Fighter

by Katie Cross

  We didn't speak again. She bustled around the Diner with a tired smile and busy strides. She kept me supplied with water and passed me a tray of fresh sliced veggies with whole wheat bread with a little smile, even though I hadn't asked. By the time her shift ended, the chaos in the backroom had died with the fight, and the last patrons swilled around.

  Dagny approached her just after 10:00 and said, “I g-got this. I'll close. You g-go home.”

  “You sure?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Thanks, Dag.”

  Moments later, Serafina reappeared from behind the swinging doors that led to the back. She had a jacket in her arms, her apron was gone. I stood, grateful to finally get her all to myself. Still wished I'd hit that guy though when I saw the uneasy expression on her face.

  “You good?” I asked.

  She nodded. I tilted my head to the door to indicate her to go first. She waved to someone and stepped outside, then immediately turned left. The Frolicking Moose was only a few parking lots over, hardly far enough to get the conversation in that I wanted. Deep in my bones, I desperately hoped she'd ask me inside. But seeing the tired lines on her face, wondered if that would be best if she didn't after all.

  Frustration gripped me again, but I set it aside. Residual angst from seeing my family again, no doubt. No matter what I did, I couldn't relax. She broke the strained tension between us.

  “I . . . That is . . . Thank you.”

  Serafina kept her gaze forward while she stammered out something. She'd pulled her jacket on, and I wondered if the cool breeze felt as good to her as it did to me.

  “No problem.”

  We crossed the first parking lot with little more than the crunch of gravel at our feet. All the time I'd spent thinking about her while I was gone, and now that I had my chance to . . . what?

  What did I want to do?

  Stupid question. I knew exactly what I wanted to do, and it had everything to do with the unfinished business of a kiss that didn't happen. But whether she wanted it as well remained to be seen.

  My tongue felt locked in the following uncertainty, so we remained in silence until the Frolicking Moose appeared. The shop interior was dim except for the blink of a red security light. Maverick and Bethany had created a separate entrance to the loft when they remodeled that prevented anyone from the coffee shop heading into the loft. Serafina angled us toward the back door that led to her staircase.

  To my relief, Serafina saved me again.

  “Come on.” She tilted her head toward the back door. “Let's go upstairs. It's been a long night.”

  Wearily, Serafina climbed the spiral stairs, flicked on her lights, and tossed her jacket onto a peg on the wall. She motioned toward her couch with a wave and said, “I'm going to hop in a quick shower so I don't smell like fries and pickles. Then we can talk.”

  The sound of running water a few minutes later distracted me, and I tried to keep my thoughts off what lay behind closed doors. Instead, I paced off the extra energy from the night. Although I still wanted to hit that guy, Jayson had been right to pull me off. Tackling him in defense of Serafina was justifiable, but a hit could have gone a step further. That dirtbag might have come back at me with a lawsuit just to get at my money. It had certainly happened before.

  My thoughts spiraled from there and back to Mom in the ICU. Her pale skin, pasty in the horrible light. Tubes running everywhere. Voice hoarse from breathing machines. Decidedly powerless, and all I'd ever known of Mom was a powerhouse. Seeing her that way sent a shock of mortality through me. The unease of immediate change in our world. Everything frightening seemed to happen in one terrifying moment.

  Which only riled all the emotions caged up inside me.

  Just when I thought I'd explode, a soft touch came on my arm. Then a warm hand. I spun to see Serafina just behind me. Her hair was still pulled out of her face, but all the makeup scrubbed off. Her cheeks were a light pink from the water, and I wanted to put a hand on them and draw her heat out. She wore a pair of baggy gray sweats and a worn I Heart NY t-shirt.

  “Have a seat, Ben. You look like you're about to explode.”

  All the ire bled out of me with her touch, leaving something to simmer in the background. She settled onto a couch, her body canted toward me, and tossed a pillow out of her way. In response to her expectant look, I sank down not far from her. Still, we didn't touch.

