They stared at each other for a moment, Devon mentally sifting through all sorts of catastrophes that could come crashing down on them at any time. Tension was more than a wall between them; it was a living thing. Swirling like a wind in the room, chasing away the physical attraction he’d been fighting until all that remained was them. Two people, one huge disaster to deal with.
The beeper on the microwave went off, and they both jerked in surprise. Devon laughed in spite of the tension. “Ten more minutes.”
She nodded, collapsing onto the couch and burrowing her head in her hands. When she spoke it was toward the floor. “I mucked up hugely.”
“Hey, I’m not even going to argue with you on that one.”
She snorted. “Great. We’re finally in agreement about something. I’m an idiot.”
Devon paced over, looking down as she leaned on the sofa. He took in the utter misery in her expression, the defeat in her body language. This wasn’t the overconfident cocky woman who’d been driving him crazy for years. This was someone on the edge of breaking.
“Dammit, Alisha. I want to stay pissed off, but I can’t.” He joined her on the couch, figuring that looming over her wasn’t helping matters. She had screwed up, but if they were going by protocol, so had he. “We’re now officially in this together.”
“Sorry for dragging you into it. I never intended to make life miserable for anyone.”
“It . . . was an accident.” He caved that far. She was right; the situation had been over the top and incredible. And her willingness to take responsibility meant a lot. It was also typical—she never gave herself a break. That Alisha he was familiar with even if the package was usually tied up tighter in cocky arrogance. “Okay, we’ve established what happened. What are we going to do about it?”
“You’re not telling Marcus?”
He shook his head. “Not this instant. If we can come up with a way to test your boundaries that doesn’t endanger you, me, or the team, we’ll be okay. But if we can’t, then I expect you to tell him yourself.”
The bitter taint of disappointment stroked the back of her tongue. He was right, of course, in insisting she be the one to confess, but considering it made her nearly as ill as the idea of being crushed again by the river . . .
Devon caught her wrist, taking a firm grasp. She didn’t bother to ask the question forming on her lips when she noticed he was eyeing his watch.
Taking her pulse. He’d probably check her pupils next. “There’s nothing physically wrong with me, Devon. I had a panic attack.”
“Humour me,” he drawled. “You were there and then you were gone, and since we didn’t let Xavier know anything happened, I’m your medic for the next few hours.”
Alisha snapped her lips together to hold in the protest, because again, he was right. “Ways to test my boundaries? Can you think of any?”
Devon fell silent as he pulled out a Leatherman with a light attachment. Sure enough, he checked her pupils. “Have you had inklings of panic like this before? Do you have any specific triggers? I mean, you did manage the rescue by the falls.”
She thought back. “I didn’t have issues. Not then, or when we were by the Bow River. Today was a freak event.”
“Maybe, but we need to logically eliminate what we can. I know you haven’t had trouble with water before, but we could start at the simplest situation and work through them one at a time.”
Alisha refrained from rolling her eyes. “You want me to hit the swimming pool to prove I’m not afraid of water?”
Devon nodded. “Hey, it’s a place to start. We’ll hit the pool, do a few laps, try a few rescues. You know the drills—you did all the same training at school I did. Well, you weren’t nearly as fast as I was, but still.”
His momentary attempt at lighthearted humour was appreciated but also put her back up. “I wasn’t an ex-swimmer jock. I came far closer to kicking your ass than I should have a lot of the time.”
Devon shook his head as he gently ran his fingers through her hair. “In your dreams, girl. In your dreams.”
His skilled examination was over quickly, but the sensation of his hands on her scalp and neck lingered far too long. She didn’t want to talk about the things that had been invading her dreams, since most of them involved him. “Fine. We can hit the pool. And then are we going to jump in a lake? Dive into a waterfall?”
“You have told me to go jump in a lake a few times.” He flashed his grin, the high-voltage one that should come with a warning label. “Now I get to return the favour.”
She rose from the couch, escaping because the heat from his body was far too distracting. “I don’t want to quit the team. Maybe that’s selfish, or stupid, but it’s a reality. I’ve worked so damn hard to prove I can do this, that to have my career ripped away is . . . wrong.”
“Your career is not over.” Devon was on his feet. “But psychoses can be a bitch. So you need to trust me. Let’s deal with this and then we can get back to happily working for Lifeline for years to come.”
Alisha stared past him out the window as his words shot another blade into her. Frustration at her current dilemma and fear of her long-term predicament blended into an impassable morass.
The microwave buzzer went off, and Devon stepped around her without a word. He moved through her small kitchen area with a confident stride, filling two plates high.
Usually that was her. Full of confidence in herself. In her abilities.
Now? Having to prove she wasn’t one step away from a panic attack was more than annoying—it made her want to scream.
He was back too quickly, pushing her toward the couch. “You’re upset, and I’m starving. Eat, and after we’ll come up with some other solutions.”
She took the plate with fingers that had gone numb. “Right. You’re right.”
He laughed. “See, if you’d simply acknowledged that sooner, we’d have gotten a lot further in this conversation already.”
Devon rested his plate on the couch arm, then ignored her and strode toward the television. He grabbed a DVD and had it playing within moments, the volume turned up loud as James Bond filled the screen.
Even with the confusion in her brain, her body had no trouble telling her what she wanted—starting with the food he’d served. Between the demands of the rescue and the adrenaline overload and its lasting effect, she was ravenous. Devon ignored her, settling on the couch and diving into his meal. The wild action of the movie was distracting enough that all she saw was her plate and the screen.
Until the one urge was satisfied. With the hunger in her belly sated, it was harder than before to ignore that Devon was in her apartment. No matter that he’d come over to give her hell, he was still there. He wasn’t going to tell Marcus about her issue.
He wanted to help her.
For years she’d fought her attraction to him, but today, she wondered how many of her reasons for avoiding him had been valid. The actions he’d taken so far today weren’t those of a mindless, inconsiderate playboy.
She put her plate on the coffee table and snagged the blanket from the back of the couch, draping it over herself. Devon rose and refilled his plate.
She turned down his offer for more food. “I’m full.”
Full and getting sleepy as she finally relaxed off the rush that had flooded her system. She was going to crash hard in a bit.
Without a word Devon dropped beside her.
It was crazy. The heat in her body rose as the food fueled her and the blanket trapped it in. She caught her eyes closing a few times as she fought to stay awake.
Watching the movie caused problems of other sorts as a love scene filled the screen. She hadn’t thought it possible to become even more aware of Devon at her side.