Impressions of Me (Impressions Series Book 2)

by Christopher Harlan

  Kane doesn't say a word; not that there's much for him to say. He listens and he nods, and he never looks away from me, even during the parts of the story where I need to look away from him. I don't know why I need to, I know that I have nothing to be embarrassed about, and I was told so many times how none of what happened was my fault, but my eyes just can't seem to stare at the floor while I'm speaking.

  Kane takes a deep breath and then does something that I didn't expect; he leans over and wraps his long arms around me. His squeeze feels like a warm blanket laying over me; and I just let it all happen, laying my head in the crook of his neck and taking a deep breath as his embrace holds me. "So what happened to this piece of shit?" I'm still leaning against him, which makes not looking at him easier, and I take a deep inward breath, breathing him in while my heart slows a bit.

  "I told the cops who I knew it was, and when they found him he didn't even deny it."

  "Jesus."

  "Yeah, Derrick is a complete psycho. But he's also something else."

  "What's that?"

  "From a well off family. He hired one of the best attorneys in the state to defend him, and he got a ridiculously short sentence, even though I testified in court against him. The system is so corrupt."

  "Yes it is," he says almost sadly, "I know all too well what money can do in situations like that. How long did he get?"

  "Five years," I say with a lump of anger growing in my throat, "five years for stalking and almost killing me."

  "So when is he getting out?"

  "He is out." I have to get the words out quickly or I'll never say them, but I can't believe someone like him is allowed to be free. "I got a call the other night from his parole officer - they have to inform me when he gets out of prison, so I got the courtesy call while I was walking Jordan."

  "I see. Is that what shook you up so bad? “he asks.

  "It did shake me up, yes, but I wasn't even thinking about it tonight. It's something else."

  "What then?"

  I sit up from the hug he's still holding me inside of, and reach over to grab my phone. fter I unlock it I go to my messages I hold the screen up so that Kane can see the words:

  "I'm back. And I'll be seeing you soon enough."

  "I'll kill him," Kane says so calmly that it both frightens and excites me, "just so you know - in case you were wondering. If he comes near you I'll kill him, and then no one has to worry about him ever again." It's such a gentle and polite promise that for a few seconds I feel as if it's already happened - not that I want anyone to be killed, especially on my behalf, it's more that I can see very clearly that Kane means it, and that if he needed to he'd protect me to the very end - his or someone else's.

  "I don't think that'll be necessary but thank you, I'll be okay." It's a lie that I tell him, not to be deceitful, but because I want it to be true, even though I know it isn't.

  "Dacia, there's nothing okay about this situation at all. A psychotic stalker who has a vendetta about you is free, and is sending you threatening messages. You have to show that text to his P.O., it's definitely a parole violation and can send him right back to the cell that he belongs in."

  I hadn't even thought of that, probably because ever since I saw the text I haven't been thinking at all, I've only been reacting to the anxious thoughts and feelings coursing through my body. But Kane's everything I'm not: level headed, strong, and painfully honest about how he sees the situation. He's everything that I need at this moment. "You're right, I never would have thought of that, maybe he got careless and made a mistake."

  "That's what I'm here for. And hopefully that's the case."

  I call Derrick's parole office back by redialing the number on my phone from the other night. I get a voicemail saying that it's after hours, and to call back tomorrow. "Too late?" Kane asks when he sees me hangout. I nod and throw my head back against the couch and take the deepest breath ever. "It's okay; you'll call first thing tomorrow."

  "I'm starving." I blurt out. I am - as weird as it is to be thinking of food right now it's still on my mind.

  "Have you eaten?" He asks.

  "Not really. I invited Kevin and his girlfriend over for Chinese but they couldn't make it - she's crazy and doesn't like Chinese food."

  "Not liking Chinese food doesn't make you crazy, you know."

  "No, she's crazy because she's crazy - the Chinese thing is just another strike against her. You can head back to the office or whatever you were doing before I called you all panicked, I'm good."

  "So many things wrong with what you just said," he says back to me."

  "Excuse me?" I say, giving him a sarcastic fake attitude.

  "First, we established that you're not okay - or at the very least that you're bad at lying about being okay, but that's really the same thing."

  "I assume there's a second?"

  "Oh yeah," he jokes, "second, I'm not going back to that damned office again today, I've had enough of that place for about a year."

  "Dare I ask? And third?"

  "There's no third that I thought of but, if you think I'm leaving you by yourself tonight you're out of your mind. And I happen to love Chinese food, so you're in luck." His words comfort even more than his arms around me - but those were pretty nice too. I would never ask him to stay, but I really want him to, and the fact that he offers makes me feel very strongly towards him. "I'll sleep on the couch, and in the morning I'll be here when you call that parole office of that human piece of garbage. Deal?"

  "Deal." I can't help but smile at him like we're in high school and he's the guy all the girls want. He's so handsome that I can't help but look at him that way, and when he's kind and compassionate also, it makes his face even more beautiful. Even though I let him kiss me before - and it was an amazing kiss - it isn't until this moment that I really want him in that way. I don't want him to sleep on the couch; I don't want him to sleep at all - I want him in my bed, on top of me until neither of us has the energy to go on any longer.

