“Oh.” He gives me a remorseful look as he starts the truck.
“Yeah. Oh.” I point to the road, refusing to acknowledge his unspoken apology. “Just drive us home, you big dumb caveman.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
I've never had much of a home. Mostly, I have a house; a roof over my head that keeps me warm and dry. Home is where you feel a sense of belonging, and I've never felt that in my apartment before, and it's not just because of the mostly-empty rooms or the lack of personal items. I think that inside, I'm cold, and that's reflected in my living space.
But I forget about all that as I open my door and find Percy's face beaming up at me.
“Oh, thank God! You're okay!”
He barks and wiggles his behind, lifting up his paws to grab at my shoulders in a doggie hug.
“How are you even alive? What have you been eating?”
I look around the apartment to find everything in it's place. Surprisingly, he didn't eat any of the furniture, nor did he leave any messes. At least not that I can see.
Jameson moves in beside me, lowing himself so Percy can sniff his hand. He's hesitant at first, not sure what to do about this stranger in our house. After all, I've never brought a friend home, so Percy's not used to anyone other than me.
“Good dog,” Jameson coos.
That's enough for Percy. He opens his mouth in a goofy smile and begins to wag his tail, hitting Jameson in the chest with his paw.
I stand and make my way to the kitchen, wondering how my furry friend has gone almost a month without food or water. He's a tough old guy, I'll give him that, but it seems as if he's been perfectly taken care of.
I flip on the overhead light to find my kitchen in pristine condition.
“What the...”
The floors are spotless, the clutter that had taken up permanent residence on my counter is nowhere to be found, and Percy's dishes are filled with soft dog food and crystal clear water.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
I freeze.
Someone is knocking on my back door. I rush to turn off the light so they can't see me and Jameson is behind me in two seconds flat, holding me against his chest.
“It's them,” I whimper. “What do we do?”
Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.
“I don't know. Maybe we could-”
“Tess, sweetie? Is that you?”
My shoulders relax and I almost melt into a puddle of relief as I hear Elsie's voice.
“Who's that?” Jameson asks as I move toward the door.
“It's okay. It's my landlord.”
I run to the door, but Elsie's faster. She turns her own key in the door and shoves her way inside.
“Tess! Where on earth have you been child? I've been worried sick!”
The short woman wraps her arms around my waist and I'm not sure what to do. She's been pleasant enough over the years, but I know little about her. I figured she would be angry for missing out on a months rent, not so ecstatic to see me that she's practically sobbing on my shoulder.
“You- you have?”
“Of course I have!” She says, pulling away to stare at me through her bifocals. “You just disappeared off the face of the earth! No note, no phone call, and you leave poor little Percy here to fend for himself! What happened to you?”
“I... uhh, I was...”
I have absolutely no idea how to explain this to poor little Elsie without giving her a heart attack.
But luckily, she looks past me and lays eyes on Jameson.
“Oh... well, hello there.”
Elsie's voice drops to a low whisper as she sizes up the man standing in her tenant's kitchen. I turn to face Jameson as well and that's when I realize how different he looks in the soft glow beaming out of the recessed lighting.
His face is relaxed, more so than I've ever seen it. Even with his mussed hair, he's radiating serenity.
“Who's your friend?” Elsie asks.
“ Oh, sorry!” I pull my gaze away from the beautiful man in my kitchen and motion for him to come closer.
“This is Jameson, he's uhh... a friend. Jameson, this is Elsie, my landlord.”
Jameson steps forward, enveloping Elsie's small hand in his own, and gives her a warm smile.
“Pleasure to meet you.”
Elsie flushes and I can tell it's taking all she has not to fan herself.
“Is this,” she tilts her head in his direction, “who kept you?”
“Yeah... Oh! I mean no! No, we uh...”
I have no idea what to say. I can't tell her the truth, that's for damn sure.
“We got lost in the woods.”
We both turn to Jameson, awestruck. Her, because she's genuinely shocked, and me, because I'm so thankful that he stepped in while I was fumbling for words.
“That's awful!” Elsie gasps, clutching her hands to her chest. “I hope you're alright!”
“We are, Elsie, we're fine. Jameson, he... he saved us.”
I look up into his eyes, letting him know just how true the statement is, and he blushes. He honest-to-God blushes. I don't think it's really sank in before now, but seeing him interact with my elderly landlord while my dog sits loyally at his feet... well, it's too much.
“Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry!” Elsie wraps her arms around my side again and this time, I hug her back. “You must have been scared to death.”
I was scared. As many times as I refused to let Joan, Jameson, or myself see it, I was genuinely terrified. But now that everything's slowing down, now that I'm surrounded by familiarity, it's hit me.
I'm free. I'm completely free and for once in my life, I'm not alone.
“Oh, what am I doing, barging in on you two like this! You probably want to head on up for a nice long shower.” Else pats my hand before shuffling toward the door.
“Elsie?”
“Yes, sweetheart?” She stops, but doesn't turn around.
“Did you file a missing person's report on me?”
Elsie finally turns around, but instead of addressing me, she points one boney finger into Jameson's chest.
