Chapter 3
"Maybe we shouldn't be doing this," Anna murmured fretfully. She was still worried about him. Rafe hadn't seemed like himself at all after that fight. He needed her with him. She was loath to leave him alone. She hated going anywhere without him, but this little detour had to be made. It was the only way she would ever be allowed to confront her enemies on her own, not that she would be alone. She was no longer that stupid. She certainly did not doubt their wickedness anymore. They were more than capable of anything.
But her worry was not for herself. Her worry was for Rafe. He would not tolerate anything happening to her. Eric was just a distraction getting in the way. With him gone, there was nothing to stop him from going after Matt, Jason, and their father, Peter Preston.
It was a good thing Peter was still out of the picture. She knew it wouldn't be for much longer. The justice system had never worked in her favor, and she seriously doubted it was about to start anytime soon.
Hence these secretive measures.
"Is that Mark?" Anna asked in surprise. The guys all knew what happened between her and the Prestons, though through no means of her own. Matt had all but blasted what they'd done to her in their last unpleasant encounter. Naturally, he tried to turn it on her, but the guys were undeniably loyal like that. Not one of them believed him. They chose to side with Rafe and her. But while the team had all been supportive, Mark had shied away. Not because of her, but because of his infatuation with her best friend, Pat. Oblivious, Pat of course vehemently denied it. Mark, sadly, was not his type, but his type did range in a variety a fair bit.
"Yes," murmured Pat, a little uncomfortable. "He insisted on tagging along."
"I see."
"No, it's nothing like that."
"Right!"
"Let's focus, shall we?"
Anna nodded her head tightly. The momentary distraction that Mark's unexpected presence offered was gone in a heartbeat, and in its place was the frantic thudding that accompanied anxiety. At this rate, she was sure to have a short and explosive fuse. She was not too young to die of a paltry heart attack. It would be a shame to have lived through so much, only to be snuffed out with one unexpected spasm of muscles. Especially knowing that the Prestons and Daytons would simply go on living. Especially knowing that Rafe would once more be alone in facing their combined monstrosity. She would never let that happen. Even if she had to return from the astral planes to haunt them herself, she would fucking do it.
With a concentrated effort, Anna calmed her rising panic and focused on setting aside her fears. She needed to do this for the both of them. Call it the last attempt at reasoning with evil before she ditched that option for good.
The guys had caged her quarry in, circling them as they herded them away from prying eyes with a quiet menace. Anna had to gulp down at the sight of so much hostility. Despite her own rather violent upbringing and the general lack of sensitivity of her acquaintances since, she was still feeling rather intimidated. One would think she'd be used to it by now—used to being in a vulnerable position at the mercy of the kindness and general good sense of others. They were not living in a freaking third-world country. They were Australians, living in Australia. She was at the training base that produced some of the mightiest defenders of this country. A country she loved with all that she was. Yet parasites lurked in its shadows, moving about undetected, infiltrating and weakening the very links that were making them strong. It was a patriotic duty of sorts to set things to rights. If ever there were a legitimate reason to spend one's life behind bars, this was it.
Anna could see no reason not to give the slightest nod in the Pillar's direction, a nod that would send Carter Phillips forward to encage the vulnerable throat of a Preston brother within its unbreakable grip and snap.
He would do it too, unflinchingly, unblinkingly. All of them would step in without a second thought to snuff out the enemies of the other. It was solidarity of the support that had been lacking throughout her life. It was a blessing of undeniable power put at her disposal. A blessing she would never abuse. She had been a victim of such abuse once too often to be the instigator in using them for her own selfish needs. This was her fight. If anyone was going to be suffering the consequences of her actions, it was herself and no other.
"Let me through," she said quietly as she reached her gathered friends. They hesitated for a bit, instinctively knowing they did not want her anywhere near the Preston boys for her own good. "Please."
They shifted back, reluctantly allowing her to squeeze in between them to make her way to the front, where she found her green eyes locked with a familiar pair of baby blues.
Matt.
The ache of betrayal suspended in her chest in remembered grief. She had to blink away the tears that instantly threatened, but she was not a whimpering fool anymore. And she was no longer alone. She glanced around, meeting the eyes of each and every man who was there to support her. They would not let her falter. Drawing in the strength of their regard, she firmed her chin in grim determination and said her peace.
