Ideal Image: Snapshot, #2

by Freya Barker

  “Something I could’ve fixed by now, if you weren’t blocking my way,” I fire back, not quite able to keep the smug grin off my face. Ben shakes his head and drops his hand from my shoulder, stepping aside to let me pass.

  At that moment the door opens and Stacie sticks her head out.

  “Are you guys about done pissing on my porch? Or do you need some more time? Dinner’s getting cold and Mak’s starting to chew on the couch, she’s so hungry,” she says, before stepping back inside.

  All I have to go by is a single eye and a far too distracting mouth, and I’ve never been particularly talented in reading faces, but I’m guessing from what could be construed as a dinner invitation, I’m still in the game.

  I follow Stacie’s retreating form into the house. Stepping past Ben, he gives me an encouraging shove in the middle of my back.

  A shove that feels more like a warning.

  I DON’T HAVE MUCH OF a chance to talk to Stacie until Ben leaves to go up the mountain to check on his own place.

  She hasn’t even made eye contact with me all night, but is glaring at me now. Ben just announced he’ll be by to pick her up for her appointment in the morning and I jump in.

  “Already taken care of,” I announce, ignoring the evil eye I can see Stacie throwing me from the corner of my eye. I keep my focus on Ben, however, letting him know how dead serious I am. “I’ve got this; my day is clear and you’ve got stuff to take care of.” A challenge, and he knows it.

  “Why not let Stace decide?” he says, his eyes never leaving mine as he throws it back.

  “Your call,” I concede, turning to look in her now conflicted eyes.

  I can see the internal struggle between wanting to assert herself against me, or standing up to her overbearing brother. Her gaze flicks back and forth between us when she finally stops, facing Ben with an apologetic sigh.

  “He’s right,” she tells him reluctantly; I try not to gloat. “It would defeat the purpose for you to fly back to take care of business, and then end up sitting in a waiting room. Besides,” she adds, turning a sharp glare in my direction. “A little time for contemplation while he’s waiting for me might be good for Nick.”

  Ben barks out a laugh at my expense, but that doesn’t keep the grin from my face.

  I keep Mak, who is watching TV, company in the living room while Stacie sees Ben out.

  “What are we watching?” I ask her, my attention drawn when a girl, not much older than Mak, perfectly sears a nice cut of beef. I can almost smell it over the lingering odor of our dinner. That had been spaghetti and meatballs, but not quite like any I’ve ever tasted before. Cooking is most definitely not one of Stacie’s strong suits.

  “Junior Master Chef,” Mak replies, throwing a glance over her shoulder at the door, before leaning in to me and whispering conspiratorially, “Mom says when I’m ten I can help with the cooking, but I really don’t want her to teach me.”

  “What are you two chuckling about?” Stacie says when she walks in, only making Mak laugh harder.

  “Gordon Ramsay was funny,” Mak lies with an innocent face. There’s nothing funny about that man, and Stacie knows it, eyeing her daughter suspiciously.

  “If you say so. Time to hit the sack, kiddo. Thank God it’s Friday tomorrow, right?” She smiles at Mak’s enthusiastic fist pump, as the girl gets up off the couch.

  I get up and wander into the kitchen to tackle the disaster left by dinner, or rather the preparation of said dinner, while she looks after Mak. I’m still scraping the burned tomato sauce from the bottom of the pan when she walks in a little later.

  “I was going to do that,” she starts, quickly grabbing a tea towel to dry the dishes in the rack.

  “Least I can do since you fed me,” I say, glancing over to her. “Why don’t you sit down for a bit?”

  “I’m too restless.”

  “Nervous about tomorrow?” I ask, and she nods sharply.

  “A little,” she admits, falling silent again right away, but I don’t push it. It doesn’t take long before I hear her take a deep breath in. “I don’t know why. It can’t be any worse than it is now, right?” she asks, but she’s not really expecting an answer. Not that I’d be able to give her one anyway. Truth is, I’ve been worried as well, not about the way she’ll look, but her response to whatever the outcome is. “I can’t help hoping that when the bandages come off, I’ll be me again—like new—but I know that’s impossible.”

