Forget Me Not (12 page)

To his consternation, her eyes grew bright with tears. She tried to turn her head to one side, but he tugged harder on her hair, keeping her immobile. "Helen, look at me," he demanded. "I didn't cheat on you."

She shook her head, biting her lower lip.

Her obvious hurt tore at him like shrapnel. "Baby, don't," he pleaded, pulling her to him with sudden remorse. "Don't be upset. I would never have done that," he said with sudden certainty.

She pushed against him with surprising strength. "Let me go-"

"No, I want you to believe me. I want you to forgive me for last night."

She twisted frantically away from him. "Stop manhandling me!" she ground out.

In his desperation to be forgiven, he realized he was doing just that. He released her at once. Before he could think of what else to say, she twisted free and stalked down the hall, her ponytail swinging.

Gabe wanted to put a fist through the wall, only the wall was cinder block. Not a good idea. He took a shuddering breath and cursed a blue streak. What the fuck had gone wrong here? He'd been well on his way to forging a bond with Mallory, and then something out of his past—or rather, someone—leapt out of the shadows to throw him off course. Bringing him right back to where he was several days ago.

Mallory. He needed to find the kid and explain.

Explain what? That Veronica flirted with all the guys, that he'd never cheated on Helen? Could he honestly be sure, when he couldn't remember his last two years at Dam Neck?

Yes. No way in hell would he have betrayed his wife. Veronica was good-looking, but she didn't hold a candle to Helen.

He rubbed his face vigorously. Exhaustion stole over him without warning, making him want to lie down on the mats in the weight room and go to sleep. What the hell? The medication was supposed to keep him awake.

But now his eyes were threatening to cross. His muscles felt sapped of strength. The long walk home was suddenly more than he could handle right now. No way could he catch up with Mallory, especially if she was running. He needed a car.

He thought about that for a minute.

He
had
a car. The Jaguar was his. He'd bought it back in California. Helen usually drove the Jeep, only the battery was dead, she'd told him. If the spare key to the Jaguar was in the magnetic box where he'd hid it long ago, then he was good to go.

Yeah, yeah, the doctor had told him not to drive, but he wasn't going to kill himself going twenty-five miles an hour. He'd return to pick up Helen later, and men she could drive him to his appointment with Dr. Terrien at four.

But first he needed to find Mal and explain. And then he needed a power nap.

He left the gym and spotted the Jaguar in the parking lot. Letting himself in with the spare key, he eased behind the driver's seat and gave a growl of contentment. This was the best welcome yet. The engine throbbed with quiet power as he pointed the car toward home.

Mallory wasn't anywhere on the jogging trail. By the time Gabe drove through the back gate and parked in his driveway, he was more than worried. Where had Mallory gone? She'd been upset, thinking the worst. And though she pretended to be tough, he knew she was a softy inside. He didn't like the thought of her hurting.

Using the house key Helen had left for him, he let himself in. Priscilla barked happily to see him,

"Mal?" he called.

No answer.

He went to the kitchen and chugged down a glass of water. God, he was tired. But he needed to make a phone call. Ask Helen if she knew where Mallory might be.

He looked up the number to the gym and asked for her.

"This is Helen." Her scratchy voice sounded worse coming through a wire.

"It's Gabe," he said.

Startled silence on the other end.

"I'm looking for Mallory. Do you know where she might've gone?"

"Where are you?"

"I'm at the house."

"How'd you get home so fast?"

"I borrowed the Jaguar. I'll pick you up at fifteen-thirty, but I want to know where Mallory is."

"You're not supposed to drive," she said, sounding frustrated. "Why are you looking for Mallory?"

Why?
"She's a teenager," he supplied. "She's angry. Christ, Helen, do the math."

Her silence this time was reflective. "She's probably playing foosball at the Rec Center."

"Will you check for me, please?"

"All right," she answered, sounding bemused. "If you don't hear from me, then that's where she is."

"Thanks," he said. He rubbed his right eye. "I have to...I have to sleep for a few minutes. See you... at fifteen-thirty. 'Kay?"

"Go," she said. "You sound like a zombie."

