Hard Fought (A Stepbrother Warriors Novel) (13 page)

Chapter Twenty-Five

I stand at the edge of the driveway and look around. No sign
of Carter or my car. Well, well. Looks like I'm not the only one to miss
appointments. From ten feet farther on, Roger waves at me from the driver's
seat of the Escalade. I wave back, then stick my hand into my purse to find my
phone.

"I'm taking you, ma'am!" Roger says, as he hops
onto the gravel.

"Oh...where's Carter?"

"Needed the night off," he explains as he opens
the back door for me. "But not to worry, he relayed all the details to
me."

"Great," I say with a weak smile. The time in the
car with Carter is the only time we really have together now. He's done with
physical therapy, and when I'm out and about he always hangs back, watching.

Roger turns the radio on low as we drive to the restaurant.
I pull down the hem of my cocktail dress. William took me shopping over the
weekend, after he saw that I was wearing clothes from previous designer
seasons. He certainly doesn't leave me wanting for anything.

We park in the underground lot and Roger escorts me
upstairs. The restaurant, on the top floor of a tall, modern building, has
panoramic views of Old Tampa Bay. The hostess greets us, and Roger scans the
room. She escorts us to a table by the floor-to-ceiling windows, and I wave to
William as he looks up. About ten feet from the table, Roger breaks off and
heads to a table behind us, where he can keep track of us without intruding.

"You look gorgeous," William says, brushing a kiss
on my cheek. "I was hoping you'd wear that one," he adds, nodding at
my satin dress.

"I thought it was your favorite."

"A bottle of Dom," he says to the hostess, and she
scurries off to find the waiter.

"How was work today?" I ask, spreading my napkin
in my lap.

"I can't imagine it would interest you," he says
with a laugh as he butters a piece of bread.

"It might," I allow. "You know, I was
thinking of going into business."

"Seriously? I have a hard time picturing you in a board
room."

"Why's that?" I ask, a little more sharply than I mean
to. Our waiter appears at William's side, showing him the label on the bottle
of Dom. William nods, and the waiter pours us two flutes of champagne. We clink
glasses and I finish half of it in one gulp. My nerves have been fried all
week, ever since I learned about Jack and Bree.
You're jealous of their
happiness
, a nasty little voice in my head says.

"Have you ever been to London?"

I nod. "My father took us on a couple business trips
there with him when we were younger. Jack and me, I mean. We went out with the
nanny and saw the sights while he was working."

"But not more recently?"

"I suppose when I was living in Paris I wanted to go to
places I'd never been before at all."

"Would you like to go back?"

"Of course. I'm sure it would be completely different
as an adult. I must have only been eleven or twelve last time."

"That is good news."

"...Why?"

"Well, my company has offered me a promotion."

"Congratulations! That's fantastic."

"And a transfer."

"Sorry?

"The promotion is in London. I'd be in charge of an
entire team. From there, it's just a short jump to a vice presidency."

"Uh-huh," I say nervously, twisting the stem of
the champagne glass back and forth between my thumb and forefinger.

"You probably know what I'm going to ask next."

"Why don't you say it anyway?"

"We would have a gorgeous apartment right in
Kensington. You could spend your days shopping, going to museums, visiting
friends. And we'd have a chef and a servant, of course, so you wouldn't have to
lift a finger at home."

"Wow," I reply, downing the rest of my champagne.

"I wouldn't ask you to do this if I weren't serious
about you. I'm thinking, maybe after six months or so there, we get engaged,
and then another six months after, we get married. I'd prefer a London wedding,
myself."

I feel a bit dizzy, and rub my temples. "William, this
feels like it's moving a little quickly."

"I know, but the job in London starts at the end of the
month. And I did warn you when I met you: I know what I like."

"Right. Well, is it alright if I think about it for a
little?"

He looks momentarily taken aback, but covers it quickly.
"Sure, but like I said, end of the month. So..."

"Right. I'll think about it, I promise. And thank you
for asking me, of course."

