Chapter 12 #2
I took the lead, as was my habit on these trips, and though I glanced behind me to make sure everyone was following, I had to trust they had the sense not to screw around when their lives were at stake.
It wasn’t like I thought they were children, and that was probably part of the reason Marc kept giving me strange looks when I was getting irritable.
Even I knew my crankiness wasn’t normal, but it was impossible to maintain my normal demeanor while dealing with a storm of indecision and discomfort. To tell the truth or keep it to myself? Would I be risking everything by telling, or would I be risking everything by keeping it to myself?
“Hey, uh…Reggie?” I heard a soft voice begin behind me, and I almost jumped out of my skin, suddenly remembering I was actually doing something that should have required more focus.
I glanced over my shoulder as I walked and saw that Jude was walking beside me, but just a little behind. Everyone else was lagging behind, but I could see Marc watching us with a curious expression. “Yes?”
“I, uh…” Jude began, also looking behind to check where everyone was. Which was all I needed to know that whatever was about to come out of his mouth was going to be something I really didn’t want to hear right now. “I wanted to say I’m sorry.”
I didn’t think we could be overheard, but that didn’t mean I wanted to risk it, so I grunted. “Just…don’t, not right now, Jude.”
“No, I mean…I’m sorry. I’m not stupid, even though I did something really stupid,” he said in a small voice that made me ache.
Not because he was upset, or not just because he was upset, but because he was so goddamn young, so impossibly young.
It was hard to believe I had ever been that young and gentle, but here he was, looking like the boy I had met, but with an apologetic twist to his lips and a pitiful, puppy-dog look in his eyes.
“Jude,” I began, but I didn’t know where to go from that point.
“I’m not stupid; I can see you’re upset, and I don’t blame you,” he said in a low voice as we made our way carefully around the first bend. “I never should have done that to you, and you have every right to be pissed at me.”
“I’m not,” I insisted, which was the truth…
mostly. If anything, I was more frustrated that I hadn’t seen it coming, or at the very least, that I didn’t sense it fast enough right before it happened.
At least then I could have thrown up an arm or something to stop him before he connected his mouth with mine.
“I’m really not. I meant what I said to you in your room, alright? I really did. I’m not mad at you.”
“Maybe you should be,” he said.
“Fine!” I snapped, not noticing how loud I was as I twisted on him. “Maybe I should be. Maybe if I was someone else, if you were someone else, I would be, alright? But I’m not, okay! So quit trying to make it so I’m mad at you because that’s what’s going to piss me off!”
He recoiled, and I realized what I’d just done and groaned, putting my face in my hand and forcing myself to take a deep breath.
The worst part was, I knew even now; I wasn’t actually mad at him.
I was, as I had been for the past twenty-four hours, furious and upset with myself.
Upset that I hadn’t seen what was coming, furious that I had been so helpless, and absolutely ashamed that I was continuing to sit in limbo while Marc was completely oblivious and Jude was swimming in misery that I was only now starting to see.
Well, Marc had been oblivious, because if there ever was a sign that there was something truly wrong with me, it was that I had yelled at Jude.
His face was twisted into a mask of concern as he gestured behind him, and the other guys backed up, their eyes wide with shock and surprise as Marc took hold of his son’s wrist and drew him back.
I groaned, because it was not the time or the place for whatever the hell concern Marc had for me, but what was I going to do?
I clearly couldn’t be trusted to decide when to talk for myself, so how was I going to fight when Marc made the choice for me?
When Marc pulled Jude back and began talking to him softly, I watched them, unsure what to do.
It was possible I could turn and keep walking, to pass off my snapping at Jude as something benign, something normal and not…
stress about being kissed by Marc’s goddamn son, and not knowing how to handle it.
Except that would be even more obvious, and at some point, Marc would push again.
Or worse, Jude might try to talk to me again after he saw I not only shouted him down, but turned his father away as well.
I wasn’t ready to talk about that, and the worst part was, I was probably never going to be ready, but it felt like the choice was going to be taken out of my hands.
And didn’t that piss me off even worse?
