Reviving Dade

by Becca Jameson

  “Blair—”

  She shook her head rapidly and cut him off. “No. You listen to me. I realize I’m acting like a lunatic, and I have my reasons. I’m extremely sensitive about this subject. Irrational or not. Don’t. Ever. Fucking. Mention. Suicide. Again. Got it?”

  He startled in his seat. “Suicide? Who said anything about suicide?” Was that what this was all about?

  She stopped bending so close to him and righted herself. “You did.”

  He shook his head. “No. I didn’t. I think I suggested that I leave. I meant the cabin. Not the earth.”

  Her face turned a deep red so fast, and she stumbled backward. He thought she might fall, but when he stood to grab her flailing arms, she jumped back, turned around, and left the room again.

  He watched her, more confused than ever.

  She didn’t shut the door to her room, which he considered significant.

  For several moments he stood right where he was, trying to make sense of her rant and what he should do next. Obviously, she had misunderstood his words. And also obviously, the subject of suicide made her lose her shit. This wasn’t the first time she’d misunderstood him and reacted violently to thinking he might take his own life. There was a story behind that.

  Finally, he followed her, leaving their still uneaten food in the living room—hers all over the floor, his on the coffee table. He found her curled on her side on the far end of the rumpled bed. He ignored the messy comforter that represented to him an amazing hour of his life.

  He wasn’t exactly the king of soothing a woman’s feelings. In fact, he couldn’t remember a single time in his life when he’d had to confront someone like this, but he damn well had to now. He had inadvertently contributed to the misunderstanding by constantly bitching about his situation and expressing a complete lack of hope.

  He sat on the edge of the bed next to her but didn’t touch her. “Blair, I’m sorry.”

  “Not your fault,” she whispered. “I’m sorry too.”

  “Talk to me.” He hoped she understood that he wanted her to open up and throw him a bone here.

  Her eyes were closed, and she looked the most vulnerable he’d ever seen her, curled onto her side, her face smashed into the pillow, her hands fisted in front of her chest. This was not his Blair.

  “My sister committed suicide.” Her words were barely audible.

  He stopped breathing.

  “She was fourteen. I found her myself in the tub. She slit her wrists.”

  “Oh, God. Blair…” There were no words. He lifted a hand and set it gently on her thigh, hoping she wouldn’t brush him away. Thankfully, she did not. Tears fell down her face now.

  “So selfish. She knew I would find her. It was our shared bathroom. For years I was angry with her. It took a lot of therapy for me to see things through her eyes. It still pisses me off. I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”

  “Baby, it’s understandable. If I had known, I would have chosen my words more carefully.” He leaned toward her nightstand and grabbed a tissue, handing it to her.

  She took it and wiped her eyes. “I haven’t told anyone about Jen in years.”

  Damn. That was huge. He felt privileged, but also a little nervous. “I’m honored, and I swear I would never do something like that. I will fight to the end. I promise.”

  She reached out with one hand and grabbed his where it sat in front of her. Her grip was strong. He squeezed her fingers in return, running his other hand up and down her thigh. “I loved her so much. She was the most important person in my life. She understood me better than anyone, and then she left me.”

  My God. He realized how much baggage she had been carrying around for much of her life. It even occurred to him that she probably kept people at arm’s length because she didn’t want to get too close to them. It would hurt too badly if anything happened to someone else she loved. She knew it firsthand. And Dade was going to leave her too. Just like her sister had.

  Shit.

  He held his breath as those thoughts hit him hard. He could do nothing to keep from hurting her, just as he’d suspected all along. And now he’d slept with her to make things worse.

  Would he take it back if he could? He didn’t think so. And he doubted she would either. The pain was real and in their faces, but they also had feelings for each other. A mutual attraction they had denied for too long.

  Taking a risk, he slid his hand up her back while he climbed over her and spooned her body from behind. He wrapped his arm around her torso tight and held her close. There wasn’t anything else to say.

