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Fighting Shadows

Page 14

by Aly Martinez


  “Well, okay, then. We’re gonna need to make another stop now.”

  “Fuck her,” I said, pushing to my feet and grabbing my forearm crutches, which were leaning against my nightstand.

  “Flint—”

  “Get out,” I snapped, limping my way to the bathroom.

  “Flint, don’t do this.”

  Oh, I’m doing it. “I need to get dressed. Have the coffee ready,” I snapped.

  Till loudly clapped his hands. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

  Less than two hours later, Till and I arrived at Willing Hearts. It wasn’t the hellhole I had expected, but it still infuriated me that she’d lived there—just within my reach—for so long.

  “We’re here to see Judy Jenkins. My name’s Till Page. I believe she’s expecting us,” Till said into the small intercom at the front door.

  “Oh hi, honey. Come on in,” the friendly voice replied as the door buzzed, allowing us entry.

  The smiling face of a gray-haired woman in her late sixties greeted us.

  “Hi, I’m Judy. So nice to meet you.” She extended a hand toward Till.

  “I appreciate you seeing us today. This is my brother, Flint.”

  Her eyes flashed to mine, growing wide before filling with tears. “Of course it is.” She grabbed her heart and continued to watch me with gooey eyes usually reserved for twelve-year-old girls, not elderly women.

  “Where is she?” I barked, causing Judy’s warm smile to fall.

  Till kicked the foot of my crutch out from under me, sending me stumbling forward. Just before I crashed to the ground, he grabbed my arm and stepped in front of me.

  “Whoa, easy there,” he said. Then he snarled into my ear, “Less abusive ex-boyfriend, more long-lost love.”

  I gave him the side eye as I got my crutches positioned on my forearms again. Taking a deep breath, I pasted on a smile I was positive looked no more authentic than it felt.

  “So, where’s Ash?” Till asked when he turned back around.

  Judy was still eyeing me as she answered his question. “Tori . . . I mean Ash is out on a breakfast run. Every morning, she delivers food to the people we can’t take on at night. There’s just so many of them, and our space is really limited.”

  For a brief second, my smile turned genuine.

  Yeah, that sounds like Ash.

  “She’ll be back in about an hour. Listen, I did a lot of research on you two before I agreed to this. Leo James spoke very highly of both of you. I even had Kathy, our volunteer accountant, look you up on the computer. I’m sure you two are nice young men.” Her eyes flashed to mine. “But if she doesn’t want to see you, I will have you escorted out.” She lifted her eyebrows and pointedly glanced over her shoulder to an overweight, elderly security guard sitting at a desk in the corner.

  Till began to quietly chuckle while nodding. “We completely understand.”

  “Good. Now that we’re clear on that”—she took a deep breath before rushing out—“I’m really happy there are people who care about her. She’s such a sweet girl. We didn’t realize until recently how young she was. She was a minor when we first took her in, and we had absolutely no idea. She told us she was nineteen, and Lord knows she looked older than that, so we didn’t even question it when she asked if she could volunteer.” She motioned for us to follow her down the hall. “It wasn’t until one of our regulars found her sleeping on the streets that we found out that she was homeless too.”

  My whole body stiffened as I froze in the middle of the hallway.

  She was sleeping on the streets.

  I might not have grown up in the lap of luxury, but I’d always at least had a roof over my head. I chewed on my bottom lip as I became lost in the visions of Ash at sixteen, resting her head on the cold concrete. My heart began to race, and guilt overwhelmed me.

  I should have been there for her.

  I wasn’t.

  I’d sent her packing into that world.

  Alone.

  “Hey,” Till said, stepping in front of me, reading my anxiety. “Never again. We’re here. That life is over for her.”

  I nodded absently, but I couldn’t escape the thoughts.

  “Much better,” Judy whispered before releasing a sigh.

  Till urged me forward with a squeeze on my shoulder. My legs might have followed, but my mind was stuck reeling in the middle of that hall.

  Judy continued. “We didn’t have much to offer her, but she was so good with everyone who walked through the doors that we knew we needed to keep her.” She stopped at a door. “So we made her a room, and Tori . . . erm, Ash moved in.”

  She pushed the door open to what could only be described as a small closet. The walls were bare, and the floor was covered in old, faded linoleum. There was a small pile of clothes in the corner situated beside a worn-out pair of neon-green Converse. A cot and a nightstand were wedged into the tiny space.

  And on that nightstand sat my book.

  I roughly pushed past both of them and scooped it up. I could tell by the tear on the cover that it was, in fact, my copy, but I continued to search for further proof just to be sure. As I started to flip through the pages, Dave Egger’s heartbreaking words were barely visible. Each and every page was filled with her handwriting. It started in the margins then eventually ran between his words as if his typed letters were nothing more than lines for her to write above. Then there was the highlighting. Random letters were highlighted in green, pink, and blue. Never a whole word, just a random ‘a’ here then an ‘n’ a few lines down. Sometimes, there were multiple colors in each word. Then, other times, one of the colors would disappear completely for several pages.

  Even as strange as it was, the biggest smile I had ever felt formed on my mouth—even bigger than any she had ever put there in the past.

  I was so fucking pissed at her. So angry that she’d left and never given me a chance to apologize. Frustrated that it had taken me so long to find her. But deep down, most of that was because I’d been terrified that, even if I’d found her, I’d never truly get her back.

