Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
THE brIEF GLIMPSE OF sunlight on the drive back to the house was long faded by afternoon.
Elliot was—there was no other word for it—brooding in the dim kitchen while the others had Warren outside.
They were putting him through training Elliot should have been supervising.
Warren would perform better if Elliot let him have space today.
Watching might aggravate him again and there were enough curious eyes on them after they returned in foul moods.
Elliot rubbed his finger along a deep gouge in the table.
How was he so terrible at this? First Charbonneau, then Warren.
Maybe it wasn’t a matter of finding the proper words.
Some things couldn’t be softened with language no matter how pretty the trappings.
He missed books. In books, people were easy to understand.
Their motivations and personalities dictated their actions and reactions.
You could always see where they went wrong and how you’d have done it differently.
Real people were harder. They didn’t always make sense. Things were happening in their heads and hearts you weren’t privy to. Never could be. Real people were chaotic, prone to fits of passion they released or concealed.
He’d known Warren would take it badly. Who wouldn’t?
But he’d hoped he could explain it in a way that wouldn’t leave them so at odds.
He hadn’t anticipated how much it would hurt Warren.
How deeply violated he would feel. How low Elliot would feel in response.
What could he have done differently? Surely walking away from someone so desperately in need of help would have been the greater sin?
His imaginings were interrupted when the kitchen door swung open with a blast of frigid air. He didn’t have to look to recognize those stomping feet, or the door banging shut with just enough force to get his notice.
“Right, then,” Bellona said, marching over to the seat across from him and dropping into it. “Now that they’re all busy with your boy, what happened this morning?”
Elliot’s face grew rapidly hot. “He is very much not mine. Would you keep your voice down?”
“I thought the two of you were sneaking off for a little fun, but you both came back wound up tighter than a pocket watch. Something happened and he’s grumpy, and you’re wallowing, and I don’t mean to pry, but I would really like to know what kind of situation we’re in for.”
He wished he didn’t need to explain this. It was awkward and humiliating enough. “I told him about the dreams.”
“I did warn you it was pertinent information he ought to have been provided with. And that he might not take the concealment well,” she pointed out, though she didn’t sound disapproving, only slightly exasperated.
“Of course you did, and I dismissed your advice because he might have said no to coming,” Elliot replied. He swiped angrily at his jaw, knowing he shouldn’t have kept the information from Warren, knowing he would have made the same choice again whether or not Warren ever forgave him.
“That would have been his right.”
“He would’ve died, Bell. Used as cannon fodder when he’s so much more than that.
You don’t understand. He was weaker every time we met.
The things he saw, the things I saw through him—I don’t know how he survived.
Some of it was exaggerated, granted, dreams are never entirely accurate, but much of it wasn’t and I couldn’t let it kill him when I could save him. ”
Bellona massaged her forehead, her dark blue eyes slipping shut. “You can’t make people accept saving. And you don’t know he would have died, you worried he might. Elliot, he still could. Here, with us, he still could. You know that.”
“But the odds—”
“Blast the odds. He still could, and you cannot allow every decision you make to be influenced by this need of yours to keep him safe. It’s not your decision to make.
It never was. I know you understand that you can’t go into a person’s mind as you please, but with him you overlooked it because you care so deeply.
You cannot continue to use that excuse. He’s a member of this team and you must treat him like any other man, capable of deciding for himself what he wishes.
Fail to do so, and you will end up losing him in every single way. ”
What if I already have?
“I think I’ve lost him anyway.”
Bellona grimaced, and tilted her head to the side in acknowledgement of the possibility.
He was glad she wasn’t the type to offer meaningless platitudes.
“Buck up. At least he’s still alive. And there’s always the chance you might not have put him off you forever.
Some people find your charms appealing I’m sure. ”
It seemed the dressing down was over. A sardonic smile twisted Elliot’s lips. “I’ll have you know my charms have always been highly in demand.”
“Of course they were.” She kept an impressive straight face.
Elliot sent her a mock offended glare. “They were—they still are! Look you!”
