Done [Running to Love 4] (Siren Publishing Classic) (11 page)

“I’d like you to leave, Greg,” she said, moving to put the brocade couch between them.

“I’m not going anywhere, Lacey. We are going to talk about some things, and you are going to hear me out.” Greg held up a hand against Lacey’s attempt to interrupt him. “I’m not giving you a choice in this, Lacey.”

She flushed and then went pale. “What makes you think that you have any right to tell me what I’m going to do or not do, Greg?”

“You gave me your submission in everything intimate between us, baby.” Greg saw her wince but resolutely continued. “This is as personal and intimate as it gets.”

Lacey laughed, an ugly, bitter sound, so different than her usual musical laughter. “You forfeited that about five months ago, buddy. You might not recall, but I do.”

“I don’t remember a great deal about that time, Lacey, as a matter of fact. I do recollect what I said to you when I walked out that final day, and I’m sorry for that. I blamed you, and that was unfair and untrue.”

“Just what is it that you want from me, Greg? If you were thinking you owed me anything, consider it paid. You’ve done quite enough, actually.”

Lacey sounded so unlike her, so bitter and resentful that Greg realized the depths of her anger were yet unplumbed. But he had to try, regardless of the price.

“I doubt I’ll ever be able to make it up to you, honey. But I love you, and I’m willing to try. I am asking you to hear me out.”

Lacey shrugged, and her shoulders slumped. She looked exhausted. She came around to the front of the couch to sit down and then curled up in a corner. For a moment Greg felt like a supplicant, and he welcomed the feeling and the opportunity. He retrieved her coffee and cinnamon bun and set it on the coffee table before taking a seat beside her, careful to give her space.

Greg started at the beginning. He summarized what had taken place the night KarLynn was stabbed and the ensuing events, now able to recite them without the incapacitating upheaval of emotions. He told Lacey that it was all he could do to focus on providing support to his partner, and indicated that she had ridden him emotionally like a rented mule. At the time he had welcomed the barrage of accusations and projected blame, because it meshed with his deep-seated guilt. The rest of his life had continued on remote control. He knew his job inside and out and recognized now that he had performed the job as if from a great distance, alienating many of his fellow officers, although his good friends, the ones who knew him, were more tolerant and not as judgmental. The bosses didn’t care as long as he kept a low profile. Lacey didn’t move throughout his prelude to what he now accepted had been unconscionable treatment of her, but was obviously listening to him, despite her flat affect and seeming indifference.

“I was locked into some kind of robotic state, Lacey, to kind of protect myself and keep on going, and I regret that you got caught up in it. You were absolutely wonderful to me, I know it.” Greg tried to explain what his therapist had helped him grasp, how his psyche had known the imperative of pulling him out of his funk and extricating him from the irrational assumption of guilt. He talked about how his inner Greg, the alpha male, had resisted Lacey’s patient and accepting presence because it was contributing to, even supporting, his passive avoidant behavior.

“Are you saying that I held you back? Kept you from figuring this all out sooner?” Lacey’s quiet question was laced with incredulity.

“It was only a part of it, honey. I refused therapy and compounded everything.”

“Sorry, Greg.” Lacey slipped to her feet and stood looking at him, seeming to tremble with rage and indignation. “To my mind, this is essentially all your fault. You created the woman you wanted, this woman. You demanded my submission, my compliance, and expected it even outside of our bedroom in many aspects. I pretty much trusted you with it all and gave over to you. Do you have any idea how huge that was? Do you? I couldn’t miraculously change back on demand. I will not own any of this, this psychobabble. Apology not accepted.”

Greg watched her walk away from him and into her bedroom. The door shut quietly, and for a moment, he almost succumbed, almost gave up. There was no point in continuing the discussion until Lacey had some time to process what he had shared with her. It had taken him a great deal of time to do so, and she was playing catch-up. He would try again to explain that he was in no way blaming her or holding her responsible for anything, but had needed to put the theory out there, as she would probably come to it herself in the future. Greg didn’t want his woman to take the blame on herself then, without his support and help to reject it. He knew her well, and the submission he so highly prized could cause her to believe she had failed him. He wouldn’t risk that. Greg tried not to think about the fact that Lacey might never have known about said theory if he hadn’t inserted himself back into her life. He didn’t think it was a selfish act. He believed that they had a future together and that Lacey needed him to be complete, just as he needed her. If that made him arrogant, so be it. He got up and went into the kitchen to figure out what they would have for their dinner. It seemed to take a considerable amount of time to organize and prepare, another thing he had failed to appreciate, but he was in training for the long haul.

