20
Alexandria, VA
9:37 PM Saturday, January 17
“Love is many things, none of them logical.”
Jack remembered these words from his high school English class when they were asked to read The Princess Bride novel by William Goldman. Back then, he and his friends joked around at all the romantic references while the girls gushed over the fictional hero, lamenting how they wished Westley were real.
With Brynn at his side, laughing and waving her sword, Jack couldn’t help but classify his growing feelings as illogical. It made zero sense to let his heart long for a romance that only existed in books or in the movies. He swallowed, annoyed by his cynicism.
He knew it wasn’t true. His own parents had been happily married for almost forty years, and witnessing their love for one another made Jack think about romance differently. It wasn’t only about the physical affection. Watching his mom and dad care for each other in small ways, him making her tea every morning, his mom making sure Dad’s favorite chips were available during baseball season. It seemed minor, but it added up.
What wasn’t adding up were the feelings reemerging for the woman who had left his heart fractured and was somehow now mending it together with her presence back in his life.
Brynn leaned over. “Hey, you okay?”
“I think I need a little air.”
“Okay.” Brynn grabbed her coat. “It’s almost over anyway.”
Jack started to tell her she could stay, but her immediate inclination to join him kept him quiet. But apparently not quite enough, because someone—he was pretty sure it was Kekoa—shushed them, causing Brynn to giggle. Jack and Brynn hunch-walked out of the theater so as not to block anyone’s view of Westley’s torture in the pit of despair. After they bundled up in their coats, he walked Brynn across the street to a row of restaurants, bars, and shops.
“Ooh, it’s cold out here.” Brynn’s breath puffed in front of her face as she shuffled her feet.
He’d noticed her cute but completely impractical shoes earlier. “I’d give your toes about one minute in these temperatures before they turn black and fall off.”
“Ew, Jack.” She looked down at her feet, practically dancing to keep them warm. “I knew these were a bad choice.”
“There’s a Fieldman’s over there. Come on.”
“I’m not buying new boots, Jack.”
“Come on,” he insisted. “But first—” He pointed at a little coffee and hot chocolate kiosk designed to look like a log cabin, with a red-and-black buffalo-check moose logo. “Whipped cream?”
Brynn rubbed her gloved hands together. “Yes, please.”
With their hot chocolates in hand, they hurried into the sporting goods store.
“Welcome.” A teenage salesclerk behind the counter barely looked up. “We close in thirty minutes.”
Jack escorted Brynn to the camping section at the back of the store. Tents, folding chairs, and a collapsible table complete with a propane grill circled a faux campfire.
“M’lady.” Jack gestured to one of the camping chairs. After Brynn sat down, he smiled. “I’ll be right back.”
After a quick hunt for the right pair, two minutes later he returned to Brynn and held out a pair of fuzzy striped socks. “For you.”
Brynn laughed. “I hope you paid for those.”
“I did.” Jack held out his receipt. “Now we can hang out by this delightful fire, and your toes will be toasty warm.”
“Thank you, but you didn’t have to,” she said while reaching for the socks. She kicked off her shoes and pulled the socks on with a smile, closing her eyes. “These are soft.”
“And warm?”
Her eyes opened. “Yes.”
“Good.” He let out a sigh and sat in the seat next to her. “We have exactly twenty-five minutes until the store closes, and I don’t think that kid will let us stay even if I promise to buy this whole setup.”
Brynn laughed softly before settling against her chair, and he couldn’t help but stare. He wanted to see into her thoughts, her memories, discover what the last eight years had been like for her. His heart still ached for the tremendous loss of her parents. How was she coping?
“I can feel you staring at me.”
Jack quickly averted his eyes to the cardboard flames. “No, I wasn’t.”
“Do you ever wonder what it would’ve been like if . . . things had been different?”
It was like she’d read his mind. He turned, their eyes meeting. How much did he confess? “In the beginning, yeah.”
“And now?”
There was a vulnerability in her words, and he forced himself to censor his response. “Yeah. A little now too.”
Her gaze shifted to the campfire, and she seemed lost in a memory, maybe.
“I still can’t believe you’re here.” Embarrassment warmed his cheeks as a breath of nervous laughter left his lips. “I mean, after all these years we’re working together.”
“Probably not in the way you imagined.”
