A Lie for a Lie

by Hunting, Helena

  I nod. “I’d like that.”

  With the help of his flashlight I stuff clothes into my suitcase. I throw in my laptop and any other electronics, worried that they’ll get wet and ruined with how much rain is coming through the roof.

  I toss my toiletries in as well and throw on my coat. “I think I’m ready.” I shove my hands in my pockets so he can’t see how much I’m shaking.

  RJ stuffs my suitcase into a big black garbage bag before we head out. The rain is so heavy I can barely see the truck, still running, sitting less than twenty feet from the back door. “Let’s go,” he shouts, voice drowned out by the driving downpour.

  I make a break for it as another boom of thunder shakes the ground. My feet slide out from under me, but RJ’s strong arm wraps around my waist, dragging me back up.

  “Got you.” RJ half carries me the rest of the way to the truck, only letting me go when he’s sure I have my footing. I wrench the door open, scrambling into the passenger seat with help from RJ. Once I’m safe inside, he tosses my suitcase into the back seat and rushes around the hood.

  It’s warm and dry inside, apart from where I’m dripping all over the seat and the floor. In the short distance between the cabin and the truck, my coat got soaked through to my shirt. RJ blasts the heat, and I buckle myself in.

  The windshield wipers are on full speed, but the rain is coming down faster and harder than they can do their job. It takes twice as long to get back to his place, because branches have fallen on the road and he has to swerve around some of the larger ones.

  Once we reach Sweet View Home, he presses an automatic garage-door opener and pulls in. Shifting into park, he cuts the engine. “Come on, let’s get you inside and dried off.”

  Despite the blasting heat, my teeth are still chattering—I’m not sure if it’s from the cold or the anxiety. “That w-would be n-nice.”

  RJ is out of the truck and around the passenger side before I even have my seat belt unfastened. Although I can’t really feel my fingers, so hitting the release button is more difficult than usual. I manage to free myself as RJ opens the door. He wraps his wide palms around my waist and lifts me out of the truck. I brace my hands on his shoulders, embarrassed and strangely turned on by how easy it is for him to pick me up like I weigh no more than a toddler.

  He sets me down, and I huddle into myself, still shivering, as I wait for him to grab my stuff from the back seat. I follow him inside, not knowing what to say. My shoes make a squishy sound as I step onto a mat in what’s clearly the mudroom. This space alone is probably bigger than my entire cabin.

  I drop to one knee and focus on the task of untying my shoes. The laces are soaked, and they pull tighter instead of looser when I tug the loops. I’m frustrated, embarrassed, and still trying to get a handle on how anxious I am.

  “Hey.” RJ drops down into a crouch in front of me. He’s still wearing rain boots, which are far more practical than my running shoes.

  “I keep making the knots tighter.” I avoid making eye contact by continuing the futile task of untying my shoes.

  His warm hand covers mine. “You’re freezing. Let me help, Lainey.”

  I stop fighting with the knots and let him take over. He leaves the laces and pulls my shoes off. My socks are soaked, along with every other part of me, and they stick to the shoes, coming off with a wet suction sound. I’m sure the bottoms of my feet are wrinkly, and the rest of me looks like a splotchy drowned rat.

  My teeth won’t stop chattering as RJ helps me to my feet and unzips my coat. It lands on the floor with a heavy thud. His own yellow raincoat is gone. I shiver violently, and RJ runs his hands up and down my arms. It feels nice, but it doesn’t do much good since I’m soaked to the bone.

  “Come on. You need to get warm, and that’s not going to happen in these wet clothes.” He tucks me into his side and grabs my suitcase, leading me down the hall and upstairs to the bedroom I stayed in two nights ago. RJ drops his arm from around my shoulder and sets my suitcase on the bed.

  I hug myself, trying to control the shivering. I’m embarrassed that I’m in such a state. Another roll of thunder and flash of lightning makes me jump.

  He moves closer until his socked feet touch my bare toes. “God, you’re like a scared little kitten, aren’t you?” He skims my cheek with the back of his hand.

