Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Asnake of dread slithered down Aleksei’s spine as they entered the homey cabin.
They’d both used the hot water showers near the beach to warm up when they got out of the lake, but Rose’s full lips still had a slightly blue cast. He normally preferred tent camping, but he was grateful she’d rented a modern cabin.
He hated the thought of her being cold. As she flipped on the lights, he found the thermostat and ratcheted up the heat while the dogs barked and scampered excitedly around them.
“I’m going to change into clean clothes.” Rose gave him an impish grin as she walked toward her bedroom with Thor at her heels. “It seemed like such a good idea to go in the lake, but I didn’t think about having to put back on my gross, sweaty hiking clothes.”
“I’ll change too,” he said.
His legs felt heavy as he entered his tent and changed into clean underwear, a T-shirt, jeans, and a flannel.
The snake in his stomach had grown into a full-blown den.
When he went back into the cabin, he was going to have to sit Rose down and tell her the truth.
The entire truth. Not just the bits and pieces of honesty he’d mixed in with feigned coincidence and omission.
He still wanted to nail Moresco. Needed to.
He’d never be content until Phillipe’s murderer was brought to justice.
But his feelings for Rosemary had grown too strong too fast. Admiration had blossomed into affection, and now affection seemed far too weak a word for the intense emotion that stretched his carefully walled-off heart.
He hadn’t meant for it to happen, but loyalty to Phillipe and loyalty to Rose now held equal sway.
It was time to come clean. Even if she knew Moresco was a little shady, there was no way she knew the extent of his crimes.
She’d never knowingly be involved with someone like that. Her spirit was too pure and bright.
He couldn’t think of one good reason to put off telling her the truth.
He wasn’t worried that she’d tell Pannetone or Moresco about him.
Even if she was furious with him for lying, she’d never intentionally put him or anyone else in danger.
Her heart was simply too good. His real fear was that she would shut him out.
He had to find a way to convince her to help him.
The problem was, every variation of the conversation he envisioned ended with her kicking him in the nuts and telling him she never wanted to see him again.
He pressed two fingers into the bridge of his nose.
If there was an afterlife and Phillipe was watching him, Phillipe would tell him he was a royal fuckup.
And he’d be right. Even Jaka seemed to be giving him the side-eye from where he lounged in the corner of the tent.
The law of Karma is inexorable and impossible of evasion.
That’s what Phillipe would say. The fucking Gandhi quotes always hit the nail on the head.
Karma was coming for him. Better to tell the truth now and get it over with, or the payback would just keep getting worse.
The door was heavy in his hand, and his sneakers felt like they were lined with concrete as he entered the cabin. He could see straight through the living area to the kitchen. The sight that greeted him nailed his leaden feet to the floor despite Jaka pulling at her leash.
Rose stood in front of the stovetop, her hand on a spoon submerged in a large silver pot.
She looked cozy in black sweatpants and a gray sweatshirt that read Theodore’s Dance Academy in pink lettering.
Puffy pink slippers covered her feet where Thor sat, tail wagging in excitement.
The heat had returned the pink hue to her lips and cheeks, but her mouth was pushed up into an uncomfortable smile.
It wasn’t her clothes or slippers or face that froze his limbs.
It was the almost pearly white shine of her completely bare head.
Rosemary had taken off her wig.
She looked different, yet the same. Her skull was paler than her face, but the difference wasn’t striking.
The lack of hair highlighted her features.
Her long straight nose seemed straighter.
Her sultry, blue eyes looked larger and sexier.
Her lush pink lips appeared fuller, her cheekbones higher, the curve of her jaw more pronounced.
The absence of hair gave her an aura of strength.
As if a mask of softness had been stripped away, leaving only a rock-solid core.
He knew he was staring, knew he should say something, knew too many wordless seconds were passing, and that she might misinterpret his silence.
But his mouth wouldn’t move. He’d never frozen in battle, never frozen on an op no matter what he’d faced, but terror had now overtaken his initial shock.
Rose standing before him, bare and exposed, was more expressive than any words she could speak.
