Out of Reach (Can't Help Falling Book 2), page 28
Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he smiled down at her. "Well, let's get you to bed. A few days and everything will go back to normal."
Normal? Swallowing around the knot of misery lodged in her throat, she closed her eyes. In the bedroom, he undressed her slowly. Gently. Kissing her tenderly. Surrendering herself to sensation, Alyssa silently corrected him. One more day.
Maybe she should wait. Frazzled by the commotion in the mayor's office the next day, Alyssa changed her mind a hundred times. "I'm not sure I can handle Teagan, too." By ten am, she'd already met with the mayor. Embarrassed over Maggie's plot, Theo's eyes held remorse as he'd tried to explain his wife's actions.
Enduring the endlessly awkward conversation had been grueling. Then-- she'd compounded it by submitting her resignation. After another twenty minutes of contrite- and- regretful Theo, Alyssa stumbled back to her office. Grateful to sink down in her chair, she closed her eyes.
A moment later, her phone buzzed. "Hey, Donna." She prayed Theo would sit on the resignation news for a few days. The thought of having to explain herself was too exhausting to contemplate.
"You've got a call." Donna hesitated. "I wanted to check with you first. It's Paul."
She suppressed a groan. Not. Another. Thing. "I'm not here." Whatever photo-op, press-release, joint-statement, stupid announcement he wanted from the mayor to give his freshman congressman a boost-- would wait. "Tell him . . . tomorrow," she relented.
Just for today-- McQuinn could wait. Weasel Paul could wait. Theo's homeless initiative would wait. Even Teagan would wait. Glancing around her office, she contemplated shoving everything from the top of her desk. She needed a massage. A facial. "A vacation."
Alyssa's courage returned that evening. Since Teagan's IT job had officially ended with Maggie's confession, he waited for her in the marble lobby. By seven, the cavernous lobby was all but deserted. Heart in her throat, she crossed to the picture windows where he waited.
His smile vanished as he watched her approach. "What's wrong?"
"We need to talk."
"Lyss-- what's this about?" Teagan looked beyond her shoulder. "Is this about Harry? Have you been threatened-"
"T-- I'm fine." Taking his hand, she guided him to a couch near the window. "I can't do this anymore."
"It's almost over. We'll have them-" He stiffened, suddenly understanding her meaning. "You mean . . . us."
"Last night-- you didn't get why I was surprised about the helicopters."
He scowled. "What's the big deal? I can fly a helicopter."
"It's not the flying." She released a shuddering breath. "It's-- you don't talk about it. You don't talk about anything."
His expression shuttered. "I’m well-trained, that’s all."
"Acknowledging you’re great at something-- it bothers you." His wintry eyes suggested she was wandering too close to his secrets.
His glance was stoic. "I'm not bothered."
"I think you are," she countered. Since their relationship-- if it could be called that-- was about to blow up in her face, she threw caution aside. "You could take all that training and apply it to a job that makes you proud."
"I am proud of my job."
"Yet, you never talk about it." His indifference sent icy shards of warning down her spine. She could stop now. Walk away, her brain urged. Gain clearance from the pending explosion. "Because it’s ugly?"
"It’s classified." His voice issued a challenge. "War is ugly."
"Changing careers . . . could make a difference." Finally, she would do something for herself-- no longer caring whether the time was right. Teagan could do the same. Start over. A new life. A new line of work that didn't snuff out his soul. "What about drug enforcement? You could talk to Finn-"
"Don’t go there," he warned, his voice chilling several degrees.
She refused to back down this time. Someone needed to get through to him. His aunt had likely tried. If Teagan would ever forgive himself- She steadied herself. The worst he could do was cut her down. "Fine, talk to Matt."
"Drug enforcement isn't a cake walk, Lyss."
"The Coast Guard," she countered. "Get your thrills chasing drug runners." Despite the warning flares igniting in his eyes, she continued. "Occasionally, you can . . . rescue people."
"I know this jobs thing is a big deal-- and I'm happy for you." Jaw clenched, he looked away. "But, I'd appreciate you not practicing on me."
