2. CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER TWO
I deal with Mark’s ever-increasing bitchiness by surrounding myself with buffers. I know he won’t act like an ass in front of Tucker and Lila, especially not if it would require an explanation he won’t want to give. Disclosing that he’s cranky because I got too amorous for his liking during a kiss that was his idea? He’d never cop to that.
On Friday, I invite Lila to join me in Pueblo for a weekend shopping trip. She accepts without bothering to consult Tucker, not that he’d mind. We do this a few times a year. It’s a tradition. We have a specific restaurant we go to for brunch, a set order in which we approach the outlet stores, and a particular hotel we always stay at. We even end each day at the same Mexican restaurant, a place with mouthwatering tacos and bottomless margaritas. The difference is, this time the trip’s at my suggestion. That’s never happened before. I detest shopping.
Lila doesn’t care whose idea it is. Shopping is her favorite hobby. Thankfully, it’s fairly easy to keep her distracted from what’s going on with me. Every time she asks a question I don’t want to answer, I find the perfect pair of shoes for her, or an amazing scarf, or – well, you get the idea. Despite the summer heat, we add to Lila’s already overflowing fall clothing collection. She has eight full bags when we return home. When she drops me off, I have my overnight bag and one measly shopping bag. I’d eventually purchased a top at her insistence, a whisper-soft burgundy tunic to wear with leggings when the sultry July weather fades into crisp fall mornings.
Mark glares from his doorway the second I enter the house. “Seriously? You hate clothes shopping. I’m supposed to believe you had a sudden urge to shop for an entire weekend?”
My stomach clenches at the venom in his voice. I close my eyes briefly and take a deep breath. “Hi, Mark. It’s nice to see you too. Do you need anything before I go upstairs?”
He whirls away on his crutches, slamming the door.
I have no idea how things got so twisted around. The worst part is, before I agreed to our kiss, I asked him what would happen if it made things weird between us. He said he didn’t know any two people, married or otherwise, who had a stronger relationship than ours. He said it wasn’t possible for a kiss to destroy what we had.
He believed that. It wasn’t just a line to coerce me into kissing him. I believed it, too.
We were both wrong.
I wish I’d never kissed him. All I did was ruin everything.
Every day, the pattern continues. At night, I sneak into his bed when he’s in the living room watching TV or in his shower, pretending to be asleep when he comes to bed. The only reason I still sleep in his bed is because I’m afraid my night terrors will return. The last time I had a night terror without him at my side, I nearly shot him in the head. That’s not a chance I’m willing to take, so I sleep in his bed and leave my gun on his nightstand. Each morning, I wake up alone to find him glowering on the chaise.
I cope by cutting my time at home even more, staying later at work, even on the days everyone’s at my house. Tom returns to the clinic one evening after his workout with Tucker and Mark. When I hear the door open, my hand automatically reaches toward the gun in my desk drawer, stopping when he calls to me. “You still here, Charlie?”
“In my office.”
Tom comes in, a white towel slung around his massive shoulders. He’s dressed in a gray tank top and shorts, his brown hair damp with sweat. He rubs the towel over his head, then swipes it across his broad chest with a huge hand before taking a seat across from me. He tips his head toward a stack of papers on my desk. “Still working on invoices?”
The pile hasn’t budged in the last two hours. I’ve been agonizing over what to do with Mark, trying desperately to find a way to fix things, but coming up empty. I nod anyway. “How was the workout?”
“Good,” he says, sizing me up. “You want to talk about it?”
Shit. I aim for a confused expression. “Talk about what?”
He raises one eyebrow. “What’s going on with Mark.”
My jaw drops. “Wha – what do you mean?”
He snorts. “Give me some credit. I may be a guy, but I’m not an idiot. You’ve been avoiding going home, and the only person there is Mark. Obviously, you two had a fight or something. He’s not talking, but something’s bothering him, and you’re clearly upset, too.”
I close my mouth, wracking my brain for an excuse.
Tom’s warm brown eyes soften. “I know you don’t like discussing your feelings. I won’t push you. I’m here if you want to talk, and if you need a place to crash, you can always stay with me.”
God, I hope I don’t have to leave my own house over this.
Of course, that’s exactly what I did last weekend.
I smile at Tom, my friend who’s as close as a brother. “Thanks. I’m okay. Just working a few things out in my head.”
He nods. “If you need a sounding board, I’m here.”
I stand and move around the desk toward him. He stands, too, and I slide my arms around his waist. Biceps bigger than my thighs wrap around me in a comforting hug.
I allow myself to revel in my progress. Six months ago – even three months ago – this hug would have been impossible. I’d have had a full-blown panic attack. I was paralyzed with fear at the idea of male touch from anyone besides Mark, even Tom and Tucker. It didn’t matter that I’d trust both of them with my life. It’s only with the help of a therapist named Willow that I’m now able to hug them without hesitation, and that’s huge.
