She rose to her feet. “That’s so good to hear.” Because she was tired of seeing nightmares in which Slade came at her with fury on his face and with his fists swinging. “I hope he can find some peace.”
“He wants to talk to you.”
Now, that surprised her. “And what? You’re his errand boy? Last I heard, he was screaming that you were the enemy.”
“We’re making progress on that.” A pause as his gaze seemed to linger on her face. “He’s out now, still under supervision from the EOD, but he’s in his own apartment. He—he said you won’t talk to him.”
Because he’d attacked her. Because she knew this was a delicate situation, and with the news of her pregnancy, she had to do everything possible to protect her baby. “I’ve called and talked with Mercer and the doctors.”
“But you don’t want to talk to him, not anymore?”
She clenched her hands into fists so she wouldn’t touch her stomach again. “Things have changed for me. And I already told Slade, a future for the two of us just won’t be happening.” It would be impossible.
“So that’s it...you’re walking away?” Confusion deepened the faint lines near his eyes. “I thought you were going to marry him.”
Gunner actually sounded angry. Her own anger bloomed, but she choked it back. Anger couldn’t be good for the baby. And the baby was what mattered. “Two years ago, I agreed to marry him.” Even when she’d had her doubts. “We weren’t perfect then, you know. Or maybe you don’t.” Her laugh held little humor. “I’ll help him transition back to life here, I’ll do what I can, but he attacked me. I can’t be around anyone who will be a physical threat to me right now.”
Even if it hadn’t been the drugs, there was no future for them. She was in love with Gunner, not Slade. She was having Gunner’s baby.
Gunner stood just a few feet away, and she so badly wanted to tell him how she felt, but he seemed so wooden. Sydney found herself asking him, “Why did you want to be with me?”
His eyelashes flickered, a tiny movement. “Because you’ve been an obsession for me.”
Obsession wasn’t the same thing as love—wasn’t even close.
She gathered her resolve and asked another painful question. He was here, talking to her, so she might as well take the chance while she could. “What do you want, Gunner? You came here to talk about Slade, I get that, but what do you want?”
“I can’t have what I want.”
Helpless, she stepped toward him. “How do you know?” Her voice softened because this was the chink she’d wanted to see in his armor. “How do you know you can’t have it?”
She ached to touch him.
He retreated off that bottom step, moving away from her. “You’re the only thing that matters to Slade. I think you’re the only thing keeping him going.”
She shook her head. Why did he continue making everything about Slade? “I’m talking about you. About me. Not him.”
“But he’s there.”
She could feel him, standing between them. Would Slade always be there?
“He’s getting his sanity back, and I can’t take away what he wants most.”
“You can’t take it away?” Now her spine straightened. “I’m not some kind of prize to be given or taken away. I’m a person, and I choose my own path in this world.” A path she’d wanted to take with him. “Tell your brother that I’m glad he’s better, but there isn’t going to be any marriage.”
Not to either brother.
She’d already made arrangements to return Slade’s ring, the ring she had locked away for so long. She couldn’t keep it, because there was no future for them.
Sydney turned on her heel and marched back inside her house.
* * *
THE SUN HAD SET. Night had crept over the area, sealing everything in darkness.
Sydney’s house sat at the end of the lane, lights still blazing in a few of her windows.
Gunner was helpless to look away from that sight.
“What the hell am I doing here?” he muttered in disgust, sitting in the shadows, watching her house.
He just hadn’t been able to leave her. He’d tried. He’d driven nearly all the way back to D.C.; then he’d turned around and come back.
There had been pain in her eyes. Pain that he knew he’d caused because he wasn’t giving her what she needed.
He opened the door of his truck just as her upstairs lights switched off.
Should he still go to her? Knock on the door—and do what?
Ask his brother’s fiancée to be with him? Slade had just gotten back on his feet. He’d apologized for his accusations and behavior. Thin, pale, looking shaken, Slade had told him that he would get better.
Slade was out of the treatment facility. Mercer hadn’t wanted to let him out yet, but the doctors had said that with continued rehab and counseling—therapy that he could receive as an outpatient—Slade would keep progressing. As a precaution—because Mercer was a man who believed in precautions—a guard was stationed at Slade’s new apartment.
And Gunner was standing in front of Sydney’s house. Like some kind of lovesick fool. She was sleeping. They could talk later. He didn’t have to—
He could smell smoke. Gunner stiffened even as he inhaled—and yes, that was the scent of fire.
The scent was coming from Sydney’s house. As he turned his horrified gaze on her house, he saw the flash of flames on the bottom floor. Flames...
“Sydney!” He ran for her house, rushing up the steps and kicking in the front door. The old lock gave way easily, and he saw the flames inside, growing fast, as they raced around her living room and toward the stairs.
Toward Sydney.
“Sydney!” he yelled again even as he leaped forward. The flames were trying to lash out at him, but he jumped over them and took those stairs as fast as he could. How had the fire started? Why was it spreading so rapidly?
Where was—“Sydney!”
Her door swung open. She stood there, wearing a small pair of shorts and a T-shirt. She was coughing and trying to cover her mouth. “Gun...ner?”
He grabbed her. He hurried toward her bed, snatched up her covers and wrapped them around her. Then he turned back for the door.
The fire was already climbing up the stairs. Gunner hesitated. He wasn’t sure if he would be fast enough to get her through the flames. They were burning so bright and hot.