* * * *

Lacey was getting sick and tired of being sick and tired. She should have taken the damn cinnamon bun with her when she’d left Greg to his bizarre explanations. She used to take food to her bedroom when she lived at her parents’ home, anything to eat in peace. She wasn’t a doctor, but knew enough that she needed to consume more calories in order to gain her strength back. She wasn’t a shrink either, so she simply wasn’t going to consider that crap Greg had suggested, especially the little niggling, intrusive hint that his therapist just might have been on the money. She lay back on the bed and considered the plaster ceiling. Maybe she
had
enabled him by being so tolerant, so sweet and understanding. Maybe if she had kicked his ass, he would have snapped out of it and gotten help. Wonderful. Like she needed one more ounce of guilt. Lacey impulsively pressed one hand to her belly and whispered a little prayer, feeling the sadness creep in to the exception of everything else. Enough. This mind probing, this soul-searching was a luxury she couldn’t afford. She needed to recuperate and get back to work. Someone had to pay the bills, and the firm would understand for only so long, Gladys or no Gladys. Her bosses thought in terms of facts and, cold, clear numbers, and if she was smart, she would adopt their approach. Her guilt and sadness would just have to wait for her times away from work. She drifted off on that thought.

The ring tone of her cell woke her from her light doze, and she fumbled for it, flipping it open. Gladys.

“How are you, Lacey?” The older woman’s voice warmed Lacey.

“I’m doing much better, Gladys, thanks. And thank you for everything. I appreciate it more than you’ll ever know.” The bedroom door cracked open, and Greg poked his head in. Lacey silently stared at him until he withdrew.

“I was just calling to let you know that you’ve got this coming week arranged as sick time, dear.”

“Wow, that’s great, Gladys, but I’ll be back tomorrow. No problem.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Gladys said cautiously, “Are you sure? I mean, you’ve been through a difficult time.”

“No different than lots of other people, Gladys, and I’ll go insane if I have to stay home. I may not make it through the whole day, seeing as I tend to nap a lot, but I’ll be there.”

After a few more reassurances, Gladys clicked off, and Lacey decided to call Alex. The other woman didn’t have long to chat. Lacey suspected she was interrupting some time stolen during Aiden’s afternoon nap, so she offered her thanks for Alex’s thoughtfulness in sending the clothes to the hospital, asked after Aiden, and assured Alex she was doing well and ready to return to work. By the time she had hung up the phone, Lacey had pretty much convinced herself. She got up and crossed to her closet to assemble an outfit for the next day and then went to tell Greg his services were no longer required.

* * * *

“You are
not
returning to work tomorrow!” Greg’s tone brooked no argument. He slammed the frying pan he had been scrubbing down on the counter and grabbed a towel to wipe his hands.

Lacey held her ground. “I am. I’ll go in for the morning at least. So thanks for everything, but you can clear out.”

She was unprepared for Greg’s response, although she shouldn’t have been. He drew himself up to his full height and advanced on her. Lacey made her feet stay anchored to the floor and didn’t retreat. For a moment, the old sexual tension snapped between them, the dominance in him pulling her submissive side. She covertly dug her nails into her palms and used the small pain to help her resist. Even when he pulled her to him and gave her a little shake, even when he took her mouth in a devastating kiss, a tiny part of her stayed sane and kept her from responding.

If Greg had continued his assault on her senses for even a few more seconds, Lacey would have crumbled, but he pulled back to stare into her eyes. This time he shook his own head and carefully released her, smoothing her shirt down over her arms. Lacey saw the pain in his eyes and shuttered her own. He was never again going to have the opportunity to get close enough emotionally to hurt her, and that meant hardening her heart against his obvious hurt when what she really wanted to do was soothe him and love him back. That decision didn’t sit right with her, but it was all she had.

“All right. I’ll take you to work and wait for you. When you get tired, I’ll bring you back here.”

