Page 44 of Protected from Reprisal
Irritation jabs at me. “Did I tell you to be careful with Eden?”
Contrition fills his gaze. “No. You didn’t.” Closing the distance between us, he claps my shoulder in wordless apology. “I guess… I feel protective of her, too. I know I shouldn’t. She’s a soldier just like the rest of us. But knowing what she’s been through…”
“I know.” I can’t fault Rafe for looking out for Yara when I want to do the same thing. “I won’t hurt her. That’s a promise.”
“Of course.” Rafe’s features crease in apology. “Sorry. That was a dick move, insinuating?—”
“It’s fine.”
“No. It’s not. Before Eden, if you’d asked, I would have sworn up and down that I didn’t want a relationship. But I was lying to myself. I did want one. But only with her.”
“I’m not sure if we’re at that point yet,” I reply. “But seriously, don’t worry about it.”
He stares at me for a long moment. “Okay.” Then he turns to leave the apartment, stopping in the doorway to add, “You know, I can see it. You and Yara. Maybe she’s your Eden. You never know.”
My heart skips a beat.
Could she be?
“Tell Yara I said hi,” Rafe continues. “See if she wants to come here one of these weekends. With two client apartments now, we’ve got the room.” Turning, he steps into the hallway before turning back to add with a knowing smile, “Unless she’s staying with you, of course.”
“Don’t you have some chocolate to deliver?” I ask while looking pointedly at the gold box in his hand.
Rafe laughs. “I suppose I do. I’ll let you get going.” He stops, and his expression sobers. “Sorry, Ace. Really. I had no right. Especially?—”
I grab one of the throw pillows my mom brought the last time she visited and chuck it at Rafe’s head. “Stop apologizing. It’s fine. Now get out of here so I can make it to Yara’s before midnight.”
The pillow comes flying back, but I bat it away before it hits me. As Rafe disappears down the hallway, he calls over his shoulder, “Stop wasting time throwing shit around. Didn’t you just say you need to get on the road?”
Shaking my head, I swipe the pillow off the floor and toss it back onto the couch. Then I shut the front door while smiling to myself. Even when my teammates are being annoying as all get-out and sticking their noses in my business, I can’t really complain about it. The relationship we have reminds me of the one I have with my brother. We give each other shit, call each other out when we think they might be fucking up, but at the end of the day, they’ll always have my six, just as I do theirs.
But I’d be lying if I said Rafe’s words didn’t stick with me.
Be careful.
They play in my head on repeat while I take the world’s fastest shower. They continue while I throw a few changes of clothes in my duffel, along with the package that came yesterday—thanks, expedited shipping—with some gifts for Yara.
I keep thinking about his words as I hurry through the house and to the garage, and again when I pull out onto the darkened road.
Be careful.
I can’t get them unstuck, even three hours into the drive. And the more times they repeat, the more worried I get.
No, I don’t want to hurt Yara.
Yes, she agreed with me that taking things slowly was a good idea. That we didn’t need to put a label on whatever our relationship is.
But what if she didn’t really mean it? What if she just agreed with me because she felt like she didn’t have another choice, but she really does want something more serious?
And it’s not like I’m some fantastic prize. Yara doesn’t know the truth about me, because I’m too chickenshit to tell anyone, even my family. That’s why I’ve been so adamant about staying single ever since I left the Army. It’s not because I’m against relationships. It’s just… Shit. I’m not sure I’m enough for one.
What if Yara really knew why I left the Army?I ask myself. Would she still look at me the same way? What if she sees me during one of my moments of weakness? What if she discovers I’m not the fearless Delta Force operator who plunged full-bore into some of the most dangerous places in the world, but a coward, instead?
As I navigate the crowded highway, nearly bumper to bumper with Friday evening rush-hour traffic, I try to turn my thoughts to more positive things. Like the weekend I have planned with Yara—pizza and the newestTransformersmovie tonight, a trip into Seattle tomorrow afternoon, aBattleBotsmarathon on Saturday night, and Sunday is dedicated to helping Yara in her workshop until it’s time for me to head home.
A doubting voice in my head whispers,Are you sure that’s a good idea? Spending all this time with Yara, knowing she needs someone who can be strong for her, someone who can help her feel confident again? Kind of hypocritical, isn’t it, considering?
Shut up,I silently retort.I like her. A lot. And I’m pretty sure Yara feels the same way. No, I’m not sure where this is going. But I’m not giving up on it, either.
