Rhapsody (The Bellator Saga Book 5)

by Cecilia London

  Caroline tried not to grin. He sucked at ironing. She just hoped there weren’t any burn marks anywhere. “Thanks,” she said, heading for the closet. There was no way she was prancing around the apartment in a towel. Not when there was a possibility that he would see…things.

  “I’ll give you some privacy,” he said, walking up behind her. “If you don’t want to wear what you have, feel free to slip on any of my clothes. Would you like me to make you dinner?”

  She could take a long shower without worrying about it being shut off and she’d get a hot meal afterward? “That would be nice.”

  Jack reached toward her, then pulled back. “I’m glad you’re here, sweetheart. Very glad.”

  Caroline blushed. She wasn’t sure what to say to that, and when she didn’t say anything he quietly scooted out the door.

  * * * * *

  It was killing him being with her like this. He never thought it was possible to physically feel the pain of another human being, yet he could feel hers. Could sense it when she stiffened and turned away from him. The agony in her eyes stayed constant. And there were times when it got deeper, when he could tell she was trying not to sink into it completely. It had gotten to the point where she might not even be aware she was reacting that way.

  The way she flinched when he touched her shoulder told him how she felt. He didn’t want to believe the worst, that she was recoiling because she didn’t want him to touch her. So it could only be one other thing.

  He hated to think about what she’d undergone while she’d been at the mercy of her captors. He spent most of his time trying not to let his imagination run wild. But it had done something to her. Damaged her permanently, body and soul. And he had no idea how to help her. Holding her wasn’t enough, though he yearned to do it. His words. His deeds. Nothing was enough.

  Maybe he should have put his foot down. Refused to let her take that mission. He felt the familiar sting of regret, knowing the only reason he had a chance with her was because she’d almost been killed in the attempt. If she hadn’t thrown herself out there, where would he be now? Still wringing his hands, dreaming of her in an empty bed while she constantly bemoaned his existence?

  When they first brought her in he assumed the worst. Covered in blood, lifeless….he thought she was dead. He was able to keep it together for the first few minutes but Natalie sneaked him a sedative when no one was looking. Because God forbid he lose control. Not in front of the men. Not ever in front of them. Or in front of anyone else. He had to keep that pretty picture intact, even if the rumor mills still wove tales about his private life on a daily basis.

  Those three days in the hospital had been rough. Despite Natalie’s reassurances, he remained fearful that Caroline would never regain consciousness. He had dreamed that maybe…maybe…after everything that happened between the two of them, the reconnection he thought they made, that Caroline would wake up and be his again.

  But he was wrong.

  * * * * *

  Dinner was awkward. Extremely awkward. Caroline thought back to every single horrible first date she’d been on. There hadn’t been many but this seemed worse than all of them put together.

  It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t like they didn’t know each other. But the conversation seemed stilted. Forced. Caroline had picked at her food but so had Jack. And he’d gone through at least three glasses of bourbon. He must have hoarded it somewhere, since he seemed to always have some. Booze was hard to come by and when it was available, it was wildly expensive. Then again, she didn’t spend too much time in that section of the commissary. Maybe her husband did.

  “Not too hungry?” Jack asked.

  He’d noticed her lack of appetite. She hated to waste food but he’d loaded up her plate and she hadn’t been able to eat more than a few bites. “Not really,” Caroline said. “It was good. The couscous was a nice touch.”

  He poked at the remaining chicken on his plate. “It was terrible. You don’t have to lie. I might have lost some of my skills.”

  “Why don’t you cook for yourself anymore?”

  “Doesn’t seem worth the effort for just me, especially since I don’t spend a lot of time here.”

  He never spent time at home. He rarely went to the cafeteria. Did he hole away in his office all the time? “You used to really enjoy it,” she said.

  “I used to enjoy a lot of things.”

  “You don’t have a lot of stuff in here, either.”

  Jack smiled wryly. “Guess I’m not as materialistic as I used to be.”

