Chapter Twelve
The cold air slapped at Steve but he didn't feel it any more than he felt the frozen ground beneath his feet as he followed the drive that wound its way through the property.
He caught up to the SUV much more quickly than he'd expected, not even a half-mile from the house. He had a moment of panic seeing it sitting there, the driver door open, until he saw that Sharon was sitting on a snowy stump next to it.
She looked up at his approach, eyes red and face set.
"I'm upset, not stupid," she said by way of explanation, not that he deserved one. "I know better than to drive angry."
"Sharon, I —"
"What, Steve? You don't trust me? Yeah, I get that. I lied to you. I thought we were past that, thought we…I don't know…were starting something together. But apparently I was wrong and you'll always assume the worst of me."
She shivered, the mad fading to sadness and, with it, a mindfulness of the cold and the fact that she was wearing only the ripped flannel.
"I'm going back to D.C. Hopefully Bucky can adjust and continue to improve with you and Sam here." She sniffed, trying to convince herself it was from the cold and not from lingering tears. "You want me out of your way, that's the best I can do."
"I don't want you to go," he said quietly. "I'm sorry for what I said, what I thought. I'm sorry for hurting you."
"We've both been sorry about a lot of things and it hasn't gotten us anywhere."
"I thought we were starting something, too," he said. "And it was all I could think about last night. I couldn't get you off mind, couldn't help but hope that maybe…" He took a breath, tried a different approach. "My parents were a team, a unit. They shared everything, loved and trusted each other. That's what I've always wanted, a partner I can share everything with, to love and trust. Yesterday, I started wondering for the first time since I woke up if I might actually have a chance at that. I wondered last night how I could have that with you when our relationship started with a lie."
Her lip trembled, wondering why him saying they couldn't be together was still so hard after she'd already come to that conclusion herself.
"But now I realize, our problem isn't the presence of lies, it's the absence of trust." He knelt in the ground at her feet and looked up at her. "And that's on me, not you. You told me one lie. It was a big one but you were just doing your job. And I've used that to push you away. To punish you for all the times I've been lied to because yours hurt the most."
She opened her mouth in defense but he shook his head and continued, "You were up here, on your own, taking care of Bucky. I can't even imagine what you've been through, knowing he hurt you, and I can't tell you how much it means to me. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions last night - you have no idea how much I wish I hadn't."
She snorted. "I can't believe you'd think I would…with Bucky…I've been mothering him, Steve, not seducing him."
He took her hands in his, bowed his head over them. "I think it's time I started earning your trust." He glanced up at her, his own eyes shining with unshed tears. "Please don't go."
He touched her face lightly and she shivered again, leaning into the warmth.
"Let's get you back into the truck," he said. "You have to be freezing."
"Me?" she snorted, her eyes on the ground. "Steve, you're not even wearing shoes."
He stood and looked down at his bare feet as though he'd forgotten. "I was worried about you."
She took his offered hand and stood, allowing him to envelope her in a hug. "I'm sorry, Sharon."
"No more apologies, Steve. If we're going to do this, if we're going to be together, we have to move past the lies and the sorries," she smiled. "Besides, you only reacted as rashly as you did because that means you care about me that much, maybe as much as I care about you. Let's focus on that instead."
She pushed up onto her toes and pressed a soft kiss on his lips. "I care about you, Steve."
"I care about you, Sharon," he said. "Now, let's get you back inside."
Sam and Bucky were both gone when they got back and Steve figured he owed his wingman. His relationship with Bucky was still rocky at best and if the Winter Soldier knew Steve had hurt Sharon...
Sharon went upstairs to her room to change the shirt he'd ripped while Steve stopped in the kitchen to pour her a mug of coffee and carried it up.