"Matt," she greeted stiffly. "You're looking a little green about the gills." She couldn't help that cheap shot. His pallor was a little unhealthy looking, and it was not all to do with the well-deserved thrashing Rafe had given him not so very long ago when he dared to intrude on their turf, calling her everything that was unpleasant in provoking him to retaliate. That hadn't worked well for him. Rafe had retaliated, but his team was loyal to him. They would support him all the way. But Anna frowned at Matt now. It honestly looked as though something was bothering him. Something not entirely to do with the group of very capable men who had him surrounded.
"Are you in trouble, Matt?" she asked uncannily. She might not have known him as well as she thought she had, but she had never been oblivious to the subtle nuances of changes in his emotions. The usual lust she felt directed toward her was still there, but muted. Something else was overshadowing it. Not the darker callousness she had grown to expect but a strange vibe of fear, a fear as strong as her own. If he were pushing her buttons, who was pushing his? It could not be his dad, who was still lying low, being under investigation and all. It could not be his brother, Jason, who was giving off an equally anxious vibe.
It could not be Eric Dayton, who was still out cold.
Was it her? Was he finally fearful of her?
She was not that naïve to think that.
"Trouble? Isn't that your middle name?" Matt looked on at Anna provokingly. "You know what my biggest regret is?" He asked looking at her pointedly, knowing he would not have to say it, so he didn't and continued on instead. "When my father set me on your tail, I should have just done the deed then. Taken you straight to him. I should have... well, I should have done a lot of things differently."
"Differently how? What do you mean, Matt?" Anna had known Jason was the one to douse her with the date drug that had made her ripe for the taking. She had also known it was all at Peter Preston's bidding. He had set Matt to seduce and lure her in. But rape was rape and there was no getting around that.
His lips tightened in a blatant refusal to talk.
Well, she didn't particularly want to hear what he wanted to say. She didn't care if he was suffering from a similar case of victimized bullyinge as she had been. It was the circle of life. The strong bullied the weak. It was the case in all walks of life. Only the smart kept their bullying within the law, using fairly creative means. Anna was the first to admit being bullied into purchasing a bottle of Coke despite knowing it tasted like shit, despite knowing it was filled with enough sugar that it could kill her. She bought it anyway, because the advertising that flashed it in her face made her feel good. A false sense of a warm, cushy feeling she had been trained to expect to accompany a good gulp of the cold drink. How could this subliminal method of bullying be legal? Yet it was.
With a shrug, she said what needed to be said.
"I don't want you, Jason, or Peter showing your faces here again."
His lip twitched up in the half grin. She had once adored it as endearing; now she only observed flatly.
"Come back here again, and you do so at your own risk."
His jaw flexed at the blatant threat in her voice. "You don't get to tell me what to do. My uncle is the dean here..."
"I don't fucking care what your uncle is or what you are either. You come back here, and you're fucking dead!" Anna spat out in a venomous tone that shocked none more than her. She hadn't realized she was holding so much vitriol within. Her hands clenched and then unclenched in raw rage. He opened his mouth to rebut, but her hands lifted on their own accord, the open palm of her hand ringing out against his cheek with enough effort to send his head rocking to the side. Unable to help herself, her other hand swept up to strike at his other cheek, snapping his head right back to locking enraged blue eyes against her equally enraged greens.
"Anna." Her name was murmured in a low tone that, only months earlier, would have spiked fear into her, but no more.
"You shouldn't have done that," he said, his tone controlled, hiding the well of anger deep within.
Her hand rose again. But this time he was ready for her, catching her hand in his bruising grip. She pretended to struggle a bit, knowing he would be expecting it and then threw herself at him. His grip slackened, and they broke free.
Six months... Six months long, they were lovers... They were in love... and now this. At each other's throats. Hating where once he had been her world. A sham. All of it had been nothing more than a sham. He was a sham. A fake. A fucking...
Tears, tears she had once thought were already exhausted where he was concerned, rose again to sting her eyes. Matt.
Try as she might, he was hard to get over. Her dreams of him, of what they had been, were hard to toss aside as if they were nothing. They were nothing. They were all hers. Built on a lot of smoke, apparently. The lone tear fought her will to roll down her cheek unheeded. The heart was stubborn that way, bleeding for a lost cause. Bleeding for what never was.
Matt Preston had never loved her back. But he certainly seemed to share in her hatred now.