  A full glass in his hand and derogatory remarks void of any light self-deprecation. The conversation was going downhill. “I didn’t mean it that way,” Caroline said.

  “I know you didn’t.” He stared at her plate. “They didn’t feed you, did they? When you were…in there.”

  He could barely talk about it either. How could he have discerned that fact on his own? She debated whether to give him details and decided against it. “No,” she said softly. “They didn’t.”

  Jack polished off the whiskey before balling up one fist and pressing it to his lips, staring at the empty glass in his other hand.

  No, he definitely couldn’t handle the details. “It’s okay,” Caroline said. “That’s the least of what they did to me.”

  The fist tightened and the glass dropped to the table. She had chosen poorly. Said the wrong thing.

  Caroline brushed her fingers across his free hand before he was tempted to reach for the glass again. “I’ve got all the food I need thanks to you.” Her voice was a bit too hearty. She knew he wasn’t buying it.

  Jack swiped his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “You didn’t before?”

  “I meant when we got here,” she said quickly. “We had food at our safe house but it wasn’t as plentiful. The guys tried to give me more than they got, though. I gained about fifteen pounds before we left Washington.”

  He got up and poured himself another bourbon, draining it in one. “You weighed less than you did when you came to California?”

  How could she get that glass out of his hand? “I’m eating now, Jack. That’s all you need to worry about.”

  He stared at the bourbon, his fingers curled around the countertop. He reached for the bottle, his hands shaking as he removed the cap and poured himself another drink. “You can eat or drink or buy whatever you need, understand? You can go to the commissary and get whatever you want and have them bill it to me.”

  She was able to do that of her own accord but knew what he was trying to say. Caroline studied him carefully. His eyes were red, and it wasn’t from crying. He was holding his glass so tightly she thought it might shatter. She bit her lip. “Can you maybe put the bottle away for tonight?”

  Jack twisted the cap back on and shoved the bourbon into a cabinet under the sink. He returned to the table, downing the remainder of the drink and running his finger around the top of the glass.

  “Do you drink a lot?” she asked.

  “More than I used to,” he said. “More than I should.” He looked up at her. “I’ll try to cut back.”

  That seemed like a great idea but Caroline wasn’t sure she had the right to verbalize it. “It’s okay. It’s not like you need my permission.”

  “It’s not a particularly good habit.”

  Caroline didn’t like this subject. She also didn’t want to think about how many unopened bottles might still be under the sink. “Thank you. For dinner, and the clothes, and everything else.”

  “It’s my pleasure. If you need anything else, let me know. And I’d prefer to cook for you from now on. Maybe I’ll regain my skills.”

  “Sure,” she said. She was tired. And she hadn’t eaten well. So her wooziness wasn’t unexpected. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think she’d consumed a few glasses of hard liquor herself. “If it’s all the same to you, I think I’m done.”

  She got up and scraped her remaining food into the trash. On the way over to the sink she f
elt a sharp pain in her skull and bent over the counter. She heard the sound of her plate shattering as it hit the floor, and flattened her palms on the countertop.

  Jack was instantly at her side. “What is it?”

  Caroline swallowed back a wave of nausea. “Nothing,” she gasped. “Fine.”

  His hands wrapped around her waist. “You’re not fine. Is it your head?”

  “It’ll pass.”

  He pressed one hand to her back, guiding her out of the kitchen. “Come on. Let’s get you to the bed.”

  She stopped to rest her forehead against the wall. “I’m fine. Just let me stay here a minute.”

  Jack steadied her. “Sweetheart, you need to lie down. If you can’t walk, I’ll carry you.”

  Oh, she wasn’t ready for that. Caroline let him prod her ahead as she stumbled toward the bedroom. “I can do it myself,” she whispered.

  He put his arm around her waist. “You don’t need to put up a brave front. Not with me. Did Natalie give you anything for pain?”

