Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Amanda stepped out of the red brick building, stopping to zip up her jacket and tug on her gloves. It was a cold, overcast day.

She wished she'd asked a friend to come to the police station with her, but anyone she'd asked would've had to miss class to join her. Anyway, it was Mark's company she craved, and he was long gone.

She'd spent almost an hour with a detective, a prosecutor, and an FBI agent, going over everything that'd happened Saturday night, then going back to Thursday night at the bar and on her way home.

When she finally finished answering all their questions, she learned they'd turned up a fourth victim—another young woman found dead on a college campus. So far, Amanda was the only one to have survived.

She shuddered, not wanting to consider what might have happened as she turned toward her apartment.

And froze.

Mark was standing on the sidewalk, facing her. He looked dashing in his uniform—khaki colored with a matching hat and a light brown shirt and tie.

Amanda's heart fluttered, and she hurried toward him. He was so handsome in that uniform—so much better than Superman. How had someone she'd known only a few days become so important to her?

He was waiting for her. Her heart soared. Of course he hadn't meant what he'd said the morning before.

"I saw you go in."

There was something in his posture and his tone that had her stopping a few feet away from him.

"I needed to grab some lunch," Mark continued, "and I wanted to make sure you're okay."

"Oh."

"Are you? Okay?"

She didn't know how to answer that question.

He approached her slowly. When he got close enough, he lifted his hand and traced his finger along the bruise beneath her eye.

It looked worse today, black and puffy. No makeup had covered it.

He swallowed, closed his mouth in a line, and shifted his hand to her hair. He slid his fingers down a lock, and her whole body tingled.

She jerked away.

"Sorry."

Sorry? He was sorry? For what? For touching her? For leaving her? Or waiting for her? For breaking her heart?

For saving her life?

What was she supposed to say in response to sorry ?

"How are you?" His voice was warm, his tone tender.

She stiffened, mustering anger to keep her tears at bay. "What difference does it make?"

"I care, Amanda. I just?—"

"Just not that much. I get it." She started walking.

He fell into step beside her. "Mind if I walk you home?"

"Why?"

"Because… I thought you might be nervous."

"He was denied bail."

"I know. Still." He matched her pace.

"I walk around this city by myself all the time." She glared at him. "I don't need you to protect me."

He flinched as if she'd wounded him, and regret poured over her.

"I'm sorry." Stupid tears. She swiped them away, walking a few steps until she thought her voice would sound normal. "You don't owe me anything."

"You don't owe me anything."

Great. They were even-steven. Just what she wanted.

He shook his head, a little smile on his lips. "After what happened Saturday, I thought you'd be nervous to walk by yourself. You're very brave."

"He's being extradited to New York."

"Fear isn't always rational."

Mark would know. Whatever fear had him running away from her certainly wasn't.

At the corner, Amanda turned toward her apartment and campus.

When Mark took her hand, her breath caught. It felt so right, being with him. Obviously to him too. Did he even realize what he'd done?

Maybe she should yank her hand back, but she couldn't do it. She couldn't make herself put distance between them. If that was what Mark wanted, he was going to have to do it.

They walked in silence, her thoughts swirling like leaves in the wind. She told herself to keep quiet and enjoy the moment, but words escaped against her will. "We're not even going to talk about this?"

He squeezed her hand, and she wished she'd skipped the gloves. She wanted to feel the warmth of his skin against hers.

"About what?"

"About you and me."

His lips pressed in that tight line that told her he wasn't happy. "There is no you and me, Amanda. I'm going to be gone for a long time. I'm sorry that you think there's some future for us, but there isn't."

"You'll be home, eventually."

"Hopefully."

"Don't say?—"

"By then, you'll have met somebody else, somebody more appropriate."

Stopping, she tugged her hand from his and faced him. "You're okay with that."

"It's the right thing to do."

"And you'll be seeing other people?"

He smirked. "I'm going to Afghanistan. They wear burkas over there. I won't be seeing any women."

"I'm sure you'll get vacations."

"Leave."

"Plenty of opportunities to date."

He shrugged but said nothing.

Fine, then. "Carl came by yesterday. He asked me out. You don't mind if I go out with him?"

Emotions played across Mark's face. His Adam's apple dipped, but he said, "Nope. I think you should."

She nodded slowly. "If he takes me out Friday night, we'll probably have a few drinks. He likes to drink."

"You don't."

"I can learn. And then when we get home, maybe I'll invite him up for dessert. You're okay with that?"

"You still have that cheesecake?—"

"That's not the dessert I mean."

Mark blinked a few times, swallowed again.

"You don't care if I date him? Or another man? If I invite them to my apartment…if I invite them to my bed?—?"

"Amanda." He groaned, looking toward the sky. "Please don't."

"I thought you didn't care."

His gaze snapped to her. "I never said that." His eyes blazed with emotion. "What do you want me to say?"

"How about the truth?"

He stepped back and crossed his arms.

"Okay. I'll start." Now or never, because once he walked out of her life, she might never see him again.

Decimated buildings. Suicide bombers. Caskets draped with flags. Images of war flashed through her mind. Anything could happen. He might not come home. And she couldn't live with the idea that he might die without knowing.

He thought she was brave for walking to the police station by herself, but that was nothing compared to telling him how she felt—and how deeply she felt it—knowing he'd probably reject her. But she had to do it. He was worth the risk. "Thursday night, I thought you were following me. Friday, I wasn't sure if you were a superhero or a stalker. But sometime on Saturday, between the fish tacos and the mall, I fell in love with you."

Mark didn't move. He barely breathed.

"And it's not because you saved my life—twice. It's more than that. You're everything I want in a man, everything I ever wanted."

She waited for some response, some reaction. But there was nothing. "Look me in the eye, Mark, and tell me you don't care for me."

Another beat passed, and hope flared inside.

But then, he looked down, leaned in, and kissed her on the cheek. "I'm sorry."

He turned and walked away.