understanding and answering love. Why hadn’t she said those words to Ethan? Why Garrett?
Her gaze flew to Ethan, apology etched into every surface of her face. She wanted to scream it but was too embarrassed.
There was no anger in Ethan’s eyes, just a tightness as if he battled some unknown reaction. A sound from the front had her turning away. It was Sam. Laughing.
Sam glanced in the rearview mirror, a wide grin splitting his lips. “I’m seeing more and more of the Rachel we know and love all the time. You always were the most lovey, demonstrative woman I know.”
Ethan chuckled and seemed to relax against her. But she was too far rooted in regret to feel as if the awkward moment had passed. She closed her eyes and turned away, for the first time denying herself the comfort of his embrace.
“Rachel.”
Garrett’s deep voice washed like warm water over her ears.
Slowly she looked up until she locked gazes with him.
“I love you too, sweet pea. We all do.”
She smiled tremulously and nodded. Ethan’s hand crept back over hers, and he gave her a little squeeze. Gathering her courage, she peeked up at him, almost afraid of what she might see in his eyes.
She sucked in her breath at the shock of emotion she found. Raw, searing. She couldn’t breathe.
He touched her cheek, slid his finger underneath her ear and to her nape, and then he pulled her carefully forward until her lips were just a breath away from his.
“I love you,” he whispered.
“I—”
The words choked her, and before she could try again, his lips touched her cheek. Undemanding and so tender, almost as if he was afraid that the slightest pressure would make her fold.
The knot in her throat grew bigger, as did her panic. Why did the idea of saying the words that had come so naturally just a moment before instill such gut-wrenching fear?
She broke away, twisting in her seat as she gulped for air. Ethan touched her shoulder, tentative and seeking, but she flinched away. She was going to be sick.
“Sam, stop the truck,” Ethan barked.
He caught her arm as Sam veered off the highway. A few seconds later, her door flew open and she surged forward. Sam caught her as her knees buckled and she sank to the ground.
“Deep breaths,” Sam murmured. “Take it easy.”
She shook from head to toe. She was simultaneously hot and cold. Thick sweat soaked her clothing and yet she shivered. Rapid images, harsh and unrelenting, hammered her mind.
Ethan’s face harsh and drawn in anger. Shouting. Demands. Accusations. She covered her ears and shook her head, trying to shut out the ugliness.
“Rachel.”
Ethan’s voice, so far away.
“Rachel, what’s wrong?”
Garrett this time, closer.
“He hates me,” she whispered as tears slipped down her cheeks.
Two sets of arms surrounded her. Hands smoothed her hair back and eased away the tears on her face.
“No one hates you, baby.”
Ethan sounded so fierce, as if he’d single-handedly chase away all her demons.
Slowly the darkness faded away. The voices stopped their assault and the coldness dissipated, leaving warmth.
She sagged, her head falling forward. Strong fingers kneaded her neck while other hands supported her shoulders.
“Let’s get you back in the truck,” Garrett said.
Before she could respond, Ethan picked her up and cradled her close. His chest heaved, and she opened her eyes to see such pain reflected on his face. He looked . . . tortured.
“I’m tired,” she whispered as she leaned her head against his neck.
“Then sleep, baby. I’ll wake you when we get home.”
Ethan ducked into the back and laid her on the seat. He retreated, closing the door, and then walked around to the other side. He climbed in and picked up her head and pillowed it on his lap.
The slamming of the front doors signaled Sam and Garrett getting in, and then came the roar of the engine and the low hum underneath her back as Sam maneuvered back onto the road.
I really am losing my mind. Maybe I already lost it. Maybe I’ll never get it back.
She closed her eyes as more tears gathered and spilled silently down her cheeks.
Ethan watched helplessly as silver, damp trails marked a path over her pale skin. What had she meant? Was she remembering? Was her mind tortured with memories of their marriage? Was she putting it all together so soon?
He hates me.
He wanted to puke. Who had she been talking about? God don’t let it be him. Don’t let her ever think he hated her. He’d die before ever