Page 67 of Cowboy SEAL Christmas

“When you see Jack or Alex hurting, do you ignore it?” she demanded, ignoring his threat. Ignoring every damn warning she should heed.

“I’m not hurting,” he said, and those words seethed out of him, that boiling emotion likely undercutting any chance he had at having her believe him.

“Then maybe that’s what I’m trying to understand,” she said, her voice breaking.

God damn it all to hell, why did she care this much? He didn’t want it. “Monica, I will give you five seconds to get out of my way before I physically remove you from blocking that door.”

But she went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “Maybe I’m trying to understand why it seems you are so often hurting when you claim you’re not.”

“Claim. Isn’t that undermining my feelings? As if I don’t know what I’m thinking or feeling?”

“You don’t, or worse, you just don’t want to feel those things, so you think you can fight them by being an asshole to everyone who cares about you. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but no one at Revival, including me, takes it very seriously. No one,no one, believes that’s who you really are.”

He stepped forward, the tide of fury sweeping through him so hard and fast he slapped his palm hard against the wood of the door, right above her outstretched arm. “Of course it’s who I really fucking am.”

She dropped her arms from the door and reached out to him.Shereached out to him, pressing her palm to his heart, splaying her fingers out right there in the center of his chest. His breath was coming too hard, his heart beating too fast.

“I can’t believe that. Do you remember what you said to me after we kissed that night? Out by the car?”

He remembered everything. Every second of that kiss, every roiling, traitorous hurt that had swelled inside of him, and every word she’d uttered in response to him. It haunted him.

“You said my actions had to back up my words. Well, yours don’t. You are one of the kindest, most generous and giving people I’ve ever met indeed. Sometimes in words too, but then you cover it up with that surly attitude, and it isn’t you. That isn’t you.”

But he wanted it to be. Heneededthat to be him. At least on the outside, at least in those actions. He needed to protect himself, and he’d learned how. He’d finally learned how. He couldn’t let her undermine that, even with words likecare.

But her hand was pressed there, against his shirt. He could feel the warm, firm imprint of it, and things inside of him seemed to shift, reach out for that touch. He had the horrifying, unstoppable desire to tell her.

Everything.

And then, as if on cue, the lights cut out.

* * *

It was still light enough outside that they weren’t plunged into total darkness, but it broke whatever moment they’d been having.

Gabe stepped away from her, and all of that churning emotion Monica had seen in him,feltin him, was gone. She supposed tied up and buried deep, deep down again.

She’d seen glimpses of it here and there, but she’d never allowed herself to be quite so vulnerable in return. She’d never allowed her voice to break or her hand to touch him gently. Even though she hadn’t gotten anywhere, she felt cracked open at the possibility she could maybe break him.

With care. With concern.

What would she do with what spilled out? Would she be able to stay this person who only wanted to know him, or would she fall back into old, bad therapist habits to protect herself and maybe even him?

“Should get a fire started before it gets dark out,” he said, his voice all military, unemotional command.

She stayed where she was, leaning against the door, as he stalked toward the hearth. She simply stood and breathed and watched him start the fire they’d let die last night.

Last night, when she’d allowed herself to be thoroughly, repeatedlytakenby this man, and she couldn’t even muster up any feminist outrage over the wordtakenbecause what was taking if she was giving?

Which did not have to be relegated to the bed. Maybe this was temporary, but even if temporary they should have a better understanding of each other. They weren’t having sex and then never seeing each other again. All of her future was tied up, at least peripherally, in Gabe Cortez.

She pushed herself off the door. “Truth or dare?”

He snorted. “What?”

“Truth or dare,” she repeated, only feeling moderately stupid, but maybe if she was stupid, she’d catch him off guard for once.

“I’m not a teenage girl at a slumber party.” The fire crackled to life, and his temper crackled with it.

---