She ignored some general discussion she assumed was about her, and then to her immense relief, Jamie Snow appeared.
“You looking for me?”
He brushed his hair behind his ear with the thumb that wasn’t balancing a drooping crust under his chin. Not having the mental faculties left for anything else, Gray came straight out with it. “Can you hook me up, Doc?”
CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX
Sitting on an outcrop of rock,Gray heard Chase coming. It had to be him because who the fuck else would it be? As soon as the saline bag had pumped the last drop of instant sobriety into her arm, she’d taken the needle out, left another message for Tara, and run for the hills.
Rehydrated and able to function on a level slightly closer to normal, she assumed Chase and the rest of the JTT had let her go, knowing she wouldn’t get far. And she hadn’t, only to the top of the closest mountain, which was laughable. She’d climbed mountains. Palo Pinto’s claim to fame consisted of a cluster of hills and an hour hike at best.
On arrival, Chase made himself at home behind her. His legs wrapped around hers, he brushed her hair over her shoulder before his strong arms circled her waist, pulling her away from the edge to lean against him.
He pressed a kiss to her temple as he settled his back against the rock behind them. Tired, she let her head fall against his shoulder. Up here, a cool breeze blew, but as usual, Chase’s temperature ran hot, so the chill she’d been fighting gave over to his heat.
She sighed. Despite the sadness still weighing her down, the stress of the last days dissolved at his touch, and she felt boneless and content in the circle of his arms.
It was a problem.
“You do this a lot, you know.”
He took the M&M bag she held in her hand. “Do what? I thought you didn’t like M&Ms?”
“Make yourself at home.” She wiggled her butt in illustration of what she meant. “And what I said was I don’t like M&M Peanuts.” She held out her hand, and he put a brown speck in the middle of her palm. It looked ridiculously small and forlorn. “You owe me a hell of a lot more than one, dickhead.”
He added a red one, and she popped them into her mouth. Scared to chew and swallow in case they accidentally activated her gag reflex, she let the hard candy shells dissolve on her tongue until the chocolate beneath made an appearance. Her taste buds rejoiced at the absence of alcohol.
He crunched a handful of the colorful goodness while he chose his words, his chest lifting hers with each lungful of air. It didn’t matter what he said. Gray had prepared herself for this conversation.
Used to being alone, she preferred solitude most of the time. Life was easier and safer that way. It didn’t matter why Chase wanted her. She couldn’t let him throw away his future. He deserved a woman who loved him. Not a woman who would chew him up and spit him out when she grew tired of pretending to be someone she wasn’t—and never would be.
Gray’s relationships trended toward toxic. Her fault. She didn’t do well around people, and her success rate at driving them away would probably impress most scholars studying antisocial behavior.
Fuck. She could be a case study in a master’s thesis.
A large red-tailed bird soared overhead, its outstretched wings catching hidden currents, carrying it in lazy circles. As it dipped and rose in a graceful ballet, it occurred to her it served as a perfect metaphor. She wanted to be alone and adrift in the wind, but ever since she met Chase, she’d been fighting the temptation of his gravitational pull.
He was the branch she wanted to rest on between flights, and she couldn’t do it.
It wouldn’t be fair to him.
“Did you love Jackson?”
Not expecting Chase to lead with a question about her freelance partner, he caught her off guard, and she blurted the truth. “Of course I loved him.”
“But you weren’tinlove with him.”
“Does it make any difference? He’s still dead.” Like sandpaper on skin, her pain rubbed her raw, and her response came out harsh, her tone harder than she meant it to be. But that was the point, wasn’t it? Determined to push him away, she had to use the tools she had, and she wielded bitchiness like a pro.
He brushed a stray curl away from her face and trailed a finger down her cheek. The journey stopped when he reached her jawline, and he tipped her chin up and toward him. She refused to meet his eyes, keeping hers on the hawk in the distance.
He rubbed his beard stubble on her cheek in a good way and then kissed the spot softly. “Yeah, baby. It makes a difference.”
Not sure where he was going with this, she responded, “I suppose you’re going to tell me how.”
“The difference is you’re scared you could fallin lovewith me. And that’s why you’re trying to push me away.”
The fact he thought she was so easy to read made her bristle, and his arms tightened. “Let go of me, dumbass.”
