Page 39 of The Veteran
The years obviously hadn’t healed this emotional wound. Instead, it had festered.
“You couldn’t force her to do that,” I replied. “You did what you thought best at the time. It’s easy to see what could have been done differently in hindsight, but when you’re neck-deep in a situation, nothing is quite so clear.”
“I knew she was unhappy.”
“And you asked about it, but she didn’t want to talk,” I pointed out. “You agreed to a buddy system with your friend. You did the best you could.”
His face twisted into an ugly sneer. “I offloaded responsibility to someone I should have known wouldn’t be up to the job, and then I beat a guy until he was nearly unrecognizable. I don’t think that’s doing ‘my best.’”
I rested a hand over his heart. It was thudding hard and fast. “You’re good in here.”
“How do you know that?” His expression changed to something pleading, as if he actually wanted me to convince him of his own inherent decency. “I thought I’d changed, but I didn’t need to punch that guy who broke in here. Once I’d subdued him, I should have stopped. But I didn’t, because I haven’t changed at all. I’m violent, and maybe you should be scared of me. I don’t trust anyone—not even myself—and you shouldn’t either.”
My heart hurt because I could tell he actually believed what he was saying. “You’ve given me no reason to be scared of you or to doubt you.”
He stared at me in disbelief. “Haven’t you been listening?”
“Yes.” I rubbed my palm over his beating heart. “What I hear is that you’re a man who lost a friend and did some things he isn’t proud of. But you’re not the devil you make yourself out to be, and you don’t have a monopoly on self-blame.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
I bit my lip. If I wanted him to really hear me, I needed to share something important, the way he’d done with me. “I’m either directly or indirectly responsible for four deaths. Most of the time, I manage not to blame myself, but sometimes I can’t help it. Just like you, I can’t stop the ‘what ifs.’ What if I’d interrupted Mom and Dad’s argument—would Mom still be alive? What if I hadn’t been so determined to go to the dramatic arts college—would Dad never have decided to help rob a bank? If I hadn’t been born, would he have had a life of crime at all, or had he only done that to try to provide for me?”
I blew out a soft breath and gathered myself before continuing. “If I’d been better at defending myself, would Craig have died to save me, or would I not have needed him to do that? If I’d decided not to get a roommate, would Jessica be painting in an attic somewhere else in Chicago at this very minute?” I let everything I was feeling shine in my eyes. “There are so many ‘what ifs,’ I could drown in them. But what if, painful though it might be, everything happened the way it was supposed to?”
He shook his head. “How am I meant to believe that when horrible things happen to good people?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered. “But you have to believe in something or you’ll never be able to move on with your life.”
He touched soft lips to my forehead. “I believe in you.”
I smiled. “That’s a start.”
“I believe that keeping you safe is more important than anything else,” he murmured.
My stomach swooped and dipped. “That’s sweet, but keeping yourself safe is also important. Please be careful. I know I said I try to believe things happen for a reason, but I don’t want you dying for me. You deserve better than that.”
He traced the outline of my cheek with his thumb, then followed with his lips, trailing kisses from my forehead to my mouth.
“You deserve everything,” he said, and then he kissed me.
16
KADE
Sage tasted of mint and chamomile from the tea she’d drunk before we went to bed. I ended the kiss and released a slow breath, mesmerized by the imprint of her lips against mine.
“Everything,” I repeated, needing her to know how much she meant to me. She was incredible, my wild child, and I still didn’t think I deserved her, but damned if I could continue resisting. I’d nearly lost her, and it had helped me see that I couldn’t be without her. Not ever again.
To my surprise, she closed the distance between us and brushed her lips over mine. Where I’d pulled back after only a couple of seconds, she pressed closer and deepened the kiss. I placed a hand on her curvy hip to steady her. When her tongue stroked mine, I groaned, but resisted the urge to rub my hardening cock against her. She needed to rest. Now wasn’t the time for that.
But then she cupped her hand around my erection and wedged one of her legs between mine. And hell, maybe now was the time for that. After all, we weren’t guaranteed tomorrow.
“Is this okay?” she asked. Her free hand caressed the side of my neck and rubbed across my trimmed beard.
“Very,” I murmured, holding her gaze as I slipped the hand that had been on her hip beneath the hem of her pajama pants and down the satiny skin of her thigh. She arched into my touch like a cat, and her breath hitched. She was so sensitive.
“Are you sure about this?” I had to ask. It had been a stressful day, and I didn’t want her to regret anything later.