“Don’t worry about the phone,” he said, rising stiffly to his feet. “We’ll rest here a few days until we can travel again and then head home. It’ll be slow going because your arm needs to stay protected, but we’ll figure it out.”
She glanced up, eyebrows drawing together. “Where are you going?”
“I’m sore and we have a hot spring. I’m going to soak for a while. Leave my portion of food in the pan. I’ll clean up later.”
Chapter 22
Chelsea sat in the hot water, trying to ease some of her pain. Even the warmth of the spring couldn’t thaw the freeze Brad put on her. While she understood him being upset—heck, she was upset with herself—it wasn’t fair of him to continue being polite while underhandedly snubbing her.
As soon as she’d finished fixing their food, ate her portion, and headed to be with him in the water, Brad had hopped out of the pool. It was true that he’d thanked her in a partial growl for dinner as he practically pushed her away from him, but his mood didn’t fool her into thinking he was particularly grateful.
After he had eaten, Brad had come to clean out the pot and get water to boil for drinking. However, he went to the opposite side of their little pond, acting as though she weren’t even in the water.
Chelsea tried to reassure herself that he didn’t want to get drinking water from the same place she washed rock soot from her body, but it was small consolation. She’d done a stupid thing. She had acted like a silly girl falling in love, letting her brain turn to mush when she panicked about the phone instead of reacting like the cool, calm, mature psychologist that she actually was.
Brad had seemed ready to forgive her for all of that, even if she didn’t deserve his forgiveness. Something went wrong after he spoke to her next to the fire, and Chelsea feared she’d made yet another mistake in being so adamant she didn’t love him, couldn’t possibly love him yet.
She knew as well as anyone that feelings like love and hate might take time to reach their full height, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t already falling for that grouchy, handsome, protective, and infuriating man. Perhaps she should have admitted it, admitted she could see herself wanting him for the rest of her life. Of course, she’d also have to admit how that scared the holy living crap out of her, admit that it would give Brad a power over her that she swore no one would ever have after she lost her grandmother. The pain of losing love was too much. Chelsea often wondered if it were worth the risk.
But when she thought about Brad, considered possibly never spending time with him again, she knew some things were worth the risk. A broken heart could mend if that’s what happened. Going back to the resort, working her job, and sticking to walking the beaches all by herself no longer held the appeal it used to. She’d found true adventure, just spending time with Brad. He excited her and made her feel as though she had started living.
Now, the only problem was whether or not he’d let her explain that to him, and whether he wanted to hear it.
Realizing the only clothing she had was the torn and bloody items she’d shed before stepping into the hot spring, Chelsea turned to grab them from the grass. Washing them in the hot water would be better than nothing.
Although the night had turned chilly once the sun went down, she pulled everything into the water. It wasn’t as though Brad hadn’t already seen everything her body had to offer. She could run to the tent after getting out of the pool and beg him for an extra shirt to sleep in while her things dried.
Under the cover of cleaning her clothes, she watched him as he worked around the dying fire, pouring water into his pack. As though he could feel her looking at him, he glanced up and his eyes locked onto hers.
“I’m going to sleep,” he called, still seeming polite but stiff. “Are you going to dry off by the fire or should I put it out before turning in?”
“I’m washing my clothes,” she said. “I guess I’ll need the fire to dry. I have nothing to wear.”
Brad gave an unintelligible grunt and stood. He then muttered soft curses under his breath, his face a mask of pain. Obviously his shoulders were hurting more than he’d been letting on. Without saying anything further, he disappeared into the tent.
Wringing her clothing out as best she could with one bad arm, Chelsea finished and tossed them from the pool. It was hard not to be upset by the way Brad ignored her.