"What about counter-terrorism-" His mutinous expression made him want to beat her fists against his chest. "You earned all those medals-"
"Don't-" He extended his hand, commanding her to stop. "Don't glorify that," he warned, his voice measured to keep from shouting. "Each one represents . . . a nightmare. A day when other guys-- great guys-- didn't make it back. I can't look at them without feeling . . . disgust." A shudder rolled through him. "They signify luck, Alyssa. Not skill. Not bravery-- at least not for me." He fisted his hand. "I was in the less-wrong-place. And I happened to survive."
"I'm sorry." Her heart breaking, Alyssa swallowed back tears. "I just-- I want . . . I want you to be happy."
"You want?" His laugh was deliberately mocking. "Babe, I can take care of myself."
She dropped her gaze, unable to face his defiant anger. The tiny balloon of hope slowly deflated. "It’s easier to believe there’s nothing else out there." Her shoulders ached with the effort to appear confident. "It's easier not making changes. Not searching for something that could make you happy," she argued. "Because it’s safe."
He snorted. "My job is a lot of things-- but safe isn’t one of them."
Ignoring his sarcasm, Alyssa remained stoic, her chest slowly icing over. "You know what I mean. Safer than searching for something you may never find."
"I don't need a lecture about my job." He stabbed a hand through his hair."About it not being good enough."
"Not good enough?" She wanted to shove him "Anything you do is good enough for me."
"Lyss, save your pep talk for one of those lost souls you're so interested in helping. I’m not worth saving."
"You are. I know you are." Despite his words, Teagan couldn't hide the torment in his eyes."T-- I love you," she whispered. "I've always loved you."
"You-" He released a tortured breath. "I'm not worth it."
As her brain analyzed the stupidity of revealing her feelings, her heart twisted. He wanted . . . so much. But-- he would never allow himself to have anything.
"All this talk about a new career. . . that’s for my benefit?"
"Maybe it benefits us."
His eyes anguished, he shook his head. "Babe-- I can't- There's no . . . us."
The dagger struck her heart, exactly where he’d aimed. The chill traveled all the way to the pit of her stomach. "Right-- I forgot."
"Lyss-- after this op, I’m gone." His fingers clenched in a restless fist. "If I happen to be on this side of the world-- we might bump into each other." His smile mocked. "You-- with some poor guy and that damned rugby team of kids you’re hell-bent on."
"And you with an assault rifle slung over your shoulder?" Alyssa swallowed around the burn of tears. "A bimbo on the other arm?"
Anguish flared in his eyes-- a raw instant of vulnerability. In that blinding moment, she witnessed a grieving nine-year-old-- still waiting on the porch for a mother who would never return.
Teagan shuttered his expression, the rock hard, no-care-in-the-world soldier back on display. "Sounds about right."
"I get it now." A hollowness stole over her, protecting her. Detaching her from the ache of futility. As though she'd awakened during surgery. Her soul hovering above them, oblivious to the pain being inflicted below. "You just . . . don't want me."
"Don't want you?"
She jumped when his angry voice echoed through the empty lobby.
"I go into ugly situations and I get the job done-" He lowered his voice. "Do you understand? I blow up villages . . . because at that moment," he said scathingly, "they're our enemy. He shook his head, his laugh toneless. "All under the banner of protecting people like you. Hell, I’m a hero." He thumped his chest. "Do I still look like a great guy now? Like the perfect father to those kids?" His eyes sparked with self-loathing. "What I am is . . . a good time. Hell, I’ll admit it. We’re incredible together. Is that what you wanna hear? That I've never been able to forget you? That I love taking you to bed? That I . . ."
His harsh words reverberated off the marble hall, the strength of his fury seeming to dissipate. "Fine, Lyss-- wait around your whole life. When I get my r & r-- if I’m not shot up too bad, I’ll come back for a visit."
Hands trembling, she pressed them to his chest, as though her touch might somehow reach him. "Don't do this."
He stared down at her, using his height to challenge her. "We'll spend fifteen days in bed, and then I’ll leave you again. Does that sound like something you’re interested in?"
"You said y-you wanted something different," she whispered. "You said that was the reason you came all the way back h-home."
"It’s too late," he admitted. "I’m accepting my limitations."
"It’s never too late." Her anger flashed over. "Why would you sign on for four more years of hell-"
"That's why you're changing the rules?" His voice grew deadly quiet. "Because I'm not sure what I want?"