Damn it. He just wouldn’t say die. “It’s not necessary, Greg. I’ll be fine. We both need to get on with our lives. There’s nothing for you here.”

“You’re here, Lacey. I’m staying until I’m certain you’ll be okay on your own, if you won’t consider taking me back.”

Lacey closed her eyes. Her ability to stand firm would be sorely tested if he persisted in staying with her. She would just have to work as long as she could each day and then hide out in her bedroom.

“A work week. Five days,” she negotiated.

Greg shook his head. “I’ll stay as long as I feel you need me.”

Lacey threw up her hands in disgust and stomped away to prepare for her return to the workplace. She would put a few more outfits together and organize her jewelry and then have an early night after she tried the food Greg was struggling to prepare in the kitchen. Her bottom tingled as she headed into her bedroom and she just knew that Greg was itching to tan it. It felt kind of good to poke the bear when its teeth were effectively drawn, at least for the time being.

The potatoes weren’t quite cooked through, and the pork chops were fairly charred. Greg glared at their plates as though blaming his culinary failure on someone else. He hadn’t managed to screw up the creamed corn, although Lacey preferred hers heated and not simply dumped into a bowl right out of the can. She managed not to smile or even hint at her amusement. When she thought of all the lonely meals and the food she had put down the compactor when Greg hadn’t bothered to show up for dinner, well, it felt suspiciously like it bloody well served him right. She managed to eat a little of everything and carefully avoided looking at him. They exchanged desultory conversation, and she could feel Greg’s tension. It was all she could do not to try and assuage it. Now that he seemed more like the old Greg, there was still the same strong connection between them despite everything that had taken place, and Lacey began to feel more worried and afraid. She couldn’t give in to this pull. She couldn’t allow Greg to get to her again and then leave once he had paid this particular debt, gotten her back on her feet. She had to convince him that she was fine so that he would move on sooner than later and leave more of her behind when he did so.

She curled up on the couch and watched an old episode of Friends, smiling at the foolish antics of the actors. As if life was really like that. Oh, they had the angst down pat, the matter of the heart in hand, but the fairy-tale ending was almost always implied no matter the judicious use of humor. Everyone ended up with somebody. Greg was rattling dishes around in the kitchen, and Lacey winced, knowing that her cups in particular would likely be chipped along the edges. But she wasn’t going to go and help him and create a domestic alliance of any sort. When he came out, wiping his hands, the front of his jeans wet from the spray of the temperamental kitchen faucet, Lacey resolutely turned her eyes back to the television screen. She should have warned him about how the thing sprayed in every direction if one turned it on past half a turn, but again it was about trying to ensure he wouldn’t get too comfortable here.

“Honey?”

She pretended to be startled by his presence. “What?”

“I’m going to go and get the laundry from Edith, and then take a shower, so if you want to use the bathroom first, I just thought I’d give you a heads-up.”

Lacey bit her lip and managed not to snark. Edith. Damn him.
She
didn’t even call her landlady by her given name. How did he do that? How did he charm every woman who crossed his path? She managed to smile. “Nope, I’m fine.”

As soon as the door closed behind him, she felt her face crack and her mouth tremble. He was getting to her with his determined presence and self-effacing demeanor. Well, maybe not so humble outside of his housekeeping efforts.
They
were certainly humbling him, and yet it also felt kind of nice to be catered to. It wasn’t that Greg hadn’t taken care of her before that thrice damned night. He had. They had each taken care of the other by doing whatever they did best, sharing the duties. Greg simply wasn’t domestic. He was more of a provider and a yard-care kind of guy. And he always more than took care of her sexual needs, needs she hadn’t known she had, long before he took care of his own. Lacey shook off her errant thoughts like water off a shaggy dog and firmed her mouth. It was just one more thing to blame him for. Those sexual needs he had built in her would be a trial for the rest of her hormonal life. She stood and made her way to the bedroom after making a quick stop to use the bathroom facilities. She would shower in the morning and then head off to her job. Greg could hang around until he saw for himself he was no longer necessary in her life. She shut and locked the bedroom door, and not because she didn’t trust Greg. Lacey was worried that she might not be able to trust herself, and would let him sleep with her and hold her and allow him to insinuate himself back into her life.