by Austin, RB
“No.” His warm, comforting smile was back in place. She could feel it trying to work its magic. With all her strength, she pushed the warmth away. “Because I’m impervious to harm while on this plane.”
Emma stopped in mid-step. Was this a ploy? He opened his mouth, to answer her thoughts no doubt. She raised a hand. “Forget it.” Her shoulders slumped. Moving from the kitchen to the couch, she sat down suddenly exhausted. Emma eyed him in all of his Jesus-clothes. He did appear harmless. “Would you like to sit down?”
“Yes. That would be lovely. Thank you.”
“I don’t have tea,” she said grudgingly. “How about coffee?”
Elias wrinkled his nose. “I’ve yet to be able to stand the taste of it. Thank you for asking though.”
“You’re welcome.”
They sat in silence. Emma counted the seconds ticking away on her kitchen wall clock. At ninety she could no longer stand it. “Are you going to do it or not?”
“I am.” He paused. “I’m sorry it has to be this way.”
“Then don’t do it.”
Elias shook his head, the corners of this mouth pulled down. “I’m afraid that isn’t a possibility.”
The breath caught in her throat and she wanted to scream. To run. Fight. Stop it from happening. But one glance at his compassionate face and her shoulders fell.
“Can I have a minute?” Her voice broke.
“Of course.”
The moments she and Cade shared flowed through her mind. She wouldn’t skip over the intimate parts. Elias’s mind reading be damned. He’d erase everything of this past week. Of finally feeling alive since her parents’ death. Memories of Cade’s face and touch. The comfort he’d given her by being in the same room. More so than the Jesus-man sitting next to her.
Emma didn’t know how long she sat, reliving the past week, memorizing every detail of Cade as if she were going to draw him, determined she wouldn’t forget, no matter what happened. When she finished, it was to find her cheeks wet with tears.
“Go ahead. I’m ready.”
Elias’s gaze roamed over her face, speculating. “You love him.”
He said it as a statement, but she replied anyway, wanting to say the words out loud before she forgot he even existed. “Yes. I love Cade.”
Lucas stood in the doorway of the gym, watching Cade beat the living shit out of a punching bag. If the partially worn through patch of vinyl was any indication, he’d been at it for a while.
On the quiet car ride back from the nheqeba’s place he’d sensed Cade’s anguish. That was the only reason he was standing in the doorway of the gym instead of resting up for another night of searching for the source of, and a release from, his anger.
He stepped into the room. The door closed behind him.
“Not. Now.” A punch to the bag punctuated every word. Soon there’d be a pile of sand underneath his feet.
Lucas hesitated. The anger made ignoring everything but what he wanted fairly simple. He’d tried to stay away. The foreign emotion inside him was extremely encouraging of that option. But the memory of Cade’s face the moment Elias arrived at the nheqeba’s door wouldn’t let him.
If that wasn’t bad enough, Cade swinging at the bag like he was battling for his life was. And his leader was losing.
Lucas had wanted the nheqeba removed from the house but this Behn was no better than the one before. Cade’s fists pummeled the bag, the movements blurred even to Lucas’s eyes. He’d never received this much emotion from his leader. Ever.
“No problem,” Lucas called out to Cade. “I just wanted to work out the treadmill before I turn in.” He headed to the locker room. Cade’s glare followed him until he’d closed the door.
A few minutes later in shorts and shoes, he started one of the treadmills. Cranking the speed, he ran at a swift pace. Lucas’s eyes didn’t waver from the muted television on the wall in front of him. His ears were tuned in to the steady pound of fist hitting bag mixed with soft tears of fabric.
He didn’t know if Cade would talk to him. A month ago he wouldn’t have even contemplated the question. The Sept One Leader didn’t talk emotions. Never mentioned his past. Cade only conversed about Trihune business.
“Fuck!”
The shout echoed off the walls and was followed by the swoosh of falling sand. Lucas stopped the treadmill. Toweling his slightly sweaty face, he walked to the propped broom and dustpan he’d stashed. After throwing the towel in the hamper, he grabbed the garbage can, too.
Cade stood in front of the pile of sand, hands on hips, surveying the mess, like he didn’t know how it’d gotten there.
“Here.” Lucas offered him the broom.
Cade glanced at the broom then at Lucas. “I’m not going to talk.”
His eyes widened. “Of course not. You don’t chat like a nheqeba, right?”
The Behn leader’s gaze narrowed, but he grabbed the wooden handle. They worked in silence. Cade swept the sand into the pan and Lucas dumped it into the garbage can.
“Do you believe it’s happened already?”
Lucas paused. Cade’s eyes were bleak. His knuckles were white where he gripped the broom handle.
“Yes. There’d be no reason for Elias to prolong it.”
Cade nodded, dropping his gaze.
They said nothing else until all of the sand was in the can and the vinyl covering removed from the attachment hanging in the ceiling.
“Thank you.” Cade headed toward the locker room.
What could he say to help his ach? Profound words of wisdom escaped him. Comforting phrases that would promise the hurt would pass didn’t come. Defeated, he turned. He’d at least leave Cade to his quiet and take a shower in his room.