  Yeah, this woman had wormed her way into his heart, intentionally or otherwise. Now what was he going to do to protect her from more of the hurt she was already experiencing? If she felt this badly almost twenty years after her sister died, how would she feel after he passed if they got too close?

  He didn’t have answers, but he also couldn’t walk away from her, so he closed his eyes and tried to relax, holding this precious woman in his arms.

  Dade startled awake at the sound of a crash.

  He bolted upright, trying to get his bearings as fast as possible. Glancing around, he realized he was in Blair’s room on her bed, and she was no longer next to him.

  She appeared in the doorway moments later. “Shit. I’m so sorry. I dropped a pan. Did I scare you?”

  He ran a hand through his hair as he swung his legs off the side of the bed and went toward her. “Not going to lie. Yes.” He followed her into the kitchen as she retreated.

  “I have no idea how bad that meal was the first time we were supposed to eat it, and it was probably far worse the second time we didn’t eat it. So, I cleaned it up and threw it all away. How about grilled cheese?” She forced a smile as she faced him.

  She was so flustered, it was kinda sweet.

  He approached, noticing the kitchen was totally clean. She had been in the process of starting over. It was late, but his stomach was rumbling now that he was up. Grilled cheese would be perfect. He crowded her, hating that she kept avoiding him.

  When he had her backed into the corner of the kitchen between the sink and the stove, he set one hand on either side of her body on the counter. “Look at me.”

  She fidgeted but finally met his gaze, her smile fake.

  “We had sex.”

  She nodded.

  “It was fantastic.”

  She nodded again.

  “We don’t have to do it again if it makes you uncomfortable.”

  She bit her lip.

  He was making this up on the fly here. Honestly, this was not the speech he had planned before he fell asleep. He should be either avoiding the fact that they slept together and pretending it didn’t happen or telling her they couldn’t do it again. Instead, he was giving her options. What the hell?

  But she was vulnerable. And cute as fuck. Flustered. Nervous. She didn’t do things like this. She didn’t sleep with men casually like it was no big deal. He was certain of it.

  “I don’t know what to say,” she whispered.

  “You don’t have to say anything, but I don’t want us to tiptoe around for days on end pretending it didn’t happen or feel too uncomfortable to discuss it.” He couldn’t do that to her. Maybe in his past life he could have blown off a woman without thinking twice, but not in this life. Not with this woman. He would be an ass to do so.

  “’Kay.”

  He needed to touch her, so he stepped closer, closing the gap between them, and wrapped his arms around her to pull her into his embrace. With his face buried in her hair, he spoke near her ear. “I’m so sorry about your sister. That has to hurt. You can trust me. I won’t do that to you.”

  She nodded, tipping her forehead into his chest.

  He kissed the top of her head. “Now, grilled cheese sounds amazing, but in the interest of saving bread and not wasting cheese, why don’t you let me make it? After all, we don’t know how long it will be until someone brings us more supplies.”


  She leaned back, punched his chest playfully, and met his gaze with a smile. “That’s not funny.”

  He smirked. “It kinda is.”

  She giggled. “Okay, yeah. It is. You’re right. You make the grilled cheese. I’ll just go sit at the table and look pretty.” She ducked under his arm and fled.

  He turned around as she hoisted onto a stool. “That won’t be hard.”

  “Be serious.”

  He frowned. “I am.”

  “Whatever.”

  He strolled closer, intent on setting her straight on this topic also. “I know you have a tough act you present to the world, and I know you think it repels people, but let me tell you a few things.” He crowded her again, setting his hands on her shoulders.

  Her face was closer to his with her sitting up on the stool. She looked uncomfortable, glancing away from him.

  “First of all, Tough Blair is sexy as hell. Only an asshole would find it intimidating or repelling, so you can kick that misconception out the door now. Second of all, I’m going to bet that few people have ever seen the totally feminine sexy woman who lives under that tough exterior. But I have. And I’m humbled to count myself among those few.”

  She blushed.