Laughing Bellona pushed up from the chair. “I’d better get back there and make sure they haven’t maimed your boy too badly.”
She was walking to the door when Elliot spluttered, “I told you he’s not—”
“Sorry, Captain, can’t hear you,” she called over her shoulder, flashing him an impish grin as she closed the door behind herself.
Once more he was left to brood. Once more he replayed the confrontation with Warren in his head and struggled to determine how he could’ve contained Warren’s reaction.
And when he was done with that, self-loathing at a record high, he attempted, unsuccessfully, to determine a path through this mess.
Warren had ordered him out of his dreams, so he couldn’t interfere, no matter how much his chest ached at the thought of what those unchecked nightmares were doing or how restlessly Warren slept.
It was no longer his place to provide relief. It never was. And that was the problem.
But it could be if he could explain things properly.
When Warren was ready to listen. Right now he wasn’t receptive.
If Elliot pushed, he might never be. No.
He had to be patient. He needed to give him the distance he asked for.
At least as much as he could while they shared a bed.
And while he had to aid in Warren’s training.
The real test would come when they saw how he took orders from a man he currently despised.
Something in Elliot’s chest twisted painfully. His heart, he thought dismally.
* * *
WARM DAMP brEATHS TICKLING the back of Elliot’s neck slowly ferried him closer to consciousness.
The muscular body pressed up against him, and the solid weight of an arm draped low over his waist, was pleasant.
He wanted to luxuriate in the feeling. He wanted to float half-alert and sleepy and pretend he deserved this. Could have it.
What wouldn’t he give to wake up like this every morning? It was a bittersweet sensation, and he couldn’t linger no matter how wonderful it felt or how good Warren smelled.
Elliot had to extract himself. He didn’t want to embarrass Warren. Or make their situation any worse or any more painful. Letting out a slow breath, he began to rise, stopped by the arm around his waist tightening.
“Stay,” Warren mumbled, voice thick with sleep and tingling along Elliot’s skin, settling somewhere under his ribcage near the battering pulse of his heart.
He didn’t know what he was asking. He was probably mostly asleep, simply comfortable.
“I can’t,” Elliot whispered, chest constricting. “You’re supposed to be angry with me.”
Warren didn’t move. His chest rose and fell against Elliot’s back. “Still am. Stay.”
Aching with want and certain it was an atrocious idea to agree, Elliot squeezed his eyes shut. Fought his own longing. “You won’t thank me later.”
“Probably not. Stay anyway.” Warren let out a soft sigh Elliot felt to the tips of his toes, his whole body warming with it. It would be so easy to sink into this. To pretend everything was all right, if only for a short time.
He shouldn’t. Really, really shouldn’t. He wasn’t allowed to enjoy something this tender with the bad blood between them.
There would be consequences. And hadn’t ignoring the consequences of his actions gotten them into this predicament in the first place?
Warren hadn’t forgiven him yet, possibly never would.
But Elliot meant it when he told Warren he’d do anything for him.
Meant it without reservation, without question for his own comfort, and this was something he could do, however small.
His selfish impulse to pull away and save himself from hurting worse was all the more reason to do as Warren asked. Be unselfish for once.
So he relaxed his body, closed his eyes, and let himself be held until Warren’s breaths evened out again into the softest snores.
He ignored the firm ridge pressed against his backside, and after he’d sufficiently tortured himself with things he couldn’t—might never again—have, Elliot slipped from Warren’s slack grasp.
Silently, he retrieved his uniform and dressed in the chill dawn air.
He couldn’t help a glance back at Warren whose dark hair stuck up every which way, long sooty lashes resting softly against his smooth skin, still clinging to the last breaths of a summer tan. He was heartbreaking and beautiful and soft with his face peaceful for once.
If Warren got some undisturbed sleep for his sacrifice, it was worth it. Truly the least Elliot could do. When the persistent raw aching in his chest worsened, he forced himself to leave the room, boots in hand so he wouldn’t wake Warren as he walked out.