She narrowed her eyes at him, silently daring him to do something. She dared him to even try to strike her and was surprised when he actually did. She'd never thought he was a woman hitter. But his strike was oddly clumsy. Anger against her was blinding his judgment. That surprised her too. He was not one given to bouts of emotions. She had been the volatile one in their relationship. Matt had been the level-headed one. So level-headed that he saw no problem offering her up to his brother and then his dad. She dodged his blow with too much ease. Either all these months of training with Rafe had finally paid off, or Matt Preston had lost his cool.
She dodged his next blow, and the next, stepping back as he advanced, and turning aside to avoid strike after strike. Her feet nimbly moved back, stepping her out of harm's way. Her wins sparked her confidence and raged his anger further, fueling yet more blue fire to alight his gaze in an unholy glow. Her lips parted in a wide, full-toothed grin, glad she had pushed him to this... this barely recognizable form of the Matt she once knew. She wasn't sure why she kept drifting back to that piece of fiction. Her mind's unwillingness to believe Matt to be the scumbag he truly was had been nothing short of remarkable.
Deciding to alleviate her own guilt over sparing him a thought at all, Anna lifted the corner of her lips in a provoking grin that sent him wild. He lunged at her, and Anna sidestepped him victoriously, grinning even wider. She couldn't help it. If Rafe had been there right then, she would have settled Matt's paltry attempts to land her one and leapt into Rafe's arms to shower him with much-deserved kisses. He'd stuck at it, trying to drill some combat skills into her useless limbs, and here she was, challenging the raging bull and surviving to tell the tale. Rafe was clearly bloody brilliant!
In fact, the yearning to return to his side warred with her enjoyment of seeing Matt struggle to land her even a single blow. Finally, she gave in to the urge to end this. Using some swift sidestepping moves, she timed it to perfection and struck out a timely foot and tripped him up to land flat on his front. She didn't linger then either, but took the opportunity afforded and went in for a flurry of well-aimed kicks, releasing the built-up venom of her inner anguish of all that he had put her through with strong, well-aimed blows.
She was pulled off from venting her fury to some form of satisfaction by Pat's thin but incredibly strong arms wrapped around her waist, hauling her off Matt. He lay there, doing little to retaliate, and had instead rolled up into a ball, no doubt to protect his still-healing ribs from further harmful battering. Rafe had done well by her when he took them on with his lethal fists.
"You're stupid to come back here," she couldn't help saying. Lifting her angry gaze from Matt to pierce an equally angry Jason with her enraged glare. "You're both so stupid."
They were, too. Jason had had a taste of Rafe's fists too, yet was dumb enough to return for more.
"You're bloody idiots! Fucking—"
Pat hauled her off at a nod from the Pillar. Anna struggled to get free, but Pat was unrelenting in his grip as he hauled her thrashing body away. The urge to head back there and tear into that smug-faced Jason had her fighting him every step of the way. But Pat wasn't having it.
"Let the guys take care of it," he murmured soothingly as he steadily dragged her further and further away from the group of gathered men. Already, they were closing in on their marks. Anna caught sight of Jason's smug smile vanishing to swiftly be replaced with sensible fear. His eyes rested on Anna one last time, and she caught the silent plea within their depths before he was blocked out of her view. Anna heaved a satisfied sigh then. She wasn't sure when she had become so bloodthirsty, but couldn't help that feeling of quiet satisfaction. She knew her friends would give the Preston boys the send-off they deserved.
"I am alright. I am okay now," she said to Pat. "You can release me."
Pat tightened his hold on her before reluctantly releasing her.
"I am going back to Rafe. You need to get back in there and make sure the guys don't take on more than they can handle. I don't want any permanent repercussion from this. Not for them. Not for me."
"You're one of us now, Anna. We're a team. A slight against one is a slight against us all. But you're right. I'll go keep the boys in check."
With a quick rakish grin, he turned around to jog back, thrusting himself into the midst of the fray.
Anna stood there, staring at the guys taking on her fight without even the slightest hesitation. A warm, fuzzy feeling pervaded her heart. The tight feeling that had held it in its grip released to allow her organ to pump again in relief. Feeling as though a hard stone had been lifted off her chest, she turned her back on the men to return to her Rafe. She knew this little squabble would not end here. That evil would find a way to retaliate, but she would take the wins she had when she got them. She would fight her battles one step at a time. In the meantime, her most pressing need was to return to Rafe's side.