He smiles and looks down at the menu. I stare down at the
appetizers, but my mind can't focus. Move to London, get married, then come the
children...my life would be set. That's what most of the other marriages that I
saw growing up looked like...the wife enjoying the country club while the
husband went off to make money. Sure, he'd have affairs, but he'd keep them
discreet and quiet, and the wife would pretend she didn't notice.

"Do you know what you'd like to order?" the waiter
says, reappearing next to us.

"I need another minute," I reply with a wan smile.

I don't know what we talk about for the rest of dinner. In
fact, a circus could have performed in the middle of the restaurant and I would
have had no idea. William seems optimistic, or at least satisfied, that I will accept
his offer, and we leave each other with a chaste kiss as I tell him that the
champagne has given me a headache.

On the ride home, I lean my forehead against the cool glass
of the window. I need a break from my own head. I wish I'd had another drink or
two at the restaurant, that always helps. There's really only one person I want
to ask for advice, but I'm not sure he even wants to talk to me right now. I
did apologize, but things just haven't been the same.

"Roger, is Carter at home, do you know?" I ask.

"I hope not!" he replies, sounding surprisingly
jolly.

"Why's that?"

"It would mean his date didn't go very well."

"His date?" I ask, as my heart freezes.

"Yeah, didn't I say?" he replies, glancing at me
in the rearview mirror. I do my best to appear simply inquisitive.

"You just said he asked for the night off."

"He's on a date," he clarifies. "Said it was
someone he met at the hospital."

Petra, no doubt. "Sounds fun," I offer.

Well, I guess he's moved on. Not that there was ever really
anything to move on
from.
And hell, I've been dating William. So why do
I feel like I want to jump out of my skin?

We pull up into our driveway and I hop out. "Thanks,
Roger!" I call as I head around the side of the house. I glance toward the
boat house, but I don't want to be alone in my bedroom right now. I look around
the pool deck. Empty. I'm sure the security is watching me somehow, but what's
really the difference between my bra and underwear and a bikini?

The air is cold, but I know the water is heated. I unzip the
back of my cocktail dress and lay it carefully on the back of one of the lounge
chairs, then take a towel from the cabinet next to the house. I hurry down the
steps of the shallow end as a cool wind picks up.

The water is like a warm bath, and I sink gratefully into
it. To my surprise, as I relax, tears begin to slip down my cheeks. I didn't
even realize I'd been holding them in.

I suppose I'd always hoped, somewhere in the back of my mind
where I never acknowledged it, that Carter was simply unavailable. That he
wasn't in a place to have a relationship with anyone. But it seems like the
truth is that he just didn't want to have a relationship with
me.

Can I blame him? I threw myself at him when we first met. He
probably never considered me to be the kind of girl that you ask out on a date.
Only good for a quick fuck, and then leave before morning.

Maybe I should go with William. I could get away from this
house, from my father, and from Carter. It'll probably be even worse to see him
now, knowing he has a girlfriend, and with our friendship now completely on the
rocks.

I dive under the water and open my mouth and scream. I can
hear it carry through the water, but only bubbles rise to the surface as
evidence. I just want to get away from here...from
myself.
But what's
that expression...wherever you go, there you are?

I've tried not being where I am. Pursuing unavailable men,
drinking too much...both escapes from feeling what I feel. At least William
wants me. Or whoever he thinks I am, which seems to be some fragile jewel that
he will keep carefully at home, and then trot out at formal occasions to be
admired.
Isn't she beautiful? And the daughter of famous shipping magnate
Ray Stratton! What a find!

I let myself sink to the bottom of the pool, blowing bubbles
out of my mouth until there's no more oxygen left in my lungs to keep me
afloat. I feel the cool tiles against the backs of my thighs, and stare up at
the surface of the water. It's peaceful down here. The blue underwater lights
give the gently lapping water a surreal glow under the inky sky. I just want to
stay down here and hide from my problems.

