Tempted by the Wrong Twin Page 8

  Like a marriage.

  Like Harper.

  He elbowed the tap and the water abruptly ceased, but he didn’t immediately reach for the towel, letting the water drip from his body instead.

  He’d have to find a way to apologize to her, to try to make this up to her—if that were even possible. But not tonight, not while he was raw from both the nightmare and waking to see the trauma in her eyes.

  He grabbed a towel and roughly rubbed it over his skin until it was dry, and if he was a little overzealous and left red marks, then all the better. Soft and gentle weren’t things he deserved. Not when he’d come out alive and better men had come home in body bags.

  Wrapping the towel around his hips, he headed through the door that connected the bathroom to the guest bedroom and stopped short when he saw Harper sitting on the edge of the bed in a fluffy blue robe tied firmly around her middle.

  In the gentle light of the bedside lamp, she was so beautiful. Her back was straight, her chin jutting at a proud angle. She looked strong. Sure of her place in the world. Things he couldn’t claim to be anymore. He glanced away.

  “Harper, this is not the time.”

  She crossed her arms tightly under her breasts, clearly having no intention of going anywhere. “I think this is exactly the time. I have a feeling that if we leave this until morning, it will be even harder to discuss.”

  True enough, but he shook his head. “I’m not sure I can discuss it. It is what it is.” Lord knew he’d tried hard enough to pretend otherwise.

  “That may be, but we do need to talk,” she said, her gaze on him unwavering. “Because this is not how I see our marriage working.”

  He planted his hands low on his hips. “It was just a nightmare, not our entire marriage.”

  “We entered into a marriage of convenience. There are already enough obstacles in our way without secrets. I think the only way we’re going to make this whole thing work is if we have honesty and openness between us,” she said, her voice steady, but her eyes asking—hoping for—so much of him.

  “We’re doing fine.” The statement was so far from the truth that he was surprised she didn’t laugh in his face.

  But she didn’t. Not his Harper. Instead she looked at him with eyes as deep as oceans, as raw and vulnerable as he’d ever seen in another person, and said, “I have to be honest. This feels an awful lot like being rejected on the same night we made love for the first time as a married couple.”

  That stung, deep in his chest. She’d told him about her past and her fear of abandonment, and he’d just played right into that fear and made it worse for her. Hell, someone needed to smack him upside the head.

  “It’s not you,” he said, knowing the words were clichéd and inadequate. “It’s me.”

  “Okay.” She sat up straighter. “Then tell me about you.”

  He knew what she meant—tell her about the events that had led to the nightmares. And she was right—as his wife, she deserved to know—but he simply didn’t know if he could say the words aloud. He rubbed his fingers across his forehead, then dug them into his temples.

  “Nick, we have a difficult road ahead of us parenting two babies together, and we’re both flying blind because we don’t know much about each other.” She reached for his hand, and he let her take it. “Tell me about this. Help me to understand.”

  He flinched. Flying blind—that’s exactly what they were doing, and she deserved more. He sank down onto the bed beside her, his shoulders slightly hunched as he prepared to face the worst. For her.

  “Nine—” Everything inside him clenched tight. He cleared his throat and started again. “Nine months ago, I came home from the Middle East. As far as everyone is concerned, I’m a decorated war hero.”

  “But you don’t feel like one, do you?” she asked gently.

  Yeah, understatement of the century. “The military might have given me a medal, but I’ve always known I didn’t deserve it.”

  Her smile was kind. “I don’t think they give those medals out for no reason.”

  “Men died while under my command,” he said fiercely. A wave of nausea washed through him, and he pressed a closed fist to his gut to try to stem its progress. Those fine men were gone forever. Their families had lost sons. Children had lost parents. Wives had lost their husbands.

  He stood and paced to the other side of the room, as if that could give him the distance he needed, even though he knew it wouldn’t. Couldn’t. He felt every one of those losses deeply. He saw their faces in his mind. He apologized to them every day, but it made no difference. It wouldn’t bring them back.

  Too damn little, too damn late.

  “Oh, Nick.”

  He shook his head rapidly, trying to dispel the emotion from the story. He didn’t want Harper’s sympathy. He wasn’t the one who deserved it.

  He straightened his spine, squared his shoulders and told her the truth. “They gave me a medal because I was able to save most of my team, but it wasn’t enough. That wasn’t near enough. It was my responsibility to save them all.”

  “I’m sure you weren’t solely responsible for those men’s lives.”

  He squeezed his eyes closed tight against the memories. “I let them down.”

  There was silence for long moments until he opened his eyes again and found her watching him.

  “It’s torn you up inside, hasn’t it?” she asked, her voice soft.

  He met her gaze and almost smiled. Almost. “You could say I’m kind of a mess.”

  “Tell me,” she said, and there was something in her tone that made him want to do just that. Wanted to share this with someone, and wanted that someone to be Harper, even though it might change her opinion of him forever.

  “The doctors gave me painkillers for my wounds—” he paused to find the strength to admit the rest “—and I became addicted to them.” To his eternal shame.