  But I also know that now isn't the time for that. There's too much going on and I can't commit my whole mind or body to being with Kane, but I file away a mental note that if the situation ever allows, he's all mine. We talk for about another half hour on my couch. I can tell that he's choosing subjects to distract me from the drama going on in my life - stupid topics like my favorite drink, or what I really think about his brother Wesley, or anything else that will make me feel like a normal person instead of a stalking victim. I appreciate it, and for a few minutes it works, and I get him blankets and a pillow for him to sleep, and let him give me a giant goodnight hug.

  It isn't until I close the door to my room and shut the lights that I see Derrick for the first time. Not literally, but I haven't allowed myself to see his face in five years; the only thing I could envision is that dark figure in a dark hoodie standing in the alley, waiting to hurt me. But now I can see his face, and those stone cold blue eyes he has, looking back at me. I close my own eyes and try to think of something - anything else besides his face, but it's difficult. Maybe tomorrow will bring relief from my nightmare. I hope so.

  Chapter 11

  Stalker Ex-boyfriend...check.

  Blown opportunity for sex with hot man...check.

  Giant dog who's most likely peed all over the rug because her lazy-adoptive owner oversleeps like a seventeen year old...double check.

  I'd look at the weather app on my phone, but I'm sure that dark cloud that sits over my place is still there. So dramatic, Dacia! Just get up and make the call you're avoiding. Uhh...what time is it, anyhow? I slept like the dead. Get up, girl. But I can't call yet, I have to check on...where's Jordan? I jump out of bed frantically and start looking around the room like a crazy person who just lost something valuable. The door to my room is closed, and unless there have been some serious evolutionary changes since I've been asleep, dogs can't open doors. So where the hell is she?

  I open the door and sprint out of my room only to see that Kan
e is gone too. Instead of thinking logically I start to panic and look around the room thinking crazy thoughts. What if Derrick found me? What if he came in the night? What if...

  The front door opens and brings my insane thoughts to a quick end. The first thing I see is Jordan's dripping snout peeking through the open door, followed by Kane, who looks like he's just finished the last leg of the Boston Marathon. "That's a powerful beast you adopted." I don't know who's panting harder, but it's Kane who looks like he's been taken for a walk.

  "You scared the hell out of me!" I don't mean to raise my voice, but I can't help it. I sound like a parent who's afraid and angry at the same time after they find their kid who wandered off in a crowd for a few minutes.

  "I'm sorry, that's the last thing I want to do given the situation you're going through, you know that, right?" I do know that, but my heart's racing and I'm having trouble thinking with a clear mind.

  "Yeah, I'm the one who should apologize; I didn't mean to snap at you. What's going on?"

  "I didn't want to wake you. I figure you need all the rest you can get, but I heard her pawing at your door to be let out." I must have been dead asleep to not hear her giant claws scraping against the door next to my head. "I didn't wanna disturb you," he continues, "so I just threw the leash on her and decided to take her for a walk. Like I said, powerful beast that Jordan." He's smiling at me. It's a nice thing to see first thing in the...well, technically it's not the morning, but first thing after I wake up. Especially after the night I had and the panic I woke up in, I'm happy to see his sweet eyes and handsome face looking at me like he does. And I'm especially happy that Jordan didn't pee on the carpet.

  I feel bad for raising my voice, so I walk up and give Kane a hug, but I'm guessing my squeeze isn't as strong as his. "Sorry I just got scared."

  "No I'm sorry, I didn't think. Not to bring it up, but you should make that call."

  I've been dreading this since Kane brought it up last night, but I know it's a good idea. Derrick's crazy enough to not care about going back to jail, but calling his P.O. might keep him from doing anything ridiculous, at least for a while. "Yeah, I'll do that in a minute. What about you?"

  "I don't think me calling will help much but I'll try."

  "No, I mean what are you doing today?"

  I want the answer to be 'nothing, I'm calling in sick to work so I can lie on your couch, naked, for you to use me as you will...', but that might be a little far-fetched.

  "Well, I need to change clothes, so I'm going to head home for a few. It might raise a few eyebrows if I come in in the same suit as I left in yesterday."

  "Understood," I say, secretly disappointed that he's leaving. I don't know why my first impulse is to have him around, but I'm sad that he has to go, even though I understand why. "Thank you, for everything."

  "No need to thank me. I should thank you for the workout I got with her." He's pointing at Jordan, who's laying down on her side with her belly rising and falling from all the exercise. I should get her some water! "Let me know how everything goes," he says, "and if you need me again, I'm always here."

  After he leaves I know that I can't stall any longer, so I go back into my call history and hit the redial button. It takes a few rings but the parole office answers. I explain the situation to him and he doesn't seem too surprised by anything I'm saying. You know you've been doing your job for too long when you find out the recently released felon you're in charge of is violating his parole, and you don't give two shits. I tell him about what happened the other night, and he listens like he's supposed to, them assures me that he's been in contact with my creep of an ex, and that it's been made 'crystal clear' to him that any parole violations would end up with him back upstate in maximum security prison, and that I shouldn't be worried. Don't be worried! Spoken like a man who Derrick didn't try to kill. I thank him for his time and get off the phone feeling no better than before I made the call. It's a good idea Kane had, but I don't think it's made any difference at all.