  “Give it to me,” she commanded. “Say all the things after seeing your family and your Mom in a terrible situation.”

  She'd used those words before, but they still startled me now. Troubled, I just stared at her. I wanted to give it to her. To unload everything and let it out. But how was that fair to her? Besides, this wasn't how I worked through things. My emotions came out of my fists. Until I beat the rage out, the words wouldn't come.

  “I need to beat the crap out of something first,” I croaked instead.

  She tilted her head to the side in an assessing gaze, then unfolded herself as gracefully as she'd sat down. Her hand opened to mine.

  “Then let's go.”

  Twenty minutes later, I stood in front of my favorite bag.

  Serafina sat on the mat near the wall, her knees tucked into her chest, and watched. Once the heavy metal music started to flow overhead, so did my fists. The bag didn't come to me with the same intensity as the fury inside. Bag work was more calculated than that. But something about the smash of my hands and the thud that rippled through my muscles after, calmed the storm.

  Without a guy with pads calling out my throws, I settled for the methodical precisions of nailing every frustration with a punch, a kick, or a combo. In the steady hip movements and muscle control, I let it all go.

  In the background waited Serafina.

  By the time I finished, the music had cycled off. Sweat soaked my shoulders, and my hands trembled slightly in the gloves. I yanked them off with my teeth and threw them against the wall. Then I crossed the mat and sat next to her.

  “Thanks.”

  She handed me a water bottle with a smile, seemingly unbothered by my sweaty shirt. “Anytime.”

  For several long minutes, we sat with our backs to the wall, then she turned to me with an expectant look and brow high. Time to give it to her then. I wiped the sweat off my face with the bottom of my t-shirt. Now it all made sense. The thoughts came into line easily, like soldiers.

  “I didn't like seeing my Mom so helpless,” I said, my jaw set. Serafina's head lifted to meet my gaze, but I kept my eyes on the clock on the far wall. “She looked small and powerless on that hospital bed and I hated it. I love her and want her to choose better for herself. Whenever my family gets together, we fight. We're all too opinionated, so I just shut the hell up and fade into the background, and I hate that too. So, seeing my family makes me tense.”

  I stopped to take a deep breath. Serafina hadn't said a word, but I felt her steady gaze. I kept going.

  “I hate being away from Ava even for a few days because I don't know her mind, and I hate that too. I love her. I'm afraid something will happen if I'm not here to protect her. And I hated that that creep tried to grope you and I didn't get to break his teeth the way he deserved. That's why I looked like I'd burst.”

  She set a hand on my arm despite the damp sweat.

  “Thank you for defending me,” she said. “But mostly thank you for dealing with whatever was inside of you.”

  Only when I met her gaze did I realize that she might have been frightened of me. Had she sensed something in me that reminded her of Talmage? Did Talmage and I share a sense of rage that she recognized? She'd stopped wincing all the time from her broken rib, so I'd started to forget.

  “Were you afraid of me?” I asked quietly.

  Her shoulders slumped. “Not really.” Her hair, which she'd let fall down, rustled with the movement of a quick shake. “I know you'd never hurt me, but I was concerned for your own sake. You seemed . . . agitated.”

  “I feel better now.
Thank you.”

  Unable to stop myself, I reached over and touched her chin with my hand. Then I lifted it so I could stare into her eyes.

  “You okay?”

  She drew in a deep breath at my touch, then nodded. My gaze dropped to her lips, then back to her eyes. She put her hand over mine.

  “Can I kiss you now?” I asked.

  The words came out of me before I could stop them. Even after I heard them, I didn't want to take them back. Only a brief lull came between us before she leaned into my hand and whispered, “Yes.”

  In my imaginings, our first kiss would be hungry. A bit wild. A desperate reflection of the way I felt inside. But when I closed the distance between us, I stopped a breath before her lips. The heat of her breath, light with mint, slammed into me like a wall. I stayed there for a moment to soak in the sensation.

  Then I gently pressed my lips to hers.

