Toeing the Line (The Complete Serial) (10 page)

“You didn’t complain at the time.”

Too many flavors of frustration and hurt flowed through her, for her to focus on any single one. “And I’m not now. Except, you know, for the whole distracting-me thing. Speaking of which, we’re talking about my sketchpad, not the ways you distracted me from it.”

“Is this how it usually happens? You hide how you really feel, until you spill it all at once, and then expect the guy to respond immediately, or you take it all back? Is this what happened last time?”

How dare he throw Archer or anyone else back in her face? After everything she told him in confidence, the accusation stung like lemon juice in an open wound. “You really think that little of me?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I’m not the one who hasn’t dared get close to someone since his fiancée left him. Oh, wait, and the Air Force girlfriend you loved so much, whom you never mention. Ever.”

“Because your track record with men is so fantastic.” His tone was flat.

She felt like she’d been socked in the gut with every concern she had about her love life, everything she hoped no one else saw, but knew they did. “Why are you doing this?”

He met her, toe-to-toe, something new flashing in his eyes. “Maybe I’m trying to piss you off.”

She choked on a response, as a fresh wash of hurt seeped into her. “Excuse me?”

“
Maybe
”—his tone was snide, but pain still filled his eyes—“I’m trying to push you away.” As the words tumbled past his lips, he worked his jaw up and down and frowned. “Pissing you off and letting you make the decision to leave is a lot easier than telling you to go.”

She swallowed the pang in her throat. “Why do you want me gone?”

“Because you deserve better, Riley. We’re walking this impossible line, pretending the sex is just physical, ignoring that we’ve never been
just friends
, and you need more than I can give you.”

Whatever she’d expected, it wasn’t that. But when she thought about it, he’d been dropping the hints all along. “Why are you so convinced you don’t deserve me?”

His laugh was bitter and choked, as he scrubbed his hand over the stubble on the top of his head. “You think I’m this good, kind person, and I’m not.”

“Why not? Is it because of what your granddad said? I know you love the man, but he’s not right about that. You’re not evil. What the hell does that even mean?”

He sank on the edge of the futon, clenching and loosening a fist. He hand shook. “I didn’t turn down the surveillance job when I found out what I was doing. I didn’t walk away in some huff of indignation, spouting bullshit about moral gray areas. I stayed.”

Riley knew there was more, but he wasn’t giving her enough to figure out what made that so bad. “You were military, and it was your job.”

“No.” He dropped his head into his hands and dragged in a stuttered breath. “They gave me an out. Told me I could be transferred. Go do something else. I liked the challenge. Okay, sure, I was violating a few people’s privacy.” He tightened his jaw and flared his nostrils. “But I’m not stupid. If it wasn’t me, it would be someone else, and I was pushing my boundaries—doing things I’d never done before. I could make all the excuses in the world for why I stayed, but that was what it came down to.”

Acid churned in her gut, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from saying something she hadn’t thought out. “But you left eventually, right?”

“Yeah.” He was turned in her direction, but he didn’t see her. “I did. When I saw the first news stories, I ignored them. Hidden headlines in local papers, about a couple of the people we’d gathered intel on. Their deaths. The accidents. The car crash, or boating trip gone wrong, that took them and their entire family.”

She leaned her arm on the table, to support herself. “That doesn’t mean it was your fault.”

“It was. I looked deeper after the third accident. Found hints our information led to the decision. I asked Sabrina about it, and she confirmed. What we’d helped uncover took those people out of the picture.”

Numbness filled Riley. “It’s not like you pulled the trigger.”

“I might as well have.” He finally focused on her again. “Entire families died, because I wanted to be challenged. I found that information. I dug until it happened. That’s why I don’t deserve you. That’s why you need to leave.”

She opened her mouth, but words failed her.

“I don’t want you here, Riley.” His voice took on a hard edge. “I don’t want you in my life.
We
don’t mean anything. What we did was just sex. Me being selfish. Using you.”

“Bullshit.” She still didn’t know what to do with his confession, but he couldn’t take this from her. “I knew what I was doing. I wanted the sex. I want you.”

“You think that, but it’s not true. Let’s be honest. You don’t know what you want.” The waver in his gaze and the way he turned away as he spoke told her he didn’t believe his own words.

That didn’t stop them from burrowing under her skin and gnawing at her frayed threads of composure. “You don’t really think that.”

A pause dragged between them, before he said, “Of course I do. No one knows you better than me. It doesn’t matter if I think you’re awesome or amazing, you don’t believe it, and your opinion of you is all that matters. Go home. Don’t call me again. Find someone else, to fuck with your life.”

“Zane.”

“
Leave
.”

She wanted to argue, but the strength wasn’t there. This was too much at once. She couldn’t process anything but how intensely it all hurt. She spun away without another word. It took the last of her restraint, to hold back the torrent of tears as she stormed from the room. At least she didn’t pass Archer anywhere between the apartment and the back door. She couldn’t have handled the most basic human interaction just then.

She made it to her car and collapsed in the front seat before the tears took over. Sobs wracked her body, and she hugged herself tight, trying to keep from shaking apart. She leaned her forehead on the steering wheel, grateful for the cool morning. Every inch of her psyche hurt. Zane’s words echoed in her head, gnawing at every insecurity she had. And then his confession—what was she supposed to do with that? Too many questions assaulted her, for her to focus on anything.

On top of it all, instead of telling him she didn’t hold his actions against him, instead of staying and comforting him like she always promised she’d do, she’d wrapped self-pity around her and left. He carried this massive burden, and she was in her car, crying because he knew the same truth about her that everyone else did.