“Lucas?” Cade stood in the open doorway to the locker room. “Do you still have the anger inside of you?”
He hesitated then nodded.
“We’ll need to address it soon.”
Lucas nodded again, no hesitation. He wanted it gone as well, but he’d make damn sure it was after he killed the UF.
Cade cleared his throat. “Thanks for having my back. I’m glad you went with me today.”
Lucas didn’t remind him he’d been ordered to go. Besides this was the first thanks he ever received from Cade. It wasn’t because his leader was ungracious. It was because he’d never requested help before.
“The fact you were able to offer help means this anger, whatever it is, hasn’t gotten complete hold over you yet.”
Lucas stilled. Really? But what if the anger inside him grew until he could no longer control it? There’d be nothing else for Cade to do except put him down like a rabid dog.
“We’ll get this thing removed from you, Lucas. I swear it. None of us will rest until you’re back.”
Relief bubbled. Lucas hung his head, voice thick. “Thank you.”
Cade offered a quiet, “You’re welcome,” before the door swished closed.
Chapter 17
Emma woke with a scream in her throat and her heart pounding. She kicked off the covers. Threw on the bedroom light. Checked the corners. Under her bed. In the closet.
Running from the room, she hit every switch. Soon the house blazed in light. Huddling in the corner of the couch with the afghan covering her legs and arms circling her knees, she listened to every creak and groan. Time passed.
Slowly she allowed her stiff arms to relax, her knees to unfold. The pounding of her heart receded. It was replaced with some other emotion she couldn’t name. It left her just as breathless and frightened. She inhaled a trembling breath.
Three nights of waking with a scream in her throat. Three times of searching the house like she was expecting the boogeyman or him to be hiding somewhere. She shuddered. Three thankful moments when she fou
nd nothing.
Emma leaned her head back but didn’t close her eyes. If she did the panic would start its roll. Her throat thickened. Swallowing the lump, she forced herself to stand. The afghan fell to the floor. In the kitchen she shook two aspirin tablets from the bottle sitting on the counter. She swallowed them with a gulp of the water then moved to her easel.
He stared back at her from the canvas. The face always at the center of her nightmares. And unrealistic dreams. A dimple in his chin. Shoulder length, black, thick hair with a bit of wave to it. In this picture it covered about half his face, obscuring the scars by his left eye. His eyes were the best part and the feature she always saved for last. Emma reached for her brush and dipped it into the cyan jar before touching the bristles to the canvas.
Minutes or hours later she put her tool down and stepped back. The breath caught in her throat. It was always the same. No matter how many times she’d done this she still inhaled in surprise and delight. Peace would rush through her. She stared into his eyes to prolong the moment. Her mind filled with things she wanted to say. Taking the picture from the easel, she set it down next to ten other ones. She lacked the courage to set him in the small dark space of her closet. He was already too far out of reach.
But today was the day.
Today she’d put away the many pictures of the man who’d become her obsession, visiting her dreams each night. “Sooo not healthy,” she mumbled, tiptoeing around the canvases spread through the room.
Jenny called and left several messages the last few days. The make believe trip to her parents’ house was only supposed to last four or five days. Sean called too. Yesterday she’d left Jenny a message stating she’d be home today.
It took her the better part of an hour to closet eleven pictures. Something that could’ve taken a few minutes. Emma studied every picture as if to put him it to memory. It was unnecessary. At any given moment, she could close her eyes and recall each facet of his face. Every angle. Expression.
“Stop. It.” It didn’t matter if she was dying inside. She wouldn’t mope for the fourth day in a row, grieving like when her parents died.
Despite the fact it was three o’clock in the morning, she gathered clothes for a shower. It’s not like she was going back to bed. Besides, there was a sink full of dishes to clean, a bed to make, and laundry to wash. It was amazing how dirty a house could become in a few days. If she didn’t want Jenny and at some point Sean, to freak out and put her on the suicide watch list, she’d better Molly Maid it. The house first. Her life second. It was a new year. It was time for an Emma renovation.
Emma sat on the couch facing Jenny. The room had been silent for over a minute. Ever since she answered Jenny’s question of, “How was Christmas with your parents?” with, “They’re dead. They died when I was fourteen.”
Her heart began to pound. Would it have been awful to continue the lie? She could’ve said her parents were moving to Italy to be with her mother’s family. That would’ve stopped the hassles on holidays.
“I don’t understand,” Jenny said at last.
“After they died, every place I went was the same. The pity-looks. The I’m-so-sorrys. The how-are-you-doings. So when I could, I’d pretend my parents were still alive. After a while it became habit to not mention their death. I wanted to tell you after we became friends, but I couldn’t find the words. I also didn’t want to deal with the pity invites around holidays since I’d be known as the orphan girl . . .” Emma trailed off. Her forever excuses sounded lame. She wasn’t the poor little Emma who lost her family any more.
“Bullshit. You have family. I’m your family. Sean is your family. To act like you have no one is completely idiotic.”
