Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jess
T he waiter cleared our appetizer plates as we sat in silence.
I fumed.
The waiter brought our entrees.
I fumed some more. And then nearly groaned aloud at the first bite of my steak because it was so gloriously delicious, it almost made up for having to sit across from a man I loathed.
No one could say I hadn’t made a valiant effort tonight. I was absolved of any guilt when it came to this dinner or anything else. Plus, who said married couples were always happy? What if this was my caustic husband’s last-ditch effort to salvage a marriage that’d been doomed from the start? Couples fought. Relationships failed. Marriages imploded .
Ask me how I know. Though at least I hadn’t actually married Kurt before he’d lost it and left both the unit and me—when he’d refused to accept my help or my love for him, and he’d pushed me and everyone else we knew away.
And left me just like everyone else did.
Nope! Not a helpful thought. Not something we should whine about, and when we start thinking of ourselves in first-person plural… we can confirm working with Beast is taking its toll.
The man sitting across from me had played a prime role in all of it. I did my best not to actively remember the conversation where Kurt revealed how Beast had lit my entire life on fire, but it intruded on my thoughts now, the memory cutting through me like a slap.
I saw myself five years ago, standing there in the North Carolina heat as Kurt turned away from me.
“Why are you leaving me? This has nothing to do with our relationship. You’re retiring, that’s great. I’ll be out in another few years and in the meantime, you can?—”
“You don’t get it, Jessie. I can’t stay in a place where my best friend— former best friend—betrayed me. Where he told the command lies about me and they believed him.”
He looked so broken. Not the confident, swaggering man who’d slowly broken down my walls and won me over.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know why he’d do that, but it doesn’t mean we can’t stay together. I believe you. It’s messed up, but you’re not getting kicked out. You can still retire, even if it’s sooner than you’d planned, and we?—”
“No, dammit, Jessie. He’ll stop at nothing to take everything away from me. He took my career because he can’t bend, can’t be creative, can’t imagine doing something a little unconventional, and now he’s gunning for you. He’ll try to tell you lies about me, and my one request here is that you don’t believe him. Don’t let him tarnish the memory of what we had.”
The memory.
I snapped back into the present moment, appetite lost.
Beast ate steadily, clearly no lack of interest in food like my own, and a level of manners I didn’t realize he possessed. It was a wonder he could eat while I sat here, bereft of the desire, but I supposed he had to fuel his giant body somehow.
His avid dining made me senselessly furious, and I promised myself I wouldn’t think about the other conversation that’d changed my life years ago—the one I’d had with a man I thought I’d known. I’d been engaged to Kurt, but Jude had been my friend. He’d been important to me. And it would never add up, never make sense, never shake out for as long as I lived.
I swallowed the bite I’d been chewing and followed it with half my glass of wine. “You know, that’s a great point. Why would you tell me anything?”
He’d refused years ago and ever since, so he had a point, and I was playing the fool yet again. We’d put on a show long enough so I tucked my napkin to the side of my plate as I mentally apologized to the chef for wasting such a beautiful steak even though it sounded repellent to me by now. I stood, then bent to whisper in his ear.
“All appearances will look like I’m whispering sweet nothings in your ear—asking for you to come celebrate in private, to bring some champagne or dessert to the room and all that. Enjoy your dinner, Beast, and the company you’re best at keeping.”
I took my time walking away, a saucy little smile on my lips like I was going to slip into something less comfortable for my husband and not like I was strategically retreating to my room where I could shower off the bone-deep chill brought on by memories of my ex, and the reality of the person I was sharing this suite with, and bury myself in a romance novel as soon as possible.
I’d recover by tomorrow. We’d finish the mission. Then, hopefully, our only contact would be clipped interactions at work when we were forced into a room by briefings.
The zero-two check-in went fine. It wasn’t exactly normal to be sneaking around a hotel at two in the morning, but since we were trained operatives, stealth was firmly in our arsenal. We confirmed all staffing and security measures, walked the perimeter, and checked all the boxes. We did this in total silence, each accomplishing our list in record time.
Afterward, I entered our suite first and locked my bedroom door without looking back or saying a word because what would I say? We’d be forced into the proximity of sitting in the car together later today, so I’d reserve all my conversational fortitude for then.
Sleep came and went like a summer storm, and by the time we tucked our bags into the trunk and loaded into the vehicle, I was counting the minutes until I could get more than a few feet from him.
Halfway back to Silverton, I shifted in my seat, restlessness hounding me and too many questions—too many things I’d never said, or only said once, trying to crawl up my throat. I was worn down from the lack of sleep and probably the sheer volume of frustration pumping through my veins. Could one have a frustration-induced heart attack?
He made a sound just softer than his usual grunt, as though in response to my thoughts. Whether due to the poor sleep or the stress of being shoved into this situation with him, I snapped.
“Why are you so… frustrating? Why can’t you just be a civil human being?”
He didn’t respond, which only fueled my fire.
“You walk around acting like I did you wrong. We both know that’s not true. You ruined my life. You took everything from me, and?—”
“No.”
“No? That’s not a response. That—that doesn’t even enter the conversation here. NO? ” I crossed my arms and tucked them close, every muscle in my body tensed with fury and a wild sense that any minute now, I was going to completely lose it on this man.
“No.”
His hand flexed on the steering wheel, and the sign indicating five miles to Silverton popped up. Maybe I’d time-traveled courtesy of my rampant frustration.
“No,” I muttered, disbelieving this was all he had to offer. Why did I bother speaking at all when he could hardly be troubled to do me the simple respect of the same?
“I’m not the villain in your story, Pop. Never was.”
I scoffed so hard, I nearly choked. The fire in me stuttered out and utter wrath froze everything but my now steady heart. He navigated through town and parked the fleet car at the back of the Saint building. I unbuckled before the tires settled.
My muscles coiled with tension and words stacked up on the tip of my tongue, but I kept my jaw locked tight, unwilling to let loose another ounce of effort.
The driver’s side door shut right as the trunk popped open. His giant form literally cast a shadow as he approached, but I kept my eyes on my bag. I reached for the handle, but his hand beat me to it, and he yanked it from the trunk.
“Listen, I—” he cut off, failing to finish the thought, his face dark.
Failing to calm the ravenous anger rearing up in me, I exhaled slowly so I wouldn’t scream. He held my bag hostage at his side, and for some reason, that was the ice pick to the frosty lake of my malice.
“I won’t listen to a man who refuses to accept responsibility for what he did. I asked you why and you’ve never told me. You’ve asked me to trust you, expected it, and how could I? How can I trust a man who ruined everything I had with my fiancé—who took away our future?”
His jaw flexed and his nostrils flared a touch, like he needed more air.
“You’re boorish and selfish and I thought you used to have a heart, but I can see the only thing that matters to you is living in your little bat cave of solitude and doing whatever the hell you want. Fine . Pretend you had nothing to do with ruining my relationship. Pretend you aren’t the villain. Pretend that grunting and speaking in three-word sentences is an appropriate way for an adult man to behave, especially after you were the one to ruin your best friend’s career because you were petty and—and I don’t even know why else. In your heart of hearts, you know the truth, but if not—” Emotion tripped me up and I cleared my throat. “If not, then that honestly sounds about right, and I have nothing more to say to you. ”
I yanked my bag from his hand and stormed toward my own car, satisfaction and a sick, heartbroken sensation winding through me with every step I gained away from him.