Free While You Were Dead by CJ Snyder

him. A friend.
     
    “It took us three months to find out who, but we still weren’t sure. My commander,” he clarified at her frown, “had a plan. I was closest to Bl--, the mole. I was to confront him with our knowledge, force his hand, and then take him down.”
     
    “Kill you?” Horrified at the implications, she forgot her hurt, her anger, and reached for his hand.
     
    He drew her hand into his and her soul into his own when he searched her eyes and gave a slight nod. “I didn’t have a choice, baby–he had to be stopped. And without a guarantee the plan would work, I had to let you go.”
     
    She tried to free herself, but he hung on. Too close. But he wouldn’t let her go, and she couldn’t stop her question. “Did he–were you hurt?”
     
    “No. The plan worked perfectly, except he went deep underground. It took me three years to find him.”
     
    “And?”
     
    His eyes never left hers and everything was there for her to read. More pain, bitterness, anger. Aching hurt. Terrible regret. For all that she saw in his eyes, his voice was deceptively soft. “And I took him out.” He didn’t let go of her hand as he stood and came around the island, into the kitchen, effectively eliminating her barrier. Kat backed into a cupboard door but Max didn’t stop until he was close enough she could feel the heat from his strong body. “I thought I’d come back to you. It’s all I thought about–all those months. Wanting you. Needing you.”
     
    The pain was intense, still too raw, threatening to engulf her. She had to find a way to stop this, stop him, before he undid everything inside that held her together. Finding none, she lashed out instead. “You never did come back. You didn’t try to find me.” The bitter accusation was soft and out before she could stop it.
     
    His voice was bitter too. “Yeah, I did. Just as soon as I could. I was just in time for your wedding.”
     
    Something broke inside, screaming and wailing despair and futility and wasted years, but Kat continued to fight. He wouldn’t release her, made a mockery of her weak struggles, so she used the only retreat left to her. She closed her eyes. “You were dead,” she whispered, then gave a soft cry as his lips brushed her cheeks.
     
    “I don’t blame you, baby. Never that. I wanted, want you to be happy. And I don’t expect your forgiveness, but I do need you to understand.” He brushed away a tear with the pad of his thumb, and then crushed her close when she uttered a choked cry and more spilled out right behind. “I’m sorry, Kat.” His breath fanned her ear. “So, so sorry.”
     
    The dam broke. Kat flung her arms around him and held on tight as raging emotions boiled through the thin shield he’d been battering since his arrival. Pain. Anger. Deep, horrifying grief, for Max. . .for them. Fingers in her hair, he cradled her head against his chest, rested his cheek on the top of her head and let her cry.
     
    Long minutes passed while she sobbed, at first unable to even begin bottling it back up. Max didn’t say a word, just held her tight until she sniffed, weak and utterly defeated.
     
    “Damn you,” she whispered brokenly and felt him smile.
     
    “Yeah. Damn me.”
     
    “I worked so hard to get over this.” She didn’t move, still needing his solid warmth next to her, his arms so comfortingly steady around her.
     
    “You know I can’t stand your walls between us. Never have.”
     
    It was true. From that first afternoon, he’d attacked, tearing them down, time and again, until she’d finally stopped building them. And then he left. A fresh wave of tears started. “I can’t do this, Max.”
     
    “There’s nothing you have to do, baby. Just be. Right now, right here, be with me. We both need it.”
     
    “I can’t. There’s too much–”
     
    “Shhh.” His hands cupped her face, tilting it up to his and she opened her eyes. “Shut off that incredible brain of yours, just for tonight.