  “I’m sorry. I know it’s silly and it’s j-just a th-thunderstorm.”

  “You don’t have to be sorry. That cabin is the prime setting for a horror movie.” He tips my chin up, his expression soft. “Why don’t you warm up with a shower and put on some dry clothes? I’ll make you something hot to drink.”

  “I would l-like that.”

  “Great. I’ll put a few extra logs on the fire. Take your time.” He presses a kiss to my cheek, then leaves the room, closing the door behind him with a quiet click.

  I exhale a long breath as soon as I’m alone. Thank God I managed not to cry in front of him. That would be insanely embarrassing. I turn on the shower, strip out of my soaked clothes, and step under the hot spray. I can’t hear the thunder or lightning in here, so I’m finally able to relax a little. I don’t know how long I stay there, but by the time I’m done my hands are as pruney as my feet and my skin is bright pink.

  I rummage around in my suitcase for a nice pair of underwear. I have to settle on pink cotton ones since I didn’t bring anything sexy for this trip, thinking the only guys I’d be hanging around with would be of the whale or dolphin variety.

  I pull on a pair of thermal leggings, a thermal undershirt, an oversize sweater, and wool socks. I check my reflection in the mirror, relieved my cheeks aren’t blotchy anymore, and head downstairs.

  I find RJ in the living room, stoking the fire. There are pillows laid out on the floor and big fluffy blankets. On a tray next to the pillows and blankets are two steaming mugs of hot chocolate piled high with marshmallows. A plate of cookies and pastries sits between them. The rain has slowed, the pounding now a light patter.

  “This looks cozy.” I clasp my hands to keep from wringing them. Now that I’m not panicking, I’m more than a little embarrassed by the way I acted when RJ picked me up.

  “And you look much warmer.” He pats the pile of blankets. “Wanna come sit with me?”

  “Sure.” I drop onto one of the cushions and cross my legs as RJ does the same. “Sorry I was so . . . freaked out when you came and got me.”

  He props himself up on one elbow. “Can I be completely honest?”

  I glance quickly at him and then away. “Of course.”

  “I’m just glad I get to spend more time with you. And I actually really like that I get to protect you, even if it’s just from getting rained on—which probably sounds wrong. It’s just . . . nice to take care of someone else? Feel . . . needed?” He blows out a breath and cringes. “I’m going to stop while I’m ahead. Or maybe behind.”

  “I think I get what you mean.” I run my fingertip along the seam of my leggings so I have somewhere to focus that isn’t RJ’s face—or specifically his mouth. Now that the worst of the storm seems to have passed and I can do something other than panic, I’m remembering what it was like to be kissed by him. “It’s kind of nice to be taken care of. Normally I’m just dealing with overprotective parents, so this is much more welcome.”

  He relaxes a little. “Okay. Good. I’m glad you feel that way. And I can completely understand why your parents are overprotective.”

  “I can take care of myself—I just don’t like thunderstorms,” I say rather defensively.

  He runs a gentle finger along the back of my hand. “I think you can take care of yourself just fine, considering you survived in that shithole cabin the past few days. But I’d be overprotective, too, if I had a daughter and she was gorgeous and sweet like you. I wouldn’t want anyone to take advantage of what’s mine.” He shakes his head. “I think I’m digging myself a bigger hole, aren’t I?”

  I laugh. “There weren’t many opportunities
for me to get taken advantage of with four older brothers.”

  “Can’t say I blame them for wanting to keep the wolves at bay.” His gaze moves over me in a hot, familiar way.

  “You’re not a wolf, though, are you, RJ? You’re a teddy bear.”

  His dimpled grin appears. “I’m glad you think that. You feeling better now?”

  “Much, thank you. I don’t know what I would’ve done tonight if you hadn’t come to get me.” Other than cry, anyway.

  “I’m glad I could. Tomorrow we can go back and get the rest of your stuff.”

