Part 23 (1/2)
”Griffin...”
”Don't take that placating tone with me. You want the facts, don't you? And the emotions, right? That's what you've been asking for. That's what you want on the page.”
”I-” She hesitated, and he thought she might bolt. But then she clasped her hands together like a little girl at Sunday school. ”Okay. I want it all.”
He pushed to his feet and threw himself into his desk chair, which screeched as he swiveled to face her. It arrested him a moment, the sight of Jane at his feet, her expression expectant.
Innocent.
Could he tell her and ruin whatever pretty story she'd made up in her head? But it was his dishonesty that had been the beginning of Erica's end.
”Erica and I were...together before we left the States. We met through the a.s.signment, hit it off, so to speak, started seeing each other as we prepared for Afghanistan.”
He rubbed his face again. ”I thought it was all fun and games, but she...”
”Wanted more.”
”I didn't lead her on.” h.e.l.l, why he wanted Jane to believe that, he didn't know. ”At least I didn't intend to.”
”But then she started leaving you little notes.”
”After the first couple of weeks in Afghanistan, I realized her feelings had turned serious. I should have been honest with her immediately, but Christ, we'd agreed to be embedded with thirty guys for the next twelve months, and I didn't want that kind of awkwardness in the mix.”
”Makes sense.”
”Makes me an effing idiot. The close quarters meant we weren't having s.e.x-at least I can claim some n.o.bility there-but we were going out every day, getting shot at, being mortared.... It was pretty intense.”
In his mind, Griffin heard the high whine of an incoming mortar round, then its thunder-boom and sharp jolt of impact. The smell of it was in his nostrils and on his tongue, rotten eggs mixed with cordite and red dirt. ”You never knew if the thing you were doing-eating, on patrol, taking a leak-was the last thing you'd ever do. So I think for Erica, the last man she might ever be with became the man she had to love. The danger gave me a little s.h.i.+ne.”
”Because clearly you were pretty dull without that.”
He waved Jane's dry comment away. ”When we first started dating in L.A., I tried telling her how it was. That I wasn't looking for anything serious. I don't do serious with women, never have. But she didn't listen. She didn't listen to anyone about anything.”
”You told me what happened to her-the ambush. That wasn't your fault, Griffin.”
”She wanted to impress me,” he said, his temples beginning to ache. He needed another beer. ”That's why she went with the guys that morning, even though I had told her not to do it. Everyone had told her not to do it. I wouldn't have done it. But she went anyway to prove something to me.”
”Who said?”
He thought of the note he'd woken to find in his hand. Jane was holding it now. He nodded at it. ”She wrote *You'll see.'”
”You'll see...what? You'll see leprechauns? You'll see Firefly shouldn't have been canceled? You'll see that the coffee stain will come out of your khakis?”
She was being deliberately obtuse, and it made the knocking at his temples intensify. ”You'll see I'm good enough to love. You'll see that I'm fearless enough to love. I don't know exactly.”
In a quick move, Jane stood. Before he could stop her, she leaned over to turn on the desk lamp. Though the bulb was low wattage, it still felt like an interrogator's tool. He blinked against the light, one hand shading his eyes.
”That's certainly an interesting interpretation,” she said.
His hand dropped, and he squinted at her face. The lamplight caught the gold tips of her eyelashes. He looked away from them. ”What the h.e.l.l do you mean by that?”
”Maybe there's another meaning to her note.”
”Like what?”
”Have you considered that she was saying *I'll land this story'? Have you thought for just a teeny, tiny second, Mr. Ego, that maybe she wasn't taking risks for you, but for her job. For her career. For herself.”
Mr. Ego. His head pounded harder. ”Nice spin.”
”Why are you so sure it's spin?”
The annoyed note in her voice p.i.s.sed him off. ”Mr. Ego” p.i.s.sed him off. There was a cup of pens and pencils on the desktop, and he swiped at it, sending the Bics and No. 2s flying. ”d.a.m.n it, I don't know!”
Private rushed to his side. Griffin felt like s.h.i.+t for scaring the dog. He stroked his soft fur as the Lab pressed hard against his legs.
Jane crossed to his side too, and knelt on the other side of his knees. ”I'm sorry, Griffin. I know that whatever her motivation, it was a horrible event. A tragedy for her family and something that hurts you terribly.”
He drew back, blinking at her. ”Jane,” he began, then shook his head. ”Jane, you're wrong. I don't know if it's my reporter training or just a tic of my particular personality, but I don't feel anything close to terrible.”
A moment of silence pa.s.sed, and then he dropped the truth on her. ”Ninety-nine percent of the time I don't feel anything at all.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
TESS SANK ONTO the couch in the small, low-lit living room at Beach House No. 8 and watched the flames lick the Pres-to-Log she'd put a match to before checking on the boys. It wasn't cold, really; she was dressed warmly enough in a pair of yoga pants and matching top with long sleeves and a collar that she'd zipped to a point above her cleavage. But she'd decided the fire would be nice company for the night. Rebecca was sleeping over at a friend's, and her sons had slipped into dreamland not long after dark. An inflatable canvas raft had occupied Duncan and Oliver all afternoon. Riding the small waves near the sh.o.r.eline had so worn them out that they'd almost been asleep before Russ.
She propped her bare feet on the coffee table, b.u.mping the framed photo of the kids that she'd brought from home. With the four either asleep or absent, it was time to think of herself. It was time to decide what she wanted to do with her life.
A knock on the front door startled her. Griffin or Jane, she supposed, needing to borrow a cup of sugar or something similar. But it was Teague White standing in the dim glow of the porch light, his athletic build nearly filling the opening. He smiled, a flash of white in his tan face that struck her somewhere below her heart.
She placed her hand there. ”Hi.”
He glanced over his shoulder. ”I was at Captain Crow's...and then I thought of you. Would you like to share a drink with me?”
Oh, to be so free! She couldn't remember the last time she'd been able to take off for a drink or anything else without making plans and backup plans and backup for the backup plans. Was that what she wanted for herself? she wondered. More freedom? She had divorced friends and knew it was an unexpected by-product of shared custody. When the kids were with Dad, Mom had hours and hours of alone time.
”Tess?”
”Oh.” She laughed. ”Sorry, took a hike on a mind trail.”
”Mind trail?”
Her next laugh wasn't as amused. It was a phrase that she and David had coined long ago. One of those private codes that came out of a long marriage. ”I was daydreaming.” She took a breath. ”But as to your offer-I'm sorry, I can't go anywhere. The boys are asleep and-”
”Even if I brought the drink to you?” He held up a chilled six-pack of Mexican beer.
Her favorite brand. She hesitated only a second, then held open the door. ”I have limes.”