Searching for Shadows, page 8
As they reached the hotel, Veronica waited as he checked in, shifting from foot to foot. It was still strange to see Connelly here in her new world, which felt so far removed from their shared past. But his grin was infectious, and she found herself returning it with equal measure, brushing aside her nerves.
“Wow,” she said when he opened the door to his room. It wasn’t just a regular hotel room— a suite with a vast living room, a dining table that sat eight, a fully stocked bar, and a private balcony.
His ears turned red as he turned to shut the door behind them. “I wanted to splurge. Too much?”
She laughed. “Oh, definitely.”
He looked around the suite with a sheepish laugh. “Yeah.”
“Well,” she said after a beat of awkward silence and swept her arm toward the bedroom. “Go get changed! We have a river to float.”
“Oh. Right.” He disappeared into the room and quickly changed out of his uniform into swim shorts and a T-shirt.
Then they were off again, leaving San Antonio’s charm behind for the more rural outskirts where nature reigned supreme. The city’s urban sprawl gave way to vast greenery that stretched out on either side of the road, dotted with trees and sprawling ranches. The sun seemed brighter here, hotter, the sky a vivid, cloudless blue.
They grabbed lunch at a roadside barbecue stand and ate their brisket sandwiches sitting on a worn picnic table as the scent of mesquite smoke filled the hot air around them.
“Are you still writing?” she asked, taking a swig of her Dr. Pepper.
He finished chewing and washed the bite down with his soda. “When I can. Not much time between training and missions.”
“This is new.” She reached over the table and thumbed away a bit of barbecue sauce on his chin, covering a thin pink scar that looked freshly healed.
His eyes held hers as her fingers traced his scar. “Yeah, that was a close one.” He couldn’t entirely hide the hint of gravity in his voice, contradicting his grin. “But nothing to worry about. And I saved a life. That’s all that matters.”
It was late afternoon by the time they got to the river.
Connelly was shocked at seeing the crowd amassed along its banks. Families, college students, elderly couples—it seemed everyone in Texas had come out to enjoy the river. It was a sea of people lounging on tubes, boisterous and sun-soaked, as they drifted down the winding waterway.
“Holy shit. This really is a thing here, isn’t it?”
“Welcome back to Texas, Conn,” Veronica said with a laugh as she pulled out their tubes from the back of her pickup truck.
Veronica slipped into the water first, her tube fitting comfortably around her as she kicked off from the riverbank. Connelly followed, a bit more ungainly with his long limbs. His surprised yelp when he hit the cold water made Veronica laugh out loud.
Once they were both in their tubes, she hooked her feet on his and settled back.
“What do we do now?” he asked, bemused.
“We just relax and enjoy.”
The river was a beautiful translucent green, and the late afternoon sun cast golden rays across the water, making it shimmer and sparkle.
After a while, she saw the tension leave his shoulders.
“There you go.” She opened the cooler and tossed him a beer. “Now you’re getting the hang of it.”
She watched him as they floated, taking in how the sunlight gilded his dark hair with gold and all that lean, hard muscle under bronzed skin. His dark eyes were softer now, and he closed them as he leaned back against the tube. One arm lazily trailed in the cool water, fingers skimming through it, causing little ripples.
Damn. He looked good.
She’d missed him. Not Lieutenant Davis, combat rescue officer, but Connelly, her childhood best friend whose laugh was as familiar to her as her own heartbeat.
A slow smile spread across his face. “What?” he asked without opening his eyes.
She realized she’d been staring, and her cheeks flushed hot. She told herself it was just the sun. “What?”
“You’re staring.”
“I’m just... glad you’re here.”
He cracked an eye open and smiled at her. “Me, too.”
They floated for hours, alternating between animated conversation and a comfortable silence as they soaked up the sun. Now and then, they would pass under a bridge or an overpass where groups of people stood waving and cheering at the river-goers.