Tom kisses my forehead and releases me. “Sorry,” he apologizes. “I’m all sweaty.”
I laugh. “I spent eleven years with soldiers in full battle gear in one-hundred-plus degree desert. It takes more than a little sweat to bother me.”
He chuckles. “If you were Tucker, I’d shove your face in my armpit and ask if you were sure.”
I grin at the image of Tucker flailing, cussing a blue streak. Then his smile fades. “Seriously, if you need to get away for a few days, Maya is staying with my sister this weekend. You wouldn’t have to keep pretending everything’s fine.”
I sigh. “I’m hoping this doesn’t drag out that long.”
I just don’t know how to resolve it.
He nods. “My offer stands.” He rubs the towel over his head again. “I’m going to shower here before I pick up Maya. Unlike you, she objects strongly to me being sweaty. I’m supposed to tell you we’re doing pasta night tomorrow instead of Friday, since Maya’s staying with my sister. Apparently I’m ordering chicken parm and spaghetti and meatballs. I think Skyler’s going to be there, too.” He grins. “But what do I know? I just live there.”
I smile, picturing his amazing daughter with her laughing eyes and impish grin. “Tell Maya I can’t wait.”
I like Tom. He’s a great physical therapist. He’s helped me regain mobility and taught me how to strengthen my changed body, which in turn helps me prepare for the osseointegration surgery I’m hoping to have soon. The surgery involves implanting a titanium rod into the bone of what remains of my right lower leg so I can bolt a permanent prosthetic in place. I despise the idea of a slip-on prosthetic. What if it slipped off and people saw my stump? I hate the thought of a slip-on prosthetic as much as I hate the word “stump”. Even the word makes my stomach churn. It brings to mind a dead tree, a useless hunk of wood. That’s all my leg is now, courtesy of some asshole in Afghanistan who set off an IED and blew me and half my team to hell.
Anyway, Tom’s fantastic at his job, and he’s a solid workout partner who helps me adapt Tucker’s exercises to fit my physical limitations. He’s nice, he’s funny – an all-around great guy.
But the more time Charlie spends with him, the more resentful of him I become.
They’re just friends. I know this. Charlie told me ages ago she views him the same way she does Tucker, like a big brother. Tom once broke Blake’s nose for causing her to have a panic attack, and he beat the crap out of him – as did I – after he hurt her several weeks ago. Tom’s very protective of her, and I’m glad he’s looking out for her.
They’re just friends.
Of course, she and I were just friends, and look what happened. A few more minutes on that kitchen counter, and we might have gotten too carried away to turn back. My mind drifts to our bodies arching together, her legs around my waist.
Returning to reality is painful.
It’s even more painful when I think about Charlie and Tom.
Because the worse things get between Charlie and me, the more time she spends with Tom and Maya. I can’t fault her for wanting to be around Maya. She’s amazing. I’ve never met a kid like her, not that I’ve spent a lot of time around kids. She’s funny and witty, perfectly comfortable being the only kid in a roomful of adults when we all have dinner together a few nights a week. She joins in conversations and gives thoughtful, intelligent responses.
I can’t even fault Charlie for wanting to be around Tom. He’s genuinely a terrific guy.
But something happens when I see Charlie and Tom together, with Maya tucked between them.
I see Tom’s healthy body, twinkling eyes, and warm smile.
I see Charlie’s head tilting down to listen to Maya, her green eyes sparkling with laughter at whatever Maya’s excited about.
And I see Maya’s huge smile and springy copper-streaked curls as she gazes at Charlie with open adoration.
They look like a happy family.
And it makes something inside my chest roar with anger.
Tom’s handsome, strong, virile. He’s not half a man. He can be to Charlie all the things I can never be. Things she deserves. A whole man, not one with a stump for a leg.
And I’ll be damned if she doesn’t spend evenings with him and walk in the front door happy, only for her smile to evaporate as soon as she sees me.
Yeah. Fine.
I’m jealous.
Because Charlie used to smile with me. Now she can’t get away from me fast enough.
The fact that I’m growling like a pissed-off grizzly bear all the time doesn’t help, I know, but still, she doesn’t have to rub his perfection in my face.
Fuck.
I wish I’d never kissed Charlie.
That’s what I tell myself, anyway.
Maybe one day I’ll believe it.
I carry two canvas bags down the hall past Charlie and into her kitchen. “Nachos,” I announce. “They’re the perfect Friday night food and they don’t take much time, so we only need twenty minutes to cook.” I pull out a bottle and grin. “I also have margarita mixer, and I know you’ve got tequila.” I unload the raw ground beef, cheese, and margarita mix into her refrigerator and leave the bags on the counter.
