Nemesis (Southern Comfort) (37 page)

“That’s it.”  Sadie finally lost her patience.  This was deteriorating into a pissing contest, and she was too tired to play the judge.  “You – back off.”  She pushed a small hand against Rick’s pectorals.  “You – get back in bed before that swelled head of yours accidentally explodes.  And you,” she pointed at the patrolman, seeing as she was finished with Declan, “try to act like you aren’t enjoying this a little too much to be seemly.  Sir,” she thought to add, because after all he was a cop.

THE
ex opened his trap and started to flap about Sadie’s impaired judgment – he was clearly taken aback by her obvious show of temper – but Declan took in the misery on her face and abandoned his fighting stance.  She’d been through enough torment already, and he’d be damned before he caused her more.  

“You’re right,” he conceded, and nodded when she looked his way.  “It’s not my place to interfere when I know you’ve got it handled.  I trust you,” he added, stroking a knuckle under her chin. 

Then turned with less approval toward the asshole standing behind her. 

“My condolences,” he said, and watched suspicion chase anger across those patrician features.  “But if you’d taken the time to understand her at all, you’d know it was finished the day she walked out.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

SADIE
sat silently on the wrought-iron bench in the hospital’s courtyard, watching the breeze off the Beaufort River ruffle the nearby clumps of pampas grass. Their geyser-like sprays of sharp, graceful blades tangled together in hushed undertones.  A great blue heron, evacuating his post as nature’s sentinel, called out in bass accompaniment as he ascended toward the cotton candy clouds.  The sky was awash in cerulean, though the approaching sunset bled orange and pink, and a nearby winter-blooming camellia bent low under heavy red blooms. She’d never really realized before how much the Low Country resembled a child’s paint box – splashed here and there with such extremes of color it almost didn’t seem real.

But it was more real to her, somehow, than the man perched unhappily beside her.  Already – already, even after this little bit of time – Sadie could see the fairy-tale quality that she’d never before noticed.  The handsome prince. His glorious castle.  All that potential for happily ever after. 

Sadie’d accused Rick of never actually seeing her, but how guilty was she of that, as well? 

Whatever aspects of his personality she hadn’t been particularly fond of, well, she’d overlooked them.  Convinced herself they didn’t matter.  Never took the time to examine them too closely.  Because no one ever questioned the fairy-tale’s details.  They were so caught up in the scenery, distracted by the catchy music and all the pomp and circumstance that they never stopped to question whether or not Cinderella really knew her Prince.  Whether a smart woman should want to marry someone whose sole criteria was her ability to fit a slipper.  Not when there were dancing mice around.

Sadie felt like she’d spent the past five years mesmerized by frolicking rodents.

She felt the cool intensity of Rick’s eyes on her, though he’d been uncharacteristically silent.  She thought that maybe, finally, he was beginning to comprehend.

“Why?”

The question was soft, truly baffled, and Sadie stabbed the heels of her palms into her eyes to keep them from popping out in guilty frustration.  She’d be doing neither of them any kind of favor, if she didn’t keep her answer brutally honest.

“Because it wasn’t working,” she told him succinctly.  “I wasn’t upfront about who I really am, and that’s not fair to either one of us.  I’m not that meek,” she said, and could practically hear Dec snorting.  “I prefer beer to champagne.  I see nothing wrong with deep-frying vegetables.  Golf doesn’t hold my interest.  I’m not that fond of snow. I like my beat-up old Beetle, think those Junior League women you know are aliens, wouldn’t mind sex that gets a little bit raunchy, and I love impractical shoes.  Ortho-soles,” she stressed, “are not me, and never will be.”

Rick’s mouth opened, closed, opened in an obvious loss for words.

“You can take them back,” he finally offered.

Sadie sighed because, typical of their relationship, he’d ignored the larger picture.

Rick delicately cleared his throat, and the tone he took was gentle.  “Sweetheart, sometimes when a person has been through an… extreme experience, particularly with another person, they can develop… certain feelings that they mistakenly believe will translate similarly once they return to their lives.  Whatever… happened between you and… your friend, while you were at the mercy of those bastards, I think you might want to consider that it was a situation born of terror.  Of wanting to cling to another human during what was surely the most frightening experience of your lives.”

Sadie watched the pampas grass sway as she thought that one over.

“You think my decision to leave you has something to do with Declan.” 

“Not at the time, no, I think you were angry. And perhaps it was justifiable, although I wish you’d just come out and told me you didn’t like the shoes rather than taking it to this extreme.  But now… I think perhaps you’re… confused.  It might not be a bad idea to seek some counseling.  I know a very reputable psychologist – he’s a client of the firm.  Perhaps I could arrange for you to speak with him after we get back home.”

Funny, because she herself had questioned her own sanity with regards to Declan.  But one thing she was certain of – she wasn’t feeling confused.

And Denver wasn’t home.

“Rick, I’m going to speak as plainly as I know how to.  Regardless of how I do or don’t feel about Declan, the fact remains that you and I aren’t right together.  You’re a good man, Rick – a wonderful man, actually, and it would be so much easier if I could convince myself otherwise – but you’ll have to be wonderful for somebody else.  You see, I’ve realized that marriage should be a sort of… mutual admiration society.  You take the ups and downs, the bad and the good, but at the end of the day you’re still each other’s greatest cheerleader.  It should never, ever be about one person feeling as if they have to be sculpted and molded to be acceptable.  You might as well make a spouse out of Play-Doh.”

Rick wasn’t stupid, so he grasped what she was implying.  “I never tried to… mold you, Sadie.”

“No.  No, you didn’t.  You just withheld your approval and I was so eager to please that I got out the rubber mallet and pounded away on myself.”