This was a sign of faith, a sign of trust.
She was trusting him with her true self. Trusting him to accept her.
And it was fucking terrifying.
He didn’t care that she was bald. He would be attracted to her no matter how she looked because her soul was beautiful.
But he didn’t want this show of trust. He couldn’t handle the expectation implicit in her action.
She hadn’t even let her sister witness her bare head.
With this one action, she’d elevated him above her family.
It was too much.
She’d rewritten the rules of the game, and he’d frozen because he had no idea how to make another move. In the water, she’d said she wanted them to enjoy the moment. That they didn’t need to worry about commitments or the future. That she didn’t want anyone to feel responsible for her.
But this leap of faith undercut every one of those words. This was a sign that she was opening her heart to him, that she was trusting him to accept her and do the right thing by her. It was the kind of trust one partner put in another. He couldn’t live with that kind of responsibility.
Not again.
Panic squeezed his ribs. He felt like he was in a falling elevator.
He internalized his emotions, but they were there, silently screaming inside him.
He’d fail her just like he’d failed Phillipe.
He’d already failed her with his lies and omissions.
By having sex with her before telling her about his mission.
Once he told her the truth, she would hate him.
And even though he couldn’t let himself be bound to her, couldn’t trust himself to take care of her, the thought of losing her was a knife to the chest.
She broke the silence. “Shut the door. You’re letting the cold air in.”
Her voice was calm and even, as if he hadn’t gaped at her for two minutes in utter silence.
He couldn’t move. He was like the mythic soldiers who hadn’t averted their eyes from Medusa. The concrete in his shoes was turning his entire body to stone. As soon as he shut that door, he would be trapped. He would have to face the trust Rosemary was thrusting on him.
The warm air in the cabin was pregnant with expectation. Her baldness was the elephant in the room. The soul she’d bared when she’d taken off her wig hung in the space between them, eager for acceptance. Her hope was like an anchor around his neck.
He couldn’t think. He had no fucking clue what to say. The woodsy crispness of the cool air flowing through the open door was a tantalizing temptation.
It smelled like peace. It smelled like escape.
“I forgot a razor. I’m going to run up to the park office and see if they have one.”
The excuse was weak, but it was the first thing that popped into his mind.
He needed time and space. He needed the brisk, clean air to clear his head.
He needed to put distance between himself and Rose before he found himself making promises he couldn’t keep.
He needed to be free from the nervous hope that filled her gaze.
He needed to delay the inevitable expression of disgust he would see when he told her the truth.
He tugged on Jaka’s leash, pulling her out the door with him. He couldn’t get to his truck fast enough.
He was a fucking coward.
His heart was still hammering in his chest when his phone sprang to life, jumping and buzzing in the cupholder as he rounded the last bend in the road leading to the park office.
It didn’t stop until after he’d turned into the parking lot and backed into one of the parking spots.
He hadn’t had cell service since he pulled away from the office last night.
Several rural parks still lacked consistent service, so he wasn’t surprised when it conked out.
What did surprise him was the dance his phone had just done in the cupholder.
He grabbed the phone, still chilly from resting in his hiking pack all day. He’d brought it with them on the hike and checked it multiple times, but service had never kicked in. Now he had thirty-six text messages, thirteen missed calls, and five voicemails. In less than twenty-four hours.
“Shit.”
His back stiffened. Moisture evaporated from his already too-dry mouth.
Since Phillipe died, an all-consuming fear flowed under the surface of his skin, waiting to break through at any hint that something could be wrong with someone he cared about.
He wanted to double down and ignore the bad news that had been sitting, waiting to spring to life on his phone screen, but guilt from walking out on Rosemary had already become acid in his gut. He wasn’t going to let fear win again.
He took a swig from his water bottle, but the liquid did little to alleviate the sand-parched feeling in his throat.
He entered his passcode and braced himself.
All the voice messages and calls were from his mother and sister.
Most of the texts were from them as well, and they all had the same theme:
I heard about the fire.
Are you all right?
Call me.
I’m getting really worried.
Call me.