  A few minutes later I get a text from Kane.

  Kane: How'd it go?

  Dacia: Are you driving right now? You just left, stop texting, you're gonna crash.

  Kane: Relax, I pulled over. Now enough about me, how'd it go?

  Dacia: No help at all.

  Kane: Shit, I'm sorry, thought that might help.

  Dacia: No, it was a good idea - apparently P.O.'s don't give much of a shit about these things.

  Kane: This one, anyhow. Sorry about all of this. You know I'm here for you, right?

  Dacia: I know.

  Kane: I've gotta go. Text me. Or I'll text you.

  Dacia: Okay, bye.

  The rest of the day passes like most days: coffee, morning shift at work, some food, and now some serious Jordan snuggling. It's your normal, run-of-the-mill kind of day, only I'm so painfully distracted by what's going on with Derrick that I can't concentrate on anything else. I try to distract myself with conversations with my co-workers (the ones I can stand talking to, anyhow), scrolling through my phone on breaks, some terrible, mid-day reality TV shows, but always my thoughts come back to his face in the alley that night.

  It's getting dark outside, and I'm getting hungry. My standard move would be to bother Kevin or Mia, but she still away and he's locked down with a girl who doesn't like Chinese food. I'm not just lonely, I'm afraid of what might happen, so I decide to text Kane and see what he's up to. Right now he's the only person in my life who knows what's going on with me, and he makes me feel safe. When I text him I hear right back. All I said was that I was hungry, and he texted back that he'd pick me up in a half hour and take me somewhere nice. I could use a night out with a gorgeous guy, especially one I'm starting to have more and more feelings about.

  After a quick walk around the block with Jordan I take what might be the fastest shower in human history, and then finish getting ready. He gets here right when he said he would, and before I know it I'm sitting at a restaurant I didn't even know existed, a cool little Chinese Restaurant called The Jade Fountain. It's a nice place, nothing too fancy, and I realize when we walk in how long it's been since I've eaten Chinese food that isn't take-out. The whole place smells amazing, like a combination of all of my favorite dishes mixed together. The waitress seats us and I order way too many appetizers.

  Kane looks as handsome as ever, and he dressed the part tonight. He's wearing a slim button down, nice khakis, and shoes that probably cost more than I make all month. But goddamn he looks good!

  I don't want to talk about drama, I just want to be my normal, crazy self for a while and forget about all the bullshit.

  "So what's your take on fake boobs?" Kane nearly spits his water out, and he immediately cracks a smile that he can't erase. He makes such a loud snicker abound that the old couple at the next table look over.

  "I don't think you need them, if that's what you're asking."

  "It isn't, but thank you," I say, "at least you're up front about staring at my chest when I'm not looking."

  "I'm always up front," he says with that huge grin still on his face, "and if you'd prefer I'll stare while you're instead. You can look me in the eyes and I'll talk into your chest. It'll be weird at first but we'll make it work."

  "It's such a weird thing," I say, going on with my random thought, "why are guys so obsessed with boobs?" I've actually always wondered this, but you have to ask a guy when he isn't turned on to get any real answer, which I haven't gotten yet. Kane looks up slightly, like he's never considered the question before. I guess most guys haven't - like asking a dog why he likes that terrible squeaky noise all the chew-toys make - mental note, I'll have to ask Jordan why she likes that noise, then pretend to not sound absolutely insane that I'm talking to a Rottweiler.

  "I can only answer for myself," he says after thinking for a few seconds, "I refuse to speak on any other guys behalf, but maybe I have some insight."

  "Finally!" I yell, as if he's about to offer the meaning of life in a few
syllables or less.

  "Wow, I thought we were just being silly, didn't know you really wanted an answer so bad." He's smiling right at me, and for a second all I can see are his beautiful eyes, and time stands still as I fall into them, and then he speaks. "Okay, then. I'll be serious."

  "Okay."

  "Part of it is just a shape thing. It isn't even sexual."

  "What the hell does that mean?" I ask, genuinely confused at what he could possibly mean. I'm even more confused when he doesn't clarify his statement with any words, but takes his right hand and reaches underneath the tightness of his shirt. I know he's about to make a point but as I follow the trace of his hand I can see for a minute beneath his shirt, and even in a nanosecond I can see the outline of his abs, and the smoothness of his skin. He takes the hand that's under his shirt and protrudes it out while making a fist, so that it looks like that scene in Alien when the creature busts out of that guy's stomach. Then he just leaves it there.

  "What the hell are you doing?" I ask, but I can't stop staring at the thing popping out of his chest, and neither can that old couple next to us. Jesus, they should really mind their business!

  "Get it?" He asks as I stare at his chest instead of his eyes.

  "Okay, I get it." I concede. "But there's got to be more to it than just things sticking out from under our shirts. Why do guys like fake boobs?"