I’m startled when I turn to Charlie. Under the kitchen lights and without her fake smile, I can see the deep gray shadows under her eyes. She’s not sleeping. Her face is pinched and tense, her forehead creased.
That fucking Blake. This is all his fault. I shouldn’t have stopped Tom from beating his ass in the parking lot, even if it was at work and Mark had already laid into him. Tom pounded the hell out of him later anyway. He also dismissed Blake as his assistant boxing coach at the youth center. He said he wouldn’t have someone he couldn’t trust influencing his boys, even if it meant coaching alone.
Charlie summoned the courage to be completely vulnerable with Blake, showed that jackass her scars, and he freaked out. When she called him on his behavior, he said unforgivable things – that she looked like something out of a horror movie and that she was too fucked up for anyone to ever want. She’s not been herself since then, and it’s been well over a month.
From down the hall, Mark laughs at something Tucker’s said, and the pain that flashes across her face startles me.
Wait. Charlie’s upset because of Mark?
What the hell?
Things slowly slide into place.
Last week was an off week for me. Finding out for the sixth month in a row that we haven’t conceived definitely knocked the wind out of me. But as soon as Charlie wanted us to go on a weekend shopping trip, alarm bells rang in my head.
Charlie loathes shopping. I normally have to drag her along to essentially be my caddy, holding outfits and carrying bags and following along while I shop my little heart out. I always have to prod her into making a purchase, and her favorite part is the end-of-day celebratory taco and margarita extravaganza. I waited all weekend for her to tell me what was up, but she never said a word. It was obvious something was bothering her, but I’d assumed she was still upset about Blake. Her eyes were tired, her face pale. She had no appetite and drank more than usual.
She’s bright and cheerful at work, though, chatting with clients and co-workers alike. I figured the distraction was good for her. The only time I’ve seen her smile falter is when Mark has requested Tara or I do his massage.
Oh my God.
Mark doesn’t want Charlie to massage him?
Little things suddenly click. Charlie keeping us here unusually late after dinner. Her staying at the clinic really late on non-workout nights. Her exhaustion. The shopping trip. Mark not letting her massage him. And the pain on her face when she heard him laugh just now.
There’s a problem between her and Mark.
And judging by her expression, she and I need to talk, even if she’s reluctant to.
I grab a bottle of red wine and two glasses and take Charlie’s hand, pulling her to the living room. I nudge her onto the overstuffed beige couch and pour us each a glass, setting the wine bottle within reach on the huge reclaimed wood coffee table. I wait until she’s taken a few sips before I begin my interrogation.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
Her eyes flare briefly before she clamps an innocent expression in place. “What?”
“Between you and Mark.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re both acting weird. You won’t look each other in the eye and you’re both keeping your distance. You’re behaving like you’re uncomfortable with each other, and I’ve never seen you two like this. Did you have a fight?”
Charlie shakes her head. She won’t meet my eyes, instead rubbing her finger around and around the rim of her glass. “No. Nothing like that.”
“Then what?”
She hesitates. “I think I’ve really screwed things up.”
“How?”
Charlie still won’t look at me, staring instead at the rock fireplace. Finally she describes, with numerous tearful stops and starts, the conversation she and Mark had last week that culminated in a mutual agreement to try a test kiss.
She looks miserable. I’d bet my favorite goat that their kiss brought up feelings neither of them was expecting. “I’m guessing it went well.”
“How did you know?”
Her stunned look makes me smile, and I shrug. “A hunch.”
She sighs heavily and nods, drying her eyes. “Yes, it went well. Too well. And now things are awful, and I don’t know how to fix them. We aren’t speaking. If he does say something, he bites my head off, so I’m avoiding him, but that only makes him angrier.”
I reach over and cover her hand with mine. “What do you want to do, Charlie?”
“I want to go back to how things were. I mean, I guess it’s good to know I can become aroused, but it wasn’t worth losing our friendship over.”
I study her, observing her reaction. “If you can’t go back, what about going forward?”
“Forward how?”
I sit silently, waiting for her to catch on. Her green eyes widen as she grasps my meaning.
“I can’t do that, Lila,” she splutters. “Things are awful now because we kissed. If I – if we – we wouldn’t even be able to look at each other.”
“Or your relationship could progress to the next level,” I point out. “The reason you both responded like that was because of something already simmering between you. It’s just that neither of you realized it was there before.”
“But what if things didn’t work out? If we can’t act normally around each other after kissing – if we took things further and they didn’t work out – I’d lose him completely, Lila. It’s not worth that. I can’t take that chance.”
“Then I suppose you need to figure out how to go back to how things were.”
“How?”