“You make sure she gets a nice hot shower and a good nights sleep, y'hear?”
“Yes, Ma'am,” he nods with a warm smile.
Before I can stop her, she closes the door behind her, leaving Jameson and I alone with our thoughts.
“Wha- why didn't she answer me?”
Jameson chuckles before grabbing my hand and pulling me out of the kitchen, as if he actually knows where he's going.
“She did.”
“This is awesome!”
If I didn't know any better, I'd think Jameson was high. Ever since I turned on the lights, he's been in awe of all the random crap I have lying around my apartment. To me, they're all mundane things of little importance. To Jameson, they're small treasures.
Every time he comes across something he doesn't recognize, he brings it to me so I can explain it's name, function, and reason I own it.
So far, I've had to identify a Newtons Cradle, a plastic spork from a fast food joint, and, embarrassingly enough, the tampon box sitting atop the toilet tank.
He's enthralled, stomping from one room to the next, and I want to laugh at the playful expression on his face, but I can't keep up. The adrenaline from earlier is gone, I repeat, GONE, and I'm crashing. Hard.
“If you don't mind,” I yawn, “I'm going to bed. We can figure everything out in the morning when I have a clear mind and a cup of coffee not brewed by sex slaves.”
“Aren't you excited?” He asks. “We actually did it. How bizarre is that? We actually fucking did it!”
I understand his exuberance, really, I do, but my body and mind are in no shape to try and match his mood.
“Jameson, I am excited, and I'm really truly happy that you're here with me right now... but if you don't let me go to sleep, I will stab you in the eye with that spork. Are we clear?”
He laughs, and I'm glad he can tell when I'm joking. It should make
things easier down the road.
“You want me to go up with you?” He nods toward the stairs.
Yes, that's exactly what I was asking. Because it doesn't matter how strong I've been up to this point, and it doesn't matter how safe we are behind locked doors: I'm still afraid. I'm afraid that I'll wake up and Joan will be sitting next to my bed, cradling Percy in her arms, and threatening to take us back.
“Yes, please? Doesn't a shower, clean clothes, and a less-than-perfect mattress just sound like heaven right now?
“Less than perfect, huh?” He gives me a mock cringe and shakes his head. “You're really gonna miss that bed aren't you?”
I grab his hand and lead him toward the stairs. “Trust me, after a while, you'll start to miss it too.”
“Don't count on it.”
My bedroom is cold, musty, and dark, but I've never been more happy to see it. Everything is exactly as I left it, down to the unmade bed and candy wrappers on the nightstand.
Jameson walks around the room, eying the walls. This is the only room where the walls are decorated with artwork and photographs. None of the pictures include friends or family, just places I've been or places I'd like to visit. The Pyramids of Giza, the Taj Mahal, you know, stereotypical bucket list places.
Watching Jameson sift through my life like this should be embarrassing, but it's not. I've never invited a man home with me. I was the kind of girl who'd rather have a quickie in the backseat of a car than have a guy know where I live. That's just how I was. But now, with Jameson here, I feel different. The entire room feels different and I'm content to just look around and sigh.
I'm home. With Jameson.
“What are you over here smiling about?” Jameson asks as he throws himself across the bed. “Awe, Tess, I don't know what you we're talking about. This bed is amazing.”
“That's just because you're exhausted. In the morning, your back will be killing you. Trust me.”
“So really,” he says, propping his head on his hands. “What's with the smile? What are you thinking about?”
“Other than the fact that we just escaped the most horrible place under the sun?”
“Yes, other than that.”
“I'm smiling because I'm happy, Jameson. That's actually allowed here, believe it or not.”
“Smiling? Out of happiness? Blasphemy!”
It feels so good to joke freely with Jameson without worrying about people listening in or being punished for speaking out of turn.
“Sarcasm isn't a good look for you, Mr. Foster.” It seems like it's been years since the first time we joked using those words, but it's been less than a month. The longest month of my life.
“Now, if you'll excuse me, the shower's calling my name.”
Jameson barely acknowledges me leaving the room as his attention is drawn to my overstuffed bookcase in the corner. I get a mumbled 'uh huh' before I close the door behind me.
After falling asleep in the shower, repeatedly, I return to find Jameson out cold. I could wake him up. I'm sure he would enjoy a hot shower, but I can't bring myself to do it. So, instead, I throw on a t-shirt, climb in next to him, and let his warmth envelop me as I seek comfort in his arms.
I press one kiss to his jaw before closing my eyes.
“Welcome home, Jameson.”
EPILOGUE
I'll never tire of waking up in Jameson's arms. His scent, his warmth, his touch; it's the greatest way to start my day.
His hair is longer now. It lays in wisps over his forehead, and I can't help but run my hands through it, enjoying the low growl he emits as he rouses.
“Morning, beautiful.”
“Morning to you too. It's a big day today.”
“Is it?” He asks as he burrows his face into the pillow.
“Well, it should be. You're first real job is kind of a big deal, isn't it?”
“That it is, love. That it is.”
“So, why aren't you more excited? Shouldn't you be jumping out of bed, getting ready to greet the day?”
