Rhapsody (The Bellator Saga Book 5) (4 page)

Caroline lay on the armrest, knowing she wasn’t going to fall asleep. She was getting one hell of a crick in the neck. She lifted her head up, rotating it, sighing softly when she heard a satisfying cracking noise. Much better.

The apartment was silent. She looked toward the bedroom. The door was ajar. She couldn’t see a clock anywhere but it was almost dusk, which meant it was past early evening. Jack had been in there not making a sound. A quiet housekeeper, apparently.

She ran her hands through her hair. She felt gross. She’d spent a dusty morning traipsing around in the Nevada hinterlands, three days unconscious, and two more sitting in a hospital bed not really moving. She needed a shower.

Caroline shoved the baggie in her pocket and walked into the bedroom. Jack was sitting on the bed gazing at the picture on the nightstand, the bear in his arms. The sun was setting, so it was hard to read his expression. But she didn’t need to see his face to know what he was thinking.

“I’m sorry,” she said, flicking on the light switch.

Jack jerked his head toward her. “What’s that?”

“I shouldn’t have snapped at you earlier.” She took a deep breath. “I’m going to try harder.”

“I wasn’t kidding when I said you shouldn’t be alone,” he said quietly. “You might have post-concussion syndrome. Any number of things could happen. I told Natalie to let you out as soon as possible because I know you hate hospitals, but I really am supposed to watch you for the next few days.”

She unconsciously patted her pocket. He may have used some of the tools at his disposal to spring her free early, but there was no underhandedness there. Curious that Natalie hadn’t mentioned that part, but Caroline had no reason to think him deceitful. She wondered if he saw his behavior for what it was. “I believe you. I – it’s hard for me to be here.”

“I know,” he whispered. “I just want you to be safe, Caroline. And healthy. That’s all I want. I mean that.”

She felt another pang of guilt. No matter what she did, she was hurting him. Especially when she spoke out of turn. “I’m sorry I snapped at you in the hospital.”

He gave her a gentle smile. “You don’t need to worry about that. I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

“I shouldn’t have reacted that way. You were trying to be nice.”

“I wasn’t entirely nice. I shouldn’t have made those comments about the night before you left.”

Caroline looked down at her feet. She didn’t know why talking to him was so damn hard. But she had to try to explain herself. “You had your reasons. I – you didn’t abandon me,” she said. “I didn’t mean for you to think that I – that I think that you-”

“I know you didn’t mean what you said.” Jack rubbed his fingers absently across the photo frame. “I know you still care.”

“I shouldn’t have said it.”

“It’s okay.” He wrapped his arms around the bear. “I
am
trying to be nice,” he said. “And I will continue to try, even if I sometimes slip a little. It’s what you deserve.”

Caroline pointed at the frame. “Where did you get that?”

“I sneakily printed a few pictures when I got here. I have a few of all of us, you and me and the girls, if you want to see them.”

Family photos. Reminders of painful memories. Dear God, that was the last thing she’d be able to handle right now. “No,” Caroline said, then swore at herself.
Be nice to him
.
He’s trying
. “I mean, that’s very nice but not necessary.”

He looked disappointed. “Okay.”

She gestured toward the stuffed animal in his hands. “You seem a little attached to him.”

Jack put the bear back on the bed. “I needed a hug.”

Just when she thought she couldn’t feel more guilty, he’d say something totally innocuous to make it worse. Maybe she could distract him. “He looks kind of like that big bear you gave me when we first started dating.”

His smile was slow to come, but stayed. “That’s what I thought.”

“It was a nice thing for you to do,” Caroline said quietly. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Are you going to share him?”

She reached over to pick the bear up. “No. He’s mine now.”

“Possessive, aren’t we?”

She let go of the bear. “I don’t have much stuff.”

“I know,” Jack said. “I wish-”

Shit, even when she was trying to be benign she was fucking everything up. “It’s not your fault.”

He stood up, pointing at her forehead. “May I? I was supposed to keep an eye on those stitches.”

Caroline forced herself not to flinch as he inched closer to her and removed the bandage.

“You need to keep this clean,” he said. “You don’t need to worry about infection on top of everything else.”

“I know.”

“Would you like me to…?”

She sighed. He wasn’t going to make this easy. “Go ahead.”

Jack left the room and returned with a bandage, a brown bottle, and a cotton ball. Caroline took a step back, feeling awkward. “You know, I can probably do that myself. I have to take a shower anyway.”

“Let me do it. Sit down. Don’t argue,” he said, as Caroline started to protest before settling on the bed. He turned the bottle over, saturating the cotton ball in peroxide and dabbing at the stitches. “Does that feel okay?”

It had hurt when they cleaned it in the hospital but not when he did it. “Yeah.”

“Good. One more day and they’re out. Do I get to take you to the doctor?”

Very subtle. “Do I get to stop you?”

“No.”

Yes. Very subtle indeed. “Then I guess you’re taking me to the doctor.”

Jack screwed the top on the bottle and threw the cotton ball in the trash. “Wait,” he said, as she started to get up. He placed the bandage over the wound, then kissed her forehead. “All done.” He reached for her shirt collar. “What about your shoulder?”

Him getting anywhere near her mess of scars was definitely
not
on the table. “No!” she said sharply, and it was enough for Jack to draw back immediately.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

Jesus Christ. She couldn’t go two minutes without doing something mean to him. “It’s not you. It’s – I shouldn’t have-” Why was she so inarticulate? “I’m trying, Jack. Really, I am.”