"Mmmm. 'Bye."

He dropped the phone in its cradle and made a beeline for the living-room sofa, where he crashed facedown on the cushions, managing to kick off his tennis shoes before falling asleep. The phone rang several minutes later, but he didn't hear it.

An hour later, Mallory spied Gabe asleep on the couch and hushed the dog into silence. The fact that he hadn't stirred at her entrance worried her.

"Good girl. Shhh," she said to the dog, patting Priscilla's head. "I'll walk you in a minute." She approached Gabe as silently as possible, her eyes wide with trepidation. She'd never known him to sleep like the dead. He lay facing the room, and he hadn't even cracked an eye.

A foot away, she stopped and listened. He was a silent sleeper, but she could hear him breathing now. She sank onto the carpet, relieved to know he was alive. Dead would be worse.

The dog threatened to lick her, so she looped an arm around its neck, never once removing her gaze from Gabe's face. Remembering what had happened in the cardio room, how that woman had thrown herself at him, she took a sharp breath. The pain of betrayal lanced her heart anew.
Imagine how Mom feels,
she told herself.

How could Dad have done that to her? To them?

She stared at his face, memorizing it. He had a great face. All the girls in middle school had had a crush on him. Mal knew he was handsome. But she liked his face more now, because she'd seen expressions on it that she'd never seen before. Humor, sorrow, wonder...
desire.

He didn't want that woman at the gym, she assured herself. It was Mom he wanted. She remembered the fire in his eyes last night before they'd read together. He'd wanted to grab Mom right there and take her to the bedroom.

He'd stolen a kiss from her.

Mallory felt a little better thinking about that. But then there was Mom to contend with. Her mother hadn't said it in so many words, but it was obvious things had changed. She hadn't welcomed Gabe into their lives as her long-lost husband. She'd put him in the study to sleep, explaining lamely that he might be dangerous after what he'd been through. She used to be the one pulling Dad out of his shell, vying for his attention. Now her mother was ignoring her father, and everything was backward.

She didn't have to be a genius to read the writing on the wall. Her mother didn't want to be married anymore.

Now Mallory knew why. On top of never being home and working all the time, Dad had cheated. No wonder he'd stopped kissing her mother, stopped paying her attention. He'd been giving all his love to someone else.

Whenever he did come home, he'd been preoccupied and short-tempered. The only time he seemed to notice Mallory was when she'd left a chore undone or transgressed in some other way. He'd brought her to the edge of tears sometimes because he never seemed to notice when she tried her best, only when she failed.

Then the Navy told them that Gabe was missing— presumed dead—and Mallory had tried to see his absence in a positive light. He hadn't been around much anyway. She didn't have to stand on her head to get his attention.

But it hadn't felt right. It'd felt empty without him. There had been that awful sense of waiting, of feeling like she'd lost something very special.

She hadn't wanted him dead.

And she didn't want him leaving now, either. Especially not now.

But how was she going to keep him at home, when Mom wouldn't forgive him, or love him again?

She blinked back the tears that threatened.

Daddy, don't go,
she pleaded silently. The word echoed in her heart, filling the empty places.
Daddy. Daddy.

He looked so vulnerable sprawled out on the couch. He'd never been vulnerable before. The tears she refused to cry made her throat ache.

If he left them for good this time, she'd have no one but Reggie. That thought was depressing enough to push a tear out the corner of her eye. It slid warmly down her cheek.

Reggie was smart and funny. But Reggie was unpredictable, like a tornado changing course and swerving all over the place. She didn't want to be sucked up in his confusion. But if Gabe wasn't going to stay, what difference did it make?

Angry with herself, she dashed the wet streak from her cheek and scrambled to her feet. Bawling never did any good.
Just suck it up,
Dad used to say,
life stinks. Deal with it.
He'd taught her lots of sayings, and she'd memorized them all.

She patted her thigh, gesturing for the dog to follow her to the door. Snapping Priscilla's leash on, Mallory slipped from the house to walk her. After that, she'd head over to Reggie's place.

Reggie's parents had split up three years ago, and he'd survived. She supposed she would survive too.

