Reviving Trish Page 2

  She ignored his monologue and cleared her throat. “Are you sure we’ve made the right decision coming here?”

  He stifled the urge to groan as he dragged himself to the table and sat across from her. How many times were they going to have this discussion? “It’s the perfect choice. SURVIVE can handle anything. They are well-trained. No one knows where we are. We’re safe here.”

  Everyone at the bunker had ensured them of that. He’d heard it a dozen times. He believed it. But he knew Trish wasn’t fully on board with the current plan.

  She pushed from the table on wobbly legs and headed for the small window above the sink—about five feet away. The cabin was small. There would be no way to escape each other for the foreseeable future, which was probably a good thing.

  He stared at her back, letting his gaze roam up and down her body. He remembered every inch of her, and he missed her. Not just from the few months he’d waited for her to be reanimated after him but from innumerable years of drifting apart before their preservation.

  She was as gorgeous as she’d been the day they met. Long blond hair that bounced when she moved. Skin so pale against his that it seemed irrationally fragile. Her blue eyes had mesmerized him decades ago when they met at West Point and still did today.

  He knew she thought she was too slim, but he disagreed. He still found her sexy even with her furrowed brow and the distrust written on her face. Distrust in him? The bunker? The general who ran the bunker? The government? The world? He wasn’t sure. And he was afraid to ask.

  After crossing her arms, she rubbed her biceps. “I spoke to Ryan this morning.”

  “How is he?” Tushar asked carefully. Their son was a touchy subject. He was the main reason Trish had balked at coming to Montana. She wanted to be with Ryan, reconnecting. Her mother too. Patricia Wolbach had been a steady rock in their lives both before and after they were preserved. The older woman had missed her daughter fiercely. Losing her again to a ranch in Montana so soon had to be hard. Tushar knew it was hard on Trish also. Trish wanted to be with her son and her mother. She did not want to be in the middle of nowhere—reconnecting with her husband. That much was clear.

  “Fine. He says Dade Menke is right on schedule to be brought out of his coma next week. Everything still looks good.”

  “And Emily?” Emily Zorich was a member of the original team. She had been preserved with the rest of them ten years ago when they all contracted a rare virus they were studying. She was the first member of the team to have been reanimated.

  She was also in love with their son, Ryan. And the feeling was mutual.

  Trish turned around slowly, a small smile finally lighting up her face. He loved that smile. If only she would share it more often. “It’s weird to see them together. They were ten years apart in age when we were vitrified. Now they’re the same age and perfect for each other.”

  At least something made Trish light up. Tushar struggled with it himself. “I think it’s wonderful. I’m so happy for both of them.”

  “Ryan was always so focused and serious. It’s nice to see him paying attention to something other than science and medicine.” Her face fell. “Too bad we’re stuck here instead of with him.” She turned back around.

  “I know it’s hard.”

  “Do you?” she retorted, her back to him. She shook her head. “I don’t think you can quite appreciate my position.”

  “I’m trying.” He was. God knew he was putting every effort into understanding why she was so…angry.

  “You’ve had almost three months with Ryan, reacquainting yourself. I’ve had three weeks and most of those were spent regaining enough muscle control to lift my head.” Her words came louder. “He’s my son.”

  “He’s my son too.” Tushar regretted the words as soon as they slid from his mouth. He cringed. She had a point. It was strange waking up a decade after being preserved to find your twenty-year-old son was now thirty, and he was in love with one of your coworkers who had not aged.

  Tushar was still wrapping his head around the entire thing himself. Trish was right. She hadn’t had much time. “I’m sorry.” The situation was out of his control. Wasn’t it?

  From the moment the world found out about Emily’s reanimation, people had been demonstrating at the gated entrance to the bunker in Colorado. Picketers. Religious zealots who thought the government was playing God. The media who would do anything for a story. Random protestors who objected to just about anything.

  If those were the only people Tushar, Trish, and Emily had to face, he wouldn’t be as concerned. But it was worse. Someone inside the bunker or with enough information up the chain of command was leaking information. Far more dangerous entities existed who wished them all harm.

  This idea was cemented when Emily was kidnapped by a crazed man who thought she could bring his daughter out of preservation. There were threats. They didn’t feel idle to Tushar. Nor did they feel idle to his boss, General Temple Levenson.

  Maybe he was being selfish, but he had jumped at the opportunity to sequester himself and Trish someplace safe for the time being. He was doing all this for her. And she resented him for it.

  She pulled her arms in closer to her body. It seemed she was always cold. Permanently cold. He wished he could go to her and wrap his arms around her and warm her up, but there was a wall between them. So far, he had only managed to hold her hand a few times, kiss her temple, touch her gently. Wrapping her in his embrace was too intimate for where their weird relationship was.

  “I know.” She sighed. “And I realize this adventure is not your fault. I just wish you weren’t quite so…cheery about it. I’m not mentally in the same place as you.”

  It’s like Tushar didn’t know her at all. They were strangers. He realized their estrangement had started long before they were preserved. It wasn’t either of their faults. It had just happened.