Flipping onto her back, she floated on top of the water, watching the bright stars as they winked into existence above her. Maybe she could sleep in the hot spring. The water cradled her neck and shoulder, making them more comfortable than they were outside. Plus, she’d be warm here. What would she do in the tent without a sleeping bag? However, the way her luck had been going, she’d probably drown herself once she actually drifted off to sleep. She’d have to beg Brad to share his sleeping bag with her, even if he hated her right now.
At the sound of footsteps, Chelsea paddled her arm until she faced the fire and spied Brad standing over her.
He held up a T-shirt once he realized she saw him, set it on the ground and went back to the tent.
Squeezing back tears and reminding herself that she was to blame for her own problems and couldn’t fault him, Chelsea closed her eyes and allowed herself to drift in the pond.
* * *
It felt like forever before Chelsea finally entered the tent. Brad wanted so badly for her to tell him she had been wrong, that she did love him, and then snuggle with him in their remaining sleeping bag. Unfortunately, none of that happened. She didn’t utter a word upon entering.
Small rustling sounds filtered the small space, as though she searched for something. After a few moments, he couldn’t take it anymore.
“What are you looking for?” he asked.
“Oh! You startled me.” Her fast breathing filled the space between them. “I thought you were asleep.”
More like she’d tried to stay away until he fell asleep. She didn’t want to be with him, didn’t want to have to talk.
“I waited for you,” he said. “I needed to lie down because my back is killing me, but I knew you probably worried about sleeping arrangements.”
“I’m trying to find something to cover up with,” she said. “I think your rain poncho will work.”
Did she not want to be close to him, or was she afraid he wouldn’t want to snuggle with her? They’d done a lot more than snuggle last night and this morning. Sharing the bag wouldn’t be a big deal, just so long as she didn’t make it a big deal.
“Climb in here,” he said. “You’ll have to lie on top of me mostly, but I promise not to touch you.”
The blacker mass of her body in the dark tent kneeled next to him. “If I’m on top of you, we’ll have to touch.”
“Are you being difficult just to be difficult?” He’d tried so hard all night to be nice to her, but his patience was coming to an end. “Either do the smart thing and get in this bag with me or continue working against us. Stay out there covered in a damn plastic poncho and get yourself sick. Yeah, that’ll really help us.”
“I knew you were mad at me. This isn’t about a poncho. It’s about the phone.”
“Of course I’m mad. You lied to me.”
She didn’t move, and Brad wondered if he had been too hard on her. Although he’d been extremely pissed about the phone, he’d been willing to forgive her earlier when he thought she lied because she was falling in love with him and was afraid to lose him. It wasn’t her fault she didn’t share his feelings. He couldn’t punish her because she rejected him.
“Get in the sleeping bag, Chels,” he said, softening his voice. “I wish we had the phone but we don’t. We’ll have to make the best of a difficult situation.” He sat up, undoing the zipper of the bag and holding it open. “Careful of your arm when you get it. I can’t see you very well. Did you put it back in the sling?”
“Yes.” Her chilled body slid in next to his, and a small whimper of pain escaped her when she turned and whacked her arm against his che
st.
Even though his own body cried out with pain, Brad bit down on the inside of his cheek to hold back any sound. It wouldn’t make Chelsea feel any better to know how badly her laying on him hurt. He wrapped his arm around her back, catching the zipper between his fingers and pulling it into place, cocooning them together.
With nowhere else to keep his arm, Brad rested it across her back. The sleeping bag wasn’t made for two people and it was close quarters, but at least they’d stay warm. They might be on an island paradise, but Brad guessed it was somewhere in the upper fifties outside the tent. Much too cold to be without protection.
Even though holding Chelsea without being able to kiss her or express how he felt would be excruciating torture. He’d get her home safe and sound, then love her from afar. He could do that, even if it killed him inside.
After a few minutes, Chelsea relaxed, laying her head across his chest. “Thank you, Brad. It was freezing as soon as I got out of the hot spring.”
“All I want is to keep you safe,” he replied. “It’s okay if you don’t love me, but that doesn’t stop the way I feel about you. We’ll get through this, and I’ll get you back to the resort.”
