βOh, no you donβt,β Nicola yelled from the picnic table.
He walked into the house and shut the door before she was
even upright. Hopping and hobbling as fast as her good and
gimp feet would move her, Nicola tried to balance with an
arm in the sling. He couldnβt throw a bomb like that and
just run. Hell no.
She threw open the door and hollered, βGet back here.β
βNight, Nic.β He was halfway across the kitchen, not looking
back. βHave a nice life.β
βCash Garrison. Stop!β
He pivoted and looked at her in a way that tore her emotions
into bits of shrapnel. βWhy? What does it matter?β
βYou canβt say you had a ring and walk away.β
βWhy not? You walked away. You left, remember?β
βI left everyone!β
βYou left me.β Cash laughed. βYou know what? I donβt care
about everyone. I never even cared about me. I cared about
you. I mourned you. I died that day alongside you. But ainβt
that some shit?β
βCashββ
βYeah, yeah. You had your reasons. But it was a good thing.
Never would be here, where I am now, if you hadnβt walked
away.β
She hopped two steps forward, and the pressure in her chest
nearly debilitated her. βYouβre a son of a bitch.β
He met her in the middle of the kitchen like they were
squaring off for a round of celebrity death match,
operative-style. βYouβre a goddamn liar.β
The lights flicked on. Roman stood in the hallway, gun in
one hand, other hand still on the wall. βWhat the fuck are
you two doing? Nic, are you okay?β
βYeah, what are we doing, Nicola?β Cashβs glare locked on
hers.
Silence.
She had nothing to say. Nothing except for⦠she narrowed her
eyes. βI hate you, Cash.β
βYou hate me? Jesus fucking Christ. If thatβs not the best
line youβve had all night, I donβt know what is. The CIA
feed you those beauties?β
Roman cleared his throat. βCIA? Whatβs the Agency got to do
with this?β
They ignored him. βYou think you can keep your mouth shut
about anything? Mister Letβs-sit-and-talk-under-the-moon?β
βAt least Iβm solid to those I care about.β
They were nose to nose. Well, as close as they could be with
him towering over her. She breathed hard through sealed
teeth, angrier than she had ever been, and she didnβt know
why. She shoved him with her good elbow, attempting to push
past him. He grasped her bicep, pulled her close.
Inches. She was inches from his face, and for some reason,
all she could think about was how he smelled like soap. Soap
and Jack Danielβs.
βI mourned you too, Cash.β Her voice broke. βDonβt you know
that?β
Eyes locked, they stared. She felt bleeding pain down to her
soul.
And suddenly, it wasnβt just them. She came back to reality
and the voices in the background. Roman was saying
something. She drew her eyes away from Cash, dimly aware of
how close, how heated she and Cash were. Cash seemed to
notice also, releasing his grip on her arm. But they stayed
in place, close enough she could still smell him.
By the look on his face, Roman must have repeated himself.
βWhat is going on between you two? Youβve been at each
otherβs throats for hours. Christ.β
With all the emotion required to play Grand Theft Auto, Cash
turned from her to Roman. βSorry, man. I was doing your
sister on the side. Beat my ass later. Iβm going to bed.β