Nameless Surrender

by Kristin Daniels

  He wouldn't hurt me, he'd never hurt me.

  She broke from his kiss and pushed again. “Stop."

  He stilled and eased from her. “Zoe?"

  Now it was her turn to freeze. “What? How'd you—"

  "Shh.” A finger pressed to her lips as a hand came to cover hers, the one that lay on his chest. When he pressed her hand into his sweaty skin, the pressure magnified the fast rhythm of his heart. The hard, steady beats seeped into her palm and matched the heavy thumps of her own.

  After a moment he lifted her hand and moved it along his skin to his shoulder. Rough, spiky ridges poked her fingertips there. They felt, oddly enough, like ... stitches.

  On his shoulder.

  Her name.

  Then it hit her.

  Dean?

  "Oh, God...."

  He released the tie on the blindfold. As it fell away, she squeezed her eyes tighter and shook her head. She wanted to drown in denial, to never find out the truth of this.

  He couldn't be.

  There's no way.

  Warm fingers grasped her chin. “Zoe, look at me."

  The voice. Dean's voice.

  "Open your eyes."

  She did, and cringed. Deep, dark eyes full of consternation stared back. God, she'd been right. Betrayal stabbed like a knife deep within her. She swallowed her agony. “I don't understand. You're..."

  "Dean, baby. Your lover. Your friend."

  "Friend? A friend would never do this. Pretend to be ... How could you?” Dying inside, she searched his eyes for answers but found none. “We had an agreement. No names. No identity.” She sucked in a breath and let it out on a sob. “All along ... you knew who I was all along."

  He shook his head, but still held her chin. “No. I didn't. I never knew who you were. Not until you walked into that exam room."

  The night she'd planned to meet him at The Haze Bar. Snippets of their heated exchange while she stitched him up rang in her ears.

  "So, Zoe Grant, M.D., think you can fix me?"

  "...I won't complain too much if you happen to offer a little T.L.C., Doc."

  "Have a drink there with me, instead of whoever you were supposed to meet."

  Christ, he must've had a good laugh that night. A very real pain clenched her stomach as the proverbial blade cut even deeper. Tears burned her eyes. “You bastard. You could've said something—anything—instead of toying with me like that."

  He held her tight, even as she tried to push from his strong grip.

  Desperation flowed over his expression. “You know as well as I do that I couldn't. And I never toyed with you. Not once, Zoe. That night in the ER had been the chance I'd waited months for. I took it. And if I had it to do over all over again, I wouldn't change a goddamn thing."

  The words swam in her ears in a jumbled mess. She couldn't understand them, didn't want to. Her heart hurt and she was more confused than she'd ever been. “Let go of me. I need to leave. I have to go!"

  She squirmed and pushed at him, but he wouldn't relent.

  "No, you need to listen to me. Let me explain."

  She slapped his hand away from her jaw. “Talk all you want. It doesn't matter."

  "Yes, it does, Zoe. How I ... how we feel matters the most."

  She stopped at his words. “We? There is no ‘we'.” She narrowed her eyes. “There never was and there never will be."

  Grief passed over his face, and she took the opportunity to flee. After one final shove against his chest, he gave way and let her go. She pulled up the bodice of the dress, grabbed her clothes and purse, and ran.

  It took every ounce of power she had not to look back.

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  Nameless Surrender: Chapter 10

  "And you just let her leave? Didn't try to stop her?"

  Dean rose from his brother's couch and stalked to the window. “Of course I tried to stop her. Shit, Wes, I'm not that thickheaded. But I also didn't want to make it worse by forcing her. I knew this might happen. Now I have to deal with it."

  "How?"

  Yeah, good question. He knew she needed a few days to cool off and let the shock settle some.

  Shock, hell.

  What he witnessed on her face last night couldn't be described as anything less than pain. A pain he put there, that he was responsible for. His stomach tightened at all the hurt he caused her.

  And at the same time, he hoped she'd forgive him for his sudden imitation of a sex-starved teenager. Christ, he'd love to kick his own ass for losing control like that and scaring her. But at the time, he couldn't help it. He'd snapped, wanting her so desperately he lost all train of rational thought.

