Page 63 of Long Shot

“Yes.”

“I never thought . . . never connected that with you.”

I press my face to his chest. “Jeremy did fire another shot, and like I said, I was sure I was going to die. But he missed me. Two guys jumped him and took him down then. It was . . . chaos. A lot of it is a blur for me . . . I don’t even remember everything that happened after that. The restaurant was full of guests, everyone was screaming and panicking. Lots of them ran out. The police came. Ambulances. They took Dang and Bahir to the hospital, but . . . they couldn’t save them.” I choke on the last words.

“Jesus. Jesus Christ, Reese.” He holds me tighter. “I’m so sorry. So fucking sorry.”

“It was so hard after that. I couldn’t go back to work. They said they wanted me to, but it was my fault that happened, and I knew they didn’t really want me there.”

“No. I doubt that.”

“That’s how I felt. And . . . I was terrified. All the time. I couldn’t get out of bed for a couple of weeks, I was just so . . . exhausted. Filled with dread. And guilt. Mostly guilt. Two people died because of me.”

“You know that wasn’t because of you, don’t you?” He pulls back and lifts my chin. “Because if you don’t, that psychologist you saw was a giant piece of shit.”

I snort-laugh. “Yes, we talked about that. Yes, I realize that the one who was responsible was Jeremy. But I can’t help but blame myself . . . maybe if I’d handled things differently, he wouldn’t have flipped out like that. Maybe if I’d realized his anger issues were more serious, I would’ve done something different . . . I don’t even know. Like hired security or something to watch for him.”

“You had no idea he was going to come back and do that. There’s no way you could know.”

“I know.” I let out a sigh. “I do know it, in my head. I’ve thought back and tried to figure out if I missed some warning signs, and I don’t think I did. But it’s hard to get over those kinds of thoughts. I’m supposed to stop thinking them, or reframe them in my mind. Like you just did . . . there’s no way I could have known. But I can’t help the little voice in the back of my head that says Ishouldhave known.”

“Fuck, Reese.”

“Two people lost their lives because of . . . because of it. I . . . still don’t know how I’m ever supposed to get past that.”

Cade closes his eyes. “When I was in Yemen, one of my teammates was killed in an overnight raid. Like you, we all questioned what we could have done differently. I felt guilty as hell. And like you said, I know in my head it wasn’t my fault. But it’s hard not to think about all the hypotheticals. It’ll always be there. What made it bearable was when Ben’s widow hugged me and told me that Ben looked up to me and said he’d learned so much from me. She didn’t blame me. She didn’t blame any of us. She blamed the enemy we were fighting.”

I turn his words over in my head.She blamed the enemy.

“And that was exactly who deserved the blame,” Cade adds in his low, steady tone that permeates my senses, right to my heart, and eases the ache there. “Nobody else.”

“You’re right.” I choke out the words. “You’re so right.” Maybe, just maybe I can remember that and believe that the only one who’s to blame is Jeremy.

Cade circles his arms around me again and with my body flush against his, I feel he’s wearing underwear—snug, soft cotton. Somehow our bare legs are twined together and my breasts are against his chest and I sink into his embrace . . . into the heat, the shelter, the comfort, the care . .

“You’re strong, Reese,” he says. “I can tell.”

“I didn’t feel strong. I felt . . . helpless.”

“Sure. That’s normal. You went through something traumatic.”

“I ran away. I wasn’t strong enough to go back.”

“It’s not running away. It’s taking care of yourself. Doing what you needed to do for you.”

“Th-thank you.”

“And you’re getting through it.”

“And then something stupid like a loud noise outside freaks me out all over again.”

“It happens. You deal with it.” He pauses. “That’s why you didn’t want to be a chef again.”

“Yes.” Our eyes meet in the shadows.

“I’m sorry I pushed you into doing it.”

My eyes widen. “You didn’t push me. I decided to do it because . . . well, for a few reasons.”

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