Jack released a breath. “A lot of things didn’t go the way I imagined.”
She bit her lip, eyes searching his. “Jack, Lyla said something about you being in treatment, and I hate asking because I know it’s private, but my mind and my Google search took me to places that are going to give me nightmares if you don’t tell me. But if you really don’t want to—”
“It’s fine, Brynn. Lyla told me she let it slip.”
Brynn’s nose wrinkled. “So all this time you’ve let me worry about it on my own?”
She said it playfully, but Jack could see the genuine concern in her eyes and it warmed him. “Non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. I was diagnosed a few months after exiting the CIA program.”
“And you’re okay now?” She searched the length of his body before meeting his gaze again. “I mean, you look great.” She pinched her lips together in a tight smile, embarrassed.
“I’m good, Brynn. Really.” He repeated the words she’d offered him earlier. “In a way, I think it was a good thing I didn’t get selected for clandestine services.”
Brynn looked at her cup of hot chocolate. “Do you remember preparing for the final exercise? We studied every scenario. We researched decades of missions gone awry so we’d be ready.”
Those long nights came back to him in a flash. Not only were they sleep-deprived and physically and mentally exhausted, but their instructors were skilled in torturing them psychologically. There were rumors the CIA instructors would place bets on which recruits would fail or pass, and like predators, they had no problem exploiting weakness.
He lost sleep imagining a thousand scenarios that had him trapped in some psychological exercise meant to mimic a real-life mission.
“It felt like I had been preparing my whole life for that moment, and the only thing standing between me and stopping terrorism was that test. Except that wasn’t true. The one thing I hadn’t been prepared for was you.”
His heart stalled, and fear crashed over him. Did he want to relive this? A tear slipped down her cheek, and Jack’s hand fisted to keep from reaching for her. The fear from a second ago shifted into a need. To understand. To hear. To know why.
“I didn’t know they would use you against me.”
Jack’s fingers curled tighter around his cup. “What do you mean?”
“You were part of my mission.” She swallowed. “I thought it was over. I had successfully obtained the objective, but then the mission changed. I don’t know how they did it, but they showed me a photo of you tied up, beaten.” She shook her head. “It was clearly a doctored photo, but they were making me choose. You or the mission.”
Her lip trembled on those final words and Jack’s heart, no matter how it harbored the hurt, couldn’t take the waver in her voice. “You don’t have to explain.”
“But I do.” Her thumb bounced against her cup. “Jack, the CIA discovered my weakness and used it to force me into a decision. They were making it clear that in this career, a choice must be made.”
“You made the only decision you could.” He tried for indifference, but he could hear the hurt in his words.
“Terrorists have no mercy. They’re monsters, and I’ve experienced firsthand the devastation they cause. I couldn’t give them you to use against me.” She sniffled. “You know the agency is mission first. That final test . . . they were forcing us to understand what was at stake. The CIA knew about us, and they forced us to make a decision. For me, it was a lot easier choosing the mission when I knew it wasn’t real, that you would be okay. Even if it broke my heart. Out there, in the real world, if it came down to the mission or you, not choosing you wouldn’t just break my heart, Jack. It would break me. And that made you a liability. It made me a liability to the agency. That’s why I did what I did—why we couldn’t be together. I’m sorry I hurt you. It’s something I’ve carried with me for eight years.”
Jack twisted the cup of hot chocolate in his hand, trying to buy time and figure out the emotions beating wildly in his chest. News of Brynn’s success had reached the barracks before she did. The details of her mission and her decision. He hadn’t wanted to believe she’d give up on them so easily, but she had. He wasn’t sure how to process the desire to take her back into his arms, and maybe his life, but also protect himself from the pain of her choice.
“We were young and in love and—”
Brynn moved to look up at him. “You loved me?”
Ouch. Jack kept his expression neutral even as his heart dropped into his stomach. An alarm seemed to echo through his brain, reminding him that this was why he didn’t let himself become vulnerable.
“Of course I did, Brynn.” He released a measured breath. “Like I said, maybe I was just young and naive. I thought you did—hoped you did too.”
Brynn slid her hand into his, the warmth of her fingers sending a tingle up his arm and straight into the thumping organ in his chest. “I did.”
The words felt like a life preserver tossed out too late.
