Laurel froze just outside the room, anger rushing through her and making her hot with frustration.
“What do you want me to fight for?” she yelled, turning around. “Tell me, Gage. What was I supposed to fight for?”
“Us!” he yelled back. “You and me. What we had. The love we shared. The life we built.”
“I’m not the one who walked away from that.”
“Seriously? You’re still pissed about the years I owed the Marines?”
“I was never upset about your service. I was pissed about your priorities.”
“Priorities? I had no choice when I was deployed. It’s not like I could’ve asked for a different assignment.”
“That’s just it, Gage—you could have. Not the deployment, but you had choices early on. You didn’t have to go the path you went, knowing it would get you deployed. You were a fucking computer genius and they wanted you in cyber security. You could have—”
“There were no guarantees I would’ve stayed stateside,” he protested. “They hinted at it, but they couldn’t promise me anything. You know that’s not how the military works.”
“Your commander said he could almost guarantee it, based on your skill set, grades, put you at the Pentagon. But no, you had to be a hero, go the most dangerous route possible. You never gave a second thought to what that did to me.”
“You were balls-deep in hockey,” he said, throwing up his hands. “You had practice, weight training, games, travel… I barely saw you during my senior year and we lived together.”
“I came home almost every night,” she said quietly. “Road trips were just a couple of days. I didn’t leave you for a year. I didn’t go radio-silent every time I was away, leaving you to wonder if I was dead or alive. I told you everything, shared everything with you. You did the opposite. You didn’t just leave me to go fight on the other side of the world, you lied to me about what your job was, how close to the danger you were, what you were doing, and—”
“I didn’t lie!” he shouted. “You know I wasn’t allowed to talk about missions.”
“It’s not about missions,” she yelled back. “Jesus, do you think I’m stupid? Even now, you piss me right the fuck off with this bullshit. You knew I was friends with the other wives. You knew we talked, constantly, exchanging stories, hearing about what all of you were doing over there. That’s how we kept our sanity. So every time you lied and told me you were sitting around base doing drills and paperwork, I’d find out that you’d been on some mission, that you took all the fucking missions…that the guys called you Spooky because you were more of a spy than the embedded CIA agents.”
He looked like a deer in the headlights, something she rarely saw in him. He masked his emotions better than anyone she’d ever known, which was probably why he’d been so good at lying to her.
“They weren’t supposed to talk about that,” he finally managed to say. “I had no idea, Laurel. I… I’m sorry.”
“It doesn’t matter. Water under the bridge. An apology after all this time means less than nothing to me. You lied to me so many times I could barely look at you when you got back. And then you tried to make it about me, accusing me of abandoning you, of planning to divorce you while you were deployed, making it look like I was the selfish one.”
“Laurel, I thought I was protecting you, so you wouldn’t worry…so you’d be able to focus on hockey and your studies. What was the point of telling you every time I was in danger? Being in the Middle East was dangerous.”
“The point was lying to me. The point was the shock and betrayal I felt whenever I talked to the other wives and I’d hear about Spooky being this big hero while every time we talked, you’d make it sound like being deployed was the most boring thing you’d ever done.”
When a vein in his cheek started to twitch she knew she’d struck a nerve and she held up her hands. “This is why I didn’t want to stay here. This is why I don’t want to talk about the past. You hate being wrong, and while none of us like it, you take it personally. I can see in the way you’re standing, in the way you’re looking at me, you’re already trying to come up with a counter-play, some way to spin this so you don’t have to admit you were wrong. And it’s too late for that. I’m not doing this anymore and I’m moving to a hotel tomorrow.” She turned and walked out of the room, this time picking up speed when she got to the stairs. She took them two at a time until she got to her suite and locked the door behind her.
Not that he’d ever come in without permission. She trusted Gage with her life. She hated him sometimes, and he’d shattered her heart in ways she still couldn’t talk about, but she trusted him. Which made zero sense because the biggest reason she’d left him had been his lies. She understood not being able to share military secrets, but lying to her about who and what he was in the military hurt. Not being able to contact him when her mother died hurt even more. Then her world had come crashing down around her and he’d been nowhere, a veritable ghost, out saving the world while her own world had crumbled around her. She’d gone from devastated to enraged and it seemed like she still ran the gamut on her feelings for him. One minute she wanted to rail at him, remind him what a bastard he was, and the next she wanted to lose herself in his safe, strong arms.
When he’d mentioned what they used to do after a fight, she’d nearly thrown herself at him right then and there. The sexual pull between them was strong, even now that she was shaking with anger. Make-up sex had always been amazing and it was hard not to think about it, considering it had been over a year since she’d had sex with anyone. Their hook-up last year after the Olympics had been a mistake, even though it had been so good she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. One night of weakness ruined everything, especially when it came to dating other men. Once Gage touched her, there was no way for her to give anyone else a chance.
The knock on her door startled her and she reluctantly unlocked it, pulling it open.
“I’m sorry.” Gage’s eyes were silver slits of regret and she sighed, nodding.
“Me too.” She wanted to run, because he always did this to her, but was unable to tear her eyes away from his. Those eyes had haunted her from the first time she’d seen them and he was one of those men who only got better looking with age. There were slight wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, and his face was a little harder, but overall, he was just as handsome as he’d been fifteen years ago. Six feet two inches of sinewy muscle and rock-hard abs, he’d often mesmerized her. Being this close to him was heady, powerful memories ricocheting through her subconscious every time it happened. No matter how angry she was, this always happened and she wound up hating herself as much as she hated him. She had to stop looking at him, remembering what it felt like to touch him. Now. No good ever came from giving in to her baser desires when it came to Gage.
“Please don’t go to a hotel,” he continued quietly. “I won’t…bring up the past. I know it upsets you and that’s the last damn thing I ever want to do, Laurie. I didn’t know you knew about all that. I really thought I was protecting you.”
“You weren’t protecting me,” she said, letting her anger dissolve, like she always did when he said he was sorry. “You were protecting us. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the same thing.”
“What do you mean?”
“You knew I would be unhappy with all that stuff, so you kept it from me so it wouldn’t impact our relationship. The problem was by doing that, you destroyed my trust in you, which ended the relationship for an entirely other reason.”
“That’s really why you left? You walked away because I kept the details of my job in the military from you?”
She opened her mouth to say more but closed it again. There was no way to tell him the truth without telling him everything, and she would never do that. That was her burden, her pain. Telling him wouldn’t change anything and it certainly wouldn’t fix what had broken between them.
“Let’s not do this anymore,” she said finally. “You asked me to come here to do a job and I’m going to do it. We agreed this was just business and I’m sorry I lost my temper tonight. It won’t happen again.”
Gage ran a hand through his hair, nodding. “Yes, okay. I just, please don’t go to a hotel. I really think it’ll be a different kind of clusterfuck if you do. Would you trust me on that, if nothing else?”
“I think we’re asking for trouble if I stay.”
“You have my word, no more arguments, no bringing up the past, nothing but business and a little bit of friendship since we have to get through the next few weeks.” He held out his hand. “Deal?”
She hesitated before slowly putting hers in it. “Deal.”
“Good night, Laurel.”
“Good night, Gage.” She shut the door behind him and leaned against it gratefully. She should have been relieved, but instead all she felt was regret.