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A/n thanks to everyone who read, added to their favorites or commented on the first chapter. Here is the second half. Please enjoy.
Pain
He didn't feel the pain in his hand until after the team swept in with guns drawn. When she met his eyes, a switch flipped, and little stabs of agony began to force through the numbing effects of adrenaline.
It didn't matter.
He knows her so well he can practically read her thoughts. She understands this, of course. It's why she's panicking now that the danger is over.
She knows.
She's always known the truth. He tried to bury what he always believed to be true love, to redirect it to his godsons, but - he failed.
He thought he loved Maeve and that she was his perfect match because she was kind, intelligent, and- not her.
NO!
That wasn't fair.
It didn't matter. Maeve was dead, and he could hold her in his heart forever without the agony of guilt he felt every time he wished for – more.
An EMT took him outside and began to clean his cut hand. The steady throbbing was like a cleansing fire. He wanted the pain because it kept her from shimmering like a heat mirage in his thoughts.
It was easier to ignore her when he stood waiting for the EMT to bandage his hand. He could look at the white gauze and tape as they hid away another wound. Why was it so easy to obscure physical cuts? Slashes to the soul – they're impossible to cover for long. Sooner or later, they show through the mask.
He could feel her eyes on him as he watched the EMT. He knew the very instant she turned her gaze away from him. He glanced over, but only for a second. It was like a game, but one without a winner.
The drive to the jet and boarding took too long. He didn't bother speaking to anyone but dropped on the bench. He longed to lie down and close his eyes, but he had to wait until after they took off. Instead, he buckled in and kept his eyes on the floor.
"Hey," said Emily.
She sat across from Matt and was watching him with concerned eyes. "You okay."
"Yeah, just tired."
"Go home after we land. We'll talk later."
"Okay."
The pain in his hand pulsed, keeping time with his elevated blood pressure as he forced his eyes to look anywhere but at her.
She'd said she was the better liar, and – he didn't want to think anymore. If only he didn't have to go to Rossi's wedding and pretend to be happy.
Damn her!
She took a seat two rows back from the bench. He could feel her eyes on him, but he refused to look in her direction until the jet took off. He swung around to lie down, and their eyes met over the top of the seats. She attempted to smile, but then she looked away and out of the window.
Liar.
He closed his eyes and pretended to sleep.