“How you feel about me?” Chelsea’s body tensed once again. “I don’t understand. How do you feel about me?”
Would telling her matter? She’d made it clear he wasn’t the man for her. He wouldn’t grovel, pleading with her to change her mind and give him a chance.
“Never mind. Let’s get some sleep.”
She shifted restlessly against him, not relaxing. The cooler metal of the cross she always wore pressed against Brad’s bare chest.
Though he tried to ignore it, he still didn’t know what that cross meant.
“Are you religious?” he blurted into the quiet night.
“Religious?” She snorted. “Not really. I’m not even sure I believe there is a god. Why would some all powerful being let such crappy stuff happen?”
That was the most he’d learned about her since she told him about her family’s car accident. But if she wasn’t even sure she believed, why wear the cross?
“I believe,” he said. “I don’t think God goes around fixing everyone’s problems, though. We get ourselves in trouble, and He expects us to get out of it.”
“Then why do some people get miracles?” she asked. “Why didn’t I ever get a miracle?”
Although he’d promised not to and it hurt his shoulder like crazy, Brad softly stroked Chelsea’s damp hair across her back. “You got a miracle today. Neither of us died. I somehow had just enough strength to get you up that cliff, and we still have half our supplies. If that isn’t a miracle, I don’t know what is.”
She shrugged her uninjured shoulder against his side. “That’s true. I wasn’t thinking about today. I was thinking about my family.”
He had no answer for that. Even though they drove him nuts at times, Brad couldn’t imagine life without the rest of the McCallister clan.
“I’m sorry you were cheated out of having a family, Chels. I know that I take mine for granted, and maybe that’s what made you upset about the way I fought with Shane.”
She nodded slightly. “I think it is. Then again, I should have been a bit easier on you. If my brother had lived, I bet there’d be times he would drive me crazy.”
“That’s a miracle I wish you’d been given too,” Brad agreed, aching for her loss. “I still don’t understand, though. Why wear the cross if you don’t believe? I’ve been curious about it since I first met you.”
She shifted, carefully moving her bad arm upward until she could run her finger against the metal charm.
This also meant she lightly rubbed his chest at times, and Brad tried to ignore how good her touch felt. She didn’t want him, and he couldn’t let himself forget that.
“My grandmother gave this to me the night before I graduated from college,” she said. “She was so proud of me, so proud that I’d been accepted to the graduate school I most wanted and that I would go on to finish my psychology degree, dedicating my life to helping others.”
He remembered how she’d said her grandmother was like her mom, so the woman must have taken Chelsea in after her family was killed in the crash.
“She flew in earlier that day,” Chelsea continued. “We had dinner at the fanciest restaurant I’d ever been to, somewhere French although I can’t remember the name now. Grandma must have blown most of her Social Security check to pay for that dinner alone. She gave me this necklace, an exact duplicate of the one she always wore, and told me God had great plans for me.” Sudden hot moisture pooled on Brad’s chest. “I actually believed it.”
“Hey, hey, shhh...” He carefully wiped her tears away. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” Her voice was flat, devoid of emotion despite the tears. “Grandma went to her hotel and I went to my dorm, partying with a few friends that I was semi-close to.” She shook her head and sniffled. “I should have stayed with her. I missed those last precious hours for a party I didn’t even want to attend.”
Precious hours? Oh, no. “What happened?”
“I called her the next morning to let her know I’d meet her at noon for lunch. When she didn’t answer, I thought she was asleep, jetlagged from flying the day before.”
Brad knew where this headed, and he held her a bit tighter.
“The doctors said it was a blood clot. That it formed in her lungs and then broke off, killing her instantly. I might not know what I believe as far as religious crap, but I do know I love my grandmother very, very much. I buried her with her necklace, and I’ve never taken mine off.”