  For years they had worked night and day to find a cure for the virus they had been researching. It had been a race against time. A race they had lost. They had been so close to finding a cure but not close enough. In the end, there had been no other options but to cryonically preserve the entire team and pray someone else completed their efforts, found a cure, and then managed to figure out how to reanimate the preserved.

  Tushar hadn’t expected that savior to be his own son working with a new team of scientists, but he was eternally grateful. Now, if he could just get his relationship with his wife back on track.

  They had been in love once, hadn’t they? Years ago. They had met in their early twenties and never looked back. Drawn together by a love of science and a desire to save the world while serving their country, it had been a no-brainer. They had become the quintessential couple. Everyone knew they would marry and change the world. But that was twenty-three years ago—or thirty-three depending on how one looked at it.

  Tushar realized he needed to say something. It seemed like every time he spoke, he stuck his foot in his mouth. “We could go for a walk,” he proposed.

  She shook her head, still not facing him. “I’m not strong enough for that yet. Besides, Abri is coming over soon to get me started on some exercises.”

  Right. Physical therapy. It would be good for her. It had done wonders for Tushar when he first woke up from his own deep sleep. “Who is Abri again?”

  “Abri Carnes. She’s Jack’s wife.”

  “Got it. It’s going to take a while to learn all their names.” Jack was one of the former military personnel who now worked for SURVIVE. Their team was going to keep Tushar and Trish safe while they figured out what to do next with their lives. “It worked out well that Abri happens to be a physical therapist.”

  “Yes.” One word. That was all she gave him.

  “I have a call scheduled with Temple later this morning. Maybe she’ll have something good to tell us.”

  “Maybe.”

  “At some point we’re going to have to talk to each other, Trish.” He tried not to sound desperate.


  “We are talking.”

  Stifling another groan, he continued, “You know what I mean. About us. About the future. About where we’re going and what we want to do next.” About saving our marriage.

  She finally turned around. “You’re right. But I need more time. I’m still a little angry. Don’t push me.”

  “Why exactly are you so angry?” He shouldn’t have asked. He really shouldn’t have asked.

  She rolled her eyes. “You pressured me into coming here, Tushar. I wasn’t ready. I told you I wasn’t ready. Now here we are in the middle of nowhere doing what? Waiting? There’s no guarantee the threat against our lives will ever go away. Are we going to stay here forever?”

  He took a deep breath. “It wasn’t my idea.” Not initially.

  She threw her hands in the air. “Oh, come on. You practically jumped up and down when Temple suggested this little vacation. You wouldn’t listen to me. I. Was. Not. Ready.”

  He swallowed. Maybe he should have given her more time first. He’d been so anxious to get out of that bunker that he hadn’t listened to her. She was right. “I couldn’t breathe, Trish. I felt like I was choking on the air in that confined space.”

  “We lived in that bunker for years. It never bothered you before.”

  He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “I know. You’re right. Something changed. I changed. So did you. When I woke up, all I wanted to do was make sure you also survived the reanimation. Once you opened your eyes and I could inhale again, I realized the place was suffocating me.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugged. “Probably because I feel out of sorts. After years of being one of the top medical professionals in my field, I don’t even know what’s happening in that lab. I feel…impotent. I needed to get out of there. I don’t have the faintest idea what I want to do next, but I had to escape.”

  She stared at him for several seconds. “I can see that. I might have felt the same way in another few weeks, but we’ll never know because you didn’t give me a chance. I needed more time to reconnect with my son.” She dropped her arms, turned, and walked out of the room. Seconds later she shut the door to their bedroom a little harder than necessary. And seconds after that he heard the shower running.

  Shit.

  Chapter 3

  Trish stood under the hot water for longer than necessary. She had done so nearly every time she’d showered since waking up. Before the preservation she had never taken the time to enjoy a shower. She had always been in a hurry. Jumped in before the water was all the way hot, rushed through the process, and got on with her day.

  Now things were different. She didn’t need to be anywhere. She could slow down. She was partially forced to slow down by the mere fact that her body wasn’t working at full speed yet. It was frustrating, but she was getting stronger every day.

  Since both Tushar and Emily before him had made full recoveries, Trish had no reason to believe she wouldn’t also. She just needed time. And apparently, she had plenty of it.

  The warm water felt good. Soothing. It eased the tension in her muscles. As she ran her hands up and down her arms, she paused at her wrist and stared at the almost imperceptible scar. She’d worn an IV for weeks after leaving the animation chamber. If she didn’t know better, she would believe the tiny mar on her skin was from the needle, but it was more.

  A GPS tracker was imbedded in her. Ryan had explained it was meant to keep the members of the team safe in case of an abduction. She shuddered, knowing it could also be used by anyone smart enough to hack into the computer and hunt her down. If that were the case, she and Tushar couldn’t run far enough to hide from any enemy.

  She shook the thought from her mind. Temple knew what she was doing. As did Ryan. She had to trust the team. In fact, the device had probably saved Emily’s life.

  She shook the melancholy from her mind, closed her eyes, and tipped her head back to let it run down her front. Flashes of the past ran through her mind like a photo album as she stood there.