  Her brows drew together. “I haven’t seen you take anything.”

  She wouldn’t have. Not now. He breathed in a lungful of air. At least this was one thing he could feel okay to admit. “I didn’t want to be dependent on a chemical, so I did some treatment and learned to deal with the addiction.”

  “You’re clean now?” she asked, her gaze steely.

  “One hundred percent.” He wouldn’t have contemplated being part of Ellie’s or the babies’ lives if he wasn’t. They were too precious.

  Her gaze softened. “That takes a lot of strength.”

  “Oh, yeah?” He coughed out a laugh. “Did you notice the screaming nightmares?”

  “I did,” she said, with no judgment in her tone. “Tell me about them.”

  He leaned on the wall a few feet from her and slid to the carpet, wrists resting on his bent knees. “They started when I was in hospital, but they’d eased off a bit.” He shrugged. “I didn’t realize I was still having them.”

  Her head tilted to the side. “You don’t remember them in the morning?”

  Oh, he remembered them. Lord above, did he remember them. “I didn’t realize I was yelling anymore.” The thing was, he hadn’t shared anyone’s bed since the nightmares had started. Sure, he’d yelled during nightmares when he’d been recovering in the hospital after the last mission, but he’d assumed that phase was long over. It just went to show, he should never assume anything about his condition. “I swear, Harper, if I’d known that you’d be woken by them, that they’d affect you, I wouldn’t have suggested we get married. I wouldn’t have tied you to...this.”

  She dismissed that with a wave of her hand. “So, what do you want to do now?”

  “What do you want?” he asked warily.

  “I want us to make this marriage work for our children. We owe them that.” Her eyes were intense. Certain.

  “I’m as committed as e
ver to our vows—we’re doing the right thing for the babies. I haven’t been this sure about something in a long time.”

  “We’re in agreement, then,” she said and stood.

  He gave one slow nod. “Next time we make love, it would be better for everyone if I left right after.” The last thing any woman—especially a pregnant woman—needed was to be woken by someone in her bed screaming, and he simply wouldn’t do that to her.

  She crossed her arms under her breasts. “I don’t think that’s the right way forward for us.”

  He hauled himself to his feet and scrubbed his hands through his hair, wishing he had all the answers. “Harper, I saw you back there in that room. I won’t be responsible for putting that expression of horror on your face again.”

  “I think we need to go back to our original plan. Bringing sexual intimacy into our relationship was a mistake.”

  He stepped closer and cradled the side of her face in his palm. “We can make it work, I promise. I just won’t stay the night.”

  “Please don’t make this harder than it is.” She’d told him that her trigger was people walking away from her, and at the first test of their relationship, he’d done exactly that. He needed to take a step back, respect her boundaries and give her a chance to feel settled again.

  “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

  “There’s already so much pressure on this relationship. It can’t be sexual as well.” When he didn’t reply, she added, “Nick?”

  “Okay,” he said reluctantly. He might not agree, but if she didn’t want to, then there was no way forward for their physical relationship.

  He took her hand and walked her back down the hall to her bedroom. In the doorway, he stopped. He wanted nothing more than to sink into that bed and pull Harper against him, but he couldn’t. He laid a soft kiss on her lips, hoping she understood all that was still unsaid, and turned to go.

  “Nick,” she said.

  He couldn’t turn back. If he let his guard down for a single second, he’d join her in that bed. So, instead, he turned his head and spoke over his shoulder. “Yes?”

  “Thank you.”

  She was thanking him? “For what?”

  “For trusting me enough to share your past with me. I know that must have been hard, and I just want you to know I appreciate it.”

  Not sure of his voice, he nodded once and walked down the dark hall to his empty bed.

  * * *

  Harper opened her eyes the next morning to see Nick coming through the bedroom door holding a tray. She yawned and stretched, giving herself cover for a few moments to study him. The man before her was different from the one she’d sat with last night as he’d poured out his pain. This man had his mask firmly back in place. As someone who wore an invisible suit of armor to protect herself, she had no trouble recognizing his.

  A stab of disappointment struck, as if she’d been given a gift that had been taken away again. But at the same time, part of her had to admire the skill and self-discipline it took to hide his pain from the world so well. It hadn’t just been his words last night that had told her about the pain consuming him, it had been the soul-deep anguish in his eyes. Sharing that with her had been a huge act of trust. She wondered if he’d shared that with anyone before. Did Malcolm even know the depths of his torment?

  “Morning,” he said, giving her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

  She wriggled up in the bed so that she was sitting against the headboard, and he unfolded the legs on the tray and set it over her lap.

  “Good morning,” she said. The tray held a plate with two eggs on toast, a glass of juice and a small vase with a purple flower that looked to be from the bush beside the driveway that she’d seen last night. There might have only been a few items on the tray, but they were laid out in a neat and ordered way. She was still getting to know her husband, but this seemed to sum up his personality perfectly—he’d cared enough to cook her food, but kept it basic. He’d been sweet enough to cut a flower for her, then laid it all out with military precision. He was a study in opposites.