“I’m so sorry, Chels.” As meaningless as the words were, it was all he had. He rubbed her back to let her know he was there for her. He could be a friend if that’s all she wanted. He’d do whatever it took to let her know she wasn’t alone.
She was silent for a long time, though her hot tears continued to splash against his skin. Even though he hated that he made her relive what must have been one of the worst days of her life, there was a renewal of relaxation in her posture, as though unburdening herself helped lift some of the trauma. At least, Brad hoped that were the case.
“I promised myself that day I’d never love again,” she said. “I didn’t care when I had sex with Dustin and didn’t get any joy in it. That just meant I could keep things light and casual without getting my heart involved. We were friends, and I liked that I could make him feel good.”
But she’d let Brad please her. He hadn’t realized at the time how much she was actually letting him in. He always felt as though she wasn’t opening up to him, but that must have been a hard decision to allow him to touch her, to let herself go enough that she trusted in him and enjoyed what they did. Did that mean that she...?
Brad shook his head, unable to wrap his mind around the confusion running through it. What did it mean?
“If I don’t love anyone,” she continued, “I can’t get hurt again. I know how ridiculous that sounds coming from me. I spend my days getting people to talk about their feelings, convincing them to let other people in and to heal themselves and enjoy life. I should be good at it, but that’s something I can’t do for myself.”
“You’re afraid,” Brad said. “It’s understandable. Love is scary. It’s hard to put yourself out there and take a chance. You never know if the other person will feel the same way, or whether they’ll end up leaving you, shattering your heart into a million pieces along the way because you let yourself fall for them.”
She lifted her head, and even though she let out a soft hiss of pain when moving her neck, Brad had the feeling she was staring at him.
“Is that what I did to you?” she asked. “I mean, earlier today when I said I didn’t love you?”
Pouring out his feelings wasn’t something Brad had ever been good at either. He’d stuffed everything down, lashing out in anger to his family instead of admitting they hurt his feelings by excluding him. At least, he�
�d thought they excluded him until Chelsea pointed out that he took things too seriously. Now, he wondered if he hadn’t been the problem all along, holding on to small hurts and blowing them into something big. He didn’t want to make the same mistakes with Chelsea, even if she didn’t share his love.
“I love you, Chelsea. That’s what I was trying to tell you out by the fire. I think I fell for you the very first time we talked, and these past few weeks have only solidified things.”
Her legs thrashed in the sleeping bag, and Brad’s heart dropped. She struggled to get out, to get away from him. He should have kept his mouth shut.
Chelsea slid upward, and Brad tried to find the zipper. He wouldn’t force her to be in here with him if she didn’t want to be.
Before he could open the bag, Chelsea’s entire weight fell on him and her mouth came down on his, her nose bumping into his in the dark before she tilted her head and got it right.
Her tongue teased his lips, begging for entry, and Brad stopped his quest for the zipper, wrapping both arms around her. Even the pain in his body couldn’t stop him from holding her tight. If this was the last kiss he’d ever get from her, he wanted to remember it forever, wanted to enjoy it before she pulled away.
After much too short a time, Chelsea backed off. However, rather than getting up as Brad had expected, she flung one leg across his hips, wrapping herself around him. She tucked her face next to his, breathing into his ear.
“I love you, too, Brad. It scares me like nothing has before, and I don’t want to lose you, but I do love you. I have to take this chance and hope you don’t end up hurting me.”
Heart soaring with joy, Brad let out a soft whoop. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he promised. “You’ll never be alone again.”
Chapter 23
The following morning, Chelsea wondered if she’d been hit by a truck as she struggled from the claws of sleep and tried to open her eyes. Everything hurt—her head pounded, her shoulder ached, and she didn’t dare twist her neck at all. The bruises and cuts on her arms, stomach, and legs only added to the discomfort. All because she hadn’t let herself trust in Brad and his emotions.
Love's Ride (McCallister's Paradise Book 4) Page 16