A/N: Standard disclaimer applies to this story.
Christibabe, Merciki, and RangerLuv2, thank you for helping me beat writer's block.
Highlands Girl, thank you for being the most amazing beta. I couldn't have finished this chapter without your gentle encouragement, eye for detail, and incredible editing skills.
Thank you for all your private messages, reviews and alerts, it means a lot to know that you guys are still reading. I'm sorry for missing a week of posting. Sadly, it might turn into a more regular occurrence, as the updates are now 'live', meaning that all chapters that I've pre-written before posting have been uploaded. I hope you bear with my intermittent updates and continue following Ranger and Steph on their journey to Happily Ever After.
Chapter 10. It's hard for me to say I'm sorry
The steam was rising up from a mug of fresh coffee, abandoned on the side table next to the suit of armor. After Ranger slid the sword back into its place, Stephanie was drawn to it like a moss to a flame. Standing stock-still in front of the stand and gnawing on her lower lip, she was staring at the blade.
Since Tank had gone back to Haywood shortly after they had come up from the basement, and Ranger headed upstairs to take a shower, Stephanie was once again left to her own devices. And rather than guess what Ranger wanted to tell her, she tried to imagine what it would feel like to wield this kind of weapon. As always, her curiosity trumped caution, and with a moment's hesitation, she reached for the weathered leather-wrapped grip and pulled.
The blade slid from its place, jerking down her right hand, and would have crashed to the floor, if she didn't grab the guard with her left. After watching the guys handling their swords with such grace, she wasn't expecting the steel to be quite this heavy. Giving herself a few minutes to get used to the weight of the sword, Stephanie lifted it over her head to swing down, imitating the arch that Tank had performed with effortless finesse earlier. As it turned out, the maneuver wasn't as easy to manage as it looked.
Letting out a sigh, she was about to lower the blade, when she felt a surge of electricity at the back of her neck and felt Ranger enter the room. The next thing she knew, two strong arms encircled her.
Ranger eased her left hand off the guard and slid her right hand below the pommel, adjusting her grip on the hilt. "It's all in the wrist, Babe."
The sound of his voice was hypnotic, and his warm breath sent shivers down her spine, which had nothing to do with her body's newfound abilities and everything with her raging hormones.
"Want me to show you?" he asked, relishing in the effect his softly spoken words had on the woman in his arms. Wanting to savor a few precious seconds of holding her close, he didn't wait for her answer. With a flourish, he swung the sword up and to the left, forcing her body to follow his lithe movement forward.
As they were pressed together as one, Stephanie gave herself a mental shake. Stephanie Michelle Plum, focus on the sharp sword in your hands, not the hard body at your back.
Feeling a slight vibration from the restrained laughter in his chest, she stiffened in his arms, hating that she was amusing him again and, without realizing it, spoke her next thought out loud.
"This shit is getting old. Is it too much to ask to be taken seriously, for once?"
The words she never intended for him to hear and the tongue lashing she'd given him before slamming the door of his apartment the other morning convinced him that his flippant remark to lighten the mood during the Junkman fiasco left a deeper scar than he'd originally thought. At the time, he couldn't come up with a better way to ease the mounting guilt she was feeling over his bleeding money for her safety than tell her that she was an entertainment line item in the RangeMan budget. As the comment kept coming back to bite him in the ass, time and time again, he realized that it had been the wrong thing to say, regardless of the intent behind it. And he had a long way to go in atonement for the heartache his words had caused her over the years.
Before Tank showed up downstairs to challenge him to a sword fight, Ranger had had some time to think, working through his usual training routine. Between lunges, he pledged to come clean to Stephanie about his reason for having kept her at arm's length. But now that they were face to face, starting the conversation wasn't as easy as it'd been in his head. He'd never been any good at making amends or asking for forgiveness, and found the thought of laying his heart bare downright terrifying, even if he refused to admit it, but for any hope to repair their friendship, that was a place to start.