Nice evasive maneuver, she congratulated. Stillness descended over her, a modicum of control falling into place. Preparing her for the fallout. "How I feel-- that's what changed," she admitted, hating when her voice broke.
It was funny what love did to a person. Standing before the unyielding, implacable soldier, her heart breaking . . . Alyssa still found a smile. "I never told you this . . . but all those years ago-- when you walked up to me at that party-"
"What about it?" His voice wooden, the words were dragged from him. Yet his expression told her he couldn't not ask. His soul at war with his brain. Clinging to an old standby. His desire to feel nothing.
"That semester felt magical." She dropped her gaze, unwilling to risk seeing him smirk when she laid herself bare. "Every time I turned around, you were somehow-- there," she whispered. "I didn't even know your name." She swallowed around the pain in her throat. "The library. The campus center. What were the odds?" A lone tear managed to squeeze past the sentries. "Then you walk up to me at a party. Like it was-- fate."
He was quiet for so long, she assumed he'd been stunned into silence. "The campus wasn't that big, Lyss."
"Fine-- it's silly," she dismissed, rousing from the memory. "But I liked that it felt that way."
"Probably a coincidence." His voice had gone hoarse but Alyssa couldn't summon the energy to wonder why.
"Please don't ruin it," she begged. Maybe she was a fool for trying to make him feel something he was so clearly incapable of. But-- he had no right to make her feel small. "You have the power to hurt me," she confessed, hating the uncertainty in her voice. But Alyssa knew with blinding certainty she had to be the one-- to risk everything.
"You'll walk away just like ten years ago. Like you’ve walked away a hundred times before. And apparently-- you’ll be fine." Anger building, she stared at him. Since his return, she'd tossed aside all the hard-earned lessons of the past. Again, she stood on the precipice. Another man deciding she wasn't good enough. Another man deciding to leave.
"What do you know about me?" The intensity of his voice vibrated through her like a tuning fork. "Your whole life-- you’ve lived in a vacuum. Great family. A rich father who adored you. A mother who cheered you on. Who's proud of everything you do. Who celebrated every accomplishment." He stared at her. "Look at me," he commanded. "A lazy, worthless drunk for a father-- who left when I was five." His breathing was ragged with fury. "And a weak, selfish bitch who abandoned me on a doorstep." His jaw clenched, he looked away. "I came from nothing-- I am nothing. But you-- you’re so afraid of success, you’re walking away from it."
Heartsick over his confession, Alyssa felt bitterness lodge in her chest. The need to correct him. To justify her decision. But the anguish in his eyes snuffed out her anger. "You're right. I may completely flop. . . but at least I’ll know I tried."
The expression on his face was enough to terrify her, but if she didn’t finish this-- she would regret it. Because once their conversation ended, she’d never see him again. He’d make damn sure of that.
"Being halfway around the world is an easy excuse for keeping yourself isolated. You were abandoned-- but Louise took you in. She loves you, yet you allow her to suffer."
He grew deathly still, his face draining of what little color remained. His eyes haunted by her words. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"You deliberately stay away. I'm sure you feel brave and tough and hard. And you delude yourself into thinking everyone’s better off." Her throat ached with unshed tears for him-- and herself. "But all you really are-- is cruel."
"I was a burden."
His truth echoed in her ears. "You’ve never allowed yourself to get attached to anyone-- not Louise, not your brothers. Because they might dump you, too, right?"
His angry smirk sent a shiver through her. "I'm not listening to this."
"You isolate yourself from them because you never felt good enough. Your argument with Finn is about you-- not him."
"Babe, this therapy shit might work in your support group, but I’m not interested."
His words sliced through her. But it was a strength borne of desperation that forced her to continue. Teagan needed to hear this from someone. It may as well be her who fell on the grenade.
"Your secret fear has come true. You’ve cast aside everyone who ever mattered to you." The dam around her heart finally broke, a crashing wave of pain roaring over the sides. For once, she didn’t fight it, allowing the warm river to spill down her cheeks. "I’m going to tell you something," she choked out, "you’ve probably never heard."
"What's that?" Two syllables-- laden with misery.
Grateful for her blurry eyes, Alyssa's crushed heart began softening at the agonized rasp. "I’m so disappointed in you."