H
e caught hell for taking the Jaguar. "Next time, just ask me for a ride," Helen scolded as they sped toward Oceana Naval Air Base—late, because Gabe had slept clear to three forty-five. "What if you'd fallen asleep or driven into a tree? You know, sometimes rules do apply to you, Gabriel. This is the only car that's working right now, and I can't afford to have it in the shop."

Apparently she only called him Gabriel when she was pissed at him. He accepted her lecture because it gave the illusion that she actually cared about him. Besides, she was absolutely right. Breaking the rules was what he did best. It was his job to get his men around insurmountable obstacles, and he was damn good at it. But right now he wasn't a SEAL. He was nothing but a washed-up warrior with an ache behind his right eye that wouldn't go away.

And after what he'd done to Helen last night, he deserved to be chewed up one side and down the other. Anger beat the hell out of apathy, he reasoned. So he kept his mouth shut and took the verbal lashing.

At the same time, he kept his eyes open and refamiliarized himself with the area. The road they flew along bisected a field of open farmland, but Virginia Beach was growing at such an alarming rate that what was left of open land would soon be subdivided into neighborhoods like the rest of the area.

"Where's Mallory?" he asked when Helen had finally finished her tirade.

She threw him a troubled look. "I called to tell you she wasn't at the Rec Center, but you didn't answer."

Concern reared its grisly head. "I didn't hear the phone ring," he said. Christ, he'd never be on active duty again with his senses so dulled! He shook his head in disgust.

"She's probably at her friend's house," Helen guessed. "Can you hand me my cell phone? It's in my purse."

He didn't know she had a cell phone. She hit a speed-dial button, keeping her eyes on the road. "No answer," she finally said, slapping the phone shut.

Behind her violet-tinted sunglasses, he saw her eyebrows flex with concern. Since he'd last seen her, she'd showered and changed into a sand-colored top and white shorts. She looked cool and comfortable. Her legs were tanned to a golden brown. He wanted very much to run a hand up her silky-looking thigh.

As if sensing his gaze, Helen shifted uncomfortably.

They drove another five minutes in silence, and it was clear to Gabe she was finished with her lecture, finished with talking to him, period.

The longer he studied her, the whiter her knuckles shone against the steering wheel. "You know what they say about riptides?" he added, philosophizing out loud.

She made a sound of disinterest, giving all her focus to the road.

"It's better to let the current carry you out than it is to fight it. You can drown trying to fight it," he pointed out.

"You always were full of trite, little sayings," she tossed back.

He'd thought his metaphor was clever. "Mallory needs me," he said, laying down his trump card.

She whipped her head around, her temper roused. "Well, when did this revelation occur to you?" she asked sarcastically.

He took her question seriously and thought about it. "I don't know," he finally answered.

She shook her head as if regretting her question.

"I think she's neat, Helen," he felt compelled to add. "She's smart,
really
smart. And she's got great intuition. She could be anything she wants to be."

Looking puzzled, Helen divided her attention between him and the road.

"You don't agree?" he asked.

"Of course I agree. Yes, she could be anything she wants to be. Why didn't you tell her that a year ago? Two years ago? The only time you noticed her was when she screwed up! I swear, I think she started misbehaving just so she could have a piece of you."

He cringed inwardly. "Fuck," he muttered, looking out at the fields. He thought about the holes in Mallory's left ear, "I'll make it up to her," he promised.

Helen was so quiet he looked at her to gauge what she was thinking. She was worrying her bottom lip, oblivious to the traffic thickening around them. "That'll be good for her," she finally said.

The implication was clear: he could make it up to Mallory, but he'd never be able to make it up to her.

"Look," he said, rubbing his throbbing right eye, "maybe you could cut me a little slack here. Whatever I was like in the past, I'm sorry. I'm very sorry. I'd like to be given a second chance." He opened his eyes and found her gripping the i steering wheel, her whole body tense.

"It's not that simple," she told him.

"What's not simple about it?"

"There's a whole history, here, okay?" she shot back with a note of panic in her voice. "You can't just wish it away."