Tony dropping inches was more of an issue than West’s sleep troubles.
Tony redirected, ignoring his question. “Get Jordan to do a thyroid check on you when you’re done with the newbies.”
“Checked last week, man.” West reminded him about that, too, refusing the redirect. “You do the same. Forgetfulness is a T3 symptom.”
“Fine, fine.”
Which meant no.
“Threw me straight out of the bunk.” Jordan’s voice came from the door providing the interruption Tony needed to slip out. He heard Lia’s voice in reply and had to force himself not to look at her until his thundering heart slowed.
That was one thing he had going for him with this—no matter how riled up, Lia was a quiet talker. If she insisted on having it out with him, he could get her into a treatment bay, close the door, and whatever she had to say to him wouldn’t carry through the walls. So long as he kept his voice down. The walls between the cabins were paper-thin, but not in the medical center.
But that would entail giving Lia a physical… The thought shouldn’t make that heat burrowing into his chest grow, dip lower, grow hotter. The very last thing he should do was touch her in any capacity. It would snowball. It always snowballed. He had no restraint around her. Even wanting to avoid the conversation he knew was coming, he still wanted to look at her. He still wanted to touch her.
He picked up the stack of folders and turned to find both Jordan and Lia watching him. Waiting for him to say something. Too bad.
A quick sort of the folders, and he handed three to the other doctor, making sure Lia’s was on top.
“Tony wants everyone done ASAP.”
Jordan shared a look with Lia, but took the folders.
“If you’re planning to ignore me the rest of your time at the station, get ready to be annoyed.” Lia finally spoke, soft voice, pointed words.
It was still the three of them, waiting on the arrival of the rest of the new crew. He could risk saying something short. He just didn’t know what to say, other than a direct response or ignoring her.
“I’m already annoyed.”
He finally let himself look at her again, holding her gaze for a second before the curious presence of pink on her head had him looking up, and then down over her, cataloging differences between the woman before him and the one he’d known in London.
Tired. Tanned. Pink hat. She hated pink. Wispy brunette curls poked out from beneath the folded brim, longer than the short, edgy pixie she was known for. The effect was the same, drawing all focus to her soft, feminine features.
“Welcome to my life,” she said, words still softly spoken in her usual custom, but with steel he’d never been able to resist. Strength he’d long admired. Strength he’d once upon a time pictured in her as the mother to his children. The kind of mother like he’d never experienced, and which might not even exist. A mother who would fight and die to protect her children.
Another life. Another future he’d failed to build.
“You seriously want to do this here?”
She didn’t answer him. A couple of seconds passed, and she just turned to Jordan. “Can you do mine first? I’m the only one here, and I’m really tired from the trip. It’s amazing I’m upright.”
Shutting him out was fine. Shutting him out was perfect.
Showdown at least momentarily averted, he headed off to the side of the room where he could spread the files on the countertop for review. It gave him something to do. He’d take anything that dulled the knife at his neck, and helped him ignore the pull she exuded. It was all he could do.
ONCE WEST HAD made a decision he did his best to move on it. Over the hours between Lia’s arrival and the dragged-out end of his shift, he’d decided the only way to handle things was to tackle his Lia problem head-on, as brutally as his conscience would allow.
The circumstances of his shift only served to wrench up his irritation—two of his three assigned physicals had showed up, but the third, a recalcitrant astrophysicist, had ignored multiple calls to the telescope. Then, five minutes before the end of his shift, an emergency bone-setting had dragged his shift out an extra hour.
By the time he made it to her cabin door, some of his gut-swirling panic had settled into annoyance, and he let it. Was glad for it. Annoyance helped keep fond memories at bay. He didn’t need anything making him want to go to her, talk to her, make her smile. Kiss her. Even if he could drum up anger for her, he doubted he’d still want to be outside of her presence. Ever.
The only way to handle this was to make sure she didn’t want him, make sure she hadn’t come all the way to Antarctica to try and reconcile. Make sure she understood they were done.
Remove temptation.
He had to, harsh and quick, like a battlefield surgeon removing a gangrenous limb so the person would live. Only he was also the limb.
He took a deep breath to wrest control back from the willful, stubborn and half-wild, survival-focused part of his personality, and knocked.
Get the words out, move on. If she didn’t want him, he wouldn’t have to fight his own impulses for the next ten days. Not the best plan, but the only one he had.
He listened for signs of movement within. If she was there, he’d hear her.
Seconds ticked on, but no sound came from inside the tiny room. He knocked again, louder.
Then he heard the sound of bedclothes rustling, and when the door opened, her sleepy, confused face appeared in the frame. Four hours of frustration, but when he looked at her, memories of their mornings together and that old affection wrapped around him, making him want to wrap around her. Pretend now was then, and at any second, the sleepy confusion would warm to one of those soft-eyed smiles he’d so adored. The glimpses she’d reserved for him, past her strength, competency or expectations, to see the woman within.
But when her confusion cleared, there was nothing soft in her eyes for him.
Good. He did his best to ignore the exhaustion in her eyes, in her whole body.
“I’ll make it quick,” he said, gesturing inside with a nod.
“Tomorrow.”
He finally noticed in the dim light that she was wearing pink from head to toe. Some fluffy pink thing. Pajamas, maybe. It had a hood and feet built in. His annoyance had already started to fade.
Why was she wearing pink everywhere? She hated pink. Lord, he wanted to ask. But that would be showing an interest, the opposite of what he was trying to do. So would touching her, even though the urge to feel her skin against his boomed through him like a foghorn.
“Now or never, Lia.” He curled his fingers to his palms with the control it took not to push the door in, haul her to him. Just looking at her hurt.
Hell.
“Speak now, or forever hold your peace?” She spoke softly, like the effort to utter every word shaved a year off her life.
The ceremonial words sailed straight and true, and hit harder than a sledgehammer. Despite his determination to be a stone, he couldn’t hide the shock rippling through him, but grit his teeth, nodded once, and she stepped back to let him in.
This was why he didn’t stick around to watch the destruction after whatever life catastrophe had triggered. He couldn’t stand there, inside the bubble of pain he could almost see around her, warping reality. As if this cabin were some awful place that existed between two universes, the one where