  He slid a hand up to cup her face and tip her head back. “So, yeah, you can sit over here and look pretty because you can’t help it. You have no other choice. Even Tough Blair in a uniform with a bun and no makeup and an axe is hot as hell. The woman who thinks she looks no different in tight leggings and sports bras is sadly mistaken.” He leaned closer, kissed her nose, and then held her gaze at a few inches. “That woman is on fire.”

  She wasn’t breathing.

  He felt victorious. So, he kissed her forehead next and then released her to head for the fridge.

  “What would you do if I came out of my room in a silk nightie or wore a black lacey bra and panty set under a skintight dress?”

  He released the refrigerator door before grabbing anything and spun around. “So, you have those things?” he asked before he could stop himself. His mouth was literally watering.

  She shrugged, sending him a coy look. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  He swallowed. “Woman.” His jeans got too tight. “You’re killing me,” he murmured as he returned to the fridge. Without looking at her, he pulled out everything he would need and turned toward the stove. He made himself concentrate on the sandwiches and ignore his arousal and the fact that he knew she was staring at him.

  When he thought he finally had himself composed and the sandwiches were browning in the pan, he finally turned around. Indeed, she was watching him.

  “If you want to get anything done around here, I suggest you not run around the cabin with no shirt on. It’s distracting.”

  He smirked again. “We’re back to that again?”

  She nodded. “How does a man who’s been in a cryostat for ten years come out with pecs like that?”

  He glanced down as if he were unfamiliar with his own chest. “These?” He pointed at them. “I’ve never seen them before. They were just there when I woke up from my coma.”

  “Ha-ha. Good one.”

  He turned back around to flip the sandwiches. Moments later, he had them on the plates and carried them to the table. As he set them down, he slid a hand up her arm and glanced at her chest. “How does a woman who’s been hiding from men for far more than ten years not realize her body is perfection?”

  She licked her lips and then shocked him with her response. “Thank you.” No eye roll. No groan. No denial. Just thank you.

  “You’re welcome.” He slid into the chair next to her.

  “Do you think that’s what I’ve been doing? Hiding?”

  He lifted half a grilled cheese and glanced sideways at her. “Haven’t you?”

  She faced her plate and toyed with the crust. “Maybe. I’ve been told that before. But I don’t do it consciously.”

  He took a bite, a string of cheese running from the sandwich to his mouth. He had to break it with his fingers. After swallowing, he faced her again. “Maybe you’re afraid to let people get close? I’m no psychiatrist, mind you, but if you’ve been hurting that badly since your sister died, maybe you’re leery about loving people for fear they will leave you.”

  When she blinked, he knew he’d struck a nerve. She was more than aware she pushed people away for that very reason. “You sure you’re not a psychiatrist? I’ve heard that a few times from several of them.”

  He smiled. “Just observing.”

  She sighed. “The truth is, it’s probably deeper than that. It goes back a little further. My mom wasn’t very present in our lives. She was distant. I’d say she was a high-functioning alcoholic. She wasn’t touchy-feely. She rarely hugged us. She didn’t play with us.

  “When my sister died, she got even worse. More distant. My dad always carried most of the weight, before and after. It took him a long time to reconnect with the world after Jen died. I talk to him every few weeks nowadays. I haven’t spoken to my mom in months.”

  “Damn. That must be hard.”

  She nodded, eating some more of her sandwich. “This is really good,” she pointed out as she swallowed and took a drink of water.

  He nudged her with his shoulder. “It’s not burnt.”

  She shoved him back with a hand. “If you keep it up, I’ll never enter the kitchen again. It’s all yours.”

  “At least that way we won’t starve,” he joked.

  She looked back at her plate. Several seconds went by. He was worried he’d gone too far. But when she spoke again, she was back on the subject of her mom. “I think I didn’t learn how to love properly. I mean, I loved my sister, but it wasn’t enough, so it affected me.”

