by Pat White
No, it couldn’t be.
She opened her eyes and stared at the wood-beamed ceiling. Now what kind of mess had she gotten herself into?
The door burst open, and she pulled the covers to her chest.
“You’re awake,” he said in a voice softer than his usual tone.
He dumped two large plastic bags on the table and rummaged through them.
“I went outside to make a call. Didn’t want to wake you,” he said, not making eye contact. He was obviously uncomfortable about last night. “I’ve got good news.” He glanced at her and cleared his throat. “I talked to my boss. He checked with the medical team and they said you could probably up your dose of meds by one a day to help with your memory disorder.”
Her heart sank. That’s what this was about. Remembering.
“I’ll remember everything, then?” she said, wishing she could remember what scared him so much that he kept her at a safe distance.
“You’ll remember.”
She could have sworn regret colored his voice.
“Here.” He offered her a pill and a glass of water. “You’ll take the other one at dinner.”
“I need to ask you something,” she said, then swallowed the pill.
“Yeah?”
“Tell me why you’re so scared.”
“I tend to get that way when I’m being hunted by hired killers.”
He ambled over to the fireplace and knelt down, poking at the logs with a stick.
“Did I do something to you?” she asked.
He glanced over his shoulder. “What do you mean?”
“Did I hurt you or betray you in some way?”
“It was nothing like that.” He glanced back at the fire.
“Then, what?”
“You need a shower.”
“Oh?”
“I didn’t mean it like that. I meant—”
“Forget it. I could use a bathroom.” She could tell he wasn’t going to spill his guts this morning.
He got up and pulled a sweatshirt and pants from a bag. “Here.” He tossed them at her.
The sweatshirt had a pine tree on the front. “Stylish,” she joked.
“I’ll wait outside.”
She hopped from the warm bed and quickly dressed, then looked through the supplies. Toothbrush, floss, mild soap and baby powder. She’d used that before. And Sean remembered.
She opened the door and spied him leaning casually against the cabin.
“Ready?”
“Sure.”
They walked side by side to the showers, neither of them speaking. What should she say? “Hey, I love you, you big idiot and I know you love me?”
She had a feeling he wouldn’t respond well to the direct approach. She blushed at the memory of the things they’d done to each other last night, naughty and wonderful things. Things she never thought possible.
“Here’s the ladies’ bathroom.” Sean paused in front of a brown metal door. “The campground isn’t full, but there are a few folks around. Don’t make eye contact with anyone. Blend in, like you’re part of the scenery.”
She pushed through the squeaky door. No showers were going. Good. Annie relieved herself, then made her way to a shower. She placed her supplies on the wooden bench in the shower stall, hung her towel on the hook, and flipped on the water.
It would feel good to cleanse the past few days off her body, she thought, sticking her hand under the water to test its temperature. Although she was reluctant to cleanse her body of the lingering scent of sex that permeated each and ever pore.
When the temperature was just right, she stripped off the sweatpants and shirt and stepped under the heavy spray. She lathered her body with soap, remembering the tingling sensation coursing through her body when Sean had stroked her skin with his large hands. Would they make love again? Or was the question when would they make love again?
She washed her hair, her body weak yet rejuvenated from their lovemaking. She was alive again, completely alive. She hoped she felt this way for a long time.
She wanted to stay beneath the shower’s pounding spray for hours. Instead, she rinsed her hair and body as quickly as possible. She turned off the water and froze at the sound of metal scraping against metal.
Someone was outside her changing stall. She wrapped her arms around her midsection, fighting to quell the panic. She felt his presence, felt him leering at her from the other side of the curtain, ready to strike. Goose bumps crawled across her body. She was cold and scared. Naked and vulnerable.
She hated the feeling. Hated the grating fear that rooted her in place. She grabbed her towel and wrapped it around her body.
“Sean?” she said, hoping it was him on the other side of the curtain.
Silence answered her. Fear paralyzed her, then anger took hold. She was done being controlled by fear. If she was going to die right here, then so be it. But it wouldn’t be without a fight.
Grabbing a brush in one hand and a small can of deodorant spray in the other, she readied for battle. Maybe a quick whack to the head or squirt in the eyes would stun her assailant long enough for her to get help.
A click reverberated off the walls. She swallowed her fear and forged ahead.
“I’m sick of this!” she cried and swung at the curtain, whipping it aside. The bathroom was empty.
“Annie?” Sean cracked open the bathroom door, then raced in to help her. “My God, Annie? What is it?”
Gripping her shoulders, he searched her eyes. “What happened?”
“Someone was…here.” She didn’t recognize the sound of her own voice. “Outside the shower.”
“You’re fine. You’re fine.” He unwrapped the towel from her body and dried off her shoulders, then her hair. “I was right outside. No one came in here but a mom and her kid. Maybe the kid went wandering around. You’re safe.”
She pressed her face into his thick sweatshirt and interlaced her hands around his waist. When he said the words, she felt safe in his arms.
“Let’s get you dressed.”
