Page 23 of A Spark of Luck
Cait stayed silent and followed him out the theater door into the parking lot. At the car, he opened the door. “I wish you’d talk to me. I can’t help you without that.”
Civilians didn’t understand the trauma of war. If you didn’t come home wounded with obvious scars, they didn’t get it. Ryan was an exception only because she hadn’t discussed it with him. She stayed quiet and got in his car.
He kept his own silence until they were on the freeway to her apartment. The traffic was unusually light for a San Antonio Thursday night.
“I’ve done something that upset you.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel, his gaze resolutely out the windshield.
“Why do guys always go to the whole ‘you’re upset’ idea? I’m not upset with you. In fact, if anything I’m mad at myself. This is a ‘me’ problem, not a ‘you’ problem. And yes, I know that’s a cliché.”
He swiveled his head to glare at her then jerked his attention back to the road. “When a woman says, ‘it’s me not you,’ it’s you.”
She shifted in her seat, knowing she couldn’t avoid this conversation. But knowing it was time and knowing how to let him down easy were two different things. She brushed off non-existent dust from her jeans and then gripped her hands together to stop nervous gestures.
She plunged. “I’ve been tasked to go back to Afghanistan, and I said yes.”
He snapped around to stare at her. “Why? You’ve done two tours.”
She eased in a breath. “That’s not the way this works, Ryan. The Army says go and I say yes. That’s it.”
Did she owe him an explanation about the secret part of her that wanted to go? That needed to resolve whatever the hell this was with Hunt?
No.
He turned back to his driving. “I thought you said you weren’t due to go back and wouldn’t go if asked.”
“I guess I did say that. But the person scheduled to go suffered an injury and couldn’t go. They requested I fill in, and I’m in the habit of holding up my end of what this life requires of me.”
“Without talking to me?”
Temper flaring, she let go of her prayer pose and tightened her fingers around the strap on her purse. “Last I checked, Ryan, you weren’t part of my chain or my colleagues.”
He lapsed into silence, a muscle ticking in his cheek. “I thought we were building a connection. Is this about me trying to have sex with you a couple of nights ago?”
Cait shut her eyes. Partly, her inner self yelled at him, but she’d never admit it aloud. She been too complacent and hadn’t engaged. She’d been stuck in friend mode, and he’d moved past that. But to share her thoughts on all this, well that would be to talk about something that had been so special and so private, it would be a betrayal.
“Yes, in that I realized you were getting more serious about us than I was, and no, because you had a right to ask. We’ve been dating for three months.”
“How long?”
“How long what?”
“How long have you known? How long will you be there? You expect me to wait?” He pulled off the exit in light traffic and sat drumming his fingers on the steering wheel at the red light.
Cait’s insides twisted into a molten mess. She’d eaten little dinner which was good news because she might throw up from all this stress. “I found out this morning that they needed a slot filled. Six months, and I don’t expect you to wait. In fact, I don’t want you to. I don’t know where I’ll be assigned when I come back. I can’t carry this relationship with me. It’s too new and too tentative. I’m sorry.”
Ryan turned at the light, staring out the windshield. He continued the silent treatment the six blocks to her apartment complex until parked in her lot.
His hand came down on her neck. “It’s all been for nothing then?”
She shrugged off his hand, her stomach diving when it was a bit harder than she expected. He was pissed, and the emotion was reflected in the hard glint in his eyes. Unfastening her seatbelt, she opened her door. Was her mace and her knife in her purse? That question told her how far Ryan’s mood had degenerated. This was not the man she knew, but what had she expected?
She put one leg out of the car to run if she had to and put the other hand in her purse to grope for keys and a weapon. Physically, she put on her doctor’s persona and found her most calming yet commanding tone of voice. “You’re a nice guy, Ryan. I know this came out of nowhere for you. I’m sorry. I really am. You deserve better than this lifestyle will give you, and I’m not the girl for what you want. I’m a combat trauma surgeon. It’s what I do, and it’s what I am. That is never going to change.”
“So why not let’s have fun until you leave?” He reached to grab her arm, but she shifted away, getting out of the car. The belligerent expression on his face and the anger in his eyes shot uneasiness down her spine. Her hand closed around her knife and her keys simultaneously.
He slammed the gear into park, opened his door and got out, and glared at her over the hood of his red Camaro, his pride and joy.
Ryan had always been easy-going. This temper was out of character for what she knew of him, which proved her point. They didn’t know each other well, mostly her fault. They wouldn’t know each other now, and he had obviously kept up the happy, easy persona and hadn’t shown his true self to her either; hence, moving on was necessary.