Jack searched her face, expecting to see regret but instead simply saw the expectant look of someone who still owned his heart. He glanced down at their hands, unsure of how to react to his desire to not let go. Ever.
“If you would’ve told me what they did to you, I would’ve made it easy for you.” He slid his thumb along her knuckles, letting the softness of her skin fan the flames of attraction dancing in his chest. “I would’ve walked away. Given it up for you.”
“I would never ask that of you.” Beneath long lashes, her eyes found his. “But I’m here now and—”
“Actually, you’re not.” An annoyed voice jerked their attention to the salesclerk. “You’ve got to go. We’re closed.”
Having icy snow shoved into their clothing wouldn’t have been as jarring as the teenager’s abrupt interruption. Jack and Brynn looked at each other before they both began laughing. A much-needed release from the tension that felt like it was ready to explode . . . or lead to something Jack wasn’t sure was a good idea.
Helping Brynn to her feet, he forced himself not to enjoy the touch of her skin against his again. They were escorted rather hurriedly to the glass front door, where the kid promptly locked it behind them, leaving Brynn giggling and holding her shoes in her hand.
“Someone should really talk to the manager about his sales technique. The least he could’ve done was try to sell me some boots.”
Jack laughed, his hand falling to the small of Brynn’s back, the move so routine it caught him off guard. Her eyes met his, and he could see the questions dancing in them.
“Jack?”
His gaze shifted to the brunette carrying a wrapped birthday gift in her hands, a curious look on her face. His hand fell to his side, his ears burning. He cast a sideways glance at Brynn, who was no longer smiling and had taken a step sideways, moving away from him.
He released a sigh. “Hey, Amy.”
An hour later, Jack couldn’t get Brynn’s devastated expression out of his head. After clumsily introducing her to Amy, he had to all but force Brynn to allow him to wait with her for her Uber. She wouldn’t talk to him, wouldn’t look at him. He’d hurt her, and that made him a fool.
A bigger fool, still, because he had also hurt the woman currently sitting across from him. After stopping by Lyla’s party, Amy had suggested they grab something to eat and talk.
He picked up his water glass and took a sip, watching Amy scan the menu of a restaurant they frequented every time she was in town. It was one of the few that kept late hours, which made it perfect for their erratic work schedules. “Trying something new tonight?”
Amy set down the menu, her hazel eyes meeting his. He saw something tucked into the depths of them that heightened the anxiousness circling in his stomach. After Brynn had left in the Uber, Amy explained that the movie she was working on wrapped early and she caught the first flight to get back in time for Lyla’s party. She wanted it to be a surprise for him too, but Jack noticed the edge of surprise in her expression when she found him with Brynn.
She gave a soft smile. “No. I’m just trying to figure out . . .” Swallowing, she bit her lip and reached for her glass. “I . . .” She let out a breath. “We’re friends, right?”
Jack swallowed. “Yes, of course.”
“Right, good.” Amy searched his face, making his anxiousness rise. “Because I think after tonight, and no matter how much Lyla would love for us to be something more . . . it’s not there. Right?”
He stifled the lungful of relief wanting to escape. “Are you asking me?”
She pressed her lips together in a mirthful grin. “No.”
“Good.” He released the breath.
“I’m not sure if I should be offended by your reaction,” she said with a laugh. His face must’ve sobered because she quickly added, “Don’t worry, Jack. I’m as relieved as you are. I just have better control over my response.”
“Sorry.” He wrinkled his nose.
Jack relaxed into his seat, the muscles in his body unwinding. He studied Amy, her dark-brown hair curling over her shoulders, the subtle slope of her nose that had a sprinkling of freckles across it and her cheeks. Amy was beautiful and kind and . . . not the one for him.
“When did you know?”
Amy gave him a teasing smile. “The night we kissed.”
His eyes grew wide, heat filling his cheeks because one, he’d been caught looking at her lips, and two, Amy knew what he’d been thinking. “The night we kissed? Six months ago?”
“Exactly.” Amy took a drink. “After getting to know each other for almost a year, we finally have a moment—”
“I’m not sure I’d call it that,” he joked, knowing she’d agree. “That old lady was as stubborn as an ox. Who makes people prove they’re a couple just to attend a couples’ cooking class? It was ridiculous.”