"Babe." He let regret seep into the tone of his voice. "Are you ever going to let me live it down?"
He lowered their joined hands and, taking the sword from her grasp, slid it back onto the stand. Snaking his now free hand around her waist, he gently turned her around so that he could see her eyes. They were bright with unshed tears, and he chided himself inwardly for failing to hold back his laugh, when he knew that his ability to tell what she was thinking by watching her expressive face and body language bothered her.
Letting his gaze travel down to her lips, he had to fight the urge to kiss her. Well aware of her responsiveness to his affections, he felt it'd be the wrong thing to do, because she'd misinterpret it later, when she regurgitated their conversation in her head over and over again, as he knew she would. So instead, he gathered her close to his chest and cleared his throat.
"Steph, the truth is… my life is rarely worth smiling about. But you never fail to make me laugh... make me feel… and want things I've long given up. And I've come to the conclusion that it's not a bad thing."
"Not a bad thing?" Her voice rose, as she struggled to break from his embrace. The arrogance of this man was mind boggling, and she was going to let him know exactly how it made her feel, when he ghosted his index finger over her lips, effectively shushing her. The disbelief in her tone told him that his words reignited her anger, and he'd have to pull out all the stops for her to hear him out.
"Stephanie. Listen. Please." Running his knuckles over her cheek, he lowered his voice, "I've said things to you I never should have. But I'm not infallible, I make mistakes. I'm only human."
"Things? What things?" she said under her breath, as though talking to herself. "I need a freaking dictionary to interpret Ranger-speak."
"Babe."
The resentment that had started to dissipate returned tenfold. She would have been distracted by his megawatt grin that made women walk into walls, if his single word answers didn't drive her as bat shit crazy as his irritating habit of leaving things unsaid. Determined to never put up with either, ever again, she pulled back and narrowed her eyes at him.
"Nu-huh. I've had enough of your cryptic bullshit. You want me to know something? Don't expect me to figure it out. Either tell me exactly what you mean or don't bother at all."
Prepared for the fiery onslaught of her temper, he kept a tight leash on his own. After everything she'd heard from him, he supposed he deserved her anger and was willing to wait until she got out of her system, so that they could have a rational conversation afterward. He had a great deal to tell her and suspected that she'd balk after learning about the sword of Damocles that was now hanging over her head.
"Got it?" Glaring at him, she poked his chest with her index finger.
Shaking off his dark thoughts, he let his gaze slowly travel down to the spot where her newly painted nail was still digging into his shirt and caught her digit between his. Then, he looked back up and, as their eyes locked, lifted her finger to his lips, nipping it at the tip. When his teeth scraped her flesh, she trembled. Without breaking the eye contact, he released her with a blinding smile and a slight nod of agreement. Even though she had no way of knowing, he'd already decided to be more open with her, thinking it would go a long way toward rebuilding their relationship.
Recovered her ability to think, after the shock from his gesture had ebbed, she recognized the action for what it was: an attempt to divert her attention away from the subject he didn't want to discuss. But it wasn't going to work on her this time, as she intended to get all the answers she needed.
"Okay." She sighed. "Then what you told me about commitment the other day? Was it one of the 'things' you should never have said?"
"Yes. And no," he said, suddenly looking ill at ease. The question wasn't unexpected, but it took him aback by being the first one out of her mouth, thereby forcing their talk to take a decidedly more serious tone. Wary of botching up this attempt to close the distance he'd put between them, he fell silent, bracing himself for a long conversation with no holds barred.
"C'mere." He tugged her to the leather couch across from the fireplace, and, despite her earlier reservations, she followed willingly, offering no resistance. Settling in the corner, he tucked her into his side and dropped a kiss to the top of her head to buy himself a few seconds to gather his thoughts. A whiff of vanilla in her hair distracted him, and the grip he had around her shoulders tightened on its own.