I start to feel lightheaded but I don't move. I let my eyes
close. I don't want to resurface. It's too hard up there. Too complicated. I
wonder if this is how my mother felt before she took the pills. Remarkably
clear-headed. Rational. At peace.

You'll only prove your father right
, a voice suddenly
rings out in my head, clear as a bell.
You are not your mother.

My eyes fly open and I struggle toward the surface of the
water. My arms flail out uselessly, my oxygen-deprived brain unable to send
them clear signals. My mouth, too, is in disconnect. I open my lips and gasp
for air, but only water rushes down my throat.

Chapter Twenty-Six

The next thing I know, I'm on my hands and knees on the pool
deck, coughing water out of my lungs. There's a buzzing sound in my ears, but
gradually I become aware that someone is yelling at me.

"—fucking death wish? What the fuck were you
thinking?!" I look up and blink until Carter comes into view. He's
standing above me, sopping wet. Oh, shit. I want to respond, but first I need
air. "How much have you had to drink tonight." I sit back onto my ass
and raise two fingers. "Two what? Bottles?"

I glare at him and take a breath. "Glasses of
champagne." Suddenly I'm freezing and wrap my arms around myself to stay
warm.

"Oh, fuck," he groans, and takes my towel from the
deck chair and wraps it around my shoulders. "Come on, let's get you
inside." He doesn't wait for me to stand, but leans over and scoops me up.
I let my head rest against his chest as he walks me across the patio toward the
boat house.

"Very strong," I murmur drowsily.

"What?"

"From physical therapy." I can feel how even his
stride is, no limp at all. And he's carrying me like I weigh nothing. "All
healed."

 He walks me up the boat house steps and into my
bathroom, depositing me gently on the bath mat. I watch him as he stands and
reaches into the shower, turning it on hot. The bathroom quickly begins to
steam up, and he kicks off his soggy shoes and fishes his sopping wet wallet
and phone out of the pockets of his slacks.

"Sorry," I whisper.

"Yeah, you fucking should be, Lex! Maybe you don't care
at all about yourself, but there are people in your life who care about
you."

I wince. "I said I was sorry."

"Christ, do you know what it was like to see you lying
at the bottom of a pool?"

"I wasn't trying to...I mean, I was, but then I—"

He kneels in front of me, staring daggers into my eyes.
"
How dare you
?" he hisses.

"I—"

"How could you be so selfish? Knowing how much you miss
your mother, how could you possibly consider, even for a moment, inflicting
that kind of pain on your family, on me?"

Tears begin to flow down my face. "You really think
that's what I need to hear right now? It's not about you!"

I hear him take a deep breath as I bury my face against my
knees. "I'm sorry," he says. I feel his arms wrap tentatively around
me, and then after a moment, he pulls me tight against his chest. "I'm
sorry. I was so angry when—no, no, that’s not true. I was terrified. I was
fucking terrified when I saw you down there."

"I tried to swim back up, really I did, but it was too
late."

"It's alright now," he says, stroking my head.

"No, no it's not. I mean, fuck, I've made a mess out of
everything. I spent the last of my money on college, and I'm not even there. I
can barely remember the last fucking month because I've been so drunk, and now
William wants me to move to London with him!"

"Are...are you going to go?" I feel his hand stop.

"What do you care?" I sniff. "We barely even
talk anymore, and now you're dating Petra."

"How did you—" he stops himself. "We're not
dating.
We went on a date."

"No, I get it," I assure him, leaning back so I
can look him in the eye. "She's great. I think you're a perfect
match."

"Oh, you do?" Is that a smile tugging at the
corners of his mouth? "I don't."

"Well, why'd you go out with her then?"

"I was hoping it would help."

"Help what?"

He sighs and runs his fingers over his wet hair, sending
water droplets spraying onto the tiles. "Help how I feel when I see you
going on dates with William. Because that fucking sucks."

I stare at him. "But you said you can't stand the idea
of being close to someone. Anyone. And now here you are going out with
Petra."

