In her mind, she gave the real truth she couldn’t share with Cassius: I’m afraid she’ll hate me more than she hates my brother.
Apollo was Freya’s brother.
Her dead brother.
To say Rand was stunned was an understatement. Freya had never mentioned her brother. Or her parents. But then, Freya never talked about her life before the CIA. She didn’t really talk about the CIA portion of her life either, but Rand had first met her and her husband in Djibouti before they were a couple. He’d been on several ops that she’d orchestrated or facilitated during the months his team had been deployed to the Horn of Africa.
She’d been one of the best in the field intelligence-gatherers he’d ever worked with. He respected her, but she’d been hard to like back then. Of course, this was true for most special operators, especially ones in positions like hers, where secrets and manipulation were paramount to getting the job done. It wasn’t until after she’d left the CIA that they’d really become friends.
He tried to imagine the well of pain she’d suffered at losing her family all at once just before her eighteenth birthday. Now he understood the cold operative she’d been a little better. But it was Kira’s loss and pain that mattered here and now. “Apollo was a dick, you know.”
She nodded. “I know. Still hurt at the time.”
It still hurt her now, or she wouldn’t have invoked his name when she was delirious after being abducted.
She’d looked at Rand and thought of Apollo. That had to mean she’d also felt the chemistry that had burned bright the day they met. But Kira’s words that day had also revealed her deep distrust.
And oh hell. Now he understood how seeing him with Staci would have an extra edge of pain, even though he and Kira weren’t seeing each other, secretly or otherwise. When he’d asked her out on Tuesday, she’d deflected, mentioning his girlfriend. He’d figured she meant Staci, but she also could have been probing, asking if he was the kind of guy who had a girlfriend but hit on other women.
“What Apollo did was painful, but also mortifying. Truth is, you’re the first person I’ve ever told about this.”
That caught him off guard. “I’m honored. And so sorry you felt the need to hide it.”
“I mean, I wouldn’t have told you now if I hadn’t spilled the beans when I was out of it, but…I’m glad I did. Keeping it locked up has probably made it harder to let go.”
It was a long time to hold on to pain, but then, she’d been all of seventeen and she’d had a crush on Apollo since she was twelve.
By the time they got together, Apollo had been twenty, a legal adult. Rand had no idea what the laws in Pennsylvania were, then or now, but guessed the three-year age gap was within the legal limits for a minor. Still, that probably wouldn’t have stopped protective Conrad Hanson from going after the young man if he’d known. No wonder the relationship had been secret.
Did this have anything to do with Hanson’s dislike of Rand from the start? Was it because of his association with Freya? “Do you think your father knew?”
“I think he figured it out after Apollo died. I was a wreck. A little too upset, according to some. But I was not the most mature teenager to begin with.”
“That’s hard to imagine.” They’d resumed walking as she told the bitter story, and now they reached the part of the fort where an entrance fee was required. Rand paid it, and they strolled through the stone walls, but this time, he wasn’t taking in the history or design.
“I was pretty sheltered. Homeschooled until seventh grade will do that. We moved around a bunch before my dad got the permanent teaching job. I don’t remember most of the places we lived on the East Coast before we settled in Pennsylvania when I was ten. With all the moves, I never really had friends. When I finally started public school, I didn’t fit in with the kids in my class. Academically, sure. I was trilingual and reading at a college level in two of those languages before I ever sat in a classroom. But the social stuff? I was hopeless.
“Shy. Awkward. I looked younger than everyone else and hit puberty later, which didn’t help. I didn’t get my first period until I was fifteen—tenth grade—which is on the later end, but normal. Still, I was mortified. In ninth-grade gym class, we had a six-week swimming unit, and I sat out a week like all the other girls, pretending I’d had a period… It seems ridiculous now, but it meant so much at the time. I was desperate to fit in, but I looked and acted like a child. I suppose having sex with Apollo my senior year gave me a false sense of maturity. Like if I could do that, I was an adult. Or at least as grown up as the other seniors.”
“I’m pretty sure you aren’t the only adolescent to think that.”
“How old were you when you lost your virginity?”
“First, I want to point out that virginity is a social construct. It doesn’t actually mean anything.”
“True, but it’s our culture’s social construct. I told you mine. You tell me yours.”
“I was like you. In retrospect, it was too early—fifteen. But at the time, I thought I was the shit. She was older—my calculus tutor. My dad fired her when I got a D after all that tutoring. I know he wanted to report it, but I wouldn’t cooperate. Young and full of hormones that don’t make sense. Desperate to grow up fast.”
She looked out at the water as they strolled along the fort’s high walls. “So, it’s safe to say we both got off to a rocky start when it came to sex and relationships.”
“Yeah. I did like the sex part, though.”
She laughed. “Same. I enjoyed it. It only felt like a mistake when he posthumously broke my heart.”
It was time to move on from the heavy topic. Rand stopped and turned to face her. “Okay, so you’ve explained Apollo, but I want to know why you asked the other question.”
Her brow furrowed. “Other question?”
He took her hand and ran his thumb over her knuckles, watching her face closely as he said, “Yes. You asked if I was allergic to strawberries.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“I asked that?” Kira’s voice was high-pitched with alarm she couldn’t hide. She did not want to tell him why she’d asked about strawberries. If she did, she’d confirm how much she’d wanted him, even then. It had been hard to fight the attraction that had burned bright when he’d been a virtual stranger.
It would be even harder now that he’d saved her life twice and was here to protect her once again. Giving in to it could be a mistake, especially when he might be fueled by a misguided sense of duty.
“Yes, you did. What does it mean?” His voice was soft and sexy, and she wanted to melt in the summer heat.
She pulled her hand from his and wondered if there was any chance he’d believe her reddening face was due to the incessant heat. “The question is pretty straightforward. Are you allergic?”
“No. No food allergies. You?”
“None that I know of.”
