“No, El,” he snapped. “I go because it helps me forget, okay?”
“Forget what?”
“You, goddammit,” he yelled. “What do you think?”
Her mouth dropped open. Damn this darkness. She wanted to see his face, read his expression. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Bullshit. I haven’t heard from you in seven years, and you’ve treated me like shit from day one.”
“You chose your career over me, and then the first time I see you again after all that time, you jumped down my throat when I tried to do the right thing and tell you it was me at the club. I don’t like the way you’ve disrupted the life I’ve pieced together after you left. I don’t like having you on the set. I don’t like having to think about or watch you get it on with Alex. I don’t like being reminded of all the dreams I’ve missed watching come true for you. Your presence is a constant reminder of how badly I fucked up the only good thing in my life, and it hurts, goddammit. It hurts like hell. Yet I can’t seem to keep my goddamned hands off you when you’re within five feet. So yeah, I’m treating you like shit for a reason. I want you to stay the hell away from me and get the fuck out of my life.”
He stopped yelling as suddenly as he’d started, and the silence was so complete, it rang in her ears.
“I”—she took a few shallow breaths and blew them out to take the edge off the tears tightening her chest. This pain felt deep enough to break her open, and she couldn’t do that—not here, not now—“didn’t see that coming.”
She lowered her face to her knees and tried to hold herself together, but as his words sank in and touched on memories, pain swelled in her heart. He was right. Her mind scrambled with the ramifications of everything he’d said and how it all related to the past, the present, how it would alter the future. Her mind spun and spun, tying her heart in a knot so tight, she was sure it had lost blood supply.
Part of her wanted to confront Troy on what he’d just said, delve deeper into what that might mean, but she knew she couldn’t take it. Not under these conditions. Her brain felt frayed, her nerves fried, like she was one trigger shy of losing her mind. Her skin was crawling. Her muscles ached from trembling. Every part of her felt raw and exposed and vulnerable.
“Troy?” A male voice pierced the quiet from a distance. Giselle thought it was her imagination until she heard, “Troy, can you hear me?”
“I’m here,” he yelled back, his voice so loud, Giselle’s heart bounced against her ribs. “I have Ellie. Get us the fuck out of here.”
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“Working on it. Hang tight.”
Troy grabbed her arm. “Hear that, El? We’re gonna be fine.” His hand slid down and covered hers, threading their fingers. Then he pulled her in until she was leaning against him, wrapped his other arm around her, and kissed her temple. “We’re gonna be fine, baby.”
For a guy who wanted her out of his life, he sure had a twisted way of showing it. But then their relationship had always been different from most—deeper, more intense, more passionate, a hell of a lot more confusing.
And she was definitely not fine. Nothing about her was fine, not her head, her heart, or her body. Her emotions were slipping little by little from her control. She could feel them sliding out from under her like sand through her fingers. And even though she knew the cave was stifling hot, she was growing cold.
“I’ll be good. I’ll be good,” she whispered to herself, a soothing mantra from her childhood. She knew it didn’t make any sense, knew this situation was very different, but she couldn’t stem the compulsion to repeat the phrase over and over, words that gave her hope when no hope existed. Words that helped stem the slide of her mind and body. “I promise. I’ll be good. Promise, promise, pinkie promise.”
“Shh, honey.” Troy held her close and rocked her. “You’re okay. We’re okay.”
He was so warm, but she couldn’t absorb his body heat. Her head grew fuzzy, and her mind drifted where it always had during her childhood while she’d been trapped alone in spaces like this—to death.
“I thought about calling,” she said, letting her eyes close. “I need you to know that I thought about calling. I picked up the phone a hundred times, wanted so badly to hear your voice, to make things right, but it was so complicated.”
“Ellie, don’t. You’re not dying. It’s just anxiety. You’re going to be fine.”
“I couldn’t find the words.” She had to get it out. The guilt had weighed on her so heavily for so long. “Nothing seemed right. The more time that passed, the harder it got. And as long as Nathan assured me you were fine, I told myself I should just leave you alone…”
“Troy.” Zahara’s voice, closer to their location, cut off Giselle’s words. “We’re setting up a rescue op. Tell me where you’re at.”
“I grabbed Ellie from the stage and dove under the first table I could find.”
“You’ve got cover?” Duke’s voice penetrated the stone.
“Don’t get too excited. The table’s already broken.”
“We’ve talked to the engineers, and we’re going to get the top layer of excavation started. There may be some sift and backfill as we go. Let me know if it gets bad. The engineers will be here soon.”
“Those propeller heads are the reason we’re down here,” Troy said, angry.
“Wait till Josh hears about this,” one of the Renegades said on the other side of the darkness. “He’s gonna shit a cow. A full-grown fucking cow.”
The thud of rock made Giselle’s nerves fray a little more. The group’s banter was foreign to her, just like their dedication and total trust in each other. And the process of disturbing the precarious cocoon terrified her.