Page 68 of Broken Trust
He drifted by the dining room where not long ago, Chase held up that ultrasound photo of his and Alyssa’s child and the room burst with joy.
Mason shook his head, trying to imagine a baby on base. Suddenly, it struck him that even though being Blackout meantthey were dead to the world, that didn’t mean they weren’t stillliving.
As he reached her door, his pulse drummed a beat too fast. When he lifted his hand to knock, he had to rein in the excitement of stealing a private moment with the woman he loved before and so much more now.
He rapped softly. “Elin? It’s me.”
She didn’t answer.
“Elin?”
His sharp hearing picked up a rustling noise from within. He tried the knob, and it turned.
“Hey,” he said as he poked his head inside.
She stood with her back to him, one knee on the bed, her duffel gaping open in front of her. As he looked on, she snatched up a garment, balled it in her hands and stuffed it in the bag.
The sight hit him like a shot he didn’t see coming.
His heart moved to his throat and lodged there, drumming against bone. “What are you doing?” he grated out.
She didn’t turn, just snatched up the cardigan she’d worn the previous day and shoved it in the bag too. “Getting ready for DC.”
“That bag’s not for DC.”
Next, she grabbed a hard plastic case of computer equipment and dropped it in. “I talked to Con. After this op, I’m going to work remote.”
The words didn’t make sense. He watched her hands because they were steadier than his mind right now.
“Remote.” The word might as well be a planet in another galaxy.
She turned then, a tendril of dark blonde hair breaking loose from the tight ponytail she wore. Her eyes were a dim version oftheir usual light. They weren’t blazing with anger, nor the heat of passion. They were…
Flat.
The floor fell out from under his feet, and he locked his muscles to remain steady. “You told Con already.”
“I did.”
“Why?”
She didn’t answer him, just continued stuffing everything in her bag. A bra, a looped cable, a silky black dress.
“Goddammit, Elin. Talk to me!” He reached out and closed a hand over the opening.
She huffed a noisy breath through her nose.
“Why?” The question was a demand that resounded off the high ceilings.
The corner of her eye twitched in the first crack he’d seen in her façade, almost a flinch.
“Because I can’t stay here.”
“You—” His insides coiled with devastation so complete he could barely breathe. “Why? You’re safe here.”
“I’m choking here. Choking on rooms full of couples and future plans and ultrasounds. Choking on pretending this”—she flicked a hand between them—“will ever be enough.”
Every instinct in him bellowed for him to grab her, to slam his mouth over hers and stop the flow of words.
