forgive you.”
His arms extended to me, and he pulled me into his chest. For a second, I tried to resist, retreat into my shell, but I found comfort in his embrace. His bulging arms seemed almost twice the size they had when I had seen him at his apartment in January—how was that even possible? Sure, he was twenty-three now, not the same lean nineteen-year-old boy I’d fallen in love with. But his biceps were massive, like one of those slicked-up bodybuilding guys you saw on television. Was Grant using steroids? I’d seen him only six months ago, and he hadn’t been this ripped.
I couldn’t dismiss this thought, especially now. I had to find out what had happened to Tiffany, and I refused to allow myself to let my feelings for Grant get in the way of my mission. What was the link, where were the clues? Drugs, sex, money? Maybe that saké and wine were too potent, because not a thing about Grant, or this night, made any sense to me. This man standing in front of me, who could easily be Thor’s stunt double, was nothing like the man he’d once been, the man I’d given my heart to.
“Let’s go inside. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
I nodded, and we walked back into the hotel room. He poured me a glass of water, and we snuggled up on the sofa. This was more like it. He stroked my hair, and I nuzzled his chest. I had so many questions, but I couldn’t decide which ones to start with.
My throat burned. “Why did you take me to here? Do you have girlfriend at your home?” My heart thumped. I didn’t want to know the answer to this question, not that I had any reason to believe he would tell me the truth.
He swallowed and his voice softened. “Nah, babe. I just thought you’d like this place. I just wanted to take you somewhere nice, figured you weren’t used to a place like this. I had a girl once, a few years ago. She left me when I was in an accident.”
This time he wasn’t lying. I blinked back tears; my brown contacts itched. After my parents died, I couldn’t imagine loving someone so deeply and losing them. Being the sister of a SEAL was bad enough; I couldn’t fathom being the widow of one.
“I am sorry, Grant. I don’t understand how she could leave you when you were not well.”
But I did know. I had left Grant, but it wasn’t because I didn’t love him. I loved him more than anything—even more than my own brother, though I’d never admitted that to anyone. But seeing Grant laid up in a hospital bed, a deep scar under his neck, his chiseled face bandaged, I couldn’t…I wouldn’t go through that agony again. I watched my parents cling to this earth hooked to respirators, and I’d had to help make the agonizing decision to turn off their life support. When Joaquín had called and told me Grant had been trapped in a vehicle that had been destroyed by a roadside bomb, I knew I couldn’t go through the pain of losing someone I loved so deeply again. I was too young, too fragile after losing my parents, too scared to trust again. So I’d walked away from him, from us, and had regretted it ever since.
And that wasn’t the only reason. Something had happened to me while Grant was deployed. I’d done something stupid and paid the consequences. My shame for my lack of judgment bore at me, and I didn’t want to explain myself to Grant. So I took the easy way out and ran, like a coward.
He lifted my chin with his hand. “Look, I’m sorry. You’re different than the other strippers I’ve met, and I thought you were into me. One of my buddies is having a rager tomorrow at this townhouse he’s housesitting in Pacific Beach. Would you like to come with me?”
Hooyah! There it was. The golden ticket. The invite I’d been waiting for. This was actually working. Old Grant never invited me to the beach parties—I’d been relegated to family days with four-year-olds running around with melting Popsicle sticks. I remembered the rules—no wives, no girlfriends. Men only. But I wasn’t