With a strange and unexpected feeling of freedom, Anna lifted her feet to fly across the short distance to where her bike stood in wait. Swooping down to pick up her discarded helmet, she was swift to swing a long limb across her bike and gun its engine into an acceptable roar. Then with some relish, she spun her wheels in a slow turn before gunning the machine back to roar downhill, making her way straight for Rafe's cabin at the very edge of the base camp.
He was there as soon as she cleared the curve, lounging nonchalantly against his open doorway, waiting for her. He straightened up his lanky frame on her arrival, moving slowly forward only to skip down the few steps that brought him right up to where she'd pulled her bike to a halt. Switching off the engine, she was kicking out its stand even as Rafe was reaching out to pull her off and into his arms. He was bare-chested and smelling of soap. Anna sighed happily as she nuzzled her nose against the curve of his neck. She planted an open-mouthed kiss there even as she readily allowed him to lift her up into his arms. His arm wrapped around her waist, and the other rode low on her hips to better haul her up against him. She swung her long legs about his low-slung, jean-clad hips and moved her arms around his neck, clinging on for dear life, for he was exactly that—her very own dear life.
"I love you," she burst out, unable to contain the bubbling need to be everything to him. Her heart ached for him with an intensity that was absolutely unreasonable. She felt helpless in her need for him. Helpless in that spiraling fall from the depths of sanity to the depths of love. A strange, unreasonable form of insanity in itself. The last vestiges of common sense that fought tooth and nail against giving in to Rafe entirely were snuffed out. She couldn't hold out against him—no matter what reason and experience said. It was insane of her to make herself that vulnerable to another, and so soon, but love didn't follow society's concepts of what was common sense. Love just happened. There was no denying it, and there was certainly no fighting it.
She would have been foolish to try, and his chocolate-brown eyes made it impossible. Who could resist a beguiling pair of enticing, melted chocolates?
Anna licked her lips in anticipation and found that his eyes were already trained on those succulent parted petals. A pink tip peeked out again to moisten the swiftly parched lips. It was not all the dry weather's doing. Rafe had a way of making her parched for him. She lifted eager and anxious lips to him, but Rafe evaded her searching lips.
Instead, he murmured against their hot surface, blowing yet more moist heat against them as he said, "I fucking love you too."
****
The next few days were as dull as any regular day attending routine classes. After all the excitement and build up before the fight, everyone was back to their regular routine attending to mundane chores.
And not just for Rafe either. Anna too felt the heat seeping into her very bones and draining away her strength to live. They were both spending their Sunday at his cabin, lying on the dried-up grass in his backyard and soaking up the sun. But spending their day basking in the sun was probably not the best thing they could be doing. Not only could Anna feel herself turning a shade darker as every minute passed, but she could see Rafe turning an irresistible shade of brown which no doubt would soon match the enticing shade of his eyes.
They needed to get out of the sun, and soon, before they were both crisped up.
"We should get up," suggested Anna lazily.
"And do what?" Rafe inquired apathetically. They had been having a bit of downtime ever since the Preston boys packed up and left. If only Eric would follow suit. But he seemed bent on staying, his blue-black eye not giving him even a tenth of the angst Rafe wished on him. Rafe blamed himself for that mistake. Instead of drawing out his opponent's suffering at his hands, he'd strike out to knock him out completely. That had been a damn fool move on his part. Berating himself for it wasn't going to help.
"We could play badminton," suggested Anna blithely.
"You mean bedminton?" corrected Rafe mock-innocently.
"No, I mean badminton," insisted Anna seriously. They'd played bed games plenty enough. Alright, it was never enough, but honestly, Anna was too hot to roll in the hay, even with Rafe Brown. That said a lot of the weather they were having. She could even feel her usually black hair notching down a tone, and the last she looked in the mirror showed her almost blond highlights. Now, where had those come from? It had to be the sun. At the rate they were going, she'd be a sun-tanned, bleached-blond babe in no time. She wasn't sure if she agreed with that look. Wasn't she already blond enough without being blond at all?
"Who even plays that anymore?" asked Rafe reasonably.
