Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
His mom was on the phone.
Chelsea was standing before him, eyes wide, face pale.
Water streamed down his body.
Other than the body armor, he was naked.
Not that Josiah cared, that was the least of his problems right now.
What the hell had Chelsea been thinking, answering his phone?
So far, she hadn't answered his roared questions, just stared at him with her terror-filled eyes as the seconds ticked by.
From the phone he’d torn from her hand, he could hear his mother’s voice calling his name. There was everything in her tone from desperation, to worry, to fear, and he realized he was simultaneously scaring the two women in the world who meant the most to him.
Disconnecting the call solved one of his problems, but not the other. Chelsea still stood there as though she was frozen in shock, and he hated that she was afraid of him. Again. For the second time today.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
“You should be,” he growled. “What gave you the impression it would be okay to touch my phone?”
“Thought it might be someone from Prey.”
“My mother’s number is saved in there. Her name would have been on the screen. You knew it wasn't someone from Prey,” he snarled.
A fine tremor shuddered through her body, and he was struck by how much smaller she was than him. He had over a foot in height and probably a hundred pounds on her. Plus, he was acting unhinged, no wonder she was afraid of him.
“I didn't think you would be upset about a call from your mother.” Despite her obvious fear, she met his gaze when she spoke.
Quickly, Josiah spun around.
The last thing he wanted was to see the terror in her big gray eyes.
Or pity.
Because now she knew.
For six years, he had kept from everybody around him that he was paranoid about taking a bullet.
That he couldn’t even stomach the idea of taking off this vest, much less actually go about doing it.
Since he didn't let anyone get close to him, it hadn't been hard to keep it secret, and that Chelsea might have found out while they were living together had never occurred to him.
Why would it?
They weren't here to have sex or strip for each other. They were here to do a job, and there was no reason for her to have stepped into his bathroom today.
She didn't.
Not really.
The door was mostly closed.
The only reason she saw you was because you got angry and showed your hand.
The voice whispered insidiously in the back of his mind, and Josiah dragged his fingers through his hair, tugging hard enough to make his scalp sting.
Good.
He needed the pain.
Something he could control, unlike the mess unraveling around him.
“Get out,” he ordered as the phone, still clutched much too tightly in his hand, began to ring. His mom. He knew that without even having to look. Now that she’d heard his voice, she wasn't going to give up on trying to get through to him.
His heart ached.
Physically ached.
There was nothing more in the world that he would love than to be four years old again, crawling into his mother’s arms and knowing he was safe, that the big, bad world couldn’t touch him there, and letting her hugs and kisses soothe whatever pain or fear he was suffering.
But he wasn't a four-year-old child any longer. He was a fully grown adult and one who knew that nothing in the world could fix what had happened to his team. No amount of mother’s kisses could bring back men from the dead, or rewrite history. And that was the only thing he needed.
“Josiah—” Chelsea’s small hand rested on his shoulder, right beside where the vest covered his skin.
That touch was everything he craved and everything he couldn’t have.
She knew now. There was no going back. Chelsea knew that he had lost part of his sanity out there in the sand, surrounded by his teammates’ bodies. There was no way she would ever be able to look at him the same way again.
No longer able to see him as anything other than a ball of rage contained by flesh and bones.
“Get out,” he roared.
The hand withdrew, and a moment later, he heard the door close behind him. Josiah would have sworn he also heard a whispered apology from Chelsea before she disappeared, and that she would apologize to him when he was the one in the wrong filled him with remorse.
Without thinking, he slammed his hand into the mirror, glass shards raining down around him as dozens of small cuts began to leak blood.
Good.
He deserved to hurt for hurting Chelsea.
The phone he still clutched in his other hand buzzed to indicate a voicemail, and because he wanted to punish himself, he unlocked his cell and tapped on the voice message.
“You better not have hurt that poor girl, Josiah Darren Fleet. She didn't do anything wrong, and you know better than to raise your voice like that. I raised you better than that. So help me, if you do not reply to me right now, I am calling your boss, demanding your location, and driving straight over there to put you over my knee. I don’t care that you're bigger than me now. It’s bad enough you ignore your own family, but yelling at that poor, sweet girl is just unacceptable.”
