Deadly Promises (Tracers #2.5)(64)

Her beautiful, open face.

She was uncertain about what would happen next. And she was edgy with it.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, because she needed to hear it, he needed to say it, and because it was true.

She closed her eyes and lowered her head, but not before he saw a tear trail down her cheek.

“Come ’ere,” he whispered and tugged her down beside him.

He wrapped her in his arms and held her while she cried.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured against the silk of her hair.

“I don’t know why I’m doing this.” She sounded embarrassed and angry at herself.

He knew why. And it broke his heart.

“I’m not usually such a weenie.”

“Sweetheart.” He squeezed her hard. “I know what you’re made of. You don’t have to apologize for anything. But I do.”

She sat up and wiped her eyes. He scooted over so she could sit cross-legged beside him, the tails of his shirt tucked between her legs.

“I didn’t think I was ever going to see you again.” She looked down at the cuff of his shirt, which hung well past her fingertips.

“That was the original plan.” He reached for an extra pillow and propped it behind his head.

“But you changed your mind.”

Hands crossed behind his head, he stared at the ceiling. “I’m not sure I’m going to be any good at this,” he admitted. “At being the man you need. At being the man I need to be. For you. And for me.”

“Cav—”

He cut her off with a shake of his head. “You need to know up front what you’re getting into, Carrie.”

More than that, he needed to tell her.

“My old man was career military,” he said after the long moment it took for him to decide to just tell it like it was. “Loved the army, his booze, and his family, in that order. He was a good man. Just didn’t always have his priorities straight, you know? He always figured he’d die in action, but in the end it was the booze that got him.”

He glanced at her, then away, and went on before he lost his nerve.

“Look, I don’t want this to come out like the ramblings of a poor, neglected army-brat son of an alcoholic. It wasn’t that way. I admired him. Even though I knew where I stood on his food chain. And it was okay. It set my career course.”

He glanced at her again, half expecting her to ask, but she didn’t. Another measure of her intelligence and sensitivity. She knew instinctively that he had to tell this in his own time, his own way.

“I was CIA,” he said, knowing those three little letters were right now painting a picture in her mind of shadowy warriors pushing the envelope of diplomacy and international law.

“We’re not everything the novelists and journalists would have you believe we are. We don’t do all the things you might have been led to believe we’ve done.”

“You save lives,” she said simply. “You serve your country.”

He swallowed, humbled by her absolute, unquestioning belief in his motives and integrity.

“Yeah,” he said. “All that.”

He looked at her then. “It… it takes a toll after a while.”

“How could it not?”

He firmed his lips, looked away. This was the hard part. “Service to country isn’t all I inherited from the old man,” he finally admitted.

She was quiet for a while. “You said he was an alcoholic.”

“Yeah.” He looked back at her. She watched him with quiet eyes, no judgment. “And I don’t want to be.”

Her gaze held his, steady and unwavering in the face of what he hadn’t said. That he had a problem. That he wanted to fix it.

“That’s why I resigned,” he clarified, and even now he felt the weight of that decision and the shock wave that had rippled through the chain of command. “I’ve developed an unhealthy relationship with scotch over the years.”

“To help you cope.”

And to help him forget. “I don’t want to use that crutch anymore. I can’t use that crutch anymore.”

“Then you won’t,” she said simply.

He smiled, feeling cynical and weary. “You don’t know me well enough to know that. And I don’t deserve that much credit.”

“This is what I know.” She reached for his hand and folded it between both of hers. “I know that I love you. I know that for you to open up to me this way, you love me, too.”

“I do.” He reached for her and pulled her down until her mouth was a breath away from his. “I do love you. More than life.”

“Damn,” she whispered against his mouth. “I’m going to cry again.”

And he was going to spend the rest of his life making sure she didn’t ever have a reason to cry again.

“SO WHAT TOOK you so long?” Carrie teased as she wiped her hands on a napkin.

They were naked in the middle of her bed. Still working on slaking their desire for each other, refortifying their energy with a bucket of take-out chicken.

“To come for you? The guys and I had a little unfinished business to tend to.” Cav set the bucket aside.

She settled into his arms like he’d had a place for her there forever. “The guys?”