Ricochet (Renegades #3)(88)
Author: Skye Jordan

“So if you really love your team, you’ll get your head on straight before you go back so no more of them end up six feet under. And if you really care about Rachel, you’ll let her go now so she never knows the pain and loneliness of being left behind.”

Ryker’s throat thickened. Marx was speaking Ryker’s mantra, only confirming the rightness of his split with Rachel. But his heart was a rock at his feet now, and Ryker could already feel all the life she infused into him when they were together draining from his soul.

“Right again.” His voice came out rough. “Don’t wait for me to deploy, Frogman, go after her now, because Rachel and I are done.” The emptiness that swamped Ryker pushed one more angry, competitive comment from his mouth. “Do what we both know SEALs do best—swoop in after all the work is done to reap the glory.”

22

A week had passed since the night Nathan had walked out of her, refusing to face his issues or help himself. Rachel watched the dining hall from her office window, waiting for him to show. He’d been avoiding her since his nightmare and their argument—up at the bridge site by the time she woke, left at sundown when the crew returned for dinner to go visit Ray in the hospital, and returned after dark. Often after she’d fallen asleep. When he did eat meals here, he just grabbed food and took it back to the bridge or to his room. And after she’d tried to arrange time to talk with him during a phone call about supplies, he’d sent all messages about the job to her through Charlie.

She knew there was no future for them. Knew there was nothing she could do to help him deal with the tragedy he’d suffered overseas. But it all still gnawed at the nurturer in her. And she had a burning need to set things right with him before he left. To Rachel, leaving bad blood between them felt like a horrible wrinkle in the smooth life she’d been building for herself, something she just couldn’t let go.

He strode into sight and reached for the door to the dining room just as it opened and Charlie came out. They stood outside several moments, talking, and Rachel’s heart sped up as she watched Nathan, soaking in the sight of him in those familiar cargo pants, the T-shirt stretched over wide shoulders and molding to the muscles of his back. She still had the T she’d worn back from his room that last night and, in the last few days had started sleeping in it.

And didn’t that make a pathetic picture?

The ache that had developed in her chest once her anger from the fight had drained grew a little more intense every day, and she was afraid of how it might fester if she let him leave without talking. Not that she knew what she’d say if he’d ever hold still long enough for her to get the words out. And then there was the whole issue of privacy—nonexistent around this place.

His conversation with Charlie ended, and Nathan disappeared into the dining room, while Charlie headed toward her office. Rachel rolled her chair back to the desk and opened her accounting software on the computer, but she glanced at her cell sitting on the blotter and touched the screen to make it light up again. The most recent message from Nicole still filled her screen.

6612010666: I realize I’ve been pushing too hard. I just want you to know I miss my sister. I want to tell you that you were right—if I could go back and do it again, I would, because he makes me a better person. A person who can wait until you’re ready to forgive me. I love you.

Charlie walked in, and Rachel set the phone down. Between Nicole and Nathan, Rachel’s heart felt too heavy to carry.

“Good morning, good morning,” Charlie said, full of cheer, clapping his hands together. “Today’s the big day.”

“So it is,” she said forcing a grin. “How’s…um”—Nathan—“everything?”

“Great. We finished up the rigging last night, and Marx gave us the green light. Only thing we need is the horn from the fire department. Did they drop it off?”

“Nope,” she lied. “Not yet. But if it doesn’t hit my desk by nine a.m., I’ll go pick it up myself.”

“Good deal,” he said. “You’ll be there tonight, right? For the detonation?”

Her stomach squeezed, but she forced her smile bigger. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

He saluted and walked out, and Rachel had to bite her lip not to call after him and ask how Nathan was doing. She already knew he was doing just fine. Josh was pleased with Nathan’s progress, his work, and his crew’s work. In fact, Nathan had become the camp’s favorite son.

Yes, he was doing just fine.

Rachel had overreacted to a seemingly manageable inner turmoil and ruined… Ruined what? A fucking arrangement? Besides, he’d been a real bastard the last night they’d been together.

Maybe she was just making something of nothing again. Trying to force a square peg into a round hole. She’d spent nearly two years doing the same thing with Dante.

Screw it. She had to let go.

Rachel leaned down and pulled the blow horn the fire marshal had dropped off yesterday afternoon from beneath her desk. It was housed in a compact little box, and she took the handle and carried it outside. She’d missed meeting up with Nathan, sure he’d snatched food from the dining room by now, which was just as well, and to avoid making direct contact with him again, she’d just give the horn to another crewmember to take up to the bridge.

She forced her mind to the day ahead, really just tying up loose paperwork trails. All the important stuff would be going on hundreds of feet above her today. Again, just as well.

The dining room door opened as she reached for the handle, and she stepped aside as she met the person’s gaze. Nathan’s gaze. Nathan’s sexy, gray-green gaze. Her stomach flipped, then floated into her chest.

He carried a Styrofoam container of food in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other, but all Rachel could smell was the spice of his body wash. Instead of remembering the sexual images the scent conjured, she thought of the way he’d looked that last night after he’d fallen asleep and all the stress had vanished from his face. Young. Vibrant. Strong. Filled with potential.

“Oh, hi,” she said with a sudden sense of awkwardness.

“Hey.” He stepped out and held the door so she could pass.

“I’m, um, not going in.” She focused on the jitters inside and forcibly quieted them as he let the door fall closed.

“That the horn?” he asked.

“Yep. I was going to have one of the crew bring it up for you.” She glanced at his hands. “And…I guess, since your hands are full, I’ll go ahead and give it to Brad.”