Identity Crisis(93)

‘Jesus, Kendra, don’t you ever knock?’ The irritation in his voice surprised her.

‘The door was open, and here you are bleeding over the sink.’

‘The door was open because I thought I was alone, and I’m not bleeding any more. Not much.’

‘Sit down.’ She nodded to the edge of the bathtub.

‘I don’t want to sit down,’ he protested. ‘I want you to leave me alone.’ He jerked his arm away from her and she felt his words like she’d been slapped, but she squared her shoulders and nodded to the side of the tub again.

‘I don’t care what you want, now sit down and let me look at it.’

‘Goddamnit, leave me alone!’ He shoved her away. ‘Can’t you ever just let it be? Can’t you ever just let me do what I need to do?’

She stepped back with her hands up, a wave of angry confusion washing over her.

‘Don’t you get it? You could have died because of me.’ He stood bleeding in the middle of the bathroom floor with both hands clenched at his side in tight fists. Even beneath the drying blood and the dust, she could see the tensing of muscles along his jaw and down the sides of his neck.

‘You’re the only one here I see bleeding,’ she said, trying to sound calmer than she felt. ‘Now please, Garrett, sit down and let me take care of that.’

He stood staring at her as though he was struggling to understand what she wanted of him, then he dropped onto the edge of the tub with a wounded-animal growl. He sat passively while she undid his shirt and slid it off his shoulders, running a hand down his chest across his sternum. He tensed beneath her touch and his eyelids fluttered. God, she could never keep her hands off him, not after the first time, not after she had been in his arms. He caught her hand and gave it a tight squeeze before letting her go.

Then she found a washcloth, soaked it in warm water, and carefully wiped the blood away from his cheek and from the cut. ‘It’s not deep,’ she said, unable to hide the tremor of relief in her voice at knowing that he was safe here with her, at knowing that his wounds were minor. ‘Doubt there’ll be a scar.’ She offered him a tease of a smile. ‘Too bad, really, scars in just the right place can be so sexy.’

He grunted what might have been a chuckle, what might have been a growl. ‘Sorry to disappoint. I’ll try for a bigger branch next time.’

As she turned to rinse out the washcloth in the sink, he pulled her to him, between his legs, wrapping his arms around her waist, resting his head just below her breasts. He held her there, his breathing accelerated, his pulse a wild fluttering at the soft spot beneath his ear. She pulled him close, viewing the crown of his dark head through a mist of tears, fighting the fierceness of the emotions that threatened to unravel her. She told herself it was just the events of the night. Nothing else. They just needed the comfort of each other. They just needed the reassuring closeness of being together.

He tightened his grip until she could just barely breathe, and she returned the favor, letting the washcloth fall into the bathtub behind them. Neither of them moved. And frankly she didn’t care if they never moved again, here in the bright, safe warmth of Ellis’s house, wrapped in each other’s arms. She’d been in a lot of places in her life. Some of them had been amazing, once-in-a-lifetime places, some of them had been horrendous nightmares of places, but none of them had ever been better, or more frightening than this, than being held in the arms of Garrett Thorne in this moment, in this quiet second when the rest of the world was locked outside.

But the moment passed, and at last he spoke into her sternum. ‘I’ve changed my mind, Kendra. I’ll have Don arrange another chance for us to speak to the press.’

‘Good.’ She pulled away, retrieved the washcloth, and continued her ministerings to his wounded face. ‘Glad we agree. This should help us get some idea if Razor Sharp is with the press outside your house.’

‘Kendra.’ He grabbed her wrist, stilling her hand against his cheek. ‘I want Don to call a press conference so I can tell them that I’m …’ He took a deep breath. ‘I want Don to call a press conference so I can tell them that I’m Tess Delaney.’ The words seemed painful as he forced them up from his throat.

‘Garrett, you can’t be serious.’ She lifted his chin and forced him to meet her gaze. ‘This can’t be what you want.’

He pulled away. ‘I don’t see what a big deal it is anyway. I mean, you think I should come clean about Tess, and I know Ellis and Stacie do.’

She shook her head slowly. ‘Not like this, not because you feel forced to. And you can’t really believe it would keep me safe or make any difference in the situation.’