He was really more of the rugby sort himself. Give him a good game of footy any day to sink his teeth in. He was more than well acclimatized to hot weather and wouldn't mind a round of rugby in this heat. Or if it were going to be him against Anna in a one-on-one, he wouldn't exactly mind opting for a wrestling match instead. Any excuse at all to have his hands on her. Not that she minded all his attention, but even he knew he was being a little too touchy-feely when it came to her. He couldn't seem to help his need to be with her all the time. He got almost frantic when her whereabouts were unknown to him. It was all his nightmares haunting him throughout his days. He needed to be with her constantly, if only to reassure himself that she was there, unharmed, and still in love with him. Even now, they lay relatively apart, yet his hand was happily linked in hers. If the guys were to see him now, they'd think he was going soft, and they'd be right.
"I don't know. Me?"
"Do you? Really?" Rafe couldn't help his sarcastic undertone. He just knew she didn't actually play the game and wasn't above taunting her claim over it.
"Of course I do! Why would I suggest it if I couldn't play?" Anna questioned reasonably even as her voice rose a pitch in mild annoyance.
Rafe couldn't help the stupid grin that tugged at his lips. He loved rousing her and couldn't help teasing her just to hear that little lilt that came into her voice just as her pitch rose with her gumption. Hell, just hearing her voice made him happy, but he kept his gaze skyward, hiding his grin from her.
"Will you two quit squabbling?" Pat had to chip in at that opportune moment, effectively wiping Rafe's grin off his face. Rafe knew Pat was Anna's best friend, but did she really need to have him about and underfoot all the bloody time? If Rafe had anyone he felt remotely jealous of, it was Pat and his unreasonable claim over his girlfriend.
He couldn't help the mild grunt of annoyance at that reminder that Pat was here with them, intruding on their time together yet again.
"Where would we even get the rackets?" Rafe deferred, not wanting to move from his current position. He liked the sun, but he liked lying there with Anna by his side more. Even if that did mean having Pat lounging within arm's reach on his other side. Sacrifices had to be made, and Pat was a good friend to Anna. A good, if a little intrusive, friend, which reminded him.
"Pat," he called out in his deep, authoritative voice he usually reserved for students and his cadet trainees.
"Yes, Rafe," murmured Pat with a soft, longing sigh.
Grrrr.
Did Anna just growl in his ear?
"Did you arrange to get that thing I wanted?"
"What thing?"
Rafe turned and pierced Pat with a glare then. The skinny blond blinked back his sky blues unabashedly. He knew damn well what Rafe was talking about; there was no reason pussyfooting about it. But Rafe was damned if he was going to be taunted by the little imp into springing out his surprise before he was ready.
"You know what thing!"
"Oh! You mean that round and shiny—"
This time, the growl was threatening and rumbled out of his own chest, effectively cutting Pat off. Anna's hand came up, warm and placating over his chest. Rafe lifted his own to cover hers, clasping her hand tightly to him. Her protest was instant but feeble, grumbling something about his chest being too hot as she tried to tug free. That was the first he'd had his well-sculpted chest praised and insulted at the same time. Too hot to touch? Her hands should be hungry for him... just as his were for her. No matter the heat, in spite of the heat, because of it even...
"Rafe!"
He sighed heavily then turned to lift languid, molten eyes to take her in. But Anna's crestfallen face was his undoing.
"I suppose we could look into the sporting segment of the stores. There's bound to be a couple of antiquated rackets in there and whatever else we may need."
Her face brightened instantly.
His chuckle was warmly amused. They rose to their feet, brushing off the dried-up twigs of grass clinging to their backs. Then, ignoring Pat still lounging out in his backyard, they headed back in. The cool, inviting depths of his little cabin were positively dark compared to the glare they had been under. It took a moment to adjust their vision, ignoring the bright spots of colors that persisted accompanying the change in light, and then they were off, pausing to grab his keys to the Jeep along the way.
The drive down took a moment. They passed some trainees doing laps, oblivious to the heat, and then they pulled up at a large shed-like building, housing a number of lesser-used stuff, including sporting equipment and dated artilleries.
They set off to search the stores, and after an extensive find, uncovering a treasure trove of oddballs, they hit the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow and dug out a set of rackets, a tub of shuttlecocks, and the net to go with it.
"Yippee!" declared Anna over their find.
"You sure you know how to handle this?" Rafe lifted his lips in a wicked grin. It thrilled her to the bones to see him so full of mischief. She didn't exactly care if she could handle herself with the racket. She sparkled just seeing him happy.
"Do you want to make a bet of it?"
