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"You've been made to feel you have no self-worth. How far will you go to prove them right? How far will you go to prove just how unworthy you are?"
He hitched his thumbs in the waistband of his pants and tilted his head arrogantly to one side. "You've gone this far. Why don't you just come right out and say what you're skirting around? You think I'm living a death-wish."
"People who have no self-esteem do stupid things."
"Like drive fast and drink irresponsibly and live recklessly?"
"Exactly."
"Aw, hell. Ask anyone. They'll tell you about my self-esteem. They'll tell you how conceited I am."
"I'm not talking about how you act, but how you feel on the inside. I've seen the other side of you, Cage, the sensitive side you don't show anyone else."
"You think I'm committing a slow form of suicide?"
"I didn't say that."
"But that's what you meant," he said, shoving his hair off his forehead with aggravated fingers. "You've taken your armchair psychology a step too far, Jenny."
He was defensive enough to convince her that maybe she had. "All right, I'm sorry," she said. "But I'm only worried because I care about you, Cage."
He relaxed his stance immediately and his eyes softened.
"I appreciate your concern, but you don't have to worry about me disposing of myself. I like driving fast and drinking irresponsibly and… What was the other thing?" he asked teasingly.
But Jenny wasn't finished with being serious yet. "I think your parents care about you, too."
His humor was fleeting. With bleak amber eyes he gazed over and beyond Jenny's head, out onto the barren landscape. "Doesn't Mother realize that I wanted to hover around her, around them both? Since we heard about Hal, I've wanted to go to them and hold them." His voice dropped a decibel. "I've wanted them to hold me."
"Cage." Jenny reached out to touch his arm. He yanked it away. He didn't want anyone's pity.
"I didn't go near them because I knew they didn't want me near them. So I tried to show my love and sympathy in other ways." He sighed. "Only, they didn't notice."
"I noticed. I was grateful."
"But you didn't let me come near you either, Jenny," he said abruptly, lowering his eyes to meet hers.
She looked away quickly. "I don't know what you mean."
"Like hell you don't. When we were in Monterico, you depended on me, leaned on me emotionally and physically. Since we've gotten back, I'm a leper again. It's 'hands off.' No touching. No talking. Hell, you wouldn't even look at me."
He was right, but she wouldn't admit it.
"Does your avoidance of me have anything to do with that night we shared in Monterico?"
Her head snapped up and she wet her lips, though her tongue had gone dry. "Of course not."
"Sure?"
"Yes. What difference could that have made?"
"We slept together."
"Not like that!" she exclaimed defensively.
"Exactly," he said, taking steps forward until he loomed over her. "But by the way you're acting, it could have been 'like that.' What are you feeling so guilty about?"
"I'm not feeling guilty."