  “The owners of the cabin will be back at the end of the week, I think. I can let them know the roof needs to be fixed.” I work on sounding flippant about it, because I’ve already been the damsel in distress more times than I’d like with RJ.

  RJ cocks a brow. “At the risk of sounding like I’m telling you what to do, you can’t stay there anymore, Lainey.”

  “I’ve already paid for it, though, and I can’t afford to rent something else.”

  “You don’t have to rent something else. You can stay here. Four bedrooms, remember? And you’re already set up in one of them. Unless you don’t want to stay here. If that’s the case, then I can drive you to town and we can see what’s available there, but that cabin is a total shithole, and I can’t in good conscience take you back there unless it’s to get your things.”

  CHAPTER 9

  SENSORY EXPLORATION

  Rook

  Shit. That might not have been the right thing to say.

  Lainey’s expression remains flat for several more seconds before she finally cracks a smile. “It really is a dump, isn’t it?”

  I’m relieved she didn’t take that the wrong way. “I gotta be honest—I felt bad leaving you there the first night.”

  “I felt bad about that too.”

  I laugh at her wry grin. “So you’ll stay here? I don’t have to worry about that roof caving in on you or the raccoons cuddling in bed with you?”

  “I think mice and spiders are the more likely cuddlers.” Lainey shudders. “Yes, I’ll stay for now.”

  We sit by the fire, drinking spiked hot chocolate and talking about what it’s like to grow up with four older brothers and three older sisters. I like that I can talk about my siblings and my family with her. As we share stories, I decide I should come out and tell her the truth about my job and hope that she isn’t upset that I wasn’t honest in the first place. I prop myself up on one arm so I can look directly at her. She’s reclined against a pile of pillows, long hair spilling over her shoulders, eyes soft, cheeks pink with the heat from the fire and the spiked hot chocolate.

  “I want to tell you something.” I finger a lock of silky hair, nervous and second-guessing myself. I really don’t want this to change things.

  She smiles and bites her lip. “Okay. Sure. You can tell me anything, RJ.”

  I return her smile, but I doubt mine is as easy. “So you know how I said—”

  A flash of lightning makes Lainey’s eyes flare with panic and her face pale. “Oh no. I thought the storm was over.”

  An impressive crack of thunder follows that statement, and she sits up, pulling her knees to her chest so she’s almost a little ball.

  Obviously my truth has to wait. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe.” I shift so I can put an arm around her.

  “It’s silly to be afraid of thunder.” She turns to me, her entire body shaking.

  I slip an arm under her legs and move her so she’s in my lap. “Human teddy bear right here, offering safety cuddles, free of judgment.”

  “Thank you. I’m sorry.” She presses her forehead against the side of my neck, warmth feathering across my throat with her panicked breaths.

  “You don’t need to apologize for being scared, Lainey. Did you have a bad experience during a storm?” It’s the only reason I can come up with for her to be so freaked out.

  She nods against my shoulder.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  She’s quiet for long enough that I almost backtrack.

  “Remember how I said I went to Seattle for college?”

  “But you didn’t stay long.” She said she was only there a month. I assumed the city was too much for her.

  “No. I didn’t.”

  “What happened?” Now I’m trying to figure out how thunderstorms and leaving her college program fit together.

  “I lived off campus in the student apartments. There was a thunderstorm one night, and the building lost power—so when I woke up, it was only about twenty minutes before class. We were getting tests back that day, and I decided I’d rather be late than miss it altogether, so I got ready and rushed to campus. I was only about five minutes late. It was still storming, lots of thunder and lightning.” She shudders and curls up tight against me. “I was on my way up the stairs into the lecture hall. There was this sound, and at first I thought it was thunder.”

  I stroke up and down her back, hoping to soothe her, aware that this story is going nowhere good. “But it wasn’t?”

  “No.” Her voice is so small, like she’s trying to hide from her own memories.

  “What happened then?”