  "I'll just have to make her see, that's all—” He turned from the window as his other brothers walked through the front door of Wes's house.

  Cam greeted him with an easy grin. “I hear all sorts of exciting things happened at Aunt Bev's shop last night."

  Aidan followed close behind, threw his duffle bag onto a nearby chair and slumped onto the couch. His feet landed with a hard thud on the coffee table. “I knew your kinks would get you in trouble some day, Dean-o."

  Dean glared at Wes. “What the hell? I told you all that in confidence, pinhead. What'd you do, take an ad out in the paper? Dean Lucas Fucks Up Big Time?"

  Wes lifted his hands, palms out. “Chill, bro. It's not often we're all together. I just thought since they came in town for Bev's birthday, we could offer you some support.” He kicked Aiden's boots off the table. “Some of us more than others, it seems."

  Aidan straightened. “Hey, I'm supportive. You want my opinion? Go after her. Take what you want."

  Dean let out a sarcastic laugh. “Yeah, this comes from the little punk-ass that can't keep a girlfriend more than a month. Excuse the hell out of me if I take that advice with a grain of salt."

  "It's not my fault those girls can't handle me. Besides, I'm too much man for just one woman. Need to spread the wealth, you know, play a little pass-the-Aidan.” He laughed at his own joke while Dean and Wes looked at each other and shook their heads.

  "That juvenile attitude, little brother,” Cam said as he walked to the kitchen, “is why no woman will ever stay with you.” He returned a few seconds later, four beers in hand. He tossed one to each of them before he twisted the cap on his own.

  Dean's momentary relief that the focus no longer lay on him proved to be short lived. Wes pulled a chair from his small dining room table, spun and straddled it. “So, you were saying before these bozos walked in something about making Zoe see. Got any plans?"

  Dean tossed back a gulp of his beer. “Not yet. She needs a couple days. Then I'll go to her, set this whole mess right."

  "That's it?” Cam interjected. “That's your brilliant plan?"

  Dean shot to his feet. “Got any better ideas? If you do, man, I'm all ears.” He ran a hand through his hair and huffed out a breath. “Shit. Listen, this whole damn thing got out of whack because I fucked up. I hadn't been one hundred percent honest with her. That's all I can do now. Go to her and be as honest as I can. Make her see. Get it?"

  They all became quiet before Wes broke the silence. “Exactly what is it you plan on telling her?"

  Dean turned to stare out the window. “The only thing I can tell her. The truth."

  "Which is?” Cam pressed.

  Dean turned back to his brothers. “That I'm in love with her."

  * * * *

  Zoe's tears throughout the night gave her the mother of all headaches. While she sat at her kitchen table bent over a cup of steamy coffee, she rubbed her temples and massaged fingers into her scalp, but nothing helped. She doubted anything would. Not after last night. Not after the fresh bout of heartache.

  The knowledge that Dean and her partner at Entice were one and the same confused the hell out of her. She didn't know if she wanted to laugh, or cry all over again. The back-and-forth thoughts of which man to choose exhausted her. She'd debated whom she felt more attached to, which
man she wanted more. Now all the turmoil that had taken place inside her made sense. The decision had been so difficult because there'd been only one man to begin with.

  That annoying little voice in the back of her mind tried to rationalize with her. It told her that she could have everything she wanted. Two fascinating, overtly sexual men rolled into one. A whole man who could possibly be everything she'd searched for her entire life. What more could a woman want?

  The answer came all too quickly.

  Honesty.

  She hadn't gotten that from Dean. Would a little truth have been too much to ask for that night at the hospital? Or how about the entire time they'd been on the boat? He could've said something, anything.

  And her reaction would've been? Probably not much different at first. She'd still have felt humiliated and betrayed. But if he had cared enough to be honest with her from the get-go, at least attempted to have a reasonable discussion and explain, that would have made all the difference.

  But he didn't.

  And that's what killed her.