“You’re going to have to talk to him. Tell him that the way things are right now is painful, and you need to figure out how to move past it together. You guys have helped each other deal with truly horrible things. Dealing with an amazing kiss should be easy by comparison.”
She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Easy? We’re barely speaking. How the hell do I have a conversation like that with someone who won’t even talk to me?”
I refill her wineglass and push it toward her. “A little liquid courage can’t hurt.”
It’s Friday afternoon, and I’m helping Mark with his workout. Tom’s at his sister’s with Maya, and Lila and Charlie are down the hall. I have to keep getting Mark’s attention because he’s making stupid mistakes. He’s completely unfocused.
“What the hell’s going on with you?” I finally demand, snatching the dumbbell from his hand. I’ve just corrected him for the third time on an exercise he’s executed perfectly for two months.
He shakes his head. “Sorry. I’ll pay attention.”
“I didn't ask you to pay attention. I asked what the hell’s up.”
“I’ve got a lot on my mind, that’s all.”
Mark reaches to take the dumbbell back, but I extend my arm past his reach. “I’m waiting, Chandler.”
He scowls and leans closer, but I move my arm again. “If I punch you in the face, I bet you quit moving the damn weight,” he grumbles.
“I’ll quit moving it when you start talking. Let’s hear it, Princess. What’s got your panties in a pucker?”
He turns to get his crutches to leave, but I react faster, snatching them away before he can grab them. “Stealing crutches from a cripple is a dick move, Maxwell,” he mutters.
I snort. “Cripple, my ass. Don’t try your pity-bullshit on me. I can wait all night, and you aren’t going anywhere without these, so you might as well spill it.”
His jaw tightens as his face reddens. “What’s with your sudden urge to talk about feelings? Can’t we just work out?”
“If you were working out like you're supposed to be, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, so start talking.” I pause a second before adding, “Unless you’d rather I asked Charlie.”
“No,” he snaps.
I grin knowingly, and his shoulders slump as he recognizes defeat.
“Fine,” he grumbles. I wait expectantly until he raises uncertain eyes to mine. “I kissed her,” he confesses, dragging a hand through his short sandy hair.
My face splits in a huge smile. “It’s about damn time.”
He glares.
“What? You two’ve been dancing around this for as long as I’ve known you. You’re crazy about her, she’s crazy about you. Everybody can see you belong together.”
“It’s not that simple, Tucker. It’s screwed everything up between us.”
“How?”
He takes a deep breath. “Because I want more.”
I raise one eyebrow. “You say that like it’s a problem.”
He stares at me, incredulous. “This is Charlie. She’s my best friend. We live together. She’s not some random woman I can walk away from if things don’t work out.”
“No, she’s not, so you’ll be invested. Besides, who says it has to be more than a fling?”
He shakes his head firmly. “With everything she’s been through, a fling isn’t an option.”
“Fine. Friends with benefits,” I suggest. “You add another dimension to what’s already there with the understanding that it’s just sex.”
He gives me a doubtful look. “Kissing her has already fucked everything up between us. I’m not sure adding sex will make it better.”
“It’s fucked up because of all the sexual tension. Sex would relieve that,” I point out.
“Or make things worse.”
I shrug. “You’ve only got two options here. Either you let it go and forget wanting more, or you go for it. But you can’t keep ignoring it, because all that’s done is make everything awkward. Decide what you want.”
“What I want and what Charlie wants may be very different.”
“Guess you’ll have to talk to her, then,” I reply with a broad smile. “Lila and I were going to see if you guys wanted to catch a movie after dinner, but it sounds like your evening is full.”
“No, let’s go out,” he says hastily. “Anywhere you want. My treat.”
I laugh. “I don’t think so. As a matter of fact, I think you and I need to cut things short here. It’s not like you’re accomplishing anything, and you two have things to settle.”
He glares. “What happened to ‘Whatever you need, we’ll be there, Mark’?”
I grin. “That’s why we’re leaving. So you two can figure out what you need.” I pass him his crutches and jump up. “You know, I think I feel a headache coming on. I should go home.” I stride to the door and pull it open.
“Tucker, I swear to God,” he mutters.
I catch Lila in the hall and tell her we need to leave. I wink when I tell her I think I’m getting a headache, and she grins. Apparently, she and Charlie have been talking as well. I hear Mark’s crutches ticking on the floor behind me as Lila apologizes to Charlie, telling her she needs to take me home. When I glance back at Mark, he glowers. I grin and blow him a kiss. He flips me off, quickly moving his hand to rub the back of his neck when Lila reappears.
I look at Lila when we’re outside. “It’s about damn time,” I tell her, tipping my head toward Mark and Charlie.
She grins. “Be patient. They’re not there yet, but they will be.”