Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Blaze stared at the sofa bed in Pandora’s apartment in town. It was a nice little place in a four-story building, but it was tiny as fuck. And he hated that she was on the first floor. That was a security nightmare.
But he’d deal with it.
“I have no idea if that thing is comfortable or not.” She appeared from the bedroom that was behind the small eat-in kitchen, holding a set of sheets. “I’ve never even opened it before. When Weston and Haven moved into their house, they gave it to me. Weston said he never opened it but slept on it and mentioned it wasn’t horrible. It’s comfy to watch TV on.”
“I’ll manage. I’ve slept in some pretty shitty places during my time in the military.” He pointed toward the door. “I like your locks. I’m glad you aren’t fucking around with safety.”
“Weston and Greg installed them after the rape.”
“Who’s Greg?”
“My ex-husband.” She pursed her lips.
“Not sure why I’m asking this, but before or after the rape?”
“After.” She set the sheets on the small chair next to the fireplace and found the fitted one.
He took one end and helped her tug it over the mattress.
“He’s the one who went after my attacker. He sat with me every night at the hospital. He was there when I woke up after being in a medically induced coma for two weeks because of the concussion and swelling in my brain. I had no idea he cared that much until that happened to me. We got married two years later. It barely lasted that long.”
“Because of what happened?”
She shook her head as she placed the other sheet on top and then tossed him a pillow and a case for it. “While I loved him, or maybe the idea of him, it wasn’t enough for a marriage. I never fully committed, but it had nothing to do with the rape.” She opened a drawer from the coffee table and handed him a blanket. “It gets pretty warm in here at night. I can turn up the AC if you want me to.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
“There’s also a fan in that closet.”
“Did you and your husband live here?” Jesus, what the fuck was wrong with him? One kiss and he thought he had the right to know her life story?
“No. He owned a home so I moved in there. A friend of Haven’s moved in here, but she fell for some FBI guy and moved away, which was nice because I like this building. And this apartment.”
“I don’t like it being on the first floor.” He pointed toward the windows. “Easy access for predators. If you don’t mind, I want access to your security cameras.”
“You can download the app and I can get you the passwords. Weston has access too. I’ll introduce you to him tomorrow. He’s a good man.”
“You said his wife’s a cop too?” Blaze spread out the blanket and then flopped onto the bed. His ass hit a metal rung.
Wonderful.
He stretched out his legs, crossing his ankles, and stared at Pandora, who sat on the fireplace hearth.
“She is and a good one too.” Pandora fiddled with her fingernails, something she did when she was nervous.
He couldn’t blame her for that. He just hoped he wasn’t adding to it.
“I’m so sorry to hear about your brother. I know how close the two of you were.”
Well, shit. That was a conversation he didn’t want to have.
“Thank you,” he said.
“What happened?”
“I really don’t want to talk about it and honestly, I can’t,” he said. “He died on a mission and you know there are things in the military I just can’t discuss.”
She closed her eyes and nodded as if she understood. But she didn’t. No one did. She blinked. “So, what about you? Ever been married? Kids? Any of that?”
Leave it to her to switch gears to something else he didn’t want to shoot the shit about. But what the hell. She’d told him a shit ton in just a few short hours, so he could suffer through his shitty relationship. “I’ll need a beer—or better yet some of that tequila I saw in the kitchen—before telling that sob story.”
“Coming right up.” She jumped to her feet and rustled up a couple of glasses and brought the bottle. She poured two tumblers and handed him one before making herself comfortable in his bed. Next to him.
How dare her.
Well, shit.
He sipped his drink and contemplated where to start.
“How long were you married? Or is that still a thing?” she asked.
“Newly divorced. Though we were separated for two years before getting around to making it official.”
“How long were you married?”
“Technically, we would have celebrated ten years right before we signed the papers, but the last five years we might as well have been done.” He took another sip and let the alcohol fill his brain.
“Come on, Blaze. I can sit here and keep asking questions, or you can just talk.”
“I hate talking about feelings and real shit and you know it.” He chuckled. “But if you must know, Ashley, my ex-wife, always believed that the past lived in our marriage. That I was never fully present, and honestly, she was right. I asked her to marry me because it’s what I thought I was supposed to do. I was pushing thirty and most men in my unit were getting married and having babies. I’d been with Ashley for almost two years, and she had hinted that marriage and family were next.”