“I should,” he says, “but I'm lying in bed with a beautiful woman. If I could get paid to do that, I'd definitely be more excited.”
“If you could get paid to do that, you'd be a prostitute. Now get up!” I slap him on the behind, just to get him going. “Up, up, up!”
He pulls the pillow over his head to drown out my voice, but I weasel my way under it, pressing my cheek against his forehead.
“If you wake up now, you'll have time to walk me to work.”
He tilts his head to the side, suddenly interested.
“And not only am I wearing that new teal dress you're so fond of, but I'm pretty sure that street vendor you love so much will be on Williams street today. The one with the fresh donuts.”
He lets out a sigh, and finally tosses the pillow to the foot of the bed.
“You don't play fair.”
“No, I don't,” I giggle. “Now get up!”
After slipping on my most uncomfortable work dress, which just happens to be Jameson's favorite, I make my way into the bathroom. He has the hot water turned up all the way, so I can barely see through the steam.
“Bathing in water that hot can't be healthy.”
“I disagree,” he says. “Respectfully, of course.”
“Of course,” I laugh, still trying to wipe away enough of the fog to be able to see myself in the mirror. “So, you think you'll like your new job?”
“I think so. It seems pretty low-key.”
“You don't think it's too dangerous?”
He pulls back the curtain to scowl at me. We've had this conversation one too many times. Yes, working as a nighttime security guard isn't near as dangerous as what he used to do, but I'm still worried. I can't help it. Everything is going so well, I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.
For once, I'm so happy I could cry. Jameson fills every void I've ever had in my life and I'm not sure I could handle being ripped away from him.
“It'll be fine, Tess. I promise.”
“I know. I'm just being paranoid.”
He goes back to shampooing his hair and I literally have to drag myself out of the steamy room before I decide to jump in there with him.
In the time span of two weeks, Jameson's managed to make a friend (albeit a strange one, since it's Elsie's 'boyfriend'), get a job as a security guard at the mall where I work, and has signed up to get his GED.
I'm so proud of him I could burst. This is the life he's always wanted, and he's finally starting to live it.
“You know, this kind of sucks, us working at different times,” he says as he enters the room, towel strung low across his waist.
“Yeah, but by the time we get used to it, they'll be moving you to day shift.” He juts out his bottom lip in a fake pout that he's suddenly become very fond of, and I have to laugh. “This is what you wanted, remember? A normal life. Well, this is all part of that dream.”
“Ah, yes, the American dream.”
“What do you think, now that you've had a taste?”
With a smirk, he leans down to kiss me.
“I love it.”
I'm so tempted to snap his towel away from him. But the girls I work with have already been giving me a hard time about being tardy for work. They know why, they've met Jameson, they've witnessed the kind of attraction sparking to life between us, but I don't need to give them anymore reasons to chide me. Having friends, opening up enough to let people in, it's still so new. But I'm so incredibly thankful that Jameson's managed to pull me out of the lonely shell I was living in before he came along.
“Get dressed. You're gonna make me late again.”
“Me?” He raises his hands, as if offended. “I would never!”
“Yeah, yeah, tell it to my boss.”
“I will,” he says. “Your boss loves me.”
Sadly, it's true. My boss, Neil, has a definite hard-on for Jameson. And although Jameson definitely doesn't swing that way, he's still flattered.
>
“I can't see why,” I tease.
He smiles as he works his legs into a pair of blue jeans. “Yes you can.”
“Yeah, yeah, be downstairs in five.”
“Ten.”
“Three, or I'm leaving without you.”
He sighs, pretending to be inconvenienced.
“So demanding...”
“Yeah,” I smile before leaving the room. “Get used to it.”
Jameson rushes down the stairs just in time to open the door for me.
“Excellent timing, Mr. Foster.”
He opens the door with a flourish and I can't help but giggle as I step outside. A cold wind hits my bare arms and I'm suddenly very aware of how exposed I feel. But that has nothing to do with the chill in the air and everything to do with primer gray car I see vanishing into the alley.
“What's wrong?”
“I'm not sure,” I lie as I step out onto the landing. “I thought I saw-”
“Tess.”
I turn to face him. His face has gone ash white as he stares at something that's been blown into a pile of leaves.
“What is that?”
He pulls me back toward the door and my blood spikes. I watch as he carefully picks up what looks like a small blanket. He turns it over in his hands before looking up and down the street.
“What is it?” I ask again.
When he turns back to face me, I see the fear and uncertainty plaguing his eyes. Standing before me is the old Jameson, the one I thought we'd left behind.
“It's a blanket.”
I shake my head and shrug. “Just a blanket?”
“No,” he twists the thing between his hands, seemingly unsure of what else to do. “It's a swaddling blanket... from the nursery. This belongs to the Children of Neutrality.”
Tess and Jameson's story continues in
Taming the Cult
Coming December 2014
About the Author
Nicole Tillman is an author who hasn't always had a love of reading. As a child, she struggled to string words together and would hide in the back of the classroom with her head down in hopes that the teacher would forget she existed. Eventually, she was introduced to a young adult series by a family friend and her love of reading bloomed.
Loving the Cult Page 15