Shaking from the chill or fear, she clung to him for warmth. “One more minute.”
He squeezed her tight and she took a few deep breaths. His scent somehow calmed her.
“Okay,” she said, pushing away.
With trembling fingers, she reached for her sweatshirt. He grabbed it and slipped it over her head, then helped her with her sweatpants and socks. Funny. His touch felt different than last night, firm and unshakable, as opposed to tentative and humbled.
She needed unshakable right now. She needed him to be the Rock of Gibraltar instead of the sexiest man of the year. He motioned for her to sit down on the bench. He knelt in front of her and tied her sneakers.
He gathered the supplies. “Let’s go.”
She clung to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and hooking her fingers into the belt loops of his jeans. He walked her to the door and peeked out.
“It’s clear.” He opened the door and guided her to the gravel path that led to their cabin.
“You think I’m crazy, don’t you?” she said.
“Nope.”
“I heard someone.”
“You’re okay now.”
They approached the cabin and she berated herself for being paranoid. It was her overactive imagination. The last forty-eight hours had been emotionally exhausting. And she was hungry.
Sean unlocked the door and led her inside. He went to the fireplace and started a fire. She ambled to the kitchen table, grabbed a box of mini muffins and sat down.
“Look,” she said. “Last night didn’t do what I’d hoped it would.”
Boy, was that an understatement.
“And I can’t stand waiting for morsels of the past to come floating back. You’ve got to help me.”
“You’re supposed to remember on your own.” He sat across the table from her. “The psychologists said—”
“Forget the psychologists.” She touched his hand and thought he’d p
ull away, but he didn’t. “Tell me about us. I can’t stand not knowing, waiting for something to jump out the shadows and snatch away the one thing that makes me happy.”
His eyes widened. “I…make you happy?”
“What do you think?” She leaned over and kissed him; she couldn’t help herself. His lips looked so perfect, soft and full. And she wanted to taste him again. One night of passion was not enough.
He pushed her away and got to his feet. “Don’t, Annie. This can’t happen again.”
“What?”
“Us. Any of this.” He wiped the back of his hand across his lips, and her heart cracked.
“Talk to me,” she demanded.
He paced to the front door.
“Don’t you dare run from me again,” she said.
He turned and stared her down. “It’s you who should be running. I’m just like the rest. I used you, Annie. Tricked you into falling in love with me because I needed information. It was all about the job, about catching the bastards who were trying to buy and sell your research.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You always were naive.”
“Bastard,” she spit out.
“Yeah, that’s good. That’s what I am and don’t you forget it.”
“I don’t buy it.” She stood. “You’re terrified, and not of the killers out to get me. It’s something else.”
“Don’t you get it? You were my assignment,” he said, staring into her eyes. “Get close to you, find out everything I could about the formula.”
No, it couldn’t be. “There’s more, isn’t there?”
Tell me there’s more. Tell me you fell in love with me.
“Sure, there’s more.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I caused your accident.”
She took a step back. “What?”
“I caused you to freak out and drive off. You don’t know how to drive. No wonder you drove over that cliff. I could have stopped you. I didn’t. I didn’t have the guts to face up to what I was: a bastard who’d chewed you up and spit you out like a piece of tobacco. I didn’t care about you. I didn’t care that you’d fallen in love with me. You get it now?”
“No.” She took another step back, her mind racing, trying to remember. She had to remember.
“Face it. I’m like your dad. I used you like he did when he came back. Hell, last night was a way to get you to remember.”
The crackling of the fire grew to a fevered pitch in her ears, drowning out all sound, all words he aimed at her. But they hit hard, like daggers to her chest.
What does your heart tell you? It was her mother’s voice.
Her heart? Did she still have one?
“So, don’t go thinking you can trust me,” he shouted. “Because I’ll break your heart—Annie!”
He yanked her away from the fire, snatched a blanket from the bed and swung it at her pants.
“You’re on fire. Didn’t you feel it?”
Feel it? Hell, she wasn’t sure she had any feeling left after his verbal lashing.
Didn’t love her, didn’t care about her. Used her like everyone else. Only wanted her for her brains.
She vaguely felt him guide her to the bed, her mind a daze of past, present and pain.
“Sit down. I’ll get the first aid kit.”
He disappeared and she found herself staring into the fire, its flames bright and bold, hypnotizing her.
She wasn’t one to feel sorry for herself. She hated the sound of her voice before, condemning her father, condemning the other, faceless people in her life who had used and betrayed her. And now she knew the truth: Sean was one of them.
“Here.” He lifted her leg to rest on the bed. She stared into the fire, its heat burning a path all the way to her heart. Anger. Frustration. Pain.
She closed her eyes.
His hands, so gentle, so tender, touched her skin like a father touching a newborn babe. Trailing up one side of her calf, soft and soothing. It didn’t make sense. A monster wouldn’t touch her like this.
Follow your heart.
Sean had called it instinct. Her mother called it following your heart. And Annie knew there was more to this man than his hurtful words.
