"I understand your concern," he said in a quiet voice, "but why can't you trust me? I'm doing the right thing."
She forced herself to meet his gaze. "Yes, you are. For you. And that's fine. I just don't want to be involved with it in any way. You have every right to do what you think is best. And I have every right to be afraid and unwilling to risk myself again."
"We can work this out, Lexie. More than anything, I want to be with you." He reached her in two quick strides, then clasped her shoulders and gently shook her.
She stared at him and pretended her heart was still beating. He wanted to be with her-but not more than he wanted to ride in the rodeo. Shaking her head, she blinked back the hot tears welling in her eyes. "Don't say that."
"Why not? It's true." His eyes searched hers. "The question is, do you want to be with me?"
Looking into his eyes, she swore she heard her heart splatter onto the floor. "It doesn't matter. There's no future for us."
"There could be if-"
"If I was able to accept your decision regarding this dangerous rodeo and taking your sail before you're prepared, which I'm not. If I was capable of setting aside my fears, which I clearly am not. If I was willing to risk my heart and happiness and future on another man who could very well destroy all three-and I'm not."
"You're scared. I understand, but-"
"I'm more than scared. More than terrified. I'm adamant. I can not, will not, do this again. Never again."
His face paled. He slowly released her shoulders, a muscle jerking in his jaw, his eyes clouding over with anguish. Before he could say anything else, something that might threaten her resolve, she wiped her face clean of expression and raised her chin. "I want you to leave."
The most deafening silence she'd ever heard filled the room. His eyes seemed to burn into hers and she spent those silent seconds memorizing his face feature by feature, yet knowing he was already permanently emblazoned in her memory. She wanted, needed, him to go. Now. Before the pain bubbling inside her exploded.
After what seemed like an eternity but was probably no more than a minute, she repeated, "I want you to leave, Josh. Now. Do you understand?"
His lips flattened into a hard line. "You've left precious little room for misinterpretation." He dragged his hands down his face, then shook his head. "I don't know how to say goodbye to you."
"Then don't say it. Just go. Please." Her voice broke on the last word, and she fisted her hands in an effort to keep herself together.
He stared at her for another few seconds, his throat working. Then he walked swiftly from the room, the sounds of his boot heels hitting the ceramic tile echoing through the house. She listened to the front door close with a quiet click. Seconds later she heard his car backing out of the driveway. And then silence.
He was gone. Completely. Irrevocably. Forever.
Her knees went limp and she sank into her chair. Nothing. She felt nothing. The place where her heart used to beat in her chest felt anesthetized. Indeed, her entire body felt as if it had taken a direct hit of Novocain.
Something wet landed on her arm, and as if in a trance, she looked down. A drop of water. As she stared at the spot, another drop fell. Then another. Tears.
A sob rose in her throat, accompanied by a blinding rush of heartache that bordered on physical pain, and she wished for the oblivion of her previous numbness. Because he was gone. And nothing had ever hurt this much.
Chapter 11
"You have got to get yourself out of this funk," Darla said two weeks later, striding into Lexie's kitchen, her arms laden with the fixings for margaritas and nachos.
"I'm not in a funk," Lexie lied, listlessly following Darla's energetic form.
Darla plunked her supplies on the counter and immediately made herself at home, dragging the blender out of a lower cabinet. "Well, if you're not in a funk, then you're doing a hell of an imitation of it. And since you wouldn't come out and party with me, I brought the party to you. Tonight it's just the three of us-you, me and-" she patted the bottle of tequila "-José Cuervo."
"I would have gone out, but I've been busy."
"Busy moping. The same as you've been for the past two weeks." Reaching out, Darla gave Lexie's hand a sympathetic squeeze. "I know you're hurting, Lex, and that's why I'm here. I'm the Official Un-Funker, DeMoper. After a few margaritas, fattening snacks and girl talk, you'll feel better. And look at this." She handed Lexie a folded section of newspaper. "There's a huge beach gear show at the convention center next week, guaranteed to draw lots of eligible men. We're going. The best cure for a broken heart is a new man. And you're not going to find one hiding out at home."
"I'm not interested in finding a new man, Darla. In fact, if I never see another man again, it will be too soon."
"Oh, boy, that statement proves you're still in Phase One of a breakup," Darla said, her eyes filled with concern. "I knew we shouldn't have waited this long to have a heart-to-heart. I should have yanked you out by your hair the minute Josh left town. And I would have if you'd answered your phone."
Proud that she didn't even wince when Darla mentioned his name, Lexie said, "I got your messages. I called you back."
"Yeah, and left messages on my machine saying you were fine. Which you are not. Two weeks after the guy is gone, you should have moved on to Phase Two. Maybe even Phase Three."
Lexie didn't ask what Phases Two and Three entailed-it didn't matter, she didn't care, and she wasn't up to doing them, whatever they were. Unless they were crawling into bed with the remote and a drowning-the-sorrows pint of double-chocolate-fudge ice cream. If so, she was in.
"I really am okay, Darla. Just busy. I've been putting in a lot of extra hours before and after work, giving private swimming and scuba lessons."
"I'm glad. But one look at you and it's clear to me-who knows you very well-that you're operating on autopilot. And it's high time you reengaged your gears. And to help you do that, I have some good news for you. But I'm not going to tell you until the nachos and 'ritas are ready. So go turn on the TV, or read a book or something while I get busy."
"I could help," Lexie offered, dubiously eyeballing the packages of meat and seasonings.
"Lex, the last time you helped, you burned the nachos." She made shooing motions with her hands. "Go."
Heaving a resigned sigh, Lexie walked into the living area, plopped down on the sofa, then flicked on the tube. She mindlessly channel surfed, trying unsuccessfully to push from her head the one thing that occupied every corner of her mind.
Josh.
Damn it, how long before she stopped hurting? Before this crushing ache lessened so it didn't feel as if an elephant sat on her chest? Before she stopped thinking about him several hundred times a day, in turns recalling their time together, then wondering what he was doing-and the even more agonizing, Who was he doing it with?
The high-pitched whirl of the blender sounded from the kitchen, and she grimaced. Yup, that's just what she felt like-as if she'd jumped heart-first into an ice-cube filled blender then pushed Frappé.
The aroma of spicy meat filled the room, but did little to interest her. She stared blindly at the images blinking past on the screen as she clicked the remote without enthusiasm.
Well, this pain had to lessen soon. It had to. All she had to do was to stop thinking about him. Stop recalling his smile. His laugh. Stop calling to mind the feel of his hands on her body, the texture of his skin against hers.
Stop seeing him on TV.