"I'm not in any danger of getting close to Petra. I
just, well, I was fucking lonely and couldn't watch that guy take you out to
another expensive place. But then, at dinner, I realized I was being a complete
asshole to Petra, essentially using her. I mean, she's great, but she's
not..."

"What?"

"You."

I feel my heart leap in my chest, and have to take a deep
breath to calm down. "But haven't we been down this road before? You've
had plenty of chances with me, Carter."

"You're right. I guess I thought I didn't deserve to be
happy, with what happened in my unit. It was just easier to turn off. But then
when I saw you on the plane, I felt this little bit of hope again. Like you
brought me alive just a tiny bit."

"In the airplane bathroom, you mean?" I can't help
but ask sarcastically.

"No. Well, yes, that, too. But it was something in your
eyes the first time I saw you sitting in your first class seat. It was life.
You've been working so hard to dim it lately, but you have a spark,
Alexa."

"No..."

"Yes," he says, grasping my hands. "Promise
me you'll never do anything like this again. Please, for me."

"I promise," I whisper.

"Are you going to go to London?" he asks again. I
shake my head no. "I know I've pushed you away."

"And I've pushed you away," I acknowledge.

"Would it be fair to say we're both pretty—"

"—Fucked-up?" we say at the same time. "I
think it would be fair to say that," I say with a laugh.

"I'm not healed, you know," he says, his forehead
creasing with worry. "From what happened over there. I mean my leg is
better, but—"

"Carter. Do you think I'm 'healed'? You just found me
at the bottom of a pool."

He laughs. "That's true."

"You saved my life tonight didn't you?"

"Maybe, but I think you saved mine. Back on the
plane."

"So we're even. Completely fucked-up, but even."

He pauses. "Can I ask you something? What did your
father say to you that day? You never told me, and you were doing so well
before then. I mean, I assume he said he wouldn't give you the money for
tuition..."

"Yeah, he said that, and some other things," I
reply quietly. "He said he couldn't 'invest' in me because I'm too fragile
and emotional, and that's why I'll always fuck everything up. He said I'm just
like my mother."

"Do you think you're like her?"

"I don't know, really. I was only a baby when she
died."

"So you only have his word to go on."

"I know, but some of what he said is true. I am
emotional."

"You're passionate."

"And fragile."

"You supported yourself for two years in Paris."

I sigh. "It's just so hard to keep fighting against
him, you know? I've been doing it since I was thirteen. It just felt easier to
finally give in. To be this train wreck he always thought I was. He was the one
who really pushed me to go out with William."

"Are you going to keep going out with him?"

I smile. "Can I tell you something awful? I don't think
I even
like
him."

Carter grins. "Thank god. Me neither."

"He did say something funny to me. He told me that my
dad is working out a deal for Burke shipping in Mexico, but then I couldn't
find anything online about it. And when I said you were my security, he said
that was probably a good idea. I kept meaning to tell you, but it kind of got
away from me."

Carter leans forward intently. "Did he tell you anything
else?"

"Not that I remember," I tell him regretfully.

"I always thought this accident with Bree was
odd," he muses. "She's not a clumsy person, but she landed in the
hospital because she tripped while she was jogging. She still can't remember
it."

"You know there are cameras in the electricity poles
all around the neighborhood. Maybe they captured it."

"I know, but there's always someone else in the
security office and I can't get to them."

I chew my lip. "Well, if you think it's important,
maybe there's a way to draw them out."

"A diversionary tactic," Carter smiles.

"I can be quite diverting," I reply.

"Oh, I'm well aware of that," he laughs, letting
his hand rest on my bare thigh. Suddenly I'm very aware of my near-nakedness
and the way his damp shirt is clinging to his chest.

"Maybe we should wait," I whisper.

He pulls his hand back. "You're probably right."

I look up into his green eyes. "I'm not going to see
William anymore. But I've had this habit of jumping from man to man, so I think
I should just take some time to be by myself. But when I'm ready to not be by
myself, there's only one person I want to be with," I promise him.

"And I'll be waiting."