“I know you are, sweetheart.” He looked toward the hall. “I made sure you have everything you need in the bathroom. Take as long as you want. I had them remove the timer yesterday. There’s plenty of hot water.”

Further proof that it paid to be in charge. And more reason for her to feel awkward, since he’d plainly had it done in anticipation of her arrival. Jack had never been one to linger in the shower unless she was with him.

“Okay.” Caroline frowned. “Um, do you have anything I can wear?”

Jack pointed toward the closet. “All your clothes are here and I, uh, got you a few new items since it looked like some of them were getting worn out.”

“Oh. That was nice.”

“Ironed all the shirts for you myself,” he said proudly.

Caroline tried not to grin. He sucked at ironing. She just hoped there weren’t any burn marks anywhere. “Thanks,” she said, heading for the closet. There was no way she was prancing around the apartment in a towel. Not when there was a possibility that he would see…things.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” he said, walking up behind her. “If you don’t want to wear what you have, feel free to slip on any of my clothes. Would you like me to make you dinner?”

She could take a long shower without worrying about it being shut off
and
she’d get a hot meal afterward? “That would be nice.”

Jack reached toward her, then pulled back. “I’m glad you’re here, sweetheart. Very glad.”

Caroline blushed. She wasn’t sure what to say to that, and when she didn’t say anything he quietly scooted out the door.

*              *              *              *              *

It was killing him being with her like this. He never thought it was possible to physically feel the pain of another human being, yet he could feel hers. Could sense it when she stiffened and turned away from him. The agony in her eyes stayed constant. And there were times when it got deeper, when he could tell she was trying not to sink into it completely. It had gotten to the point where she might not even be aware she was reacting that way.

The way she flinched when he touched her shoulder told him how she felt. He didn’t want to believe the worst, that she was recoiling because she didn’t want him to touch her. So it could only be one other thing.

He hated to think about what she’d undergone while she’d been at the mercy of her captors. He spent most of his time trying not to let his imagination run wild. But it had done something to her. Damaged her permanently, body and soul. And he had no idea how to help her. Holding her wasn’t enough, though he yearned to do it. His words. His deeds. Nothing was enough.

Maybe he should have put his foot down. Refused to let her take that mission. He felt the familiar sting of regret, knowing the only reason he had a chance with her was because she’d almost been killed in the attempt. If she hadn’t thrown herself out there, where would he be now? Still wringing his hands, dreaming of her in an empty bed while she constantly bemoaned his existence?

When they first brought her in he assumed the worst. Covered in blood, lifeless….he thought she was dead. He was able to keep it together for the first few minutes but Natalie sneaked him a sedative when no one was looking. Because God forbid he lose control. Not in front of the men. Not
ever
in front of them. Or in front of anyone else. He had to keep that pretty picture intact, even if the rumor mills still wove tales about his private life on a daily basis.

Those three days in the hospital had been rough. Despite Natalie’s reassurances, he remained fearful that Caroline would never regain consciousness. He had dreamed that maybe…maybe…after everything that happened between the two of them, the reconnection he thought they made, that Caroline would wake up and be his again.

But he was wrong.

*              *              *              *              *

Dinner was awkward. Extremely awkward. Caroline thought back to every single horrible first date she’d been on. There hadn’t been many but this seemed worse than all of them put together.

It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t like they didn’t know each other. But the conversation seemed stilted. Forced. Caroline had picked at her food but so had Jack. And he’d gone through at least three glasses of bourbon. He must have hoarded it somewhere, since he seemed to always have some. Booze was hard to come by and when it was available, it was wildly expensive. Then again, she didn’t spend too much time in that section of the commissary. Maybe her husband did.

“Not too hungry?” Jack asked.

He’d noticed her lack of appetite. She hated to waste food but he’d loaded up her plate and she hadn’t been able to eat more than a few bites. “Not really,” Caroline said. “It was good. The couscous was a nice touch.”

He poked at the remaining chicken on his plate. “It was terrible. You don’t have to lie. I might have lost some of my skills.”

“Why don’t you cook for yourself anymore?”

“Doesn’t seem worth the effort for just me, especially since I don’t spend a lot of time here.”

He never spent time at home. He rarely went to the cafeteria. Did he hole away in his office all the time? “You used to really enjoy it,” she said.

“I used to enjoy a lot of things.”

“You don’t have a lot of stuff in here, either.”

Jack smiled wryly. “Guess I’m not as materialistic as I used to be.”

A full glass in his hand and derogatory remarks void of any light self-deprecation. The conversation was going downhill. “I didn’t mean it that way,” Caroline said.

“I know you didn’t.” He stared at her plate. “They didn’t feed you, did they? When you were…in there.”

He could barely talk about it either. How could he have discerned that fact on his own? She debated whether to give him details and decided against it. “No,” she said softly. “They didn’t.”

Jack polished off the whiskey before balling up one fist and pressing it to his lips, staring at the empty glass in his other hand.

No, he definitely couldn’t handle the details. “It’s okay,” Caroline said. “That’s the least of what they did to me.”

The fist tightened and the glass dropped to the table. She had chosen poorly. Said the wrong thing.

Caroline brushed her fingers across his free hand before he was tempted to reach for the glass again. “I’ve got all the food I need thanks to you.” Her voice was a bit too hearty. She knew he wasn’t buying it.

Jack swiped his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “You didn’t before?”

“I meant when we got here,” she said quickly. “We had food at our safe house but it wasn’t as plentiful. The guys tried to give me more than they got, though. I gained about fifteen pounds before we left Washington.”

He got up and poured himself another bourbon, draining it in one. “You weighed less than you did when you came to California?”