Chapter Twenty-Eight

Harvard

When she looked at me like that, all big, sad eyes brimming with tears, I was powerless to deny her anything. I stripped out of my wet clothes, crawled into bed, and wrapped my arms around her. But I couldn’t sleep. I was as comfortable as I’d ever been with Sami curled into my side, her hand over my heart, her breath tickling the side of my neck, and still I couldn’t shut down. My brain kept up a litany of you should’ve seen this coming. You should’ve stopped it. You did this. You did this.

You. Did. This.

Made me twitchy, restless, and did nothing to bank the flame of rage burning in my gut.

Finally, sometime around seven a.m., I gave up on trying to sleep. I carefully extracted myself from Sami’s arms, holding my breath as she rolled over. She needed more sleep, and I didn’t want to wake her. She snuggled into my pillow, let out a soft sigh, and didn’t move again. As quietly as possible, I grabbed a pair of jogging pants and a T-shirt out of my dresser, then slipped out of the room.

I needed to move or else I might explode.

Before heading out, I did stop by my computer to set up a couple basic searches to run while I was out. My mother was involved in this somehow, so my first step was to find out what she’d been up to since I cut her out of my life. How did she get involved with Nomad?

Once the searches were humming away, I laced up my running shoes, jotted a quick note for Sami—I didn’t want her to wake up and think I’d abandoned her—then hit the trail. I picked the hardest one I knew. Guess I’m a glutton for punishment.

About halfway up the hill, I heard footsteps closing in fast behind me. I was huffing and puffing at that point because I hadn’t kept up my physical training. Obviously, whoever behind me was in better shape. I glanced back, hoping it wasn’t Sami. Running was the last thing she needed to do after inhaling all that smoke last night.

No, it wasn’t her. The footsteps were too heavy. Meaning it was one of my HORNET teammates, none of whom I particularly wanted to see right now. I picked up my pace, but it was no use. He caught up easily.

Jean-Luc.

The team must have gotten back from South America.

I cursed under my breath as he settled into step beside me. The Cajun had never been an early riser. Before Claire, he’d considered ten a.m. equivalent to dawn. But here he was, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

Man, meeting Claire had been the best thing to ever happen for him. What was wrong with me that I couldn’t be happy for him? Why was there this ball of anger in my belly that flared hot whenever he was around?

At the top of the hill, I put my hands on my head and walked in circles, trying to ease the stitch in my side. Down below, the valley of Jackson Hole stretched before us, sparkling with frost in the morning sun. It wouldn’t be long now before we saw our first snow. The air already had bite up here in the mountains, and you could see the snowcaps creeping farther down the Tetons every day.

Jean-Luc stopped beside me to stare out at the valley. “I used to hate that view. Felt like these fucking mountains were caging me in here.” He let out a scoff of laughter. “Turns out it wasn’t the place I’d hated so much. It was me. The guy I was back then.”

I knew a few things about hating your past self, but I didn’t say so. The cramp in my side eased, and I took a swig of water from the bottle I’d brought along.

“Claire saved me,” he continued softly like I wasn’t actively ignoring him. “I think I knew she would, and that’s why I had to follow her to Nigeria.”

“I don’t begrudge you your relationship with Claire.” I muttered it because I had to drag the words past the ball of anger that had risen to my throat.

“Then what?” He flapped his arms, clearly exasperated. “Talk to me, mon ami. At least give me a chance to make things right.”

Without replying, I turned away from the view, intending to head back to Sami.

“Aw, Harvard, c’mon. Hold up.” Jean-Luc grabbed my arm. “Are you okay? Gabe told me about the shit that went down with the dorm and your car.”

“I’m fine.” I shrugged off his hand. I couldn’t explain why every contact with him pissed me off. So he hurt my feelings a few months ago. Boo-hoo. I should just get the hell over it, and yet…I couldn’t. He hadn’t trusted me to help him find the woman he loved, and that fact cut so deeply, I didn’t know what it would take to heal it. If anything could.

Jean-Luc cursed softly in Cajun French, and I stopped short only a few paces away. I closed my eyes for a moment because I could physically feel the sorrow rolling off him. I was hurting him just as much as he’d hurt me.

This guy had been part of my life for eight years. After the CIA pulled me in, he was the closest thing to a real family I’d ever had. The brother I hadn’t known I’d wanted or needed. And I was pushing him away. Rejecting him before he could reject me again. Because that was exactly what it had felt like when he’d run off to Nigeria without asking for my help. A rejection.

I drew a breath and turned to face him.