Connelly eventually surrendered to the lull of the sun and water. He fell asleep with his head tipped back against the tube, mouth slightly open in a picture of perfect relaxation that made Veronica chuckle as she snapped a photo with her phone.
That was prime blackmail material right there, which she’d definitely be showing to his next girlfriend.
A quick, sharp pain speared through her chest at the thought of him having a girlfriend. She blinked, surprised at the sudden sting of jealousy. Where the hell had that come from? She’d never thought of Connelly as anything more than her friend.
Her best friend.
Nothing more.
So she just had to banish all of these other weird thoughts about him out of her head.
As the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of orange and purple, Veronica nudged his tube gently with her foot. He woke with a start, tipping himself into the water and splashing her. He lunged for the tube before it could escape, then hung on the side and rubbed a hand over his face to wipe away the water.
“What the...?” he mumbled. “Did I doze off?”
“Yeah, you did.” She nodded toward the riverbank, where everyone was pulling their tubes ashore. “And this is our stop.”
Disappointment flickered over his face. “Ah, damn. I’m not ready for it to end.”
She wasn’t either. She hated the thought of parting ways with him and returning to her quiet apartment alone, and she brooded on the thought as they packed the tubes and cooler back into her truck.
“Hey, Martens!”
She looked up at the familiar voice and smiled at the three men approaching them. Captain Blake Edwards had become a good friend since she was stationed at Lackland. He always traveled with his entourage—Lieutenant Mason Foster and Lieutenant Tyler Bennett. She didn’t know them as well, but she did consider them friends, too, and thought it unfair that people on base called them The Three Stooges behind their backs.
She waved them over, intent on introducing Connelly. “Hey, guys! Get a float in today?”
“Sure did. Wait. Jesus, is that Draft Dodger Davis?” Mason grinned and reached out to clap his palm to Connelly’s. “Hey, man. Haven’t seen you in years.”
Connelly laughed and greeted each man with more hand slaps. “Edwards, Foster, Bennett. You guys haven’t changed a bit.”
“I’d say you look like hell, Drafty, but that wouldn’t be giving hell enough credit,” Tyler said, earning him a playful shove from Connelly.
The men laughed.
Veronica stared at the four of them in surprise. “Wait. You guys know each other?”
“Hell, yeah, we do,” Mason said. “We deployed with Drafty... when was that? 2016?”
“Sounds about right,” Connelly confirmed.
Blake wagged a finger in the air between them. “How do you two know each other?”
“Childhood friends,” they said simultaneously, and then, “Jinx,” also at the same time, just like when they were kids.
Blake glanced back and forth between them, and his smile dimmed just a little. “Huh. Small fucking world, isn’t it?”
“This is awesome,” Tyler said, looping an arm around her shoulders and then Connelly’s. “Our favorite PJ and our favorite pilot. We’re headed back to the city to hit the clubs. You guys wanna join?”
She looked at Connelly. He stared back at her, an unreadable expression on his face. Was he hoping she said yes?
“Okay,” she said. “Yeah, sure.”
If she wasn’t mistaken, disappointment flickered in his gaze before he hid it behind a smile. “Sounds fun.”
And it was fun. She danced with Connelly and Blake, with Tyler and Mason, and a few other guys she knew from the base. She drank margaritas and did shots with the guys. By the time the club closed, she was buzzing and giggling, the world spinning a little too much as they stumbled onto the sidewalk.
Connelly’s fingers wrapped tightly around hers, grounding her when she felt she could float away. For a moment, just a brief moment, his thumb caressed the back of her hand. The simple contact sent a jolt of something warm up her arm, all the way to her heart. It was so fleeting, almost accidental. Yet, she found herself wishing for more.
“Party at Drafty’s!” Blake declared, and the other men let up a cheer.
Connelly dropped her hand and sighed.
At the Hyatt, Blake beelined across Connelly’s suite for the bar.
“Putting those royalty checks to use,” Blake said, pouring himself a large glass of gin that he topped with only the tiniest bit of tonic. “No way a second lieutenant could afford the presidential suite. Shit, I could barely afford this with my captain’s salary.”
