Lip Service

thing because that’s the kind of guy he was.

She thought about what had happened nine years ago, when her father had scared her into leaving Mitch. How she’d reacted without thinking and by the time she could finally think it all through, it was too late. She was pregnant with Erin.

She grabbed Mitch’s other hand and held on tight. “I loved Ray,” she said, staring into his eyes.

He tried to pull back, but she didn’t let go.

“I loved Ray,” she repeated. “Not at first. But over time. Sure he had issues-what on earth was he doing wanting to marry someone so young? But he was a good man and I appreciated that. I won’t take anything away from him by claiming not to have loved him.”

Mitch narrowed his gaze. “Is there a point to this?”

“Yes. I loved him, but I was never in love with him. I never felt the fire, the passion. When he died, I cried more out of guilt for not being able to give him my heart than because he was gone. He wanted all of me and I couldn’t give him that.”

She swallowed. “He’s Erin’s father, but I’m not sure how long she’ll remember him. His kids don’t want anything to do with her, which is their loss, but a position they’re unlikely to change.”

He’d tensed. “Again, your point would be?”

“I never stopped loving you. Not for a minute. I pretended I did-I lived my life-but you were everything to me and you still are.”

He jerked free and pushed to his feet. “Why are you saying this?”

She rose and faced him. “Because it’s true. I want you to know that you have always been the one. I doubt I’m capable of loving anyone else. I don’t expect anything, Mitch. I just needed you to know that I’m sorry I didn’t have the courage to fight for you nine years ago. I’m sorry for what we both went through, and yet I wouldn’t change it- learning to be a wife to Ray and having Erin have made me a better person. We’re both so different now, but nothing in my heart has changed. I love you.”

He’d come to terms with the past, and he was ready to be a good guy in her life-but love? Didn’t she know those kind of words could kill? He didn’t want to hear them. Not now. Not this way. Not yet.

He swore silently. She looked so damned sincere. As if she hadn’t burned him down to his heart…the heart that doubted it could survive a second beating from her.

“I don’t believe you,” he said flatly. Because it was easier…safer.

She gave him a sad smile. “I’m not surprised. Why would you? Why would you trust me? If me loving you means anything, then let me earn back that trust. I’m happy to do the work. I’ll earn your respect. I love you, Mitch. Nothing is going to change that. I’ve learned my lesson. I know what matters. I’m not going anywhere. Just think about it, please. Consider the possibility that after all this time, maybe we’ve found our way back to each other.”

He didn’t know what to say. It was everything he wanted to hear but it was also everything he was afraid of. Could he make himself that vulnerable to Skye, again? It was too much. So he turned and left without saying anything.

When he was back in his truck, he clutched the steering wheel hard enough to turn his knuckles white. It was that or put his fist through the window.

Why did she have to look so earnest? Why did he want to believe her?

His cell phone rang, but he ignored it. After starting the truck he drove back to the ranch. The phone rang every couple of minutes. Skye was nothing if not persistent but he needed time.

But when he pulled in front of the house, Fidela rush out to him.

“I’ve been calling,” she said, sounding frantic. She twisted her hands together. “Oh, Mitch, I’m so sorry. It’s bad. It’s very bad.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“PETE’S DEAD?” MITCH repeated stupidly. No way. Pete couldn’t be dead. It wasn’t right-he’d saved Mitch, he had a baby on the way.

“I’m sorry,” Fidela told him, tears filling her eyes. “His brother called. I have the number.”

Mitch couldn’t feel anything-not pain or anger or regret. There was only a cold numbness that fogged his brain.

He took the number and stared at it as he tried to figure out the next step. Then he grabbed the phone and dialed.

“Hello?”

“This is Mitch Cassidy. I’m looking for Zane.”

“That’s me.” The other man sounded tired. “Thanks for calling. You heard?”

“About Pete? I’m sorry. He was the best.”

“I know.” Zane’s voice cracked. “Look, he talked about you all the time. We all know about you, how you saved his life.”

Saved Pete? “He’s the one who dragged me to cover.”

“Yeah, but you held off the snipers. He loved you, man. I know you were hurt so I don’t know if this would be asking too much, but we’d like you to come to the funeral. Lisa, his wife, wants to meet you.”

Because they’d never met. Mitch felt he knew her, but that was all through Pete.

“When and where,” Mitch said, the numbness wearing off. “Just tell me and I’ll be there.”

He wrote down the information and promised to call with the flight information. The funeral would be in three days. Full military. They wanted him to speak. He had no idea what to say.

“I’ll call Skye,” Fidela said when she hung up.

“No. Don’t bother her.”

“She should know.”

“No.”

He couldn’t talk to her right now, couldn’t talk to anyone. Rather than fight about it, he left and headed for the barn, where he saddled Bullet and took him out.

He waited until they’d passed the house before giving the horse his head and hanging on for the ride. It took Bullet a few seconds to realize he wasn’t going to be held back, then he took off, his long stride covering ground. Mitch bent low over his horse’s neck. Wind burned his eyes and pulled at his shirt. He wanted to go forever, but knew that no matter how fast they went, he couldn’t outrun Pete’s death.

Skye’s car was parked behind the house when he got back. Both he and the horse were breathing heavily, although Bullet had done all the hard work. He slid out of the saddle and walked his horse in, moving past Skye without speaking. She followed him into the barn.

“I heard,” she said, coming up behind him. “I’m sorry, Mitch. I know Pete was your friend.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Fidela called me,” she added, as if he hadn’t guessed that.

“She should learn to mind her own business.”

“She cares about you. I want to help.”

He pulled off the saddle and the blanket, then began to walk the horse to cool him. His leg ached, but he didn’t care. Nothing much mattered anymore.

“You’re going to the funeral,” she said. “Let me help with that. I’ll make the arrangements. I can go with you, if you want. Or not. Let me help. There’s not much else I can do, so let me do this.”

He looked at her and instead saw Pete laughing. Pete had found nearly everything about life inherently funny. He enjoyed the early mornings, the nights of waiting, the rush of jumping out of a plane.

“His wife is pregnant,” Mitch said.

“I know. That must make her feel both better and worse. She’ll always have a part of her husband alive, but he won’t know his child.”

“Pete was so damn proud. He kept talking about how he came from a long line of good swimmers.”

Skye frowned. “Don’t you have to be a good swimmer to be a SEAL?”