He’d taken off his New Orleans Saints ball cap and was all but strangling it. He looked miserable, which didn’t suit the Ragin’ Cajun. He was usually all jokes and grins.

“How…are you doing?” I ignored the burn of shame along the back of my neck. I hadn’t asked him that once since we returned home from Nigeria. He’d almost died a couple times during that mission, and I’d never asked him if he was all right. Never even visited him in the hospital.

Yeah, I know. I’m a horrible human being.

He glanced up at me in surprise. “Uh. I’m good, yeah.”

“And Claire?”

“Busy. You know, she’s working with Quentin Enterprises now, heading up Tuc’s new bioterrorism unit. We…uh…are moving in together. Soon as she gets a few days off, we’re gonna pick out furniture and all that shit.”

Although he said it with an exaggerated eye roll, his grin told a different story. He was looking forward to settling down and making a home. A far cry from the old Jean-Luc, who went through women like other men did socks.

Claire really had saved him in more ways than one.

I tried for a smile. “Look at you, being all domestic.”

“Yeah,” he said with a small huff of disbelief. “Who’da thunk it?”

“You’re happy?”

“With Claire? Over the moon. And I even like this new gig teaching Arabic. I know it’s supposed to be a punishment and all for disobeying orders, but…” He shrugged. “I’m gonna talk to Gabe and Quinn about making it a permanent thing.”

“Professor Jean-Luc.”

That got me a genuine, full-out Jean-Luc grin. “Ha. Like the sound of that. Makes me sound almost as smart as you.” His grin faded. “Harvard, man, I know I fucked up and hurt you. Just tell me how to fix it.”

I shook my head because I didn’t know.

“For the record,” he said after a moment, “I do trust you. I trust you with my life.”

Bitterness coated the back of my throat. “Just not Claire’s.”

“That’s not true, mon ami.” He whacked his ball cap against his thigh a couple times to beat some shape back into it. He jammed it on his head and met my gaze. “When I left, I was scared for Claire and not thinking clearly. My recklessness could’ve killed her and Marcus, and it very nearly killed me. You can be pissed at me all you want, but I’m glad I didn’t drag you to Nigeria. I’d’ve never forgiven myself if something had happened to you over there.”

That ball of anger and bitterness became choking. “See, that’s the problem. You automatically assume I’d have been hurt or killed. You think I’m the kid you have to babysit. You all do, and it’s grating on my last fucking nerve.”

He muttered something in French. I didn’t understand it, but I didn’t need to. He was cursing me out.

I wanted to punch him. “What?”

“We’ve never treated you like a kid.”

“Yeah? Then why leave me behind? Every mission, you tuck me away back at base while you guys go out and save the world.”

To my shock, Jean-Luc smacked me upside the head. “Coullion. Because we need you behind a computer, watching our six. You’re not Rambo and never have been. But that’s okay because you’re fucking Neo. You control our Matrix. We keep you safe because without you, our entire world crumbles.”

I blinked at him like the idiot he accused me of being. Opened my mouth to protest—but found I had nothing to say.

I was Neo?

I…had never thought of it like that.

Jean-Luc sighed. “Kid, we love you. Yeah, we want to protect you. The team would be lost without you.”

“That’s not—”

Jean-Luc steamrolled over my objection. “You always manage to make our shitty equipment work. Doesn’t matter how old or battered, you don’t stop until we have functioning radios or satellite coverage or whatever. We never would’ve found Gabe in Colombia without you. You were able to track Mara when she was abducted and save Quinn’s sanity.” He ticked each off on his fingers as he spoke. “Without you and Sami, Claire and I would’ve died in Nigeria.”

And he kept going, listing mission after mission in which my knowledge and skills had played an integral role in the success of the team. Some of which I’d completely forgotten about.

I sat down heavily on a boulder and dragged my hands through my damp hair. “Shit. I am a coullion.”

Jean-Luc waved a hand dismissively. “Nah. You just had your head up your ass for a while, but you’re starting to see the light now, yeah?”

I exhaled a laugh. “Yeah. Man, I’m sorry.”

“S’all good, mon ami. S’all good.” He stuck out a hand. I clapped my palm to his, and he pulled me to my feet.

“Neo, huh?” I said as we started a light jog downhill. “I should get a trench coat.”

Jean-Luc gave my shoulder a shove. “Mais, at least you got some muscles to fill it out now. You won’t get lost in it.”

“Asshole.”

“Punk. See you at the bottom.”

“Yeah?” I grinned and took off at a full run. “Try to beat me, old man.”

Weird, but I felt lighter than I had when I slogged up the mountainside. I hadn’t realized how much my anger had been weighing me down, chaining me down.

I beat him home.