  She reaches up to put a bowl on the top shelf, but comes up a little short, so I step up behind her, take the bowl from her hand and do it for her. I don’t move away immediately, enjoying the feel of her body in front of me.

  “Nicholas...” she whispers, when I rest my cheek against the top of her head. But she doesn’t move.

  “Beautiful...your eyes, the way you smell, the sound of your voice, the taste of your skin...just beautiful.” I take in a deep breath when I feel her body lean back into me. I take it as an invitation to slip an arm around her waist, my hand spanning her stomach. “I’m an ass,” I mumble in her hair. “That much is not news, but I’ve never been a jealous ass. Until a few days ago, when I walked in on Drew sitting here, and I realized that just like ten years ago, I might have missed my chance again.”

  Stacie slowly turns, and I take a step back to give her room.

  “What do you mean? Missed your chance?”

  STACIE

  I lean back against the counter and wait for an answer.

  He’s good with his words, amazing even, melting my resolve like snow for the sun, but then he says something that gives me an unsettled feeling again. The feeling that I’m missing something. I know he mentioned seeing me around college, but with his specific reference to ten years ago, it almost implies it was more than that.

  “I was the only child from a farming family, one that goes back generations, and going to law school was not something my parents had hoped for me. But I persisted, even though it was much harder than I expected. I didn’t really fit in with the college crowd, being a farm boy and all, but it never bothered me much,” he says, looking at me from under his lashes. The hint of vulnerability squeezes my heart. “Do you have anything to drink?” he asks suddenly, completely changing topic.

  “Sure.” I open the fridge and pull out the bottle of white wine. I grab a couple of glasses while I let him struggle with the cork.

  “I graduated,” he continues, taking a fortifying swig from his glass. “But wasn’t quite sure which direction I wanted to go. I looked on, while others were being snapped up by law firms from all over. I had great marks, and one of my professors ended up offering me a position as a teaching assistant.” He shrugs, as if he hadn’t just exposed himself, concealed in the purposely-monotone narrative. “That’s how I met you,” he says, suddenly looking me straight in the eye.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t remember,” I repeat what I recall telling him the first time he’d mentioned knowing me.

  “I was pretty invisible back then.”

  “That’s certainly not a problem now,” I admit. “You’re a hard man to miss.” I really like the almost cocky smirk that puts on his face, but it doesn’t linger long.

  “I’d seen you around campus, and in a few lectures, but like I said, we didn’t exactly run in the same circles.” He pauses and lets his eyes roam over my bandaged face. “First thing I thought was how beautiful you were. Second thing I remember thinking, was that you might as well live on a different continent, you were so far out of my reach.”

  “Why would you say that? Was I —”

  “No. Nothing you did,” he interrupts, quickly reassuring me, before forging ahead. “I just never approached you at the time. Until that party...”

  I see his mouth keep moving, but I’m not hearing a damn thing. My blood suddenly roars in my ears. My glass of wine drops to the floor, as I clap my hands over my mouth: he couldn’t be...

  Noticing my panic, he makes a move toward me, but I step further out
of his reach.

  “Anastasia, what’s wrong? Stacie?”

  I’m not sure what it is about his use of my full name that suddenly has goosebumps stand up all over my skin, but with it comes a deep feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach.

  “Who told you my name?” I hiss; my whole body poised to bolt. “Who the hell are you?”

  I watch suspiciously as his hand comes up and rubs over his smooth head. A head I carefully shaved not that long ago. That night I thought I’d found the beginning of something new, something hopeful.

  My mind scans back to the sight of him taking his shirt off, exposing his torso...but I never saw his back.

  “You told me your name,” he says, lifting his hands up defensively. “Ten years ago. You were drunk out of your mind at a party, you needed help, and I brought you home in a taxi.

