It wasn’t until a few hours after we’d finished eating that I had to use every ounce of self-control so I wouldn’t lash out for what Rachel saw one night in the bathroom, and for the two kisses they had shared. Rachel explained both kisses as: “We thought we were about to die, we didn’t know what we were about to walk out of that room and into. He’d taken care of me, killed his ‘brothers’ for me, put himself in danger for me and was about to willingly do it again.” All I could think of as she’d explained the kisses was, You were still engaged!
I couldn’t imagine kissing another woman in any situation, let alone that one. Rachel must have seen that thought repeating itself, because she looked directly into my eyes and whispered, “You weren’t there for all of it. So don’t judge me, because there is no way you could understand why it happened, or why I let it happen.”
When she was done with her story, she started picking at the bottom of her shirt and refused to look at me again; and I just didn’t know what to say.
So I didn’t say anything.
We sat there silently for another hour as she looked at everything but me, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
I wasn’t sure if I was happy I knew now, or not. At least some of the images I had been visualizing had been put to rest. If she said that was all that happened between them on a romantic or sexual level, then I believed her . . . completely. But that didn’t make what had happened any easier.
I knew that Rachel believed she didn’t have romantic feelings for Trent . . . but there was something. I could see even as she told me about her time when she was gone, the way she talked about him changed. Scared of him, to confused about him, to grateful for him, to viewing him as friend, to viewing him as something else entirely. Only problem was she didn’t even realize that final change; and I didn’t have a name for it.
From what she had said, she’d wanted to get out of there and get back to me, and Trent was going to help her. And after watching the way she continued to avoid eye contact or slowly inch away from me, I stopped wondering why she would be doing that after so long apart if she wasn’t actually in love with Trent.
Because I knew the reason now.
Just like I’d envisioned a reunion with her that was completely different from the one we’d had. She’d been dreaming of me rescuing her and taking her away from it all. And instead, I’d let my jealousy get in the way and had been a bastard to her the entire first day after the supposed bad guy had just done everything to save her.
Strike. Three.
Rachel
I COULDN’T FIGURE OUT WHAT TO SAY or what to feel when I finally finished rehashing everything I could think of from my time with Trent.
Now I was sitting here, trying to sort through all the emotions that were coursing through me. I knew the members of his gang would kill Trent the second they had the chance, and I was feeling guilty and terrified for when that time came . . . it felt like I was already grieving his loss. I’d promised him I wouldn’t let him go down for everything, and in the end, I hadn’t been able to do a thing about it. I wanted him back; I wanted him safe and away from the other members of his gang. I wished more than anything that he could have gotten a start at a new life instead of being sent to prison, where he was likely to die for what he’d done for me. But through all of that—through all of those emotions—they didn’t compare to what I was feeling for the man sitting across from me.
I was so confused. I had no idea what he was thinking or feeling for me after the conversation I’d heard yesterday afternoon. I’d always known he was quick to react on his emotions, it was one of the reasons I loved him. But everything about yesterday and today was so beyond what I thought it would be, and what was us, that I just felt like I didn’t know anything anymore.
So I was grieving, but it wasn’t just for Trent and what was to come for him, it was also for the relationship that I was afraid was now over after everything Logan and I had been through.
When more than an hour had passed since I’d finished talking, and he still hadn’t said a word, I stood up to take a shower.
“What can I do, Rachel?” he asked to my back. “Tell me what to do for you and I’ll do it. Tell me how to help you and it’ll be done.”
My lips tilted up in a forced, helpless smile even though he couldn’t see me, and I kept my back to him as I said, “If I had any idea what to do to make that month go away, or to fix us, I would. But I don’t, I don’t even know if there is anything either of us can do.”
Without waiting for a response, I walked to the back of the house and through the bedroom to the bathroom. Stripping down after the steam from the shower started filling up the room, I stepped in and let the hot water soothe my aching body, and hide my unrelenting tears.
Logan never came to check on me, though I stayed in long enough again that the water ran cold. But when I was in new pajamas and was walking out of the bathroom again, something on the bed caught my eye.
My engagement ring was on top of the same piece of paper I had left it on this morning, sitting in the middle of the bed.
I sat on the edge and reached for the paper, letting the ring slide off it onto the comforter.
I’m here. Always. And I’m never giving up on us. I love you.
“So fall when you’re ready, babe . . .”
Somehow, impossibly, more tears filled my eyes, and I pressed the paper to my chest as I fell back onto the bed. Grabbing my engagement ring, I held it above me and stared at it through blurred eyes as I replayed yesterday, then replayed the first and second times Logan sang “Fall into Me” by Brantley Gilbert to me. It was after our first time together, and then again as he danced with me in my kitchen last fall on the anniversary of my parents’ death.
I loved him. I loved the man that was waiting for me somewhere in the house. I loved the way he loved me, and I loved all his faults. Including his quick reactions based solely on emotions rather than on facts.
But the events of the last month wouldn’t just go away. Just like the horrific night with Blake hadn’t gone away overnight. Logan was right about one thing, I was sure of it. I wasn’t the same Rachel as before, and I didn’t know how to get her back. Because this time, it wasn’t just the events that had changed me . . . it was also Trent, and he had changed Logan too.
Logan didn’t understand my relationship with Trent, and I wasn’t sure if he understood now that I wasn’t in love with him. But for Logan, there was still that level of unease and suspicion when it came to Trent, and that needed to be addressed, just as much as I needed to work my way through all that had happened before Logan and I could move forward.
Sitting back up, I opened the drawer of my nightstand and kept both the note and ring in my left hand, suspended over it, as I thought of the past . . . the future . . . and most importantly, the present. What happened here and now could change everything.
Letting the note fall, I shut the drawer and stood to leave the room.
20
Kash
SLIPPING THE CHAIN holding the badge over my head, I pulled on an old Henley shirt and made sure it covered my duty weapon resting in the holster on my belt. Grabbing my tactical boots, I put them on and ran a hand through my hair as I walked out of the bedroom.