29. Chapter Three
Chapter Three
M addie
Shit. It’s Stryker. Who else would be knocking on my door after nine o’clock at night? For a moment I consider ignoring him, but I want to be fair. The guy loves me. Did I really think he’d just take my lame ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech and never darken my door again? I owe him more.
“Hey,” I say when the door opens. I don’t dare to do more than glance at his handsome face before my gaze skitters from his. I half expected him to be furious, but of course, he isn’t. He’s full of concern.
He’s the best male I’ve ever known. That’s part of the reason I have to make him go away before I slip deeper into depression and pull him down with me. No one could be around the black hole of my depression and remain unscathed. It’s ugly and scary enough being on the inside of it, it would be terrible to watch someone you love go through it knowing you can’t do anything to help. There’s no reason both of us have to circle the drain.
I step aside, allowing him in, then sit at the table, expecting round two of the ‘we can’t do this anymore’ talk.
“You should give me another chance,” he says.
His eyes are full of sadness, and something else.
“I’ve given this a lot of thought, Stryker. It’s not a whim or passing fancy. It will be for the best, you’ll see.”
“I should have told you I love you,” his voice is that deep husk I usually only hear in bed. It sparks desire low in my belly at the same time his words strike fear in my heart.
“You let it slip a few times. I know how you feel,” I admit. At least I have the good manners to look down at my hands folded in my lap, a contrite expression on my face.
“You knew this would wound me,” the words are accusatory, but there’s no hostility in his tone. It’s more of a question, as if he can’t believe I’d do anything to purposefully hurt him. “Why are you doing this?”
Ahh, the million-dollar question. The one I can’t answer, at least not to his satisfaction. No one who hasn’t taken the express train to the hell that is depression could understand my answer. It just sounds like lame excuses.
I don’t answer for long minutes as I roll around a thousand possible explanations in my mind. He was illiterate when I met him, but he’s far from dumb. It’s not his IQ that would make my confession hard to understand, it’s the fact that unless you’ve been in the deep hole of depression, you think that telling someone to think happy thoughts is enough to make it better.
“You wouldn't understand.”
His face squeezes in anger and he pounds the table with one fist, then immediately apologizes.
“Sorry, Maddie, but you owe me an explanation I can understand.”
I’ve never seen him angry before. Well, that’s not true, I’ve seen him angry plenty of times—at the people who are pursuing us across the galaxy to re-enslave us. I’ve just never seen him angry at me.
His brief outburst was a stroke of luck. Now I have a good excuse to tell him to leave.
“You need to leave, Stryker,” I keep my voice soft and my eyes downcast. I don’t want to poke the bear, especially a big, red gladiator bear.
When I glance up, I see a dozen expressions fly across his face in quick succession, then he rises. Instead of leaving, though, he strides in front of the door and says, “You’re not leaving.”
What the hell? For a moment I feel a jolt of fear, but he’s on the other side of the room looking more uncertain than angry.
“Stryker. Come on. Don’t do this. You really don’t want to do this, do you? Make me comm for help? Embarrass both of us in front of everyone on the ship?”
“No one will come to your aid. I’ve cleared it with Zar. He’s given us a week to work things out.” His eyes flick to the clock, then back at me. “At 9:58 seven days from now, the door will open and I’ll walk out either with or without you. Until then, we’re locked in together. We just have each other.”
“Motherfucker! You’re not joking!” Ending our relationship and kicking him out of my cabin were breaking my heart, but hearing this? White-hot fury rips through me like a runaway train.
“Totally serious,” he says as he nods his head.
I can’t wrap my head around the fact that my friend with benefits and my captain have conspired to lock me in my cabin for a week.
“I’m comm’ing Anya,” I say as I bring my wrist to my lips. “She’ll never allow this.”
“She’s in agreement.” He’s hanging his head. At least he has the good manners to act contrite.
“You . . .” I’m in shock territory now. “You discussed it with Zar and Anya?”
He nods, his eyes focused on the floor.
“You’re not looking at me, Stryker. What else aren’t you telling me?”
“The discussion started with just me and Dax.” He stops talking when I make a mocking harrumph sound in the back of my throat. “Then Zar and Shadow came in and pretty much everyone on the ship wound up discussing it before the conversation was over.”
Mortified. I’m standing here paralyzed imagining every single one of my shipmates discussing me as if I was a science experiment. Hugging my waist with my arms, I plop into my chair. If I wasn’t five-foot-four and Stryker wasn’t a giant red gladiator, I would rush him right now and pound my fists on his chest.
