He flushed all the way to his hairline. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I was a total ass. I can see now that my family let me get away with it, encouraged it even. My dad . . .” He hesitated, but her hot temper faltered as his breath shook on his exhale.
“It wasn’t fair or right,” he said instead, confusing her even more. “I think I tormented you because I was scared that if I didn’t bring you down, everyone else would see what a loser I was, and I wasn’t brave enough to be on my own the way you were.”
“Let me clue you in to something, Kal,” she said tightly. “I wasn’t alone by choice.”
“I can’t change the past, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness—” he continued doggedly.
“Damn right,” she interrupted. He had hurt her, and though she liked who she was, she could do without the scars.
“But could we . . .” His words faltered and died when he saw the old anger rising in her. “This isn’t coming out right,” he said, hands gesturing for patience. “I was furious at you when I lost that job at NASA, but in hindsight, I’m glad it happened. I was a total jerk, and working at NASA would have only fed that. Trisk, I’ve spent the last three years at a tiny lab not much better than the one here. No one likes me or my ideas. My theories are going nowhere, and frankly, I had to take this job before they utilized the escape clause and fired me.”
Poor baby, she thought, but she said nothing, intending to let him pour out his soul so she could gleefully stomp all over it.
“Saladan was right about my family,” he said, the rims of his ears red as he looked at his hands and forced them apart. “They aren’t dirt-poor, but they lost a lot, and I’m only now realizing how much they sacrificed for me in the hope that I could bring something back to them. Now, that’s not going to happen. It’s probably what I deserve.”
Trisk’s anticipation faltered. Damn it. I can’t stomp all over him now. She curled her lip, disgusted with herself as she heard herself say, “Your parents didn’t spend their fortune as an investment. They spent it to keep you alive.”
A faint smile brightened his expression. “For all the good it did,” he said ruefully. “My family is going to end with me, regardless. I’m the very last one.” He took a breath, focus distant. “In a very long . . . line.”
He was sterile, then. It wasn’t a death sentence, but in a society focused on bloodlines and family ties, it was more humiliating than dark eyes and black hair. Surprised at his candor, she fumbled, not knowing how to respond anymore. “They’re making advances every day,” she offered hesitantly. “You’ve got a hundred years left.”
He looked up, and her breath caught at the vulnerability shadowed behind his eyes, the pain she’d never seen before, probably because she was too angry to look for it. “I didn’t tell you because I want your sympathy,” he said. “I told you because I’d like to think that I grew up a little over the last couple of years, and if you didn’t know the reason why, you’d never believe it. I know you will never forgive me, and frankly, I don’t blame you. But I’d like to be able to be nice to you without you thinking I’m working an angle.”
Trisk leaned against her truck, arms crossed over her middle. School had been a misery. The only time she’d had any peace was when Kal had been absent for months at a time. Now she knew he’d probably been in the hospital undergoing rudimentary, painful gene therapy, but back then, his absence had only seemed like a gift.
“I’m not asking for a clean slate,” Kal said as he saw her resolve. “But do you think we could maybe just . . . not be at each other’s throat all the time?”
“I found you poking about in my files, and you expect me to trust you?” Trisk said, and Kal bowed his head, looking almost contrite.
“I didn’t think you’d simply let me do what the enclave sent me for, but you’re right again. I should have asked. How can I convince you I’m not here to hurt you?”
“You can clear Daniel’s work for use,” she said, knowing he’d never do it. “Make sure he gets credit for it. I know the enclave will put his name on it if you ask.”
“Done.”
The one word shocked through her, and she stared at him, not appreciating the little quirk of amusement in his eyes. “Done?” she echoed, and he nodded.
“I have no idea what I’m going to do now,” he said, focus blurring as he looked out over the green fields. “I came here expecting to have to fix your errors and use that as a way to get myself a new job, but you’re right. It’s his virus. His and yours. I’ll let them all know tomorrow, and I’ll be out of your hair by the end of the month.”
Done? Trisk licked her lips, not sure she believed him even now. “I didn’t do much.”
“You made it safe for us,” he said, rocking back on his heels and giving her a faint smile.
He turned as if to leave, and she exhaled, nervously rubbing her forehead. I can’t believe I’m doing this. “Thank you, Kal,” she said, the unusual feelings of understanding drifting through her.
Kal’s entire body slumped. “You’re welcome.” His breath came in slow, and he exhaled. “Trisk, I know it’s soon, but I wish you’d give some thought to coming back with me to Florida. Once NASA sees what you did with Dr. Plank’s virus, they’re going to want you.”