"You thinking of challenging me?" Rafe lifted a sly brow before offering her a quick, taunting grin, then set off back toward the exit. Anna rushed off after him as he led them back to the Jeep. then drove the short distance to the indoor gym. Although Anna would have preferred the game played in the outdoors, the sun was too glaring, and the slight breeze was enough to prevent them making a decent game of it.
They drove up to the multi-purpose indoor arena. Pat was already there to greet them with a troop of others. Seeing him there had both Rafe and Anna inwardly groaning for differing reasons.
Soon, they stepped in, surrounding them both and taking over the whole production of setting up the court.
It was after an awkward start that the game began.
To and fro.
Back and forth.
The heat was stifling within the closed doors of the large warehouse-style arena. The hollow sounds of the racket hitting the shuttlecock echoed all around them. Bets were silently exchanged, and then the game began in earnest.
Anna grunted as she served, her swing low and strong. The unsuspecting shuttlecock fluttered delicately across toward Rafe, who lifted his racket and remorselessly slammed the life out of it. Anna gasped then ran back to hit it forward. The return was instantaneous and sent her running off to the other ends of the court.
"This is badminton, Rafe," she protested. "Not tennis..." She paused to return fire before adding vehemently, "or even squash!"
But Rafe wasn't listening. He played like he did everything else—with full control, utter precision, and giving it his all. Anna found herself even hotter and not the least bit relaxed for her efforts. Fuming mad, she hit back with all she had.
The guys kept score, shamelessly calling it as they saw it. It was after a resounding loss later that Anna found herself perched on the bench beside the avid spectators, equally engrossed in watching the battle between Rafe and Pat.
There was something strangely erotic about watching a game of badminton played by someone as bulked up and power-packed as Rafe Brown. The contrast of the strength behind his serve and the delicate flutter of the shuttlecock was riveting. With a skilled flick of his wrist, he returned the serve, sending Pat scuttling across the court to hit back.
Anna sat watching with the rest, only until the heat flamed within matched what she felt on the outside. Then she rose on shaky limbs and left, taking a long draught of cool water from her tumbler as she made her way back out beneath the blazing sun. She needed the slight breeze that the open air afforded.
Rafe lasted only as long as the vacant spot that had held Anna's delectable form snagged his attention. Then he threw the game, tossing the racket to Mark before he disappeared out the gaping bright door.
"Anna?"
"Rafe?" She turned to face him, her gaze searching, ever concerned as they rushed over him. "I am fine," she was quick to reassure him before offering him her tumbler of water. Rafe gulped down the rest of it without hesitation, and Anna was arrested once more, watching rivulets of water splash down his throat as he drank thirstily. The last of the water was splashed ruthlessly across his face and hair before he gave his head a rough shake, drenching them both.
Anna batted her long lashes, flicking drops of water out of her eyes as she kept hers glued to him, shaking her head ruefully.
"You're not coming back in?" Rafe queried, handing her back her now empty tumbler. Anna tossed it back in the Jeep where it rolled on the seat to slide off over the edge as it slid beneath to be forgotten 'til the vehicle was back in motion.
"No, I was thinking to head back to the cabin for a shower," she said, lifting the thin fabric of her t-shirt to fan it against her chest. His eyes dropped to the sweat-and-water-dampened front of her t-shirt, and it was sometime later before he could drag his gaze away to coherently respond.
"You go ahead. Take the Jeep, and I will join you shortly. I just need to have a word with Pat before I go," Rafe said, tossing her the keys.
At the mention of Pat's name, Anna's irrational jealousy flew. She had noted the two were spending an inordinate amount of time together. Just whose friend was he?
Not trusting herself to speak, Anna offered Rafe a tight nod of her head. Rafe returned it with a rakish grin of his own that fired up the heat she was already feeling for him. She stood there uncertainly, watching him jog back in. After several hesitations, Anna muttered a muffled oath and spun around to climb back into the Jeep. She reluctantly pulled away, turning the wheels to drive back to Rafe's.
"Don't be stupid, Anna," she muttered to herself, and shaking her head, she pressed down on the accelerator. The gas guzzler took off down the dirt road, rousing up a spray of dust in its wake.
Rafe stepped back in, just in time to catch Pat bowing out of the game. He tossed his racket to another and moved to accept a bottle of water proffered to him by the Pillar. The two exchanged a quick word, and then Pat was grinning and making his way over to Rafe.