“Don’t cry, Maddie,” I say to myself, not even caring if he hears me or not.
“Don’t feel bad, Mads, they all care about both of us and want us to be happy.”
Happy? This whole situation is because I’m incapable of being happy.
Instead of nurturing my sadness, though, I force a litany of angry thoughts to fly through my head. Anger at Stryker, at Zar, and at everyone on the ship—they’re all complicit. Then I fly across the room and press the palm plate. No-go.
I run to the only safe haven I still have—the bathroom.
To Stryker’s credit, he doesn’t gloat, and he doesn’t wheedle. After a while, I hear vids playing softly in the next room.
I can’t stay in here for seven days. I’ll just have to march out there and make the best of it.
Perhaps at the end of the week he’ll have a better understanding that me breaking up with him is a favor, a gift. After seven days in this cabin with me, he’ll have all the information he needs to know he dodged a bullet.
Stryker
Dax should never have suggested this. Zar should have never agreed. This is the worst idea in the history of the universe. If I thought she didn’t like me before, that was nothing compared to now. It’s a good thing she didn’t have access to a laser weapon. If she had, I’d be lying in a charred, dead heap on the floor.
“We’ll need ground rules,” she tells me with a serious stare as she emerges from the refresher. “I’ll need to have ways to keep my distance. I wouldn’t want this to feel like a honeymoon. That would defeat the purpose.”
There’s the Maddie I know. Perhaps she’s skipped over the wanting-to-kill-me phase and is firmly in the how-to-tolerate-this-for-a-week phase.
“Yes,” I agree.
“No sex,” she says, her face unreadable.
She glances at me to see if this will anger me. I’m not going to argue. If I had to bet on which one of us will cave first, my credits are on her.
“Fine.”
“No touching of any kind.”
I don’t think that was in her original plan, perhaps she just wants to see if she can rile me.
“If that’s what you want.”
“Of course, that’s what I want! That’s why I broke up with you.” She rolls her eyes. I must admit, I hate when she does that.
“Your other rules?” I ask.
“You can’t make me talk.”
She’s acting childish. I get it. She feels powerless and wants to find a way to feel in control of something.
“I have ground rules, too. We need to talk for half an hoara every day. Until we do that, no vids.” Although it sounds as if I’m talking to a child, I know Maddie. She goes crazy if she’s not busy. Without being able to cook, she’ll go insane with nothing to do.
Her mouth drops open. “You wouldn’t dare make that rule!”
“I already did,” I say flatly.
“That will kill me, Stryker. I have to keep my mind busy,” her tone is pleading.
I don’t answer. I don’t want to act like her master. I just know it will help ensure she talks to me which is what this is all about.
“I hate you right now.” Her gaze spears mine as if she just struck me. I would feel bad except for the fact that she can’t maintain it. Her focus flies to the floor.
“Come to bed, Love,” I tell her with a small smile as I pat the bed. It’s an invitation as well as a clear announcement that her other edicts have been overruled.
She stalks to the closet and grabs two extra pillows from the top shelf. She lines them end-to-end down the middle of the bed, making a clear line of demarcation. The more she does these childish things, the more compassion I feel. The poor female must feel totally out of control.
She stares at me, a pout on her face, waiting for me to protest. I say nothing, just turn off the vid.
She goes to the refresher to change into a long t-shirt, then slides into bed.
“What vid were you watching?” she asks while looking at the blank screen.
“Native dances of planet Halckon.” I wait.
“That sounds boring, but I’ll watch with you.”
“Rules,” I say. By the stricken expression on her pretty face, she knows exactly what I mean.
“At this time of night?” she sounds shocked, although she shouldn’t be.
“Rules,” I repeat as I breathe deeply.
I’ve always known she was brittle, easily hurt, breakable. I’ve humored her, telling myself she would come around. Obviously, that didn’t work. For the next seven days, I’m going to change the balance in our relationship, even if she says we don’t have a relationship at all.
I have nothing to lose. I’ve got to push her if she’s ever going to help me understand her better. She needs to let me in, or nothing will change. I believe she wants this relationship as much as I do, I need to understand why she’s pushing me away.
She sits, her back against the headboard, her head cocked as she stares at me, her brown eyes full of fire.
“Computer, thirty-minute timer,” she says, then asks petulantly, “What are we talking about?”
It’s ridiculous that after an annum of knowing her I have so many basic questions to ask. It speaks to the fact that she’s kept her thoughts and feelings a secret. I’ll start small. I don’t want to overwhelm her.
