Page 84 of Deadly Attraction
Translation: go screw yourself.
Cooper, Celina, Nelson, and the new gal were bound to be there soon. Dupé had ordered an FBI escort to help clear the way, and had sent a curt text that he, himself, would be there within the hour.
All Mitch had to do was keep Emma inside and safe until they arrived.
The only problem was the itch under his skin that reminded him of all the ways this could end badly before his rescue team arrived. As rain dribbled down the window, he tried to stay focused on scanning the yard, the barns, the outlying woods, but his mind kept flashing back to the Christmas five years ago. To the desert and the heat and the look in Mac’s eyes right before the building exploded into a hundred jagged pieces of heartbreak and grief.
Not now. He couldn’t risk having an episode and ending up with his ass on the floor. Another reason he shouldn’t be a bodyguard. He never knew when he was going to have a flashback that incapacitated him.
You know how to bury things deep in order to keep functioning, Agent Holden.
Emma’s words throbbed inside his brain. He put his hands up, holding onto his head, feeling the ache there that had come back with a fury. It pulsed with his heartbeat, the same ache of sorrow making his chest tight.
He needed fucking therapy, but he also knew that he wanted it from Emma. She was the only person who could help him, he was sure of it. Would she agree? Probably not, knowing her. She’d already stressed that you couldn’t be friends with your therapist. Lovers was definitely out of the question.
His phone rang, sounding distant and indistinct. At first, it didn’t even register as his, the sound so far away. He was lost inside his head again, trying to suppress the old, haunting memories, and wrestling with the hope trying to flare to life inside his chest. A state that offered nothing but familiarity, but sometimes the devil you knew and understood was more comforting, safer, than the devil you didn’t.
I know Emma. She’ll help me.
Brrrring.The phone blared again, sounding louder this time. Mitch lowered his hands from his head and reached for it, hitting the talk button before he even had it to his ear. “Yeah.”
“Mitchy?”
Shit. “Hi, mom. I can’t talk right now.”
“Of course, you can’t. You never can, can you? Always working.” Her voice was resigned. She knew he was avoiding her. “I know you won’t come and see me today, and if youareworking, you’re only doing it to keep the demons at bay. Mac wouldn’t want that, Mitchy. He would want you to forgive yourself and move on. Find someone to share the holiday with. It’s okay for you to go on with your life.”
Mitchy. His mom hadn’t called him that since he was eight. He started to give her the usual blow off, but couldn’t form the words. Five years was a long time to keep putting one foot in front of the other while his heart was still back there at that bomb site. “I really am working, Mom, but I… I’m not unhappy.”
The truth knocked around inside of him like a pinball. Happiness. Such a fleeting, no-good emotion. Yet, here he was, in the middle of a goatfuck and he was happy on some deep, foolish level.
“I’m glad to hear it,” his mother responded. She sounded sad, though, rather than relieved. “I’m going to go now. One of these days, stop and see me before I die, okay?”
And there it was. The rub. The thing his mother always did. Act like she wanted to talk to him—that she actually cared about him—and then passively-aggressively turn it around so it was really about her. Adding to his guilt and reminding him how disappointed she was in him.
She was sneaky with it. If you hadn’t grown up with her subtle manipulations, they were easy to miss. With him, she’d become less subtle over the past few years and always, always used the threat of dying as a knife jab.
Mac’s face swam in front of his eyes. Sweat poured down the back of his neck. He wiped at it and considered hanging up on her.
But that was the old way of dealing with his past. Emma had made him see that he could look at life with fresh perspective. “You know why I don’t visit you, Mom?”
His question seemed to surprise her. She stuttered, then fell silent.
Well, that was a first. When had his mother ever been speechless?
“I don’t visit you because all you can do is talk about yourself. I could handle talking about Mac, even though it kills me to think about him, but no. I have to listen to how hard your life is without him, your precious son, who would still be here if it wasn’t for me. Guess what? I’m here, and I’m your son too. It’s my fault what happened, but there’s no changing it. I can’t go back and undo it and I’ve died a thousand times over wishing I could. I can’t give Mac back to you, Momma, but I’m here. And I still need my mother sometimes. I need you to forgive me.”
The silence on the other end was deafening. His mother said nothing.
He swallowed hard and shook his head at the ceiling, fighting the pressure behind his eyes. His voice came out rough, barely there. “We have nothing to talk about, Mom, until you’re ready to forgive me. Have a nice life.”
It killed him to hang up, but he did after another pause from his mother’s end, heavy with indignation and awkwardness. A simple touch of his thumb to the screen and he severed his connection to her. To that part of his life.
He was still staring at the screen and the words ‘Call Ended’ when a soft voice spoke from behind him.
“Mitch?”
He whirled around to find Emma in the doorway, a frown on her face. “Is everything okay?” she asked.
His chest hurt but felt strangely lighter. Just seeing her, hearing her voice, soothed the rawness in his chest. “Everything’s fine.” It was too soon for Cooper and the SCVC cavalry to be there. “What’s up? Did you see someone coming down the lane?”
She shook her head. “Not exactly, but… I think you better come see this.”
Foreboding cramping his guts, he followed her out of the office and up the attic stairs.