His mom was right, of course. Once again, he’d allowed his fear to explode on Chelsea, who absolutely did not deserve it.
Of all the people in his life, she was the one who made a constant effort to try to get closer to him.
Yeah, his parents and brothers called often, but it was Chelsea he saw day in and day out, who got to him more than he would ever admit with each kind word and soft smile.
Because he had no doubt his mom would follow through on her threat, he typed out a quick text. Talking to her wasn't something he could handle, and if he called with the intention of leaving a voicemail, she would pick up the call, so text it was.
Of course I didn't hurt her
Chelsea is fine
But
Although the idea left him trembling, he knew he owed her an apology.
More than that.
An explanation.
It might not be easy, but she had twice this morning been the recipient of his anger, and he didn't like knowing he’d scared her. Just because he hadn't put his hands on her didn't mean that he hadn't inflicted damage.
Damage he was responsible for fixing.
I owe her an apology
Which I will give her
Actually, he owed more than just Chelsea an apology. His entire family deserved one, but he wasn't in a place yet where he could face them. He loved them, and he couldn’t put them in danger by placing himself back in their lives.
I’ll be waiting for my apology as well
I still like roses
And chocolate
I love you, son
And I'm still here when you're ready
We all are
His mother’s words made his eyes sting with tears he wouldn't allow to fall. He didn't deserve her kindness, her love, not after everything he’d already put her through.
For six years, he had done everything in his power to avoid his family. Barring them from his hospital room. Blocking them on all social media. Changing the locks on his door. Refusing to see them when they tried to surprise him by showing up unannounced.
They had never given up on him, though.
Not a single one of them.
To say he didn't deserve them would be a massive understatement.
Ignoring the blood on his hand and the pain pulsing through it, he straightened his back and braced himself for what he had to do. Facing the prospect of offering apologies to his family might not be something he was ready to tackle, but he couldn’t put off apologizing to Chelsea.
If for no other reason than because they were undercover together and he was supposed to be her husband, who was willing to buy black-market organs because he loved her so much. Nobody would believe that if she was afraid of him.
Only as he stalked out of the bathroom, Josiah knew it wasn't the case that had him going to apologize to the woman downstairs.
Truth was, he couldn’t stand the idea of Chelsea being scared of him.
Knowing that she was, felt like a thousand fire ants crawling all over his skin.
He had to make things right, had to tell her he was sorry, and try to explain in a way that she would understand without exposing all the wounds he kept hidden from the world.
And if he couldn’t, he would lose the best thing he had in his life.
May 13th
3:30 P.M.
What was she going to do with him?
Chelsea paced the living room, knowing she needed to do something but not sure what that something was.
Maybe she should go back up there?
No.
He’d told her to leave, and she wanted to respect his wishes. Besides, he’d likely be talking to his mom, maybe she could calm him down.
Only …
Had he been upset about her seeing him in the vest, or because she’d answered his phone? Both?
It hadn't seemed like he was pleased about her answering, although she honestly hadn't thought she was doing anything wrong.
Why wouldn't he want to talk to his mom?
What if there had been some sort of emergency?
But maybe he didn't want to talk to his mom. Since Josiah kept everybody at arm’s length, she had no idea what his relationships with his family were like.
If he would just tell her what he needed, then this would be so much easier.
Did he know that she’d do her best to give him whatever he asked for?
She was hopelessly in love with the man, even knowing there was every chance he was never going to love her back. If he needed someone to talk to, she was right there, she’d be the friend he needed and not ask for anything in return.
At the sound of footsteps on the stairs, Chelsea spun around and saw Josiah strolling down them.
Naked.
Well, aside from the vest. Which he still wore.
Even though it must be sodden from his shower and feel so uncomfortable against his skin.
If he wore it in the shower, then he wore it all the time.
She’d never known that. Then again, he’d made sure of that.
He always wore a sweater, even in the summer, and he wasn't close to anyone on their team so no one would even suspect.