“I love your cooking, Maddie. Everyone does. And I admire how after you were abducted you started with no knowledge of any foods in your pantry or cold box and you figured out how to create amazing flavors.”
I sneak a glance at her. Her face is a mask. I can’t read her at all. Well, that’s not entirely true. I can certainly see she’s irritated.
“I wonder though, does it ever bother you that you never get a day off? That you’re expected to cook for and nurture every member of the crew three times a day while you watch most of us have so much free time?”
She clears her throat and pauses. Perhaps she’s considering her answer. Maybe she’s never asked herself the same question. Is that possible? While the other females laugh and play and accompany their mates to the ludus to watch them spar, she stays in her hot kitchen most of her waking hoaras.
“I like to keep busy.”
Five words. At this rate, it’s going to be a long thirty minimas .
“You’ve never, not once, felt jealous that you don’t have free time? Never get a break? Work through all our parties and celebrations? You’ve never resented, not once, having to get up before everyone on the ship to make breakfast?”
I don’t say it, but I realize she doesn’t wake before everyone . I wake before her when she allows me to sleep in her cabin so I can be gone when she awakens. I’ll admit to irritation that I allowed her to make that rule. That wasn’t fair to me. I just wanted to be with her badly enough to accept her edicts.
After a long pause, she says, “Yes. I guess I’ve had moments where I resented that. By the way, I’m cooking tomorrow, right?”
It’s as if a light goes on in my brain. It suddenly becomes clear that this is what she always does when we get close to talking about anything of substance. She changes the subject.
“You get out of this cabin in a week, Maddie. Not a minima sooner. Would you like more help in the kitchen? All you’d have to do is mention it to Zar. He wants everyone on board to be happy. He has to be aware you do more than your fair share.”
“No. I like to stay busy.”
She sounds so sad. I scoot down and turn on my side so I can give her a good, hard look. I wish I could do something to make her happy.
“I’ll admit, Maddie, I didn’t have time to give this a lot of thought. You kicked me out and I decided I had to do something and before I knew it, I’d jumped into action. But this is happening. You’ve agreed. You can fight this for a week, or you could just . . . try.”
“Try what?”
“Try to give us a chance. Try to let me in. Try to let me make you happy.” I shake my head. That was lame.
“And what would that look like?” her voice sounds small and . . . interested. I never expected it. Definitely not on our first night.
What would it look like? The only thing I know she likes is my touch. But sex? That would be too much. She would never trust me if that’s what I suggest.
“Put the pillows away and let me hold you tonight. Let me hug you, nurture you. Instead of keeping me out like you have for the last annum , let me in.”
She’ll never agree to that. Never. What was I thinking?
What do you know? She reaches over and tosses one pillow on the floor, then the other. After, she turns toward me and touches one finger to my pec.It’s not a grand gesture, but it says so much. She broke her self-imposed no touching rule. I guess anything is fair game now.
“Maddie,” I breathe, then I turn her away from me and gently tuck her back to my front.
Maddie
A couple of hours ago I broke things off with this male. I can’t understand why peaceful calm washes over me as he surrounds me with that big heavy red arm of his. Peaceful calm? I don’t think I’ve felt this way since grade school.
I burrow into him, wanting his warmth to seep into my skin. I shiver, not from cold, but it’s as if something inside of me releases. Maybe one of the huge balls of snakes inside my head decides to quit fighting me. Maybe they’ll take my side, even if it’s just for the night.
Stryker nuzzles me. I’ve always pulled away before, but he’s making the rules now.He’s not going to give up, and seven days is a long time to fight what I’ve secretly wanted for a very long time.
I tried to protect him, but he’s obviously willing to fight for this relationship. As the depression sinks its claws deeper into me, I’m exhausted. I no longer have the energy to resist. I’m sure by Sunday he’ll want a room on the other ship so he can get as far away from me as possible. For now, I’m going to sink into this tiny piece of heaven, his body cuddling mine.
“I give up,” I whisper. Even though my voice is soft and I’m facing away from him, I know he heard me because he tugs me the tiniest bit tighter. “I won’t push you away until Sunday night,” my voice is even softer.
“I’d like that Maddie.” His lips press against the top of my head. “Even if you order me out, you’ll have given me this.”
I was feeling a bit resentful until right this moment. But he’s right. This will be a gift I give him before I kick him out of my life forever or he goes running for the hills. I like the idea of giving him a parting gift. He deserves it. He deserves so much. He definitely deserves better than me.