Emma opened her mouth.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Jenny continued. “I’m mad at you. Mad you lied to me for the past, how many years? All those holidays you spent unnecessarily alone. I get your reasoning. It’s a kid’s logic not to want to deal with death but you’re not a kid anymore. You have people who love you. You’ve just gotta get used to that.”
“I’m trying.”
Jenny was silent for a moment. “What changed?”
Emma stilled.
“Is it their anniversary?” Her voice was soft, concerned. “A birthday? Close to the day they died? Why did you finally tell me?”
“It’s nothing like that.” She paused. “I’ve been lost lately, which is how I felt after they died. I don’t want to remain closed off anymore. I’d like to take comfort when it’s offered, not dodge it.”
And because I feel like I’m drowning and you and Sean are the only life preservers in sight.
“It’s natural to be this way after losing your job.” Jenny pulled her into her arms. Have you started searching yet?”
“I guess I was trying to avoid that, too.”
Jenny stood. “Come on. You have me now. I won’t allow you to wither in denial. Let’s call Sean. He’s better at resumes. Hey, what’s the matter with your neck?”
Emma sucked in a breath, her hand automatically reaching to finger the slightly puffy, reddish-pink line. “I cut myself on the edge of my easel. Tripped over some paints.”
“It looks nasty.”
Her breath left in a whoosh. For some reason she missed her never-filter-a-thought best friend. “I’m taking antibiotics so it doesn’t get infected.”
“I already knew.” Sean said.
“No you didn’t,” Jenny argued.
“I highly suspected. It was never confirmed.”
“How?” Emma asked.
“You acted weird around holidays and always had excuses why you couldn’t introduce me to them.”
“Well.” Jenny crossed her arms over her chest. “I never suspected it.”
Sean patted her shoulder. “You didn’t date her.”
“That doesn’t mean I wasn’t close to her.”
“Are you guys really going to fight over this? Aren’t you supposed to be mad at me for lying to you?”
Sean took a hold of her hand.
“Do you want us to be?” Jenny asked.
“No.”
Sean smiled. “We’re not mad. Promise. We’re happy that you trust us enough to speak out.”
Jenny stood pulling Emma from Sean’s grip. “Enough of the mushy stuff. Let’s get this resume finished. I’ve a date tonight.”
Sean sat at her kitchen table with her laptop in front of him. Emma sat to his left, Jenny on the right.
“You need to make her name bigger. Like size thirty font.”
“Jenny, that’s too big,” Sean said.
“Her resume needs to stand out.”
“Stand out, yes. Look like a nine year old played with it, no.”
“Well, you should at least print it out on pink paper, Emma.”
“Pink paper?” Sean shook his head. “It needs to look professional.”
“She’s an artist, Sean. Her resume should showcase her qualities.”
“I was thinking of typing Certified Art Teacher, K – 6. How does that sound?” Sean suggested dryly.
“Bor-ing,” Jenny sing-songed.
Sean and Jenny bickered the entire hour it took to update her resume. Emma could’ve completed it in half the time but she hadn’t laughed so much in days. Jenny left, promising to be back in the morning if her date was awful or in the afternoon if great. Sean stayed.
“Let’s rent a movie and order a pizza. Like old times.”
Emma shrugged. “Sure. Why not.”
Cade silently booted down the dark road. It wasn’t the first time he’d gone this way. Dear heavens please help, it probably wouldn’t be his last. He inhaled deeply. She was home.
Standing across the parking lot from her townhouse complex, Cade was content to catch her scen
t on the wind or glances of her through the window. He wouldn’t interact this time. She wouldn’t even know he was there.
A car slowed in front of her walkway. Pizza tonight. A smile stretched across his face. He’d get a clear view of her when she opened the door. His heart raced in anticipation. Did she order cheese only? Or maybe supreme like Martha baked?
The deliveryman knocked on her door. It opened.
Cade froze.
Who. Was. That?
He stepped forward. Low growls erupted from his throat. Why was that male in Emma’s house? Who was he?
Cade didn’t realize he’d walked across the parking lot and was halfway up her sidewalk until the zakaar standing in her doorway met his gaze.
“Here’s the money, Sean, and stop protesting. You paid for the movie.”
Emma’s voice drifted out to him. The melody warmed his blood, calmed his anger, and slowed his heart. While the male’s head was turned Cade melted back into the shadows.
What was he thinking? He should go. Leave and never return.
His feet were rooted to the spot, back in his original location. He watched the zakaar exchange money for food and close the door. As if it was his own house.
It was good that she was moving on. Healthy, really. Expected, even. Her memory of him was gone. According to her their time together never existed. Cade moved to the left to catch a clear view of them through a window.
The zakaar sat next to her on the couch. He said something to her. She laughed, spoke in response. Her movements were relaxed, casual. The male’s, too. They knew each other. Were friends. Intimate?
His fists clenched. Cade wanted to leave, but needed to stay. If she was happy he’d be able to move on. The urge to watch her night after night before patrolling would disappear. Even if that puny zakaar could in no way protect her she wasn’t alone at least.
The male took Emma’s plate and after setting it down reached for her hands. Surprise flickered across her face, but she didn’t pull away. The zakaar moved closer. Cade walked across the parking lot.
