Not interested, she texted back, not bothering with niceties. Since her lunch had been so rudely interrupted, her afternoon had gone to hell and this wasn’t helping. And dammit, why was part of her even curious what he wanted this time? What the hell was it gonna take to make her stop being a glutton for punishment?
Her phone rang with an incoming call a second later.
A surge of satisfaction hit her. “Getting frustrated, Liam?” Too bad.
On the second ring Honor set her jaw and silenced the call, unwilling to answer because she had nothing nice to say and dreaded the sound of his voice. Plus she was sick to death of the drama, the ups and downs they’d put each other through. Enough already.
Don’t feel like talking to you, she responded by text instead, punching the keys with more force than necessary.
Really need to talk to you, he insisted.
Her lips thinned. There’s nothing left for either of us to say. He’d made his feelings clear when he’d walked out of her hut that night. Message received. She wasn’t going to let him keep screwing with her head.
Her phone was silent for a long moment. Then, Please?
She huffed out a breath. He thought it was that damn easy? NO.
I’m not giving up until you talk to me.
Honor scowled at the screen. He thought he could bully her into talking? She typed in her response. Good luck with that.
Can I come see you then?
Her eyes bugged out. The balls. The sheer balls of the man. Outraged swamped her. He wanted to see her as in, see her alone? Because that had gone so well for her last time. His lame-ass apology in his first e-mail to her didn’t make up for his actions.
Yeah, she could imagine how he envisioned that scenario playing out. He thought he could waltz back into her life for another booty call while he was in town, because she couldn’t resist him? Her answer was immediate and heartfelt.
NO, she typed. “Asshole,” she muttered under her breath. She was through letting him fuck with her, literally and figuratively.
Just to talk, he sent back quickly.
Yeah, right. They couldn’t be in the same room without sparks flying between them, and he knew it.
Not interested. Enjoy the rest of your visit. Bye.
With that she silenced her phone and shoved it back into her jeans pocket. She didn’t care if he blew up her phone with a thousand texts and voicemails for the rest of the night; she was done.
Even though she meant it, a heavy ache settled beneath her sternum. Scowling, she climbed behind the wheel and turned up the radio to try and drown out her thoughts as she drove home. Except the freaking radio was against her today too, apparently, because every station she turned to kept playing songs that reminded her of Liam.
Punching the off button, she finished the rest of the drive in silence and forced herself to soak in the simple pleasures around her. It was a beautiful, clear evening in the Pacific Northwest and anyone who lived here knew it wouldn’t last so she should be savoring it.
As she drove she reminded herself of all the good things in her life. She had her health, a career she loved despite occasional shitty incidents like the one she’d just experienced with Ipman, and good friends who cared about her. Sure she was still trying to heal from the damage her family and the breakup with Liam had inflicted, but she was strong and she’d gotten through it once, so she could do it again.
Already feeling better, she pulled into her driveway and hit the brakes so hard the car rocked when she saw the flowers sitting on her front stoop. Swallowing, she got out of the car and walked up the front walkway. Wrapped in a layer of clear cellophane, the artfully arranged bouquet of pale pink roses were studded with baby’s breath and greenery. They were her favorites.
Reaching down, her fingers were slightly unsteady as she pulled the card free and opened the tiny envelope. The sight of Liam’s strong scrawl on the card was yet another jab to her heart.
Miss you. Hope to see you soon. L
The back of her throat began to sting. He’d missed her? What the hell? Did he mean since that night at Bagram, or in general since the breakup? Her eyebrows drew together as she tried to decipher the meaning of the words. It could be a simple apology or it could mean a lot more.
As soon as the thought entered her mind she wanted to slap herself. No. She would not drive herself insane trying to guess whatever his motive was. He’d had plenty of chances to get back together with her before. What made this time any different?
Expelling a deep breath, she lowered the card and turned around to scan the street. If he’d written the card personally he could have delivered the flowers himself. Maybe he’d texted her when he realized she wasn’t home. If so, he could still be nearby.
But she didn’t see his truck anywhere on her street, and though he wasn’t one to avoid conflict when it came to getting something he wanted, he’d obviously realized she’d been serious about not wanting to see or talk to him. He’d probably made a tactical retreat and was biding his time before initiating the next foray in whatever campaign he’d dreamed up.
She shook her head at his stubbornness, suddenly feeling exhausted. Bending to scoop up the flowers, Honor vowed to use whatever time remained to shore up her mental and emotional defenses against him. Because she knew sooner or later Liam would run out of patience and show up on her doorstep before he left town.
She’d best be prepared.
****
In the darkened family room just off the kitchen he lay sprawled on his leather couch, staring out the window overlooking the tiny, fenced-in backyard of his house on base. The booze he’d consumed had long since worn off and now he just felt like shit warmed over. Out in the carport his recycling bin was full of beer cans and bottles of Jack Daniels and he hadn’t bothered trying to hide them this time. He didn’t give a fuck what his neighbors thought.
In fact, he’d long since stopped giving a shit what anyone thought of him.
Tipping his head back on the arm of the sofa, he thought yet again about the pile of shit his life had become. Especially lately, since they’d come back home. Not that this empty shell of a house felt like a home at this point. His slut of a wife was moved out and no doubt currently banging her rich banker boyfriend she’d found while he was overseas.
He hated her and his career in the Army. Hated his job, the people he worked with and for, but especially Ms. Girard.
That sanctimonious bitch was the reason he was at risk of being axed in the first place. She’d probably fucked her way to her current position. It was the only explanation he could come up with as to why she kept getting promoted and he got left in the dust. It infuriated him that he had to be subordinate to a female, let alone one like her.
Girard thought she was fair, when in reality she was anything but, and she was an exacting bitch to boot. Nothing was ever good enough; nothing was ever done to her satisfaction. She always had some sort of criticism about his work. Didn’t matter that since her promotion to warrant officer she hadn’t micromanaged him as much as she used to, he knew she still checked up on him with the NCOs all the time and it drove him nuts.