  Had she? Caroline seemed to remember that. “Bottle in kitchen,” she choked.

  Jack helped her sit down on the bed. “I’ll get it for you. Don’t move, okay? Stay still.” He returned with a glass of water and a large pill in his palm. “Take this,” he ordered.

  “I don’t like painkillers.”

  “Too bad,” he said. “You’re taking one. You’re not going to suffer through this without something.” He guided her to a better sitting position, his hand on her shoulder. “I’ll stay with you for a while.”

  She winced as the pill slid down her throat. The room was getting very warm. “I’m sorry I broke that plate. I ruined your brand new set.”

  Jack let out a short laugh. “Caroline, sometimes your priorities are really warped. It’s a piece of dinnerware.”

  “Still sorry.”

  “Lay down,” he said. “On your side.”

  He wanted to be bossy and she just wanted to be alone. “I don’t need your assistance,” she gasped.

  Jack eased her further down on the bed. “Jesus, Caroline. Of all the times to pull that line, you do it when you’re about to pass out. Just accept the help, okay?”

  She closed her eyes but a tear still squeezed its way out. And dammit, he noticed because he wiped it away before settling in behind her.

  “Hold still,” he said, placing a palm on her forehead. “Wait for the drugs to work.” He pinched the fingers of his other hand into the back of her neck, massaging the base of her skull.

  “That hurts,” she whispered.

  “I know, sweetheart. Give it a minute.” Jack brushed her hair out of her face. “It’ll work. I promise.” He paused. “And if it doesn’t you can beat the shit out of me tomorrow.”

  She was in no mood for humor. Caroline curled into a ball, moaning softly as he worked his way up and down her neck. She tensed up, occasionally shuddering from the pain. She hated those damn oral narcotics but was counting every second in the hope the drugs would start to kick in. Why did she have to hurt all the time?

  “Shouldn’t have gone,” she mumbled.

  Jack hesitated before starting up again. “What was that?”

  The pain was her fault. Her pain. His pain. Her fault. “Should have stayed here. You wanted me to stay here.”

  “Caroline-”

  “Should have listened to you.” She cringed and let out a small sob.

  He stopped what he was doing and leaned over. “Sweetheart, as much as it warms my heart for you to admit I was right about something, I really want you to be quiet.”

  Did talking make it hurt less, or more? She couldn’t think straight. “Stupid for me to go,” she rasped.

  He kissed her cheek. “I mean it. Don’t try to talk. Just breathe. Concentrate on my voice. On where you are.”

  He had to stop being so nice to her. Her head hurt. Her heart hurt. Everything hurt. And she just wanted it to end. “I don’t feel good,” she choked out, and started to weep softly.

  His voice softened. “I know you don’t. I’m going to make it better. Try to relax.” He massaged her neck, whispering to her gently until he felt her settle down. “Better?”

  Caroline sank into the pillow. It took too much effort to talk. And she’d already said enough.

  “Those painkillers will make you drowsy,” Jack said. “Might help you sleep better, I guess.” He rubbed her back until she unclenched her fists. “Can I stay in here for a few minutes to make sure you’re all right?”

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  “Is the pain fading a little?”

  “A little. How did you learn how to do that?”

  “My mother had migraines when I was growing up. Sometimes a massage like that helped alleviate the symptoms.”

  “Oh,” Caroline said. “I never knew that.”

  “I never told you much about my parents.”

  “Sounds like you were a good son.”

  “I hope so.”

  She turned around on the bed so she was facing him. “Thank you.”

  He squeezed her arm. “It was nothing.”

  He was being so kind. She tried to smile at him. “Was this you trying to be nice to me?”

  “No,” he said. “This was me taking care of my beloved wife.”

  So kind. Too kind. He was being far, far too kind. Caroline closed her eyes and bit her lip, turning away from him again. She lay there silently and felt Jack sit up on the bed.

  “I don’t know how I’m supposed to act around you,” he said. “I’m doing the best I can.”