Her heels echoing on the marble tile, she wiped her eyes on her sleeve. Pushing through the heavy, oaken door, she didn't look back at the tortured man she left behind.
By tomorrow, he could be gone. TJ repeated the oath on the drive across town. The pounding tension behind his eyes had left him with a monster headache-- one that would only be vanquished by several shots of guilt-numbing alcohol. With any luck, he could finish tomorrow. Phone the mayor. Run down leads for Mullaney-- without having to see him. They'd already eliminated the budget guy. That left Theo, Luther and the congressman.
According to Sean, the cops were picking Harry up tomorrow. That meant Alyssa would be safe. Until then, she had a tail. After dumping him an hour ago, he'd at least remembered to call Mullaney to inform him he wasn't with Alyssa.
"She's at her place." Mullaney's gravelly voice confirmed his suspicion. "You sure you can't work this out? Things are heatin' up."
"Pretty damn sure." TJ resisted the urge to swerve into the guardrail. Lyss had made it clear she didn't want him anymore. Except for the part about loving him. The acceptance he'd seen in her eyes. The conviction he hadn't wanted to believe. Even now-- it sat there, the weight of her words crowding his chest. Whispering in his ear. The damned stupid hope. The want. The need. The what if? A shudder rolled through him. Each time he rejected them, they bounced back.
By this time tomorrow, he could be at the base, where he’d catch a flight back to Germany. But, right now-- his gut in a knot-- he just wanted to get home. He wanted to sit in his darkened apartment and drink from the bottle of Jack. Until he could no longer see Alyssa's haunted eyes. Until he couldn't hear her words. If he was lucky, he might eventually be able to forget the things she’d said. But no amount of whiskey would provide the oblivion he'd need to forget the pity in her eyes.
He checked his rearview mirror and switched lanes, his brain still functioning despite the stabbing pain in his chest. Maybe he wasn't a robot. He'd drifted through life trying not to feel anything. Now-- the demons unleashed-- they cascaded from him. Rage. Pain. Sorrow. Remorse. Like a damned tsunami he couldn't outrun. Alyssa's words pummeling him. Raining down on him like blows. He'd showed up to a firefight with no weapon. And she'd kicked the shit out of him.
She'd spoken from her heart. No caution. No holding back. And still-- he couldn't be honest. About anything. The life-altering, from-a-dream night a decade earlier. He'd lost his heart to the one woman he was never supposed to have. "Not that you've ever deserved her," he mocked. He'd been broken and fixed too many times to hold any value. Like a shattered vase-- the glue could only hide so many cracks. People like him needed to stay on a high shelf. Gathering dust until they were eventually forgotten.
But-- hell if he hadn't wanted her. That summer, his life had boiled down to a series of 'ifs'. If he hadn't been so screwed up. If he'd been worthy of her. If he'd met Lyss sooner- "I could've said 'screw you' to the Army." He sighed. "Except for the court-martial." Hell-- he would've risked his friendship with Matt. He would have convinced Matt that he'd do whatever it took to keep the beautiful, sunny girl he didn't deserve.
Now-- all he could do was finish the op. Salvaging his relationship with Alyssa was beyond hope. He’d treated her cruelly. He’d dismissed her concerns for him. Insulted her dreams. Because she’d hit too close. Because she could read him-- like no one else ever had. Alyssa's blunt, to-the-point style—one of the things he liked best about her, had been his undoing.
"Focus on the mission. Abandon the rest." At least then, he could leave with the knowledge he’d kept his word. He’d finally square it with Matt-- even if his friend never knew. Helping Alyssa made them even.
Without knowing how he got there, Teagan pulled into the familiar driveway. A wave of anxiety sweeping him, he froze. Sitting there behind the wheel, afraid to move. Afraid to acknowledge the tiny spark of hope. Prying his hands from the wheel, he left the car. Heart pounding like a locomotive, he climbed the cracked, concrete steps, pausing on the porch to drink in the riot of petunias and zinnias and ivy cascading from their pots. Purple morning glory climbed the faded shutters, their vibrancy muting the peeling paint. Heart in his throat, he raised his hand and knocked. When the door opened, he released a steadying breath. The woman framed in the doorway had aged. But the smile wreathing her startled face was timeless.