“I forgot Drafty got them dolla dolla bills.” Tyler flopped down on the couch, cracking up like he’d made the funniest joke ever.
Veronica suddenly had a headache. She turned to Connelly, and the movement threw off her balance. He wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her.
“I need to get out of this swimsuit,” she muttered.
“Okay. I’ll help.”
The Three Stooges whooped and cat-called.
Connelly sent them a deadly glare. “Get a grip. She’s drunk, assholes.”
He was drunk, too. She could tell, but he was handling it better than she was.
In his bedroom, she broke away from him, swaying a bit before she flopped down on the bed. She stripped off her tank top. “Why do they call you Draft Dodger? You weren’t alive for the draft.”
Connelly pinched the bridge of his nose like he also had a pounding headache. “Blake came up with it when he found out I was a published author. Play on words. You know, because I’m dodging writing my next draft by being in the military.”
“Ah,” she said without much humor. “Funny.”
“Not really.” He glared at the door as laughter burst from the other side. “Assholes.”
“People on base call them The Three Stooges.” She stood and worked her shorts off her hips, struggling when the denim got caught on her sandal. “I thought it was mean, but... it kinda fits them, right?”
He didn’t answer. She glanced over her shoulder at him and found him watching her with an intensity that made a shiver run down her spine. He looked away quickly, a flush creeping up his neck.
“Yeah,” he finally answered, his voice rougher than usual. “It fits them.”
She managed to get the shorts off and turned her attention to the tiny knot that held together her bikini top. Her fingers fumbled with it, too drunk to work out how to untie it. Noticing her struggle, Connelly moved towards her. She felt his body heat before she saw him standing directly behind her. She looked up and saw their reflection in the mirror over the en suite bathroom sink.
“Here.” He undid the knot, then stayed there for a moment too long, his fingers lightly brushing the curve of her spine.
She held the top to her breasts. “Thank you.” She should go into the bathroom and finish changing. She had no clothes with her, but he’d lend her something to sleep in. She knew it. All she had to do was ask. Then they could go back to… what? The Three Stooges? The idea of rejoining the trio was highly unappealing.
Their gazes met in the mirror.
She let the bikini top fall to the floor.
His breath caught in a sharp inhale.
In that silence, she felt something shift between them, a line blurred and smudged with increasing uncertainty with each passing second. The familiar dynamic of their friendship seemed to dissolve into thin air.
The ache in Connelly’s eyes mirrored the one blooming low in her belly. She turned around to face him, her hands resting against his chest. She could feel his heart pounding beneath her touch.
“Don’t say anything,” she whispered.
His eyes darted to her lips, then back to meet her gaze. “Vee, I—”
“No.” She knew what he would say and didn’t want to hear it. If he said it, everything changed between them.
She was too drunk to realize that everything had already changed.
She closed the distance between them to muffle his words with a kiss. Their bodies collided, and she found herself being pushed back against the bed as he kissed her back with a fierce, pent-up need she hadn’t expected. He groaned low in his throat as she slid her fingers through his hair, pulling him down on top of her.
His hands were on her waist, sliding up and down her exposed skin as if he’d done it a million times before… as if touching her like this was second nature to him. He tasted like the margaritas they’d been drinking all night, sweet and sour and totally intoxicating. She tilted her head back to catch her breath, but he wouldn’t let her, his lips skimming down her throat to her breasts. He sucked a nipple into his mouth, and, oh God, she was arching into him instinctively, gasping his name, needing more of him, wanting all of him.
Connelly’s control seemed to be teetering on the edge, his breaths coming out in ragged pants against her neck. But then suddenly, he stilled.
“Vee,” he choked out. He pulled back just enough to look at her, his gaze searching her face for something she couldn’t quite decipher. “You need to be sure.”
“I’m sure.” She threaded her fingers into his short hair and tried to pull him back in for another kiss, but he stopped her.