  She shifts a little so she can meet my gaze, her own swimming with ghosts and tears. “There was a boy in my class—or a man, I guess. He was kind of a loner, like me a bit. Quiet. Shy, but also . . . dark? He never really looked happy about anything. Just sort of cynical. But I always said hi to him even though he never looked very friendly, because no one really wants to be alone, you know? And he always nodded. It was never anything more, but I tried.” She clears her throat. “Anyway, that day he brought a semiautomatic to class, and the sound I mistook for thunder was him firing into the lecture hall. A few people got hit before he turned the gun on himself.”

  “Oh God, Lainey, that must have been awful. I can’t even imagine what would make a person do that.” I tighten my hold on her as I consider how terrified she must have been.

  Her eyes are sad and distant. “He failed the test, so maybe that set him off? I wondered if maybe—if I’d tried a little harder—he would have talked to me. Maybe, if he had a connection to someone in there, that would have stopped him? It’s probably stupid to think that. I mean, clearly there was something wrong with him—he wasn’t balanced—but still . . .”

  I brush away her tears as they fall. “You can’t take that on, Lainey. He was mentally ill. The only time a person does something that extreme is if they’re not well. You’re lucky you were late.” I’m lucky you were late, or you might not be here.

  “That’s what my family kept telling me. They still do. Because I’m here—and I didn’t see it happen, I just heard it and witnessed the aftermath.” She looks haunted in that way only people who have experienced deep trauma can be. “This isn’t . . . I haven’t really talked about this with anyone but my family and my therapist. It’s just . . . not good conversation. I couldn’t talk about it with my mom—she couldn’t handle it.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “She worries more than I do. And the news coverage of the incident made it so much worse.” Her fingers drift slowly along the collar of my T-shirt, eyes following the movement.

  “I’m glad you feel safe enough with me to talk about it—and as hard as it is to do, sometimes it’s better to get it out rather than keep it all locked up inside.”

  “I used to worry that talking about it would make the fears worse instead of better.”

  “Because it makes the memories fresh again?” I rub her back, not really knowing what else to do for her.

  “Mm-hmm.” She nods. “But it feels good not to hold on to it alone anymore.”

  “Good. It shouldn’t be yours to hold on to.”

  “That boy, the shooter, he didn’t survive.” Lainey drags her finger along my clavicle, body jolting with the next rumble of thunder. She exhales a shaky breath before she continues. “People came rushing out of the lecture hall. Everyone was
screaming.” She presses her palm against the side of my neck, thumb brushing back and forth slowly along the edge of my jaw. “I was just . . . frozen on the steps. I knew I needed to move, but I couldn’t make my body follow the command. By the time I turned to run, everyone was on me. I twisted my ankle on the steps, but someone grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the way before I could get trampled. I was lucky I didn’t see any of it firsthand.”

  The last part sounds more like something she says as self-reassurance. “I’m so sorry you went through that.” No wonder she was so terrified when I came to pick her up. And I realize that Lainey is far stronger than I ever could have imagined. To survive something like that and still be able to look at life with such positivity is a miracle.

  “My classmates went through much worse, but now you know why I hate thunderstorms so much. I’ve always been anxious, but after that . . . I have a very hard time with crowds, so the airport was a challenge for me. And being on a plane with no way of escaping, that wasn’t pleasant either. But I used all the strategies I have to stay calm, and I made it through just fine—and then you were on the Cessna, so that helped. I should be able to handle a thunderstorm, but the memories are hard to deal with sometimes.”

  “Is there anything I can do? Some way I can help now?”

  “Being here with you makes me feel safer.” She smooths her hand over my shoulder and down my biceps, slipping under the hem of the sleeve. “I don’t like to rely too much on people to help calm me, because it’s not always effective—especially if those people aren’t there when the anxiety becomes intolerable—so I usually do a sensory calming exercise.”

  “What is that?”

  “I focus on the five senses, counting down from five to one. So unless it’s dark, I usually start with five things I can see.” A flash of lightning startles her, and she digs her nails into my biceps.

  I tuck a finger under her chin and turn her head away from the windows behind us, since she’s waiting for the next rumble of thunder. “Tell me what you see right now, Lainey.”