“It barely got the skin, but I’ll put something on it to be safe,” he said, rubbing ointment on her leg.
He grasped her calf between his hands as if he were holding a delicate piece of crystal. He must care. Someone who didn’t care wouldn’t take such good care of her. It didn’t make sense. But then, sometimes relying on the facts didn’t always get you where you wanted to go.
Follow your heart.
She studied his face, concern creasing his features as he focused on her leg. He looked pained himself.
“You’re a liar,” she said.
He glanced up, and her heart caught at the emptiness in his eyes.
“Yeah, and then some,” he said. “I’m a violent, controlling man. I’ve grown up like the old man, only thinking of myself, only caring about myself.”
She glanced at her leg, then into his eyes. “Really?”
He propped her leg gingerly to a pillow and walked to the table where he tossed the jar of ointment into his backpack.
Follow your heart.
“I’m not buying it, MacNeil,” she said.
“Don’t be a fool. I told you how I used you.”
“But you didn’t tell me all of it, did you?” she pushed.
“I told you all you need to know. Now let me do my job and stay away from me so you won’t get hurt again.”
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“There’s nothing more to tell. Go to sleep or something.”
“I’d sleep better with you.”
“Stop, damn it.” He turned and stared her down.
“Why?”
“Because we can never be. Nothing good can come of this.”
“I disagree.”
“Look at your leg.” He marched over and pointed at her calf. “I did this. I came at you until you backed into a fire and didn’t even feel the burn. I’m a bastard just like—”
“You’re not him.”
He took a step back, his eyes radiating horror.
“That’s what you’re afraid of, isn’t it?” she said. “That you’ll become your father?”
“I’ve already become him.” He paced the small cabin, running his hand through rich, dark hair. His heavy step caused the hardwood planks to creak.
“You’re nothing like him,” she said.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m the one you’ve been taking care of these past few days, remember?”
“It’s my job.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s all.”
She hated doing it, but somehow she had to make him see what this was really about. Who he really was.
“Fine, you’re right. You’re a bastard and I don’t need your help.” She got to her feet. “Where are the keys?”
“Why?”
“I’m leaving.”
“What are you talking about? See you never used to do stuff like this. Never put yourself at risk.”
“Hey, according to you, I’m at risk right now. You’re a bastard and I should stay away from you.” She searched his backpack for keys.
“You’re not going anywhere.” His deep voice sent shivers across her shoulders.
“If I’m as smart as everybody thinks I am, I can take care of myself.”
“That’s my responsibility.”
She took a fortifying breath. “Well, if I must say so, you’ve done a pretty mediocre job. Let’s see. I’ve had to save your butt twice in the last three days. Maybe I should be the FBI agent.”
His jaw twitched, but she didn’t back down. She remembered his incoherent ramblings the other night at the motel.
“But then Eddy always said you were stupid, didn’t he? He knew you’d never amount to much.”
His eyes w
idened. She could tell he struggled to maintain his composure.
She took four steps toward him. “But you were smart enough to manipulate my feelings. You had me wrapped around your finger, and yet you never felt anything. Boy, that must have been fun. Was it fun, Sean?” she said, jabbing at his chest with an open palm. He backed up against the wall.
“You don’t understand,” he said, his voice like ice.
“Was it a thrill breaking a naive young woman’s heart? Did you enjoy it?”
She closed in on him, their bodies nearly touching. His green eyes burned with rage; his lids fell to half-mast as if steeling himself from her assault.
“I’ll bet you enjoyed breaking my heart like your old man enjoyed breaking your mother’s body, limb by limb.” She felt his breath warm her skin. “Like you want to do to me now. You want me out of your face, don’t you? Well, I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you move me.”
Her heart ached at the pain in his eyes. But she wasn’t afraid of his anger. She knew this was the only way.
“Come on, tough guy.” She shoved at his chest. Once. Twice. On the third shove, he grabbed her wrists and squeezed tight.
But not too tight. They stared into each other’s eyes. Her heart pounded in her ears.
“What are you trying to do?” he rasped.
“Love you.”
He released her wrists and dropped his hands to his sides as if in surrender.
“Let it go,” she said.
“What?”
“The fear of becoming your father. The self-control that you wear like steel around your heart.”
“I can’t. It’s the only thing that keeps me from being like him. It’s my salvation.”
“It’s your jailer. It keeps you from feeling, from living.”
“It keeps me from hurting,” he said.
“You’re hurting now.”
“I’ve gotta get out of here.” He pushed past her and started for the door.
“Coward.” She grabbed a ceramic mug and threw it, hitting him squarely in the back.
“What the—” He spun around and she threw a toothbrush, then a box of matches. He blocked them with his hands.
“Run away, coward. Go on.” She picked up a log.
“Put it down,” he said.
“Or what? You’re going to stop me from throwing it?”
She wielded it over her shoulder, ready to let it fly. In three strides, he pinned her to the wall and swiped the log from her hands.