“No. You need to be absolutely, one hundred percent sure. I-I can’t do this... not with you... if you’re going to have regrets in the morning. It’ll break my heart.”
The confession hit her like a bucket of ice-cold water, sobering her immediately. She sat up and scooted out from under him, grabbing a pillow to cover her chest. “What... what are you saying?” Her voice sounded slightly hysterical even to her own ears.
His face was a mask of vulnerability and uncertainty as he sat back. The swim shorts did nothing to hide the ridge of his erection. “I’m saying that…” He trailed off, took a deep breath, and blurted, “I’ve been in love with you for a long time, Veronica.”
Her heart stuttered. “W-what?”
He got off the bed and began pacing the room, his hands locked behind his neck. “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend for it to go down like this, but I was going to tell you this weekend. It’s why I booked this stupid suite. I thought it was romantic or some shit. Jesus, I’m an idiot.”
She stared at him, barely comprehending the words falling from his mouth. “W-what?” she said again.
He stopped pacing and spun to face her. “I don’t want to ruin our friendship, but when you kissed me… I can’t just be your friend anymore. I want more.”
She felt like she was free-falling. Her plane had just stalled out, and she couldn’t regain control. She was going to crash.
“No,” she whispered, and his face drained of color. She shook her head. “No. You can’t be in love with me. That’s stupid. Oh my God, that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. We’re drunk. We’re just... drunk. And you’re not in love with me. Not really.”
He took a step toward her, then another, until he was close enough to touch. But he didn’t. He just looked at her, his eyes full of hurt and confusion.
“Do you think this is easy for me?” His voice broke on the last word. “I’ve been hiding these feelings for years, Vee. But I can’t do it anymore.”
And there it was. The crash. She swore her heart stopped at that moment. “Do… what?”
“This.” He waved a hand between them. “Us.”
“But... we’re friends,” she said desperately. “You’re my best friend.”
“We were friends,” he corrected. “But it’s not enough for me, and if you don’t want more, you need to tell me now so I can step away. I need to figure out how to move on without you. Because this... being close to you like this and knowing you don’t feel the same... it’s too hard, Vee. It’s killing me.”
His words hung between them like ice, freezing the moment, freezing her. She wanted to deny it and laugh it off as some sort of weird joke. But the earnestness in Connelly’s eyes was impossible to ignore, impossible to refute.
When she didn’t respond, he ran a hand over his head. “Fuck.”
He looked as lost and broken as she felt at this moment. Veronica had always known him to be steady, unruffled even in the toughest situations. Seeing him like this, so exposed and raw, shattered something inside her. She had done this to him. She had pushed him to this edge without ever realizing it.
“I think I’ll go back to Florida tonight,” he said finally and went to the closet, pulling out his duffle. He crossed to the bathroom and grabbed his toiletry kit. “Feel free to stay here for the night. It’s all paid for the weekend, and you shouldn’t drive until you sober up.”
“But—”
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his eyes full of sadness, and walked out of the room.
She hurriedly grabbed her tank top, pulling it back on over her bare breasts as she chased him out.
But he was already gone.
“Whoa,” Tyler said from the couch. “What’s his problem?”
She looked over at the three men. She’d forgotten they were there. She swiped at her eyes in frustration, hating that they were seeing her cry. “I should go.”
“Hang on.” Blake popped to his feet and draped an arm around her. He pushed a glass full of alcohol into her hand. “Forget about him. He’s always been a pretentious asshole. You don’t need him. You can hang with us. “
She stared down into the clear liquid that smelled like lighter fluid. It made her stomach turn, but when he tipped the glass toward her mouth, she drank.
And she drank.
And the night blurred…
Present Day
Veronica squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the memories. But they were too strong. Too vivid. She could feel their hands on her again and the cold press of the gun against her temple when she tried to fight them off. Could hear their laughter in her ears. Could taste the bile rising in her throat—