I waited, not patiently, but I waited, and eventually Marc made his way over to me, his brow furrowed heavily. Jude had stepped back, not nearly as far back as the other guys, but far enough that I supposed there was at least a semblance of privacy for Marc and me.
“Hey,” he said softly, and the gentleness in his voice called to me, even as it grated on my nerves and set my teeth on edge. The last thing I needed was for him to pull out the understanding card and treat me like a half-crazed idiot who had just lost it.
“Don’t,” I warned him, arms going over my middle and turning half away from him. “I don’t need you to start playing counselor, alright?”
“That’s not what I’m doing,” he insisted, but I didn’t believe him. There was too much concern in his voice, and there was a…tone I recognized. It was the one most people used when they were trying to placate someone, and I did not want to be placated.
The thought was depressing because it was quickly followed by the understanding that I didn’t know what I wanted at that moment.
On the one hand, I wanted to accept what he was trying to do right now, to give me comfort and understanding.
On the other hand, I wanted him to leave me alone and let me sort through things on my own.
On a third hand, I wanted every single one of them to just leave me alone and let me have a moment of peace, something I so rarely asked, let alone demanded from others.
God, wasn’t that an enticing thought? To just…
go off into the woods without any of them.
Take my bag, loaded up as it was, including the survival manual that was written specifically for this area of the Rockies, and just…
go off on my own. Maybe I would enjoy it, maybe it would be hell, but it would certainly be something new to experience.
Then again, I would probably get lost and wander around hoping to find a signal to call for help that would probably never come and end up lost forever in the woods surviving on berries and scraps, or just die and my bones might be found a few years later by amateur hikers.
“Fine, I’m concerned,” he said after he saw I wasn’t going to say anything else. “I haven’t seen you this wound up and snappy in…actually, quite a while. I can’t think of the last time it happened.”
“Brendan,” I reminded him, and then hated myself for participating in the conversation when I still hadn’t decided if that’s what I wanted or not.
“Okay, sure,” he said slowly, and I could see his hand flexing at his side. It hurt to realize he was resisting the urge to reach out and touch me.
I was struck by an overwhelming ache as I stood there and closed my eyes.
At that moment, all I wanted was to be back in his quarters, or mine, for that matter.
Everyone else could fuck off, and it could just be me and him, curled up in his bed, my head on his chest and his hand on my back.
I had once never dared imagine what something like that would be like, though I was always tempted, and yet that was exactly what we had done last night before I’d fallen asleep.
I almost smiled when I remembered him waking me up a bit later, telling me if I was going to snore, I shouldn’t do it while my mouth was two inches from his face.
I’d called him an inconsiderate ass and then kissed him until I felt him stir to life beneath me and then the next thing, my mouth was around him and I was listening to him groan my name like I was the only thing that made his life right.
And now I was standing there, acting like a petulant child who didn’t want a timeout.
“I-I don’t know if I know exactly what’s wrong with you,” he said slowly. “I have a few ideas, but—”
“Do you now?” I asked, again trying for a neutral tone and barely making it. I thought there might still be an edge to my words, but at least I wasn’t snapping at him.
“Yeah…though I don’t believe it’s something we should discuss right now,” he said, and I don’t know what he saw in my face, but his expression tightened and he looked away. “We need to talk.”
Alarms rang through my head, and paranoia followed swiftly after.
I didn’t know what his conversation with Jude had been, but now I was wondering if Jude had somehow slipped in what had happened and Marc had just contained his reaction.
It wasn’t like it was out of character to conceal a reaction like that to something that anyone else would have reacted to strongly and openly.
I loved his ability to control himself, but sometimes he was freaky in how well he could lock himself down.
“I know,” I said, my shoulders sagging. “I know we do. And I should have talked to you before we came out here, okay? It’s…
it feels like everything is unraveling, and every time I try to grab a string to keep it all together, I grab the wrong thing.
Then I’m tugging and tugging and it’s like I’m making it all so much worse.
Now I feel half out of control, barking at everyone, yelling at Jude, being an ass to you and I just—”