Part 35 (1/2)

That elicited gasps, then real cheers from Tony and my mom and Mrs. Doyle. My mom turned and hugged Julia, then said, ”I'm so proud of you!”

”We couldn't have done it without her,” I said. ”I still can't believe how fast it all went down.”

”All right,” Dad said. ”Anyway, what I wanted to say was ... this ... you guys are my family. All of you.” He said the last as his eyes went to Tony, Mrs. Doyle, and finally Julia. ”Julia, I know we've only known each other for a couple of months. But I want you to know, I think of you like a daughter. You're always welcome in my home.”

His eyes glanced toward me, and I wasn't sure how to translate whatever the h.e.l.l he was trying to say. Was it ... here, Crank, I'm doing you a favor by inviting her over? Or was it, don't screw it up, Crank, because she's here no matter what you think? I didn't really have any way of knowing.

”Anyway, enough of all that. You all know I'm headed out in the morning. Hopefully this won't take too long, and they'll find whatever they're looking for and this thing will end and I can come back home. And soon. But in the meantime, I want you all to watch out for each other, all right? No bulls.h.i.+t.”

Tony leaned forward. ”Jack, you're making me want to cry little b.a.l.l.s of syrup. Just shut the h.e.l.l up and come home safe, all right?”

”You got that right,” Dad said.

After dinner, we settled into a serious game of Monopoly, until about eight, when Julia said, ”I've really got to get going. Cla.s.s in the morning.”

She looked up at Dad and smiled, and he grinned back at her.

”I'll walk you out,” I said.

”It's not necessary,” she replied.

”I want to.”

She shook her head in a jerking motion.

”Really,” I said. I fought to keep my voice firm. ”I insist.”

Rather than make a scene, she rolled her eyes. I'd take that as acceptance. So I got her coat and scarf, and she bundled up. Dad walked over to her and grabbed her in a bear hug. ”You take care,” he said.

She sniffed. ”Be careful over there. Come home safe.”

”Ah, none of that crying business.” He nudged a tear off her face with a knuckle. ”I'm going to be just fine.”

She nodded and turned toward the door. I opened it for her and walked outside. It was freezing. Her car was half a block down, pulled into one of the few spots. We walked beside each other, silently.

About halfway to the car, I said, ”I've got to say something, and you need to hear me out.”

She winced and shook her head. ”There's nothing to say, Crank.”

I took her arm and held her, my tone growing hard. ”Maybe you've got nothing to say, but I do. And you owe me the courtesy to listen.”

She froze, flint in her eyes as she spoke. ”Take your hand off my arm.”

I let go. ”Two minutes. Just listen.”

”I'm listening.” She didn't look like she meant it. In fact, she looked so angry I thought she was going to hit me.

I swallowed. ”If what you need to be really happy ... to be happy with who you are, to be ... satisfied with your life ... is to walk away, then I'll accept it.”

”What?”

”d.a.m.n it, Julia. I don't know how you've worked your way into me the way you have. But the fact is, I love you.”

She flinched when I said the words.

”It's true,” I said. ”I love you, and I want you to be happy, I want you to have the life you deserve. And if that means ... if that means I have to stand here and watch you walk away, then I'll do it. I won't be happy about it. It'll break my heart. But ... if that's what you really need, then we're done.”

She looked at me, her expression s.h.i.+fting, and I couldn't figure out what was going on in there.

”Before you go,” I said, ”you need to know-I'd do anything for you.” I stepped closer, so close we were almost touching. ”Even kiss you goodbye and watch you go.”

And then I leaned forward and laid a gentle, almost chaste kiss on her lips. I stepped back. The confusion and fear on her face were at war with each other. I'd said what I needed to say. Maybe I'd planted a seed. Maybe I hadn't. Only time would tell, and that hurt more than I'd ever imagined a woman could hurt me.

Her eyes were watering, her face showing nothing but grief. Finally, she turned and without saying a word, slipped into her car and drove away, leaving me standing there alone.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

My sister's hand (Julia) I made it two blocks from Jack's house before I had to pull over. I was crying so hard I couldn't see. I wanted nothing more than to drive back to tell Crank I was sorry, that I wanted to be with him, that I loved him, and that it had all been a huge mistake. I felt like I had a giant hole in my stomach, my vision was blurred and I couldn't stop shaking.

But I knew it wasn't a mistake. The mistake had been letting him under my skin in the first place. I knew the day we met in Was.h.i.+ngton there was something about him that attracted me. That initial flush of l.u.s.t and intrigue, however, had turned into much more. Watching him playing his guitar, eyes closed, lost in his music; watching him taking care of Serena and Mark and Pathin as if they were his kids; watching him protecting his brother. All of it made me feel an intense need to be with him, no matter the cost. Even if the cost was my autonomy, my self-control, my life.

I couldn't allow it to go any further. I was so perilously close.

Close to losing myself.

So, I pulled it together. I stopped crying, got myself in order, and I drove back to Cambridge. Then I dodged the questions from my suitemates and fell into a long, troubled sleep.

Monday morning, I was a mess. I woke up late and had to rush to cla.s.s. I couldn't get my mind off Crank: his hurt, frustrated expression when I'd run out of the warehouse Sat.u.r.day night. And the words he'd said after dinner at his father's. You need to know that I'd do anything for you ... even kiss you goodbye and watch you go.

What the h.e.l.l did that mean? Insanely, even though I knew I couldn't do this, I couldn't be in a relations.h.i.+p with him, I couldn't love him-I still felt lost. And angry. It was this messy, out of control feeling I'd been trying to avoid in the first place. And yet here I was, unable to concentrate, unable to even think, even though I'd done exactly what I needed to do.

For the first time in my academic career, I got called out by a professor for not paying attention. I'd just been sitting, staring out the window at the grey winter sky, and then Professor Simpson called my name.

”Miss Thompson, if you aren't well enough to pay attention, you should consider coming back another day.”

I looked at her a moment, nodded, then packed my bag and left. Which is something I'd never done before.

I was in slightly better shape Tuesday. Marginally. But, to be honest, it wasn't exactly the best day I'd ever had. Finally, Wednesday morning I blew off cla.s.s completely, packed my bag, including my best dress carefully packed in a garment bag, and left for the airport.

By five P.M. I was in a cab in Bethesda. I took a deep shuddering breath as I got out of the cab and looked at the building. No matter what happened, I'd never lightly enter this place. I'd never be able to separate it from the nightmare that had been my senior year in high school. I'd grown older and wiser, and I'd gained some distance from the events of that year. But it only took a glance at the scars on my wrist to bring it all back.

So, I was already tense as I rode the elevator upstairs to my parents' apartment. I couldn't think of it as home, any more than I could the townhouse in San Francisco. In short, my att.i.tude left a lot to be desired.

When I got to the door, I felt odd and uncomfortable simply unlocking it and walking in, but it felt just as strange to knock. What was the appropriate thing? I decided it didn't really matter. Regardless of how I entered, I was in for a not very pleasant night. Stress always brought out the worst in my mother, and a dinner at the White House? That was stress-inducing.

So, I set my bag down, unlocked the door, and walked in, dragging the bag behind me.