Amy laughed. “Isn’t she your mother’s aunt?”
“Yes.” Jack rolled his eyes. “Stubborn as an ox.”
“Well, it wasn’t a great moment, and maybe that had something to do with the kiss being”—she lifted a shoulder—“meh.”
Jack’s jaw dropped open. “Meh?”
His reaction sent Amy into a fit of giggles, bringing moisture to her eyes. Her hysterics had him worried. Sure, he wasn’t Casanova, but he had to be better than meh.
Brynn seemed to enjoy it.
The thought shot into his mind like a bullet piercing a piece of glass, shattering into a spiderweb of confusing cracks. Once upon a time, Brynn didn’t mind his kisses, but would she feel the same now? His cheeks burned at the thought.
“You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?”
Amy’s question brought another round of heat to his cheeks. “Are you sure you’re not some sort of secret spy using the guise of movie and television production?”
She tipped her head to the side. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”
He chuckled at the joke, reminded once again of Brynn. This was becoming a problem.
“Have you told her how you feel?”
Their waiter interrupted to take their orders, leaving Jack to consider her question. How did he feel in light of what Brynn had told him? It angered him to learn the CIA would go so far as to use him against her. It wasn’t fair. Plenty of officers in the agency were married with families . . . and many were not. Brynn was right when she said they’d asked her to choose. Throughout their six months of training, the instructors made it clear—a choice would have to be made. A mission would require missed holidays, birthdays, even months of communication, and both the CIA officer and their family had to sacrifice.
When the waiter walked away, Amy looked over. “So?”
“I don’t know what to say.” He rubbed the back of his neck. Am I really going to discuss my ex with my . . . “This feels weird.”
“Why?” Amy grabbed a breadstick. “If it wasn’t established before”—she waggled her eyebrows—“I’ll say it again. You and I are better as friends. It wasn’t just the kiss—”
“I was under pressure,” Jack cut in and gave the space around them a quick look before leaning in. “You’re seriously going to hurt my chances at dating if you keep saying my kiss was less than stellar.”
“Fine.” She held up a hand in surrender. “We’ll blame it on pressure.”
Jack lifted an eyebrow at her. “Maybe it was who I was kissing? Ever think maybe your kiss was—”
Amy jabbed her breadstick in the air at him. “A gentleman never discusses a woman’s kiss. Besides, you’re deflecting. Let’s say”—she eased back into her chair—“you’re right. Maybe it was the woman.” She took a bite of her breadstick, chewed, and swallowed, her eyes never leaving his. “Is Brynn the one?”
Jack tipped his chin up so his gaze went to the tin-tile ceiling of the steakhouse, thoughts of Brynn swirling in his mind. “I don’t know.”
“Are you afraid she’ll hurt you again?”
He dropped his gaze to meet hers. “Truthfully, maybe.”
She considered him for a second. “Is that going to keep you from loving her?”
“I didn’t say I loved her.” The words felt bitter as they left his lips, because that’s exactly what he’d said. Less than an hour ago, he had admitted he loved her once, but did that mean he still did? “At one time I believed I did, but when she left, I think I got over her.”
“Did you?” Amy looked at him like she didn’t believe it. “I’ve heard the way you’ve talked about her. There was a look in your eye that . . . well, it’s a look that seems reserved just for her.”
Shame swept over him. “Amy, I’m sorry. I never meant to—”
She waved him silent. “I’m not saying this for pity, Jack. I’m saying this because even though I come from a broken marriage, I know the value of finding the kind of love that doesn’t let go. If that’s Brynn for you, then you’d be a fool to let her slip away a second time.”
“She didn’t slip away.” Jack sighed. Except for Walsh and Brynn, he’d kept that day at the Farm, Brynn’s decision, to himself. “When faced with the choice, Brynn didn’t choose me. It’s as simple and as complicated as that.”
The waiter delivered Amy’s meal and made sure they had everything they needed before he stepped away, leaving Amy still staring at Jack.
“Sounds far more complicated than simple.”
“It is.” Jack played with the silverware on the table. “Much like my kisses.”
Amy groaned and then gave him a wink. “It wasn’t that bad, but it felt a little too much like kissing my brother.”
Jack made a face. “And on that appetizing thought, please eat before your steak gets cold and I ruin another beautiful lady’s night.”