  The grandfather clock in her living room chimed ten o'clock. She was due at her father's in an hour for their monthly let's-pretend-we're-still-a-loving-family brunch. Sure, she could cancel, go back to bed with a pint of rocky road and a bag of chocolate chip cookies to wallow for the rest of the day, but the fallout from missing the meal would be even worse than the torturous hour she'd spend there in the first place. Best to go and get it over with. The ice cream and cookies would wait until she got back home.

  She popped four ibuprofen and moved on autopilot through her shower and subsequent morning routine. Her heart wasn't in any of it, into anything. How could it be, when it had been shattered into dozens of tiny pieces?

  After she threw on a pair of jeans and a sweater, she combed her hair into an easy ponytail and dragged her ass out to her car. Lost in deep thought as she was, the thirty-minute drive to her father's flew by in a flash. She pulled into the circular drive of her childhood home, not entirely certain how she got there.

  She trudged to the front door, pushed her way through and followed the sound of voices to the formal dining room. When she walked in, her father looked up from the head of the table. Stephen, seated to his left, glanced at her with an awkward smile.

  Wonderful.

  She moved to the sideboard and poured a cup of coffee. “Really, it's too early for an ambush."

  "Ambush nothing, little Zoe. Stephen's here because I asked him to come."

  She sipped the liquid caffeine and slid him a “yeah, right” look.

  "Come, sit. The food is getting cold."

  Oh, please.

  She felt like a tiny mouse with its foot caught in a trap. Maybe, with any luck, they'd pounce fast, chew her up and spit her out so she could get out of here in a hurry and back home. Chocolate awaited.

  She slipped onto the chair opposite Stephen. “Can we not do this? Not today, please."

  Stephen cleared his throat and wiped his mouth with the sturdy cloth napkin. “I only wanted to apologize, Zoe, for the other night. Coming to you like I did, in that condition, wasn't right. I've done a lot of thinking since then, some major soul-searching, if you will—"

  She sighed, completely worn out. They'd gone ‘round and ‘round with this so many times. Why couldn't he understand? “Stephen, I'm not taking you back. I've said so over and over. And, frankly, I don't really understand why you'd want me to. I'm not what you want. You and I both know it. Can't we just leave it at that and move on?"

  God, how she wanted to. But, naturally, her father interfered. “Nonsense. Of course you're what he wants. Who else would it be?"

  She peered at Stephen, and then looked away. With her emotions already on overload, to deal with this now seemed too much for her to handle.

  "I think, Max, she's referring to the person she caught me with."

  Her gaze flew to his. Sympathy and remorse coated his expression.

  "I.... It wasn't just who, Stephen. You know that."

  After a moment, her father set his coffee cup gently in the saucer. “I get the distinct impression I'm missing something of importance here."

  Okay, could this get any more uncomfortable? Not only was she in turmoil over Dean, but to have a conversation with her father about her bi-sexual ex-husband who'd cheated on her? Just shoot me now.

  When neither of them answered, her father narrowed his eyes at Stephen. “Whom did she catch you with?"

  Stephen straightened, pushed his shoulders back and tossed the napkin on the table. He looked at her with sadness in his eyes. “I'm sorry, Zoe. Please, let me finish what I wanted to say.” Ignoring her father, he reached across the table to hold her hand. “You were right, you know, what you said to me after our divorce. I should've told you the truth—hell, I should've told myself the truth—and called off the wedding. But instead, I pretended to be something I wasn't and lived my life in a lie. It wasn't fair for me to bring you into that. I hope you can forgive me."

  Without getting into more detail in front of her father, she said, “All I ever wanted was for us to be honest with each other. And when I saw you, and realized, well, that's what hurt the most. It was never so much about who, Stephen, but why."

  He caressed her palm. Memories of Dean doing the same flooded her mind and made her ache all over again. Why did all the men in her life lie? What made telling the truth so damn difficult?

  Her father's gruff voice interrupted her thoughts. “Would someone mind filling me in on what we're talking about?"

  In a flash, frustration filled her. “Yes, Daddy. I do mind,” she snapped. “This is between me and Stephen. Stop making everything about you."

