Rise: Populations Crumble, Book 2 by Gandy, A. (read book .txt) 📕

gives her knee a squeeze, and the look she gives him for that comment says she’s downright smitten. I have to look away.

“Overly confident, are we?” Odette’s tone is icy as she pins my brother with a glare. “You do know that despite the supposed superior genetic matching,” she does air quotes, “there are no guarantees. You two might not even be that good of a genetic match, just the best available.”

It’s clear she has a chip on her shoulder, but Teddy doesn’t let it faze him. “Actually, we’re a ninety-nine percent match. So, we have an exceptionally good shot. Were you two not as high as you’d hoped?” It’s his turn to pin her with a no-nonsense look.

She is the first to break the staring contest and drops her eyes to her lap where her hands are tightly clenched. Dominic tries to set his hand on top of hers, but she flinches away from him and stands, striding out of the room without a look back.

I can feel my eyebrows trying to climb straight off my forehead as I look back at Dominic, his shoulders slumped.

“Things aren’t going well, I take it?” Patrick says, his tone gentle.

“It’s not your fault, man. Just keep trying. She’ll come around,” Emmett says, and gives him a firm slap on the back.

Based on what I just saw, that’s wildly unlikely. But that wouldn’t be helpful to tell Dominic.

“It’s my own fault. I shouldn’t have told her about Carla. We were already not doing well, and from that moment on she’s completely iced me out. Nothing I say makes a difference.” He drops his head into his hands heavily.

“Who’s Carla?” I ask.

He looks up, a weary expression on his scruffy face. “She was my sweetheart back home. We dated through high school and signed up together when she had to join the program. We both got sent to the local New Life Center together, and we really thought we’d been matched. But, it turns out that she’d matched some guy from Ionoiri. And I matched Odette. It was torture watching each other date somebody else, and I made the mistake of telling her that we’d signed up in hopes of matching each other. I was her only match, and we’re only fifty-five percent. So she feels like she’s wasting her time with me, but there’s nothing we can do about it. It’s going to be a long freaking three years.” He sounds utterly dejected, and I can’t say I blame him. That’s a bad hand if ever I heard one.

“Where are Carla and her match?” I ask gently.

His face is grim when he looks up to answer, “They are already in Ionoiri, at the pregnancy center. She got pregnant two months ago, but she’s not doing so well.”

Emmett gives him another slap on the back in camaraderie, and the rest of us exchange glances.

“I’m so sorry to hear that, Dominic. Hopefully, she’ll be fine, and the next thing you hear will be good news.” I offer my most encouraging smile, but it falls flat.

“Thanks, I hope so.”

Carolina suggests a group beach walk to continue getting to know each other, so we all tromp along the beach until lunch, when we go our separate ways. We spend the rest of the afternoon in our cabin reading. Patrick seems lighter now that his secret isn’t between us anymore. He reads half of a military space adventure novel before I’m through a few chapters of my favorite western romance, which I can’t seem to focus on. My distracted brain loops back over the same page every time I stop to sneak a peek at my handsome, but untrustworthy, husband. My mind keeps turning over the dichotomy that is Patrick. One of the worst parts of this situation is that, now, I can’t trust my own judgment. Can I learn to trust him again?

Can I learn to trust myself again?

Cold Shower

Another day dawns, and this time I sit up in bed and look over to see a rumpled Patrick, still awkwardly stuffed onto the chaise lounge in our room. The light sounds of his breathing can barely be heard over the waves outside. That does not look comfortable. His neck is twisted to fit, and his ankles and feet are dangling over the end of the dark blue leather cushion. I’m going to have to let him in the bed tonight. The thought makes my throat tighten, but it’s not fair to him to keep him squashed onto that tiny lounge chair.

He interrupts my train of thought by trying to roll to his back, only to clear the edge and flail his arm wildly before hitting the ground with a thud. His groan echoes around our room.

“Are you okay? Need a hand up?” I toss the words down to him.

His voice is gravelly when he answers, “Why is it the one morning you’re actually awake is the one I fall off this thing?” He pops the side of the offending furniture with a clenched fist from his position on the wood floor.

I climb out of the very fluffy mattress and walk around to offer him a hand. “Come on, time to get up.”

He’s stretched out, hands propping his head up from the cold floor. That pose has really got his biceps popping out of his sleep shirt. It’s also making that sleep shirt ride up just a little from his pajama pants, and it takes all my willpower not to check out his exposed stomach. Remember, you’re still mad at him. Even if he is a tasty-looking stud muffin.

“Okay, but this is the first time I’ve been flat in almost forty-eight hours.” He extends one hand, and I wrap both of mine around it and pull him to his feet.

“Thanks, Sadie.” He leans down and gives me a soft kiss on the top of my head before padding into the bathroom. The door shuts with a soft click, and I head into the hall bath.

A short while