  There’s only one college party that stands out from all the rest, oddly because I can barely remember anything about it, but it netted me my precious daughter. All I can remember is laying in a bed, barely able to keep my head up as I watched someone walk out of the room, a large Celtic tattoo spanning his back.

  “I can’t remember you,” I whisper confused, trying to match the man in front of me with the memory of a set of wide shoulders and narrow hips. “Take your shirt off”

  I have to give it to him, he doesn’t even hesitate as he wordlessly whips his shirt over his head and stands there, waiting, watching me take him in.

  “Turn around,” I order, and once again without objection, he does what I ask as I hold my breath.

  Nothing. I approach, scrutinizing the skin on his back: no tattoo, no ink at all, and nothing else marring his skin.

  “Can I put my shirt on now?” he asks. I realize he’s turned around and I’m staring right at his chest. I wave my hand for him to go ahead.

  “You were the guy who got me home?”

  He pulls his shirt back over his head and looks me straight in the eye.

  “That was me.”

  My knees buckle and I let myself slide down against the pantry door, dropping my head to my raised knees.

  “Jesus...for a minute I thought...Makenna.”

  “I know,” he says softly, crouching in front of me, and this time I don’t move away when he pulls me close.

  I CAN’T SLEEP.

  After almost two hours of talking, I finally went to bed and left Nick to make himself at home on the couch. I was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and was sure I’d pass right out. Not so.

  I don’t know how many hours later and my mind is still reeling with this information. The knowledge that Nick and I have a connection, which goes back as far as Makenna’s conception, is bizarre, and that’s putting it mildly. Anxiety around my appointment tomorrow is building too.

  I finally start dozing off when a loud crash sounds from down the hall. My first thought is Makenna when I jump out of bed. I fly across the hall and into her bedroom, but she’s still sound asleep in her bed. Her room undisturbed. I carefully close the door again and turn down the hallway.

  That’s when I hear the sound of the front door opening.

  CHAPTER 15

  Nick

  It’s my own damn fault.

  I’m looking down at the remnants of Stacie’s coffee table, which I literally flattened in my attempt to get up from the couch with a sheet tangled around my feet. By the time I got the front door open, whomever it was I saw standing outside the front window looking in, was long gone.

  Sleep had been restless at best, and when I shot awake to a figure in the window, outlined against the single streetlight, I moved without thinking, the result in pieces at my feet.

  “Come here,” I invite Stacie, who’d come flying out of the house after me and is now fussing in the kitchen. I walk over to her and she turns right into my arms, leaning her forehead against my shoulder.

  “Coffee should be done shortly,” she mumbles, her voice as tight with tension as her body is.

  “Sounds good.” I rest my cheek on the top of her head, just holding her close. “Sorry about your table,” I mumble in her hair.

  “Don’t worry. I wasn’t crazy about it anyway. It gives me an excuse to shop for a new one,” she announces, making me chuckle, but I sober instantly at her next words. “I’m glad you were here.”

  “Me too.” I hold her a little tighter before adding: “I should call Drew, and probably Ben, as well.”

  “We should wait until Mak is on the bus.” She leans back to look at me. “She’ll be gone in a few hours and whoever it was is long gone anyway. I don’t want to scare her.”

  “Tell you what,” I negotiate. “Since your brother undoubtedly will barge in minutes after we call, we can hold off for a bit on him, but I do have to call Drew. See what he says.”

  “Fine.” She sounds a little irritated, but resigned. “But when we get back from Durango, I’m diving into this. Someone is playing games and I’m not down with that.”

  “Not thinking this is a game, beautiful.” Her eyes snap up to glare at me.

  “Well aware of that, counselor,” she says sharply, stepping out of the circle of my arms, to busy herself with cups and coffee. “My child was in the house this time, which is why I’m not going to sit around and wait for whoever is trying to yank my chain to get his jollies off.”

  “Anastasia...” I try softly, but she won’t hear it.

  “As much as my name sounds really fucking good from your lips, you’re not going to convince me otherwise, Nicholas.”