For the first time since they’d come face to face Rick started to get indignant.  “Then that was your doing, not mine.”

“I know.”  She nodded her head.  “I’m definitely willing to shoulder a good chunk of the responsibility.  But you have to admit, Rick, that part of my attraction for you was that I was biddable.  I didn’t require a lot of effort or thought.  The few times I tried to step out of the box, you were quick to slap on the lid.”

His lips thinned in displeasure, but the stubborn light of determination still lit his eyes.

Sadie cut him off before he could start outlining all the reasons she didn’t really mean that.  “You know, I think what it boils down to is that you and I were both looking to be in a relationship when we met.  The upside being we were on the same page, for the most part.  But the downside was that we didn’t pay enough attention to who we were in the relationship with.  Look at me, Rick.”  She indicated her frizzed-out hair, the fuzzy slippers.  The over-generous mouth that wasn’t afraid any longer to tell him what she really thought.  “I’m horrifying you right now because this is not the veneer you’re used to.  And more important is the fact that when you scratch that old veneer, the person inside looks an awful lot like this.  I can’t be who you want, Rick, and I need to be wanted for me.  For who I really am. Anything else would be shortchanging myself, and I’ll resent that in the long run.  Then you’ll end up resenting me.”

Rick slumped, looking confused and betrayed.  And so much like that fairy-tale prince that Sadie’s heart ached.  But only because she didn’t believe in fabrications any longer.

Sadie looked at all that shining, masculine perfection, and longed for the banged-up, grouchy bundle of neuroses she’d left back in the room.  She’d never have to pretend with Declan.  Their relationship was as real as it could get.  And they saw each other, quite clearly.

No rubber mallets or sculpting required.

“Let me put it another way, Rick: a woman wants her husband to think
what a lucky guy I am
, and had we gone through with the marriage you would have spent your days thinking
my wife is a lucky woman
.”

“You are a lucky woman, Sadie.  I planned on giving you everything.”

And he would.  The house, the car, the country club membership, two point five gorgeous and perfectly well-behaved children and a conspicuous gift on all the proper occasions. While there was no question Declan would be the man who went out back and clipped some roses for her, after the fact, because he’d forgotten their anniversary.  And that their children likely as not would try to smuggle snakes into the house and raise them in the bathtub.

And yet that somehow meant so much more.

Funny how true romance had little to do with all the traditional trappings.

Realizing that Rick was waiting for a response, Sadie sadly shook her head.  “Don’t you see, Rick?  That’s just it.  You think you’re the only one in our relationship with something worthwhile to give.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN                                                           

SADIE
was exhausted.

She’d spent another fruitless half hour with Rick, who remained stubbornly convinced she suffered from some kind of post-traumatic stress.  And while that was probably true, it had nothing to do with her resolution.  Being who he was, he still couldn’t admit that he also might have made an error in judgment, but at least she’d managed to frustrate him to the point that he saw the benefits of canceling the wedding
– a wedding she’d already canceled nearly a month ago. He told her that after she’d gotten some help, he’d call her so that they could “reconsider.”  Then he’d finally left to catch a plane back to Denver.

Closing her eyes to soak up some of the last rays of sunshine before another long winter night descended, Sadie slumped against the back of the bench, allowing the aftereffects of tension
to drag her under.  She needed to go back inside, check on Declan, but lethargy had turned her muscles to sludge.  Too little sleep plus too much spent adrenaline equaled nature’s alternative to valium.  She was probably going to sleep for a week.

And realizing that the hospital courtyard wasn’t the place to go about it, Sadie reluctantly climbed to her feet.  Rubbed some of the tension out of the back of her neck.

Started to scream when a familiar sociopath suddenly dominated her field of vision.

“Shh, hush now,”
Doug – Brady cooed, smashing a sweaty palm against her mouth.

His dark hair stuck up in unruly spikes, like he’d plowed his fingers through it repeatedly.  The gleam in his eyes as they collided with Sadie’s was anything but
friendly.  Sadie started to struggle. But something sharp pricked her arm, and her muscles no longer obeyed her.  Her limbs grew heavy, sluggish.  Then seemed to fade away.  She was vaguely aware of being lifted, carried, but couldn’t convince her body that it should be alarmed.  Spots swayed and danced as her vision wavered, but her olfactory sense remained acute.

He smelled sour, like a bad case of flop sweat.

Sadie’s eyes rolled back in her head.

“Here, now.  I’ve got you.”  Brady juggled her against his chest, his voice
crooning.  Sadie could hear the staccato thump of his heart against her ear, feel his breath feather over her in rapid bursts.  The hand that grasped her ribcage extended until it almost fondly cupped her breast.

In her mind, Sadie recoiled, then ranted, then put up one hell of a fight.

But her body hung limply against him.

She heard the crunch of gravel against his boots as he walked toward the end of the courtyard.  The sky overhead had just started to darken, the clouds becoming shifting gray ghosts.

This new ever-after seemed to have been written by the Brothers Grimm.

They headed toward the parking lot at a pretty good clip, Brady using the heavier landscaping in the courtyard area to conceal their furtive trek.  Sadie’s eyelids wanted to drift but she fought against it, since they seemed to be the only part of her body she still controlled.  And if she succumbed to unconsciousness…

She knew that when she eventually roused, a waking nightmare would greet her.

Brady grunted when they reached what looked to be some sort of dark SUV, fumbling one hand beneath her as he worked a keyless remote.  The tailgate on the vehicle started to rise and Sadie’s blood pressure escalated with it.  Once he got her inside his truck she’d have no avenues of escape left to her.  She knew he wouldn’t make the mistake of leaving her handcuffed and unattended again.

He wasn’t the type to repeat his follies.

Nor was he the type to forgive.