  As he straightened, he rested his hands low on his hips. “Look, I’m sorry about last night.”

  “It wasn’t all bad,” she said, then took a sip of the juice.

  He looked at her skeptically. “Yes, it was.”

  For him, it would have been beyond awful to talk to her. She got that. And it had been wrenching to see him in so much pain. But the thing was, they had been able to talk about it, and that gave her hope for the future. Now she just needed him to understand how important that process was for them going forward.

  “I appreciate that you opened up to me. I’m sure it was hard, but you did it.”

  He blew out a breath. “That’s part of what I’m apologizing for. I shouldn’t have dumped all that crap on you. It wasn’t fair. It’s mine to deal with, not yours.”

  She reached out and took his hand, and he let her. “We’re in this together, Nick. We can share things that are important.”

  Deep grooves appeared in his forehead. “Okay, sure. Why don’t we do something together today? Get to know each other.”

  She’d already made plans with friends, but she suddenly realized that she wasn’t single anymore, and that had broader ramifications than she’d expected. Another person had a stake in simple things like her plans for the weekend. As someone who’d always fiercely protected her independence, it felt a little strange.

  “I was going to meet up with some friends for lunch today, but if you think we need—”

  “You should go,” he said and sat on the end of the bed.

  “I’m sorry. I made the plans a couple of weeks ago—back when I was single—and, to be honest, with everything going on, I just forgot to mention it.”

  “Harper, I want you to go. Our marriage was meant to give you extra support, not get in the way of existing supports.”

  “Okay, I will.” Some time with other people would probably be good to give her some perspective. “What will you do?”

  “I need to go for a run. In fact,” he said and stood, “I might go now.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you tonight.”

  He gave her a smile and headed out her bedroom door. It wasn’t the same as watching him leave last night—he was going for a run because she already had plans without him—but there was still something vaguely unsettling about watching him go. Perhaps because they didn’t have the core bond to their marriage that most newlyweds had, where they knew they could depend on the other.

  She looked back down at her tray and picked up the purple flower he’d added. Nick Tate was a good man. Maybe she needed to relax and let things happen naturally. They’d known going in that this wouldn’t be easy, so now she just had to trust the process.

  Seven

  A few hours later, Harper arrived at the Texas Cattleman’s Club for lunch with her friend Sophie Prescott and two of Sophie’s friends, Natalie Valentine and Emily Knox.

  Sophie was already at a table, looking elegant as usual in a mint-green summer dress, her long red hair pinned up in a topknot. Harper had met her about six months ago at a charity fund-raiser, and she’d clicked with her from the start. But ever since Sophie had found love with her boss Clay Everett recently, there was even more sparkle in her eyes, and Harper couldn’t have been more thrilled for her friend.

  Natalie sat across from Sophie, and they were chatting about something that was making them smile. Harper had only met Natalie a few times, but she liked her, and she really admired the way she was building up her wedding dress design business while still running the Cimarron Rose B&B.

  “Harper,” Sophie said as she neared the table, and stood to envelop her in a hug. “So good to see you!”

  Harper hugged her back, then leaned in to kiss Natalie’s cheek
. “So good to see you both, too.”

  Natalie flicked her hair over her shoulders. “I’ve been looking forward to this. I’ve been so busy, it’s going to be great to unwind with my girls.”

  “Absolutely, I was—” Sophie said, then froze. “Harper, is there a ring on your finger?”

  Harper looked at the gleaming gold band and bit down on a smile. She’d been wondering how to bring the topic up, but it looked like she didn’t have to. “Yes, actually, there is.”

  “As in a wedding ring,” Sophie said, her expression incredulous. “That has appeared since I saw you just over a week ago...?”

  Even though she tried to hold it back, Harper felt her grin sneak out. “There’s a story.”

  Sophie laughed. “I’ll just bet there is. Maybe we should wait until Emily arrives so you don’t have to repeat it.”

  Natalie pointed to the main door. “There’s Emily now.”

  “Thank God,” Sophie said. “I’m not sure how long I could have waited to find out what happened.”

  While Emily made her way over, her tall, athletic body graceful as she moved past the other tables, Harper tried to find a way to explain the last week to these women. So much had happened, and she’d stepped way outside her comfort zone. Would they tell her she was crazy? That she’d gone too far? Perhaps a reality check was just what she needed. Especially from Sophie, who was expecting a baby with the love of her life, and so would have a good perspective on the situation. Her opinion was the one Harper wanted the most.

  Sophie stood again and hugged Emily. Then, after the greetings were done, she said, “You’re just in time, Emily. Harper was about to explain how come she’s married now when she wasn’t seeing anyone when we last spoke. A. Week. Ago.”

  Emily’s eyes widened. “Oh, that is juicy. Glad I made it in time.”

  Harper still wasn’t sure how much to tell, or how to explain, so she just started talking and figured she’d work it out as she went along. “Do you all know my boss, Malcolm Tate?”