  I can’t help but grin at the way she mimics my tone. I like the sass on her. “Fair enough,” I concede, pulling my phone from my jeans and taking a step toward the front door. “But I’m calling Drew,” I tell her, showing her the phone in my hand when she turns to face me.

  DREW SHOWED UP JUST as the school bus disappeared around the corner. Ben, whom I’d called as Stacie walked Mak to the bus stop, shortly after. I ignored his angry glare when he discovered we hadn’t contacted him immediately, and gave them a detailed description of what went down, which wasn’t much to begin with.

  Ben hugged his sister tightly before she got in my truck, promising her he’d get to the bottom of it. Then he walked around to where I was standing by the driver’s side door, talking to Drew.

  “Never fucking thought I’d say this, but I’m glad you stayed here last night,” he growled at me, drawing a chuckle from Drew, while I struggled to keep a straight face. “But don’t let it get to your head and keep your damn eyes open.”

  I just gave him a nod, and with a chin lift at Drew, got behind the wheel, leaving the guys to look after the house. I had Stacie to look out for.

  “I swear he thinks I’m still fourteen,” Stacie grumbles in the passenger seat just as we pass Mancos. She’s been stewing in her seat this whole time and has repeatedly avoided letting me grab her hand, but I have no trouble knowing whom she is referring to. “It’s like he doesn’t even acknowledge the work I’ve done in the past almost decade. I’ve had to deal with some crazy motherfuckers in those years and managed all right without him jumping in.”

  “It’s a big brother’s prerogative.” I shrug, understanding Ben’s need to protect her. What I’m feeling is not all that different. “Given what already happened to you this year, you can’t fault him for freaking out a little. He almost lost you.”

  “I know,” she says, softening a little as she turns to look at me. “How come you’re not freaking out?” I bite down a grimace and give her a quick wink instead.

  “Who says I’m not?” I pose to her. “I’d love nothing more than to lock you and Mak safely away at the farm, where no one can find you, but I figure that wouldn’t go over too well with the woman I’m trying to impress.”

  “You’re trying to impress me?”

  “Fuck me.” I roll my eyes dramatically. “I must not be doing it right if you have to ask.” A quick glance over shows the tiniest of smiles playing on her lips.

  This time wh
en I reach over and take her hand in mine, she easily slips her fingers between mine.

  Despite the stressful morning, I’m inwardly smiling the whole way into Durango.

  STACIE

  I’m nervous.

  Damn, who the hell am I kidding? I’m petrified. Which is probably why I grab Nick’s hand and drag him along into the doctor’s office when my name is called. Credit to him, he doesn’t say a word and calmly follows me inside, taking the seat next to me like he belongs.

  Dr. Ashrad walks in and doesn’t even blink when he sees Nick sitting beside me; he just nods at him before smiling at me and patting the paper covering the examination table.

  “Let’s have a look then, shall we?”

  Reluctantly I let go of Nick’s hand, who gives me a quick reassuring squeeze before releasing me, and I hop on the table, curling my hands tightly around the edge.

  My eyes are firmly closed when I feel him pulling at the tape holding the bandages in place. Guess I don’t want to risk seeing any flinching on Nick’s face, because that would be almost as bad as looking into a mirror, which I’m not sure I’d be ready for.

  Nice cool air brushes over my skin as Dr. Ashrad pulls away the last of the bandages, leaving only the smaller dressing covering my left eye.

  “Hmmm,” I hear him hum.

  “Is that a good or a bad hmmm?” I want to know.

  “Good,” he simply says without elaboration. “This may stick a little.”

  “Sonofabitch,” I hiss when he pulls the gauze back and both my eyes fly open.

  “Sorry.” I hear him mumble as I frantically blink against the sudden bright light flooding the retina in my left eye, after a week of total darkness.

  With my eyes slowly adjusting to the light, I notice Nick, sitting on the edge of his seat, looking intently at me.

  “That bad?” I can’t help ask; still a little worried, despite the doctor’s reassurances. He immediately shakes his head.