“Did you feel trapped?”
He shook his head. “It wasn’t that. And for the record, I did love my wife, but like you, it wasn’t set your world on fire love. It was the idea of it all. Someone to come home to after being deployed. Someone’s picture to hold while on the back of some plane going to some danger zone, wondering if you’re going to come back alive.”
“For over a year, that picture used to be me,” she whispered.
He let out a long breath. “And that right there was one of the biggest problems.”
“What does that mean?” She jerked her head.
Well, fuck. He’d gone and done it now. That was just plain fucking stupid. And he couldn’t even chalk it up to too much tequila. He tossed the rest of his drink back in one gulp and reached for the bottle, filled his glass, and did it again. He’d come this far in his confession, so he might as well go for broke. What difference did it make?
They were different people. In a different place. There were twenty years between now and when they’d planned a future together until her parents put an end to it.
And he’d let them.
It was over.
One kiss meant nothing.
Time to purge this part of his life.
He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and rifled through the contents until he found the faded, worn image that had gotten him through some of his worst nightmares. He ran his fingers over the torn edges before handing it to her. “Ashley found this about five years into our marriage. Mind you, we already had problems. And big ones. This was just the nail in the coffin.”
“Jesus. You still have this thing?” She glanced between her senior picture and him with wide eyes. “I don’t know if I’m flattered or mortified.”
“You should be a little of both.” He snagged the picture and tucked it back in his billfold before setting it on the end table.
“I would have kicked your sorry ass out of the house.”
“Well, I was leaving for two months and thought I might not have a home to return to, but we went to counseling when I did get back.”
“I don’t even want to think about what might have been said.”
He burst out laughing.
“I don’t find that funny at all.”
“It’s kind of hilarious because we didn’t spend all that much time talking about you.”
“Now I’m insulted.”
“Don’t be. Like I said, our marital problems weren’t really about you.”
“Um, you were carrying around a picture of your ex-girlfriend. That’s enough to make any wife lose her shit.”
“True, but my inability to let go of that picture was only one reason I had a foot out the door before we even got married. The truth is I should have never proposed in the first place. Whether I loved her or not, it wasn’t enough. I loved my career more.”
“She wanted you to give it up?”
“Yes and no. She wanted me to do what some of my friends had done and take a different post. Something where I wouldn’t be deployed all the time and would be at one base for years. Instead, I volunteered for my brother’s division, which meant more dangerous missions. It meant I was gone more, and Ashley hated that. Resented me for doing it and I was an asshole because of it.”
“If you didn’t discuss it with her, yeah, that was a dick move.” She covered his mouth. “But she knew who you were when she married you. She didn’t have the right to try to change you. However, the picture? That’s a different story.”
“Marines can be superstitious and I took that picture on my first deployment and that was a shit show. Two men died.”
She turned, palming his cheek. “I remember. You were a mess. You took a week leave and came to my dorm.”
“I would have never made it through that without you.” He kissed her hand. “I hid that picture from Ashley after she found it the first time. It had less to do with you or her and more to do with that first mission. I tried to tell her that, but she didn’t understand.”
“While I get a little bit about what you went through, I’m not sure I understand that, but I won’t take away your feelings about it and I’m glad an image could help you through some dark times.”
A bit of guilt tugged at his heart. “To be fair, part of it was you, but I couldn’t see that. Not right away.” He took another sip of his beverage. “I don’t know. It was so long ago and most people move past their first loves. Ours was riddled with secret rendezvous. We were never able to bask in how we felt. You had some shame in that and it always tore me up that you were forced to choose.” He released her hand. “But that was a lifetime ago and once Ashley and I divorced, a few things became clear.”
“Like what?”
“Letting go of her allowed me to let go of old ideals. I wasn’t cut out to be a husband. A father. A family man. My life was fulfilled in the Marines. When I was deployed, I was happy. When I was home, I was miserable.”
“Then why did you leave?”
“Axel,” he whispered before downing the rest of his drink. “It’s late. We should get some sleep.” He would not go down that dark and slippery road. If he did, he might pack his bags and leave in the middle of the night.
And he couldn’t do that to her.
Not when she needed someone to protect her.
He’d deal with his emotions about his brother another time.
Only, he didn’t know how to do that.