But I wasn’t ready to go back downstairs.
“Do you ever think about it?” I probably shouldn’t have asked the question, but couldn’t stop myself. “About that mission?”
He straightened a bit, flexing his fingers. “Every day.”
The simple honesty of his answer caught me off guard. I’d expected deflection, maybe even denial. “Me too.”
A weighty silence settled between us, filled with all the things we weren’t saying. How he’d been shot while protecting me. How I’d been caught in the chemical splash when a reagent bottle shattered in the mayhem.
How we’d both been medevaced to Kandahar. Then he’d been flown to Germany. How I’d called him afterward, and he’d never called back.
“I won’t let…” He balled his hands into fists so tight, his biceps flexed. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
The conviction in his voice soothed something ragged inside me. There was the man I remembered—the one whose certainty had made me believe the impossible was achievable.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I admitted. “On this mission.”
“I wanted to ask… in the tunnels today, when you put your hand…” He shook his head slowly, then pushed off the railing and faced me. “I have no right to ask, but…”
“You can ask me anything, Rav.”
His eyes met mine, his lips moving as if they were searching for the right words, until he said, “Do you ever think about…”
I blinked at him, waiting for the rest of the question.
Pain, years, and history flowed between us. But no words.
I straightened and was suddenly aware of how close we were. Had we been drifting while we talked? Was it the same magnetic pull as we’d had before?
The way he looked at me reminded me of the tunnel. Of my room in the FOB. Of every time I saw him in my dreams.
My pulse quickened, and for one minute that wasn’t nearly long enough, I watched as he moved closer. His eyes dropped to my lips, and I was barely aware of leaning toward him, drawn by some invisible force that had never quite disappeared between us.
My hand rose toward him again, but I couldn’t make contact.
He caught it gently and placed it against his chest. He whispered, the sound curling around in my belly, “Do you ever think about us?”
Every goddamn day.
His heart beat strong and rapid beneath my palm, matching the thundering rhythm of my own.
But I couldn’t say it. If I told him I still thought about him, that might lead somewhere. And if it did, he’d see the scars, and he’d leave me.
The only thing worse than not having him would be losing him again.
Before a lie could form itself on my tongue, the sound of footsteps on the metal stairs rescued me.
We snapped apart as Malcolm bounded onto the terrace. Slightly breathless, he said, “There you are, Rav. Scarlett wants to discuss tomorrow’s meeting with Noah.”
Rav nodded, already on the move. “I should go.”
Why was it so easy for him to move on from whatever just happened between us? Were the pauses and reluctance to ask me questions all part of the roles he’d learned to play with this new team of his?
Was he just looking for a quick fuck and figured thewounded warriorapproach was his best bet?
Fucking hell, Brooke. Don’t fall for that man again.
Chapter 20