But she couldn’t go back and apologize. He didn’t want her there, and she didn’t know if she was strong enough to argue.

What was she supposed to do? No experience in her entire life gave her a hint for how to handle something like this.

Disgust and nausea rolled through Zane. He thought maybe sleeping, putting yesterday behind him, would make it go away. Convince him he was right to push Riley away last night. He was wrong. He told her the truth—finally spilled his big secret—and just like he expected, she left.

You told her to
.

She could have argued. Could have stayed.

Do you blame her for going?

No. It was what he wanted. What was best for her. He couldn’t draw her into this sinking pit with him. He was being selfish, leading her on, keeping her around, when he couldn’t give her what she needed long term.

A painfully loud knock jarred him out of his own head. He could ignore it. If it was Archer or Jen, he didn’t want to see them. Or maybe, a distraction would help him ignore his invisible wounds a bit longer.

His thoughts stalled when he yanked open the door and saw Riley. She stared at him, looking incredible despite the dark circles under her eyes and the oversized T-shirt and sweats.

He steeled himself and dragged up the resolve to push her away. It all evaporated the moment he opened his mouth. “Hey. I’m making coffee. Do you want some?”

She shook her head and stepped around him. Would she sit? Stay a while? That seemed like a horrible idea, but it sounded so good.

She lingered in the middle of the room, rubbed her face, and looked at him again. “I don’t know why I’m here; you made yourself clear yesterday. But I still can’t leave this alone.”

“Can you forgive me for what I did? For who I am?” He had no right to ask her that. He couldn’t forgive himself.

She looked drained. Her shoulders drooped when she flopped to sit on the edge of the futon. She moved her lips a few times, before finally saying, , “I don’t know.”

“Then we’re done here.”

“You misunderstand.” Exhaustion lined her words. “I can see how much this devours you—what happened overseas. I don’t hold that against you. It’s going to take time for me to process; I’ll be honest. I don’t think any less of you, though. I still adore you.”

“Then what’s the problem?” He shouldn’t ask. He didn’t want to know.

“You don’t trust me. Which is your right, but if we don’t have that, we don’t have anything. It’s my fault, too. This whole friends-with-benefits thing was a bad idea.”

Damn straight. So why did hearing it gnaw deeper into his senses? Plenty of other women made cutoffs look erotic and tasted like cherry lip-gloss. “I still don’t know why you’re here,” he said.

She nodded at the empty space next to her. He sat, and she twisted to face him, legs crossed. A heavy pause spread through the room, before she finally spoke. “High school. Senior year.”

The four words echoed in his thoughts, and he froze. He forced himself to relax. At least if their past was going to torment them, they’d go full-throttle. There were so many old scars there. “You want to rehash what was some really miserable shit for both of us?”

“Homecoming.”

“Don’t do this.” He dropped his gaze. Of course she wanted to talk about that. She was going to push until she reopened more wounds.

“I’d been hinting all summer that I wanted to you ask me.”

The revelation dug deep. Why did she say that now? Why not ten years ago? It didn’t matter. He’d already dealt with that and moved on. So much had happened since, that moment shouldn’t even be a blip on his radar any longer. “To homecoming?”

“Yes.”

“So why didn’t you ask me? An even better question is, why did you say
yes
to someone else?”

Her frown deepened. “I was an insecure teenage girl, with dreams of you being Prince Charming. I said
yes
to someone else, because I was hoping it would catch your attention and you would see what you were missing and ask me yourself.”

“You did it to make me jealous?” he asked in disbelief. Such a childish game. So why did it tug at something warm inside?

“Insecure teenage girl, remember?”

A laugh slipped out at the confession. Was he actually starting to relax? This easy banter with her was what soothed him and kept him from slipping into his own regrets. Even when they hit a painful subject, if they could move past it, it comforted him. He didn’t want that. Hadn’t earned the right to move on.

As long as they were confessing, he might as well spill it all. “I’d been trying to work up the courage to ask you for weeks. When someone asked me that morning, I told her
no
and realized I needed to suck it up and let you know how I felt. Except you already had a date. I pretended to be happy for you, because that’s what best friends do, and I didn’t want you to think I was a bad sport. I convinced myself I read your hints wrong and we really were just friends. So I went back to her and told her I’d love to go with her if she’d still have me.”

She stared back, silent.

“What are you thinking?”

Her smile looked forced. “Just wondering how things would have been different if we’d hooked up back then.”

“We’d be miserable.” That’s why he brought it up. For as many times as he had the same what-if
thought, he already knew the answer.

“Why do you say that?” she asked.

She wasn’t supposed to question him. He had his reasons. “You don’t feel that way about me. Imagine if we’d indulged a temporary crush and broken up. We wouldn’t be here now.” Not that he knew where
here
was.

Hurt echoed in her eyes. “I guess.”

He hated the distance between them and that it grew with every passing second. He hated even worse that he was the current source of her gloom. “We didn’t belong together then, and we don’t belong together now.” He shouldn’t have let things go this far. It had been stupid and shortsighted. Destroying what they had, because he was thinking with his dick.

“Do you really feel that way?” She clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes.

“Of course I do.” Part of him whispered it was a lie, but a louder voice screamed nothing had ever been truer. “That’s the way it is.”

“I see.” She stood, not looking at him. “I don’t know what I’m doing here, then.”

“Me neither.” He forced his hands to stay by his side. Swallowed his call to stop her from walking out the door. This was the way it had to be.