A Girl's Best Friend (9 page)
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“This isn’t working, Jill.” He kept his head bent as he sat on the edge of the bed. When he got no response, he lifted his eyes to see that she’d frozen while climbing out of bed, her tall, softly curved body bare. He stared because this was perhaps the last time he’d see it. Decades spent on a golf course had made freckles smatter over her pale skin. Her coppery mane of hip-length hair was the first thing he’d noticed about her when they met in college. He’s always loved the silken feel of it running through his fingers.
Taking a deep breath, he braced himself for what would come next. The room still smelled of sex, the sheets warm from their bodies. Knowing he was doing the right thing for her didn’t make this any easier.
She clung to the fancy knobs on the footboard. “Wha—What do you mean?”
“This isn’t working. We both know it.” He fought hard to stay calm, to not open his mouth and let the first stupid, sarcastic thing come out.
“It doesn’t have to be this way.”
“It shouldn’t be this hard, Jill. It never was before. You never used to cry when we slept together.” Her ocean blue eyes widened at that. Yeah, she thought he hadn’t noticed. “You shouldn’t have stayed with me. You shouldn’t have given up your golfing career. You should be with a guy who can take care of you, not some broken down has-been.”
He watched her face grow pale at his bitter words. Her grip on the bedpost tightened as she swayed. Pain darkened her eyes and he wanted to call the words back. Hurting her like this killed him, but she needed to be as far away from him as possible. He was poison.
“I
have
given up a lot. I’d give up more if it meant you’re here and whole and safe.”
“I don’t want to be here
. I don’t want to be safe. And you call this whole?” When he pounded on his thigh, just above his fake knee, she twitched as though to protest, so he hit it again. Pain slammed into him in waves, but he welcomed it. He deserved it for hurting her.
Anger flashed in her gaze. “How long are you going to be mad, Tyler? It’s been a year. When are you going to see that you survived, even if your knee didn’t? You have the opportunity to start again. You’re an expert in security, demolitions, and God knows what else. You could work as a consultant or even start your own company. We have the money. So, you can’t be a Ranger. Be something else!”
“A desk job,” he sneered.
She speared her fingers through her hair. “Jesus! Why do I even bother? It never goes in. It’s like talking to a brick wall!”
“Damn it, Jill! You have no idea what this is like.”
She spread her fingers in obvious frustration. “You’re right. I have no idea what it’s like to suffer from major head trauma, to have doctors dig four bullets out of my chest, to have another bullet shatter my knee, to undergo twelve different surgeries, including a knee replacement almost a year after the fact. I don’t know about any of that, but mostly I don’t know what’s going on in your head because you never tell me anything. We don’t talk. We just yell like this.
Talk
to me, Ty. We can work this out.”
“No, we can’t. This is never getting better. Talking about it won’t fix anything. It won’t help me run a four-minute mile. Won’t make me a Ranger again.” He grabbed for his cane and missed, knocking it into the side table and scattering his pill bottles. Jill rushed over to pick up the mess, but he fended her off. “I can do it myself. I don’t need your help. I don’t need you. Just…just go away.”
Still kneeling before him, a bottle clutched in her hand, she flinched as though he’s slapped her. “Is that what you want? For me to leave? You push and push, Ty. I have to tell you, I’m not sure how much more I can take.”
“Then leave.”
“That’s what you really want?”
“That’s what I just said, isn’t it?”
No, it wasn’t, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the actual words. He laughed at himself, disgusted at his own hypocrisy. Not that she’d know he wasn’t laughing at her, but that would only help his cause. If he ever heard anyone speak to her this way, he’d beat them to within an inch of their life.
“I’ll be gone by morning,” she whispered. She rose on shaky legs and he reached out to steady her, but she flinched away from his touch. Her reaction hit him like a solid punch to the gut.
“Where will you go?” He had no right to ask, but he had to know she’d be all right.
She stared at him for a moment, her expression blank. Then she blinked and seemed to collect herself. “St. Augustine. Brooke has a house in the World Golf Village. She said I could stay there anytime.”
The corner of her mouth quivered while she fought for calm.
Please don’t let her cry
. Please. He wouldn’t be able to stand it. He’d apologize for everything and promise to make it better. But it would never be better. He would never be better. She turned and bolted from the room, the door slamming shut behind her.
He’d done it. She’d leave and go back to the Ladies PGA tour, get on with her life, just like she should have done a year ago when they’d dragged his broken body back on a stretcher. Why didn’t he feel better? Shouldn’t doing the right thing make him feel less like a bastard? It would get easier. It had to.
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