  The day she met Tushar.

  The night they first kissed.

  The first time they had sex.

  Their wedding.

  Finding out she was pregnant.

  Holding her son in her arms for the first time with her husband wrapped around her.

  They had been in love, hadn’t they? It was so hard to remember. It was so long ago. They might have simply been going through the motions. Doing what people did when they met and were compatible.

  She wanted to believe it had been more. In fact, she willed it to be so. After all, how were they going to get back to where they started if that place hadn’t been as glamorous as she hoped?

  She licked her lips, visualizing their first kiss, the way he had stared into her eyes over coffee and bagels that morning before class. The way they had stepped into a quiet alcove to awkwardly make out so no one would see them.

  They had been each other’s first in so many things. Equals.

  Her nipples puckered at the memories, and she ran her hands up her body to cup them and flick her fingers over the tips in order to sustain the vision. Her sex came alive at the contact, and she squeezed her legs together.

  At least her female parts were coming back to life. That was a good sign. Both for her and for her marriage.

  They had grown apart over the years, consumed with work and raising a son and saving the universe from horrible diseases. She knew it had been mutual. No one’s fault. They both loved their work. At the end of the day they would fall into bed together, too tired to do much more than mumble a few words and fall asleep. When was the last time they’d had sex?

  Trish slid one hand down her belly and reached between her legs as her sex came to life and begged for attention. Yeah, the parts were working. In fact, she planted her other hand on the shower wall and let her fingers do their magic. Hell, she couldn’t remember the last time she had even masturbated, let alone had sex.

  Years perhaps. Sex had slid down the priority list until she couldn’t see it anymore. Lives were at stake—first the entire world’s and then her own and those of her team. There hadn’t been time to even contemplate sex, let alone participate in it.

  Now, she had time.

  She bit her lower lip as she slid her finger farther and reached into her channel. Damn. She was tight. Not just from years of vitrification, but the preceding dry spell too.

  Apparently, one could reach orgasm pretty quickly after a long dry spell because in moments she curled her toes under and had to lean one hip against the shower wall to keep upright. Her legs were jelly.

  To speed things up without getting caught, she pulled her finger back out of her channel and flicked her clit again. It took seconds, and then she was coming. Flying. Pulsing. Gasping.

  When she finally removed her finger, setting her forehead against the shower wall, she was fighting to remain upright. Her legs threatened to give out entirely. She wasn’t strong enough for this sort of thing.

  A knock at the door made her jump into the stream of water again, her face flushing as though she’d been caught doing something extremely naughty. As if a grown woman masturbating in the shower were a forbidden practice.

  “Trish? You okay?”

  “Yes.” Her voice was wobbly. It cracked. She cleared her throat, but it was too late.

  “Okay. Just checking. You’ve been in there a long time.”

  She reached up and turned off the shower. “Getting out now.”

  “You don’t have to rush. I was just worried.”

  “It felt good.” She cringed. “The hot water, I mean.” Now she winced. Good grief.

  “Yeah. I understand. I remember those first few weeks. I felt like I could stand under the water for hours. Stay in there as long as you’d like.” She heard his footsteps as he walked away.

  Lord. She shouldn’t feel so guilty. He undoubtedly masturbated too. Probably in the shower, same as she’d done. He’d been reanimated two mon
ths before her. There was no telling what all he’d done in that time before she joined him.

  The shame was they weren’t connecting to each other. And now, to make matters worse, she had taken care of herself alone. It felt good. How was she ever going to find her way back to Tushar?

  Abri arrived at eleven and helped Trish set up a routine to strengthen her legs and arms and every other muscle in her body. Now that she was no longer in the bunker where staff had been monitoring her several hours a day, she needed to take over her own recovery.

  Tushar could help. If she asked him. She wasn’t sure she wanted to ask him yet, though it would probably help bridge the gap between them.

  He was on the phone with Temple most of the time Abri was there. He tried not to bother the two of them by stepping out onto the porch. When Abri finally left, he hung up and came back inside. “How did it go?”

  “Good. I just need to set my mind to it and do my exercises.”

  “You’ve never had any problems setting your mind to anything. I know you can do it.”

  She nodded, lowering herself onto the sofa, and leaned her head back. Under ordinary circumstances she would find this cabin to be adorable. It was small. Only two rooms—the bedroom and the living room/kitchen. It had a perfect rustic feel on the outside, but the inside was newly furnished and renovated. The appliances were less than a year old.

  The perfect getaway. If a person was in the mood to get away. “What did Temple say?”

  Tushar came fully into the living room and lowered into the armchair. Trish could feel his gaze on her, but she didn’t lift her head to look at him. “She’s…concerned.”

  Trish rolled her eyes under her lids, silently. Enough about their damn safety. They couldn’t be any safer if they went to the moon. She was over it.

  “There have been more threats.”

  She groaned aloud this time, rolling her head against the cushion.

  “Trish—” his voice rose, “—your obstinacy about this is growing old. We’re talking about your life here. Yours and mine. Why are you being so disagreeable and difficult?”