  I know you are. But I can’t do the same without hurting you. “I’m really tired,” she said. “Maybe you should-”

  “Go,” Jack interrupted dully. “Yeah, I know the drill.” He slid off the bed and knelt down next to her, bringing a hand to her hair and smoothing it back. “You’re still flushed. I’ll get a cool washcloth.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not,” he snapped. “And you don’t get to argue tonight. You can yell at me tomorrow.”

  Caroline closed her eyes and heard the sound of water running. He was back before she knew it, wiping her face off. She tried to bat his hand away. “I’m fine.”

  “Fine or not, I’m taking care of you. I’m here, whether you need me or not.”

  “I don’t need anyone.”

  “You keep playing that record on repeat, Caroline. It’s getting a little old.”

  “I’ll be fine.” She wrapped the sheet around herself, even though it was warm in the room. Jack sighed, which probably meant he knew she wasn’t going to change her mind.

  “Whatever you say,” he said. “Come get me if you need anything.”

  But she was sure he knew that was the last thing she would do.

  Chapter Five

  The sun shone brightly as they walked over to the infirmary. Caroline doubted that was a metaphor for anything. The pleasant weather didn’t make her feel particularly jolly.

  “This shouldn’t take long,” Jack said.

  He hadn’t said much that morning. He probably assumed an obvious statement would clear the chill from the air. “I know,” she said.

  “I want you to tell Natalie about what happened last night.”

  Caroline glanced over at him. “You mean the headache or our nice little chat?”

  A snarky remark meant to elicit an equally snarky response, but he smiled blandly. “Both, if you want. I’ll stay outside while you talk to her.”

  He must have noticed she wanted her space. “Thanks.”

  Jack sighed. “It’s a beautiful day, Caroline. Please lighten up a little.”

  “I will if you’ll stop bugging me.”

  “I make no promises.” He reached for her before pulling his hand back.

  That was strange. “Did you want something?” she asked.

  “I just…may I hold your hand?”

  “Have you noticed you always ask permission after you’ve already done something?”
>
  “I stopped before I actually did it,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “I’m trying to respect your boundaries.”

  It was a short walk. Acquiescing was easier than arguing. Caroline extended her hand and he intertwined his fingers with hers.

  Jack grinned. “My polite requests make it a lot harder for you to say no, don’t they?”

  That was one way to phrase it. The question had been more of a demand. “You were never one for subtlety. Taking what you want, any time you want it.”

  He squeezed her hand. “No,” he said quietly. “Just trying to push past the boundaries you’re willing to concede. I’m not going to force you to do anything. You can let go if you so desire.”

  “It’s cold out,” Caroline said. “I’m trying to stay warm.”

  He grinned again. “It’s 75 degrees. Come up with a better cover story.”

  Insufferably cocky bastard. He may as well have taken her hand in the first place. Caroline pulled away from him and shoved her hands into her pockets. “Screw you. I’ll see Natalie myself.” She picked up her pace.

  Jack jogged behind her. “Caroline, wait.”

  “Why should I?” she called behind her.

  He grabbed her arm. “Sweetheart, please.”

  She spun around. “What? What is it now?”

  He let go of her. “It’s okay to let me take care of you,” he said. “You don’t have to admit it, but it is. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do but I know you want to be close to me. I know you want to talk to me. And I’m here any time you want to do any of those things.”

  She did not want to start a discussion of this magnitude. Not in public. “I don’t-”

  “It’s okay to want to be happy,” he whispered. “It’s even more okay to want to be happy with me.”

  Caroline crossed her arms over her chest and didn’t speak.

  “Please let me go with you to the infirmary,” Jack said. “Don’t worry about anything else.” He touched her wrist. “I’d really like to hold your hand again.”

  She didn’t know why she held out her hand, but she barely hesitated. “Okay.”

  “Okay,” he echoed, weaving her fingers through his. “Come on, we don’t want to be late.”