  A low heat burned beneath my lips at first, accompanied by a sense of disbelief that I'd allowed myself to get pulled into her so quickly. Then she tilted her head, opening her mouth to me, and all my control vanished.

  I gently grabbed her arms to pull her onto my lap. Her hands found my face and threaded through my hair as I pulled her close, banishing all space between us. She made a sound at the back of her throat, and I stopped. When we parted, she stared at me through passion-clouded eyes.

  “You okay?” I whispered, panting.

  She put both of her hands on my face, seeming unaware of how sweaty I'd become. Then she pressed her forehead to mine.

  “Now I am,” she whispered.

  And I lost it again.

  18

  Serafina

  The next day, I stared at my phone with a little frown.

  Mom: Have you heard from Talmage? I haven't heard anything at all.

  * * *

  Serafina: No. He's been ignoring me. Want me to go check on him?

  * * *

  Mom: Would Ben go with you?

  * * *

  Serafina: Probably.

  * * *

  Mom: Then if it's not too much trouble, it would help me feel better.

  * * *

  Serafina: I'll ask tonight.

  When I shoved it back in my pocket, the bells on the Diner door jangled. I stepped back into work with a smile, but it felt forced. I didn't want to be here right now. Normally, I loved waitressing. Today, I just wanted to be back in my loft and under my covers where I could analyze my first kiss with Benjamin in peace. Reminders of my brother certainly didn't help, nor did the perfectly cloudless, warm sky outside.

  In the midst of refilling coffees and taking orders around a still-sleepy lunch crowd, Dagny arrived for her midday shift. I almost cried with relief when her bright, expressive face smiled at me.

  “H-h-hey!” she cried. “How is the d-day?”

  “Slow. Quiet. I'm slowly dying and need you to help me analyze something. You're so good at it.”

  A bright gleam claimed her expression as I followed her into the back. “I-I know, I hear it a-a-all the time. But uh oh,” she sang. “D-did someone get a kiss?”

  I slumped against the wall with a moan. “Yes!”

  “A-a-and it was amazing?”

  “So amazing.”

  “And you want more?”

  “Yes!”

  She grabbed an apron and tossed it over her head, then reached around to tie it in the back. A certain smug expression filled her face now. “I c-c-can't say I'm all that surprised with his ferocity last n-night. I would have kissed him t-too! A-a-and who kissed who f-f-first?'

  “He asked to kiss me.” I plastered a hand over my face and peered at her through my splayed fingers. “Like a romcom or something.”

  Dagny laughed. “H-h-how sad is your life, Sera?”

  “I know!” I wailed.

  “I mean, he j-just about killed a man for your honor last night,” she drawled. “G-good thing Hernandez stopped him or it could have gotten b-bloody. Th-th-en he walks you h-home like a gentleman and then he asks t-to kiss you.” She eyed me. “So what's wrong?”

  “Nothing. Everything. I liked it way too much. He makes me feel safe.”

  “Again, this is awful.”

  I rolled my eyes. “What if it was a passionate fluke?”

  “That streak of -p-p-protectiveness in him?” This time, she rolled her eyes. “Give me a break, Serafina. He may have been a g-gallant gentleman for any woman in that situation, b-b-but I doubt he would have been that pissed off. It looked like he b-barely held himself together. He c-cares about you.”

  That I couldn't deny. There was caring on both sides. His question last night, asked with such sweet vulnerability, whispered back through my mind. “Are you frightened of me?”

  No, I had been anything but scared of him. At least, not like that. I’d felt emotional, maybe, because he'd just dropped in like an avenging god. Grateful, definitely. Maybe a little bit in awe of him, too. The only fear around Benjamin came from just how much I liked him.

  While I'd dreamed of that kiss for a while, and it certainly hadn't disappointed, the aftermath felt more encompassing than I'd expected. He'd kissed me that time, then taken me home. We'd both been quiet, as if we were stunned. Now it had been hours since I'd seen him, we'd sent no text messages, and my mental state spiraled.

  Did he regret it?

  Would he kiss me tonight?

