm tightly to her chest. “I am.”
Something flickered across his face. She saw it, recognized it, even though he hadn’t opened his eyes.
She’d made him happy. Incredibly happy. And she knew—whatever mistakes she’d made in the past and whatever mistakes she would make in the future—that at this moment she’d done something right.