Mr. Beautiful (Up in the Air #4)(23)

Javier didn't budge, and neither did I.

Unlike me, though, he wasn't interested in or willing to be civil.  If I entered a room, he left it.  If he was assigned to work one of my flights, he called out sick.

It was an awful breakup, and we'd only been together for a month.

Maybe it was for the best that it'd ended so abruptly, no matter how senseless that ending might have felt, because I couldn't imagine how much worse it could have gotten, the breakup, if we'd been together a substantial amount of time.

It was a while before he even said one word to me, and I quickly found I preferred the frigid silence.

We were at a Valentine's party.  Murphy was throwing it, so even though I wasn't really in the mood to celebrate Valentine's Day, we wound up going.

Javier was there, I saw right away, hanging out in the backyard with some of his friends.

I really hadn't wanted to see him today of all days.

I preempted his usual snub and just avoided him.  Or tried to.

It was a few hours in, and I myself was about three drinks deep.

Javier was at least six.  Not good.

I was in the kitchen, hanging out with Murphy and a group of pilots, distractedly trying to follow their conversation, which was about building a proper beer pong table.

Javier came walking in unsteadily, drink in hand, bitter eyes all for me.

Oh Lord, I thought resignedly.

"How's your Valentine's Day, Stephan?" he drawled, moving to stand in front of me.

I saw where this was going, and I shifted away from the group, ushering Javier to a quiet corner in the dining room.

It didn't matter.  Javier was in no mood to be quiet, wherever the setting.

"I asked you how your Valentine's Day is," he said insolently.

I stared at his angry face, the tense set of his features, and all I wanted to do was touch him.

Why did it have to be like this?  Was there any way that I could fix it?  Would he ever see my side of it?

My mind awhirl with questions, I answered his, "It's not great, Javier.  How about yours?"

His lip curled up, his eyes filling.

I had to look away.

"How is your Valentine?  Have you proposed to her yet?"  His voice was loud and mocking.

I sent him a warning look.  "You leave her out of it.  I mean it."

"Or what?" he hissed, more quietly at least.  "You'll dump me, and go back to her, go back to your comfortable lie of a life?"

He swayed on his feet, and without thinking, I reached out and caught his shoulders, holding him steady.

With a cry, he launched himself into my chest.

I caught him there for one brief moment before I remembered where we were, that we had no privacy, and I stepped back, thrusting him away from me like he was on fire.  Like he was unwanted, despite the fact that I wanted him badly.

That, of course, didn't make anything better.

He cussed me out, loudly, calling me just about every name in the book, but not outing me.

I took it in silence, watching him, hating myself.

Bianca showed up in the middle of it, looking ready to do battle, and so I knew it was time to end it.

"Enough," I told him quietly.

He had one last salvo to throw at me as a parting shot.  It was a good one.

He leaned in close, his sorrowful eyes just killing me, and whispered, "You were the only guy I've loved who ever made me feel like I was worth anything.  Anything at all.  I guess the joke was on me, huh?"

Boy did that get to me.  Feeling worthless was my own personal hot button.

"I'm sorry," I mouthed, having no reassurances for him.  I couldn't even reassure myself.  I could never be what he wanted.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

TO PROTECT HER

PRESENT

STEPHAN

James came to see me on his own one afternoon.  He looked at me solemnly for the longest time before he spoke, "Thank you."

I started shaking my head.  "You don't have to thank me.  She's my family."

"She's my family too, now.  And you saved her. Thank you."

I nodded solemnly, studying him.

"You were the one that stopped him.  The shot that killed him.  Did you know that?"

"Yeah," I said, wondering if I was supposed to feel something other than relief that the monster was finally dead.  "I remember."

He shifted uncomfortably in the chair beside my bed.  "Let me know if you need any sort of counseling for that.  I don't know from personal experience, but I understand that it can take a toll on you, no matter how justified."

"I'll be fine."  I took a deep breath.  "This wasn't the first time I've killed for her.  To protect her.  It happened once before."

His eyes went wide, his body still.  I'd managed to shock him.

I grimaced.  "The first time we met, the man that was attacking her.  I caved his skull in.  I felt it.  That took some time to cope with.  I didn't know him, didn't know what drove him.  What if he was just crazy?  What if the right meds would have fixed him?  Looking back at it now, I'm adjusted to it, but it was hard at the time, because I was a kid."