Resisting the temptation to get caught up in the sensations caused by his touch, Stephanie scooted back a little and turned to look at him, expecting him to continue, but he kept silent. There was something different about him today: not only was the blank mask conspicuously absent, but his face bore an expression which on anyone else she would have called wistful. And because she'd learned more about this complicated man in the last forty-eight hours than she had in all the prior years that she'd known him, she realized that he was showing her another side of himself. The side that made her see with utter clarity the truth behind the words, that he, indeed, was only human.
Unsure what to make of his sudden willingness to share, she borrowed a page from his playbook and said, "Explain."
Contemplating their peculiar role reversal, where he had to talk and she listened, Ranger said, "Years ago, I chose a life that would be complicated by an emotional attachment, though, not for the reasons you might think. As hard as I've fought against the pull between us; I was never able to stay emotionally detached from you. No matter the cost."
He paused, giving her an opening to interrupt, deliberately avoiding the catch-all phrase he often threw around. 'No price' had come to mean anything he was too closed off to say out loud. 'I'm glad you're unhurt. Stay safe. I love you.' As much as he wanted to lay everything out, he couldn't stop himself from holding back, if only to see whether she'd call him on it. When she stayed silent, he continued, somewhat relieved that she didn't. It was too soon for him to tell her that, for her, he'd reconsidered his stance on relationships. She wasn't ready to hear it from him, at least not yet, and if he were completely honest, he wasn't ready to take that leap either. He'd have to work his way up to that, starting with filling her in on what she needed to know to stay alive.
"I've made a lot of enemies in my lifetime. And until two days ago, you could have been targeted simply for associating with me. But now the game's changed. Becoming an immortal made you a target in your own right…"
"What else is new?" she cut him off, rolling her eyes. "The immortal psychos can't be that much worse than the regular members of 'the stalkers of Stephanie Plum' fan club."
"That's where you're wrong, Babe. There are some who've made killing other immortals into their life's work." He paused, letting it sink in, and then continued, "No one's become immortal by dying of old age or illness. Accidental deaths aside, most immortals are fallen soldiers, murder victims, or executed criminals. Combining the shock of a violent death with the predisposition for a dangerous lifestyle creates a whole new caliber of crazy."
She blew out a breath she didn't realize she was holding, trying to shake off the irrational fear his words instilled, when he spoke again, an almost smile tipping up the corner of his lips.
"Brown would argue though, that the aftermath of the change causes irreparable damage to the psyche."
Recognizing that he was trying to break the tension for her benefit, giving her a reprieve from the heavy thoughts, she gave him a small smile in return.
"Basically, Bobby thinks we're all crazy?"
Ranger scratched his chin as if mulling over the thought, and then nodded. "The notion isn't without merit. If you're raised believing that a human lifetime is finite, accepting a fundamental flaw in that absolute isn't easy, even if you have irrefutable evidence to the contrary by virtue of having survived your own death."
"Is this the part where you remind me again that you're sick mentally and emotionally?" And sexually, she added in her head, unwilling to touch the latter with a ten foot pole after their last tryst.
"Playing with fire, Babe."
Her face turned scarlet just like it had that day, and he flashed her a wolf grin, remembering her state of dress, or rather undress, when told her that he wasn't sick physically, but wasn't sure about the rest. He'd been only half-serious back then, making the comment for its shock value rather than anything else, but it occurred to him later, after she'd gone home to Morelli, that inadvertently, he'd told her the truth. Having resigned himself to the idea that immortality came at the cost of a solitary existence, he'd kept himself emotionally closed off to avoid the inevitable pain of loss. And even though the events leading up to their conversation here and now had changed his stance, he needed to tell her about the danger she was in, before broaching that subject.
Untrained, she was an easy mark for any predator, immortal or otherwise. And her latest run-in with the psychopath who'd been after him proved that, even with her incredible luck, she wasn't invincible, no matter how much she wanted to be. Still, he knew that trying to convince her that learning to defend herself had become of utmost importance for her survival would be in vain, because it had to be her decision, and all he could do was apply a little pressure.