  Stephen squeezed her hand. “No, no, it's okay. I'm tired of all the hiding. It's time for me to stand up and be who I really am. Max,” he said, turning to her father, “Zoe caught me with Richard Monroe."

  Well, if anything could shut up Maxwell Grant, that would do it. He sputtered for a moment before his expression became impassive, and then he fell silent.

  "Oh. I see.” He cleared his throat, and a second later shook his head. “But you love Zoe. You've told me so on many occasions. Granted, this is something I don't have any experience with, but I'm sure some sort of agreement can be made between the two of you. A compromise, if you will. As I've said before, compatibility is what's important. You two have that going for you. All the rest can be worked out, one way or another."

  God, he just didn't get it. “No, Daddy!” She pushed from the table and stood. “Don't you see? Stephen and I can't make each other truly happy, and that's what's important. Happiness. Not settling for anything less, never compromising.” She lowered her voice. “I won't ever do that again."

  Her father rose from his chair as well. “You need someone to take care of you, child. I won't be—"

  "—around forever. Yes, I know. And I'm sorry, Daddy. Really, I am.” She suppressed the tears that threatened to flow. God, how had her life become such an emotional roller coaster? “Yes, you're dying. And it's unfair. But you have to let me live my life. Stop trying to take control. I can handle it, I promise."

  "It's always been my job to take care of you. Regardless of what I've learned today, Stephen is a good man. He's the only one I trust to see to your needs after I'm gone."

  Stephen got up, came around the table to Zoe's side and slid an arm around her shoulder. “And I will Max. I'll always be here if Zoe needs anything. She knows that."

  She clasped her father's big hands in her own. For the first time in her life, she didn't feel ten years old around him. No, this time, she felt every one of her thirty years. “Let's not spend what time you have left fighting over this, please. You may not see it, but I'm a strong, confident woman, Daddy. You have to believe that."

  It took a long moment, but he seemed to reconcile with her statement. He nodded. “I know you are. I may never have told you, little Zoe, but you've exceeded all my dreams and expectations. You've blossomed into a v
ibrant young woman. One your mother would've been so proud of."

  Little pieces of her broken heart melded back together. Never had her father uttered such loving and comforting words. Her tears escaped and ran down her cheeks as she left Stephen's arm to hug him. “Thank you, Daddy."

  Max kissed the top of her head and released her, but still held onto her shoulders. “So tell me, my dear, any plans for finding this great happiness you're looking for?"

  She sniffled, wiped at her eyes and chuckled. Yeah, she thought she'd had that all figured out, but those plans didn't work out so well.

  She stopped for a moment to study her father. The hard lines of his appearance softened and he didn't seem so harsh any more. He'd transformed somehow, his earlier words showing proof to her that people had it in them to change.

  And that made her think of Dean. Had she judged him too quickly? With all the trouble he'd gone through just to meet with her, and how thoughtful he'd been on their date, she now thought that perhaps she had. A few more pieces of her heart fused back together at the realization.

  Her father lifted a brow. “So?"

  A smile snuck up on her. “I think I do, Daddy.” Butterflies raced in her stomach. “I think I do."

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  Nameless Surrender: Chapter 11

  Dean waited as long as he could, but couldn't hold out the entire two days. Late that afternoon, after he'd worn a path in the carpet, Wes gave him an ultimatum. Either go to the boat with him, Cam and Aidan to try and relax, or go find Zoe. He picked finding Zoe in a heartbeat.

  He broke every posted speed limit to get to her condo, and then spent the next ten minutes with his finger plastered on the buzzer of the intercom before he finally gave up. Either she didn't want to speak to him—a distinct possibility—or she simply wasn't there. He had to believe that instead of imagining her inside the condo pretending to not be home. The last thing he wanted to accept, despite the finality of her words last night, was that he'd fucked up his chances entirely.

  His next option brought him to the hospital. Once inside, he flashed his badge and asked to have Dr. Grant paged, only to be told she'd called in sick earlier that morning. He stormed back to his truck with only one alternative left.