  What now?

  Where did we go from here? What was I to him?

  Did one kiss create a circumstance to define what we were doing? He paid me to take care of his child, so I was a sort of employee, if I looked at it from that light. But that felt too awful. No, didn't like that. Maybe I wouldn't cash the check he gave me. Then it wouldn't feel so . . . weird.

  Benjamin didn't strike me as a loose kisser, either. He certainly wasn't the type to go around kissing anyone. The man barely spoke outside of necessity. So the very fact that he kissed me meant something.

  But what?

  Could a kiss be a fluke?

  Too late, I realized I'd sunk into a quagmire of thought when Dagny nudged me out of it. “You have people waiting,” she said with a laugh. “G-go overanalyze while you're working. In the meantime, I d-don't feel bad for you.”

  She winked and sent me scuttling back into the Diner to greet some new patrons and take out a fresh plate of pancakes and bacon. My mind had settled enough even from Dagny and my minimal interaction that at least I didn't have to fake my cheer anymore.

  A kiss could be a fluke, I decided.

  If it was one, I'd ride it this fluke out for as long as it lasted or until it wasn't one anymore. Besides, I didn't think it was a fluke, I just didn't know what came next.

  And there was never another chance for a first kiss.

  The restless night after Benjamin kissed me caught up to me sooner than I'd expected. After work, Ava and I stopped by the library, then played at the park for almost two hours while a friend from school showed her how to swing from the monkey bars. Afterward, we ate dinner, created a chore chart, and she splashed through a warm bath.

  At the end of the day, I gratefully collapsed on the couch.

  While Ava hummed to herself in bed, a funny little habit she used to put herself to sleep, I curled up around a pillow with my eyes closed.

  Just for a moment, I thought sleepily.

  My thoughts ran naturally to Benjamin as I relaxed. Ava's humming slowed, then stopped. The house darkened as I replayed the kiss with warm purls of heat deep in my belly. Considered the empty state of my text messages, brother included. Then I tangled myself up slowly in sleep with the dusky night sky. With impressive strength, I resisted the urge to curl up in Benjamin's bed and remained on the couch in the languorous place between deep sleep and wakefulness.

  After what felt like a long blink later, a whisper pulled me awake.

  “Sera?”

  The warmth of a hand gently squeezed my shoulder. My eyes fluttered open to see darkness, with Benjamin silh
ouetted by light from the kitchen. I blinked slowly.

  “Hi,” I murmured.

  “You all right?”

  He spoke in a low, quiet tone. His hand found my face and I leaned into it with a, “mm hmm,” sound from my throat. He chuckled. His fingers pushed the hair off my face and trailed down my cheeks. I reluctantly shucked off the vestiges of sleep with the hope that he'd kiss me again.

  “How was Ava?” he asked.

  “So good.” I yawned and curled an arm above my head to stretch it. “As always. She washed her hair tonight, by the way, and has a permission slip she needs you to sign for something next week. We got some new books at the library for her to practice reading more at night. Went well today.”

  His fingers danced up my arm and into my hair. Goosebumps followed them in a wave. I pulled myself closer with a little sigh.

  “Good,” he murmured huskily.

  I turned to face him, my body tingling, but he had looked away. He sat there for several moments, his hand heavy on my ribcage. He stared at the wooden floor with a furrowed brow, as if lost in thought. When I sat up and put a hand on his arm, he turned to me. With a few blinks, heavy thoughts seemed to scatter, like clouds against a bright moon.

  “You all right?” I asked.

  “Thinking.”

  We danced a slow, careful dance right now. I could sense some hesitation in him, as if he wasn't sure how to re-approach after last night. But I saw the same tug in him that I felt. The undeniable pull to get us closer.

  Despite his warm reception and gentle touches now, he seemed more like a curious, but wary, cat. As if he couldn't resist the lure of touch, but wasn't sure he knew what it meant. After spending all day considering it, I realized that he might be shy. Not about the kiss, but the emotional vulnerability with his Mom.