Chapter 22
Steel
Two days since the fuckups of all fuckups.
Wind whipped around them as they stood at the top of Cerro Otto, looking down on the Centro Historico of Bariloche.
The team was bundled in winter gear and hiking packs.
Upon waking this morning, they had traveled to the mountaintop, posing as a group of snowshoe enthusiasts on an ecotour, with Loki and God posing as guides.
His gaze traveled over to where his wife stood, about twenty-five feet away, focused on the northwest end of the lake.
Or where the northwest end would be if you could actually see it.
That portion of the lake was primarily wilderness, but on the hillside closest to Bariloche was her family home.
While the property still retained all the original structures of the Spanish mission it had once been, the residence portion was remodeled to look like something out of a fairy-tale story, all white stone and warm timbers on the outside.
Unfortunately, he knew the inside held little but dark terrors and pain for her.
If the expression on her face told him anything, she was reliving much of that terror and pain right now.
He felt the cold but didn’t recognize it because the mountain’s chill had nothing on the frozen wasteland between him and Daleyza. That was glacial, and all his fault.
Then he’d made it even worse by not spending last night in the room booked for them at the hotel they were using for their cover story.
He’d handled those moments after making love to her so badly it was unbelievable.
As he’d told her, his silent words were an apology for something he was about to do.
In typical Daleyza fashion, one of her worst faults was to assume the worst, which, given her history, he half understood. Assuming the worst had often been her only protection against whatever happened in her life. And much of it had been “worst.”
But she’d also assumed incorrectly. He hadn’t been about to tell her what they’d done was wrong, or a mistake, or that he intended to leave her. He did think all those things were true, but not for the reasons she believed.
So while he was apologizing to her for being about to hurt her, it was an apology for keeping her all those years ago.
If he’d just let her go and helped her escape his world after marrying her, she could have lived a life without the pain of their marriage, the loss of Tobias, and ultimately, his abandonment of her.
He was apologizing for the fact that she believed he’d felt nothing for her, when all he’d ever felt was a consuming need for her to be all the gloriousness she was without worry or struggle.
And he was apologizing for the fact that, when this was done—when Ka-Bar was rescued and Waters returned to his partner and family—he could never let her go again, even though it would be the right thing to do.
The safest thing to do. The best thing for her.
He wouldn’t be able to do it because he needed her.
But most importantly, he was apologizing for never telling her that he loved her.
For several years before his time with Tribe, he’d lived inside the walls of some of the worst detainment facilities imaginable.
He’d experienced the deprivation of solitary confinement.
He’d smelled fear and rage. He’d felt the waves of desperation from those around him.
He’d understood what it truly meant to be without hope.
Those prisons were nothing compared to being on the outside of their walls and being without her. Because by being free, there was hope again. Without her, there wasn’t.
In just a matter of days, her presence in his life once again meant that his world suddenly felt right, even though so much was very, very wrong in it. And in a moment of trying to find the right words before he spoke, he’d destroyed the very reason to exist.
Gem separated herself from the men, who were all gathered at the edge of the bluff, looking out over Bariloche, and came to his side.
“What happened?”
His head turned in her direction. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It damn sure does matter,” Gem hissed under her breath. “Ever since the two of you came down the elevator yesterday, she’s been a zombie.”
Looking down at the ground, he nodded.
“We…” No. What they’d done wasn’t the problem.
“She…” He stopped. This wasn’t her fault.
“I…” He faltered again. Admitting he’d fucked up made him feel out of control.
He couldn’t afford that feeling right now.
Lying to Gem, however, or glossing it over, would just make things worse.
“I said something I shouldn’t have. Or rather, I didn’t say the things I should have, and I hurt her. Badly.”
“So? Fix it.”
Staring at her, he wondered if Gem could possibly have any clue how bad he’d fucked up.
Head to one side, an adorable, frustrated roll of her eyes, and hands on her hips, she scolded him. “Idiots. All of you. Let me guess. You fucked each other’s brains out, then you said something. She took it the wrong way, and you spent the night in your bed alone. Sound about right?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Of course it isn’t, but I’m right, aren’t I? Because you fuckwitches make things way more complicated than they have to be.”