  “That makes sense.” He hurt inside for the sixteen-year-old girl who found her dead sister in the bathtub. No one should have to endure that.

  “I was so angry. Violently so. With Jen. With my mom… I barely held it together until I graduated. That’s when I decided to join the army. It was the perfect thing for me to do. Enlist. The hard work and discipline helped heal me in a way. Or at least it kept my mind off my problems by filling my time with the grueling tasks of an enlisted woman.”

  He shoved his plate back and swiveled his stool to face her, his legs spread so that she was between them. He grabbed the back of her chair. “You’re an amazing woman. Stronger than anyone I know. And I don’t mean physically. Emotionally too.”

  She played with the last piece of bread on her plate.

  “It all makes more sense to me now. Thank you for sharing.”

  “I’ll clean up,” she whispered.

  “How about you go to bed. You’re exhausted. I’ll do it.”

  She lifted her gaze to him and hesitated. “How about you come with me. I plopped down on your mattress earlier and nearly fell through to China. Stop sleeping in that bed. Mine is a king. It’s big enough for three of us.”

  He lifted a brow. “You planning on inviting a third?” he teased.

  “Never. I can barely handle one man. No way would I want two.”

  “Who said the third had to be a man?” he joked.

  “Touché.” She laughed as she walked away from him.

  Dade tossed the few dishes they’d used in the dishwasher and turned out the lights. He headed for his bedroom first to change into flannel sleep pants, and then he used his bathroom.

  When he stepped back into the hallway, she was leaning at the entrance to her room. She had on loose cotton shorts and a tank top that should have been illegal. “I meant what I said about sleeping in my bed. I’m not trying to pressure you. Don’t think of it like I asked you to move in with me after one date or anything. It just makes good sense. You’ll sleep better on a better mattress. I’ll sleep better knowing you’re safe next to me.”

  “Safe?” he asked as he approached, fighting the urge to stare at her chest. How were her boobs that fucking perfect and high without a bra? “From myself or bad guys?” />
  “Both?”

  He lifted a hand and stroked her cheek. “I made you a promise. I won’t renege.” He knew how badly it would destroy her if someone else she was close to committed suicide. He couldn’t do that to her even if it had ever crossed his mind.

  “Okay, then do it because it will be more comfortable.”

  “How about I do it because the woman in the bed with me makes my blood pump?”

  “Or for that reason. Whatever works.”

  He chuckled, took her hand, and led her toward the bed. “You going to stay on your side?”

  “If you want me to.”

  He was feeling her out. She was giving him almost no indication where she stood on the issue of their relationship. He pulled her toward one side, sat on the edge of the mattress, and positioned her between his legs. “We’re both exhausted, and I know you’re uncertain, so let’s get some sleep, okay? Things don’t have to be weird between us.”

  She nodded, lifting both hands to cup his face. “They’re not weird, just awkward. You can’t possibly tell me you aren’t uncertain too.”

  “You’re right. But I think we have different motives holding us back. No matter what, sleeping in the same bed won’t change anything. I’ll sleep better if I can reach out and touch you. You’ll sleep better if you can hear me breathing next to you.”

  “Yes.”

  He slid his hands up her back and pulled her the last few inches so he could gently kiss her lips.

  The fact that she didn’t flinch or turn away spoke volumes.

  Easing her a few steps back, he pulled the comforter down, slid into the bed, and scooted back several feet so she could join him. He lifted a hand in invitation.

  She flipped off the light on the nightstand and climbed into his embrace.

  His body relaxed as he pulled her back against his chest. He didn’t say anything, but his mind was racing. It felt so good holding her. The ten days he’d spent with her nearly nonstop seemed like months or years. He knew she was awake, but he couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t sound sappy, so he stroked her forearm between her breasts instead.

  She snuggled closer in response.

  Could they somehow make this weird thing between them okay? He couldn’t decide if sleeping with her had been the best idea of his life or the worst mistake. Time would tell. He certainly couldn’t take it back. What he should do was back up a few steps and give her space.