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I hold my breath and count to ten.
“Tank?”
I don’t say a word, waiting for Skyla to make the next move. Now’s not the time to get into this, especially since I know that Skyla hasn’t had a serious conversation with either Jensen or Trent about anything that’s gone on during the last few months, or about the future, and I don’t blame her. She needs to heal. It won’t help anyone to have a conversation now, while the wounds are all still so raw.
“I’m sorry.” Her words are barely a whisper.
I exhale the breath I’d been holding and force myself to relax my shoulders.
“You have every right to be mad,” she continues.
The lid I’ve so tightly held on my temper blows off like a malfunctioning pressure cooker, and I take a step toward her bed. “I’m not mad, Skyla. I’m fucking pissed.”
Her eyes widen with every step I take, but I don’t stop. “You fucked with my best friend. Lied to him about the kid”—I point to her belly—“and got his head so messed up he couldn’t even think straight. You deliberately dodged me, going into the center knowing I couldn’t gain access. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, ran after Mary and got yourself kidnapped.”
I grip the metal frame of her bed with so much force I feel like I could fucking snap it. Skyla pales, and I realize I’m scaring her. I also realize that I’m projecting. I’m more angry with myself than I am with her.
“Fuck!” The words fly from my mouth, and I roll my shoulders. Walking to the recliner, I sit down and lean my elbows on my knees.
“I pulled my gun on a kid, Skyla, in a room filled with people who can barely swallow their own spit because of what they’d been through. Do you have any fucking idea what it’s like to watch a grown man piss himself from fear?”
Skyla swallows and looks outside. My eyes follow hers, and I see the sun slowly rising over the buildings.
I need to get out of the room. I’m pissed with myself for not doing a good enough job of protecting her, and I don’t want to project that on her, but before I leave, I need to know one thing. “Why did you lie to him about the baby, Skyla?”
She closes her eyes, and when she opens them again, it’s like I know what she’s going to say. “Have you ever been in love, Tank?”
I nod my head ever so slightly. “Yeah.”
Precisely twice.I pause. What the fuck? That can’t be right. I hardly know Jess.
“Then all you need to know is I did it for him.” She tucks her hair behind her ear, and I fight to keep my breathing under control because suddenly, I’m suffocating in guilt. “I know I was wrong. I just wanted to protect him. To protect both of them.”
I stand. I get the need to protect more than Skyla knows. “You need to eat something. I’ll be just outside the door.”
“Please don’t go.” Her voice wavers. “Will you tell me about her?”
The first person that comes to mind is Jess, with her vibrant red hair and large gray eyes, full lips which I’d love nothing more than to kiss till they are red and swollen. But more than that, I want to laugh with her. Explore more of the fun-loving personality that’s underneath, but talking about Jess now feels too soon. It’s something I want to keep to myself.
Skyla pushes the oatmeal to the side and reaches for the fruit. I raise an eyebrow but don’t say anything. At least she’s eating. I’m not sure I want to have this conversation, but she wants to talk, and I want her to keep eating. Talking will probably make things easier, so I decide to tell her about Rubi.
“Her name was Rubi.” My voice is full of reminiscence, but thankfully she can’t hear my guilt.
“Where did you meet her?” she asks between bites.
“In high school.”
“Aww, high school sweethearts. What happened?”
I stare at the tiles. Scuff marks from the nurses’ shoes mark the floor from all the rushing in and out of the room. How can I possibly tell Skyla that if I hadn’t made Rubi switch her day off, she’d still be alive? So I go for the coward’s way out.
“She started interning for a publishing company in the Twin Towers in September 2001.”
Skyla gasps. She already knows what I’m going to say next. “They never found her body.”
Skyla moves off the bed and wraps her arms around me. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers. I can’t speak. I just nod and hug her back. Skyla offering me comfort makes me feel horrible. I don’t deserve her sympathy. It may have been the Taliban that flew the planes into the Twin Towers, but I was the one who put Rubi there. If I hadn’t planned a picnic for the day after, she would have been home the day of the attack.
I take a step back and, reaching for the green Jell-O, tilt my head. “You gonna eat this?”