He knocked softly on the door and entered at her quiet welcome and then couldn't help the hot coffee he sloshed over the rim and onto his hand when he opened the door. He barely felt the burn of the hot liquid as he stared - he couldn't help himself - at the exposed backside of a shirtless Sharon. He hadn't seen so much female flesh outside of the catalogs that piled up in his mailbox. Modesty wasn't the same thing to women of this time as it was back in his and it still took him by surprise.
He felt like he should look away, especially before she caught him staring, but his attention was drawn away from the light blue lace of her bra strap to the varied collection of bruises on her back.
He set the coffee down and moved to her, the embarrassment passing as his concern grew.
"Are you sure you don't need to see a doctor?" he asked, his hand gentle as he touched her bruise-less shoulder, pushed her hair aside to see the rest.
Sharon turned to look at him, the expression on her face reminding him of Peggy - more than a little awkward given his budding feelings for her niece and Sharon's current state of undress.
"Right" he said, clearing his throat. "You're nearly a doctor yourself."
"That's right," she said, rolling her bruised shoulder a bit. "And I'm nearly as tough you as since I managed to relocate my shoulder myself."
He ran his finger along her collarbone, tracing the bruises at her neck and practically able to see Bucky's fingerprints in them.
"And these? Any lingering damage?"
She shook her head. "At least it was with his real arm and not the bionic one."
"Bionic?" he asked, watching with a small measure of disappointment as she bent to pick up a new shirt.
"Science fiction from the Seventies. You can add it to your list."
She pulled one sleeve on, and he noticed the angry and not-quite-healed scar on her other arm.
"What's this?" he asked, taking her arm in his hands and tracing his finger along the ragged edge.
"Rumlow. He pulled a knife and got away from me that last day at the Triskelion. It's going to be an ugly scar since I had to restitch it after Bucky arrived at Aunt Peggy's estate."
"You've really gone through a lot for him," he said quietly as he released her arm so she could finish dressing.
"Aunt Peggy asked me to protect him and I've grown to care for him myself. I know from the stories I read as a kid how much he meant to you and what a good man he once was. Honestly, I'd hoped if I could help Bucky it would be like I was helping you."
Her fingers stilled on the buttons of the new shirt, part of her still exposed, when she suddenly realized how close Steve had gotten. Sharon honestly wasn't sure who'd moved toward whom but she looked up at him, found her face only inches from his, and swore she could feel the heat radiating off his body at his proximity.
She licked her lip self-consciously; felt a jolt when Steve's tongue flicked out to do the same to his.
"Sharon, I…"
Oh hell, she thought, and reached up to close the scant distance between them.
Unlike their first kiss which had been slow exploration, this one felt — Steve didn't know — urgent somehow.
He ran his hands down her back, pulling her closer and thinking she'd never be close enough, as he deepened the kiss. She stood on her toes to accommodate and wound her own hands around his neck for support.
His hands came to rest at her waist, touching bare flesh as her new shirt still wasn't completely buttoned. As much as he liked the feel of her soft skin, propriety had him quickly moving his hands away toward the safety of denim — only to find himself cradling her hips, his large hands covering her backside.
He panicked, not sure where was considered appropriate to rest his hands, and pulled them back up to her waist and then held them aloft, his fingers itching to touch her.
Sharon laughed against his mouth as she realized what the manic movement of his hands meant. She let go of his neck and put her hands over his, guiding them back to the bare flesh of her waist. His fingers dug in slightly — he couldn't help himself — and she moaned.
Worried he had offended her — or, worse, hurt her again — he pulled back, breaking the kiss and loosening his hold on her.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"No more apologies, remember?" Sharon ran her hands over his chest, felt the muscles flex under her open palms. "I want you to touch me, Steve. You have no idea how much and I'm pretty sure I'm going to do something you think inappropriate well before you'll do anything to offend me."
To demonstrate, she ran her thumbs in a concentric circles over his pecs and elicited a typical body response that had him blushing. "See?" she asked, her smile widening. "Aren't you offended?"
He laid his hands over hers to stop the torturous ministrations, laughing, and bent his head down to kiss her.