He blinked.
She grabbed his sleeve and pulled him ten feet further from the group, behind a tree. “Did it ever occur to you, in that pea-brain the universe seems to give all men, that when she left your bed, you should immediately go after her and explain she misunderstood?”
“Well, yes. I thought about it.”
“Then why the fuck didn’t you do it?” she squealed.
While nobody in their group would have heard her, nearby dogs would have, as evidenced by the fact that Scheherazade trotted over to sit on top of her feet, looking up at her in concern.
“It was late. We needed to be up early. She was exhausted. She needed to sleep—”
“Okay, did you sleep?”
“Well, no.”
“And why was that?”
“Because I was upset. I hurt her.”
“And you don’t think she wasn’t upset?”
“Well, of course she was upset. It was why she left my bed in the first place.”
Gem groaned and put her head in her hands.
“It’s got to be the Y chromosome. I don’t know what else it could be,” she mumbled into her gloves.
When she picked up her head, her hands grabbed the lapels of his jacket and fisted them tightly.
“So let me get this straight. You thought that after you upset her, letting her go to her room, alone, may I remind you again, upset, that she’d easily sleep and recharge. ”
When she said it like that, it did sound completely asinine.
“And when you came out of your room in the morning, after not sleeping all night, mad at yourself for what you said, you thought the best way to fix it was to still say nothing?”
Yeah. Not his best moves.
“Well, I—”
A single finger stabbed him in the chest. “Don’t. Don’t even try it.” She murmured the next sentence to herself. “And I always thought you were the smart one.”
“Gem, I don’t think you understand—”
“I said don’t!” The finger poked him again. Hard. Hard enough to leave a bruise through all the layers. The pixie was pissed. “I sure as hell do understand. I live with Nemo, for fuck’s sake.”
She had him there. Nemo was the ultimate fuckup.
He was constantly apologizing for things, according to Medusa.
His mouth flew a hundred miles an hour, and it was a never-ending source of amusement to the entire Mythos crew.
The joke was—when he fucked up, Gilgamesh made bags of popcorn for all their operatives and put them in their spaces.
That’s how they all knew to come watch the show as Nemo tried to extricate himself from whatever mess he’d gotten into this time.
“Fix. It.” With a snap of her fingers to the dog, she turned and started to walk away. She made it maybe three steps before she whirled on him, her finger pointed at him with as much anger as an inanimate object could. “Now.”
The morning after Daleyza left his bed, he’d exited his room to find her sitting on one of the kitchen barstools, her bag packed and ready to go.
There were dark circles under her eyes, along with a glassy sheen over her beautiful brown irises, but the words he wanted to say got stuck in his throat. The pain he saw in her gutted him.
He could have explained to her right then that she’d misunderstood.
That he’d compounded the misunderstanding by not going after her, but then some twisted part of him stopped him from doing it.
It was like a devil inside told him he deserved her anger—which he believed to be true—and that if letting her go, way back when, would have been the right thing to do—which he also believed to be true—then cutting ties now and not correcting the misconception was the best thing for her.
She would be hurt. She would be beyond angry.
But she’d be free to move on eventually.
She couldn’t stay hurt and angry forever.
Could she?
Fuck. Of course she could. She basically told him she’d been hurt and angry since he left to go back to the Navy. That was ten years. If she hadn’t recovered by now, she wasn’t going to.
And his dumb ass just went and added to it.
Gem was right. There was definitely something in the Y chromosome that caused brain damage.
A voice broke into his self-flagellation.
Nemo spoke first. “Dorothy, we are definitely not in Kansas anymore.”
TB followed with, “Does anyone else feel an unusual urge to go buy a watch and then follow that up by gorging on chocolate?”
Involuntarily dragged into the conversation, he looked down on what looked like a Swiss village and said, “Bariloche has a long history with European influence. The Spaniards arrived first, conquering the indigenous people and systematically rehoming and ultimately reducing their numbers. The Germans came next, and by the 1930s, ‘Little Switzerland’ was born.”