"What do you want?" Pat didn't hesitate to question Rafe. He knew that look Rafe was sporting. It spoke volumes, and it was the look he perpetually wore around him.
Rafe nodded to the corner furthest from the rest, unwilling to have them listen in to what he needed to say. With an exaggerated sigh, Pat complied, removing himself to join him by the water dispenser. He immediately started to refill his water.
"Did you get it?"
"God! Is that all you can talk about?"
At the sight of Rafe's lips drawn in an unflinching firm line, Pat groaned again before taking another gulp of water.
"Of course I have it," he said when Rafe's pointed stare got a little too much. With an exaggerated sigh, Pat reached in to tug out a small container from one of the many zipped pockets covering his khaki-colored, knee-length shorts.
"There!" he said, smacking the small container into Rafe's open palm. "You know what I think about all this, right? It's downright stupid."
Rafe's gaze flared up with anger.
"You know I am right! It's why you're hesitating too."
"I am not hesitating. I love Anna."
"Love is crazy."
Rafe could not help raising a brow at that.
"It's a condition. A state of mental illness even."
The other brow went up.
"Think of it as a sign of obesity. The mind is inflated with too much of the same joyous emotions, rendering it unhealthy."
"So what you're saying is that I am crazy?" Rafe had to ask because he was undoubtedly sure that he was very much in love, and if that meant crazy, he was it.
"I am saying the mind is very much like the body. Overfed and under-exercised, it's unhealthy."
"So you are saying I am sick? That my mind is... fat and unhealthy?"
The sigh he received in response was audible.
"I really should have opted for studying physiotherapy instead of psychology," muttered Pat Cash, and Rafe couldn't help nodding his head in agreement at that. He really should be seeing someone a whole lot more qualified in this field and not Pat, a very new student to this field of study.
While Pat had not quite been cut out for the rigors of military college, he had aced his lessons and leapt to start his chosen field of psychology. Still, he had years ahead of him yet before he could be considered remotely qualified to offer a valid opinion. And then, still more studying and field experience before that opinion had a value.
So it was a time yet before Rafe would be taking him seriously. But a man had to start somewhere, and Rafe could not see himself regurgitating his past to a random stranger, not when Pat already knew the whole of it.
"What I am saying is, if, for example, you overindulged in food, then you get fat. If you overindulge in sugar, you get diabetes. Cause and effect! Likewise, with the mind, if you overindulged in say... video games, you get...?" Pat prompted, raising both brows and nodding his head encouragingly at Rafe.
"Stupid?"
"Er... I guess..." muttered Pat, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders. He would really need to work on his analogies.
"What I am saying is, Eric Dayton has been an unhealthy influence in your life, and like a diseased limb, you need to be sure you're over him before you pop the question."
"Anna knows I am over him."
"But do you know it?" Pat had to narrow his eyes at him pointedly. He was determined that Rafe Brown sat through this session with him and came out understanding a few home truths. "Your relationship with Eric was hardly conventional. Not only was he the commander of your unit, but he was your rapist, lover, and abuser as well."
That was not something he needed a reminder of. Eric Dayton was perpetually embedded in his brain as a nightmare there was no sure way of escaping. Anna helped some to shore away the rising tides, but in the end, there really was no escaping a flood of memories that terrible. Rising to his feet, Rafe moved away from the makeshift consulting room Pat had hurriedly thrown together to treat his first patient, although they both knew there was no treatment for what he suffered. There was no treatment for what Anna suffered either. But knowing they suffered together was a balm in itself. It was what made him all the more anxious to tie her in closer, to weld together the passage of time and intricacies of life onto one path that they both may journey on together, united by a solitary band exchanged on a vow before God and witness.
His hand reached for that band of gold with the small velvet box. His mother's wedding ring was something Rafe carried with him. This little gold band had accompanied him the world over. It had carried its weight in gold and then some in Syria. Being the only link to his mother that Rafe had, the ring had helped him gather his senses and return from the dark that had consumed him. He paused to stare unseeingly at the two men still playing badminton a few steps away. He palmed the delicate piece of the sun, testing its cold feel against the warmth of his hand as he weighed Pat's words carefully.
Pat was not wrong in his peculiar analysis of the state of his mind. He did have a backlog of bottled-up emotions to deal with. He did have a past he needed to lay to rest before pursuing a future with Anna. A future he simply had to have.