  As I looked down at my book, which she had held on to for all of those years, even going so far as to turn it into a some sort of diary, I realized that Ash had never let go of me, either.

  Hope filled my chest.

  And time started all over again.

  I shoved the book into the waistband at the back of my jeans.

  “Pack her shit. I’m taking her home.” I turned around to find Till sporting a one-sided grin, and much to my surprise, so was Judy.

  “HEY, JUDY,” I SAID, DROPPING my basket on the front desk. “Dude, I’m exhausted. I had to hike halfway across the city to find Betty. How that old woman walks so far, I’ll never understand. I had to stop and take a break halfway. I was lucky I took water this morning. Well, sort of lucky. That just turned into me having to pee every two blocks.” I giggled. “I gave her double breakfast just in case I couldn’t make it back out there tomorrow.”

  “Oh good, honey. That’s just great.” She reached out and rubbed my arm.

  I quickly moved away. “So, anyway. I’m gonna go take a shower and get started on lunch.”

  “Um, well. Dear, there’s a new guest in the conference room. Would you mind giving him a warm welcome?” She smiled tightly.

  “Cranky old asshole?” I asked with a laugh.

  We had a lot of those, and for some magical reason, I was always in charge of welcoming them. It worked though; they really weren’t rude with me. People were my forte. Well, that and the Dewey Decimal system.

  She didn’t reply as I backed toward the door. I straightened my shirt and my name tag before smoothing my hair down.

  “Where the fuck have you been?” a man’s voice growled as soon as I entered the conference room.

  My eyes flashed to his for only a single second before I recognized them. The door had barely clicked behind me, but I already wanted nothing more than to bolt. My heart raced, and my m
outh dried.

  I have to get out of here.

  “Um . . .” I stalled, giving myself time to formulate a plan.

  “Sit. Down,” he ordered, pushing out the chair next to him, but there was no way I was getting that close.

  “I’m good,” I said, taking a step backwards toward the door.

  “Don’t even think about it,” he snapped. “I swear to God, if you so much as open that door . . .” His words might have trailed off, but the threat had been clearly stated.

  I swallowed hard and slowly walked to the chair farthest away from him, perching on the very edge—waiting for the right moment to escape.

  He looked down at the name badge around my neck and quirked an eyebrow.

  “Victoria?”

  “You can call me Tori if it’s easier.” I tried to fake a smile, but it only seemed to infuriate him.

  He took several calming breaths, which did nothing to dampen the blaze brewing in his angry eyes. “I’ve been looking for you, Ash.” He snarled my name.

  “Oh, yeah? Well, mystery solved. Here I am.” I pushed back to my feet, but I was halted when his fist pounded against the table. My whole body flinched from the surprise.

  When the room fell silent, I slowly looked back up to find him staring at me with a murderous glare. Even while he was sitting down, I could tell he was huge, and as he held my gaze, the tense muscles in his neck and shoulders strained against the cotton of his grey henley. He blinked at me for several seconds before finding his voice again.

  “You live in a homeless shelter,” he stated definitively, as if the words told a story all of their own.

  And maybe they did.

  “I work at a homeless shelter,” I quickly corrected.

  Only he corrected me just as fast. “In exchange for a permanent place to live . . . in. A. Homeless. Shelter.” He enunciated every single syllable.

  I looked away, because it was the truth.

  A truth I hated.

  But the God’s honest truth nonetheless.

  Tears welled in my eyes, and I battled to keep them at bay.

  My life was hard, but his being there made it infinitely harder. If I could just escape that room, I could disappear again. It wasn’t ideal, but neither was his showing up.

  “I want you to leave,” I lied with all the false courage I could muster.

  “I can’t do that. You stole something of mine.”

  “Look, I don’t have your book anymore.”

  A knowing smirk lifted one side of his mouth. “Liar,” he whispered, reaching into the chair beside him, revealing the tattered book, and unceremoniously dropping it on the table.

  My eyes widened, and without a conscious thought, I dove across the table after it.

  That was mine. Not even he could have it.

  Just as quickly as the book had appeared, he snatched it away and grabbed my wrist.

  I slid off the table and tried to pull my arm from his grasp. It was a worthless attempt though, because even if he had suddenly released me, his blue eyes held me frozen in place.

  “Three fucking years,” he seethed.

  “I had to,” I squeaked out as the tears streamed down my cheeks.

  “Three. Fucking. Years, Ash. You took something that belonged to me.” He let go of my arm and pushed to his feet.

  My mouth fell open and a loud gasp escaped as he took two impossible steps forward.

  Pinning me against the wall with his hard body, he lifted a hand to my throat and glided it up until his thumb stroked over my bottom lip. Using my chin, he turned my head and dragged his nose up my neck, stopping at my ear.

  After sucking in a deep breath, he released it on a gravelly demand. “And I want her back.”

  My breath hitched.

  I’d waited three years to hear those words.

  If only I could trust them.

  “Flint, please.”

  “Don’t you dare ‘please’ me. I have spent years of my life looking for you.” He leaned away to catch my eyes, but I was looking anywhere but at him.

  Tears rolled down my cheeks, and in an unexpected show of gentleness, he used the pads of his thumbs to dry them.

  “Why are you here?” I whined, dropping my chin to my chest.

  He scoffed at my question. “To take you home.”

  My head snapped up, and the tears slowed. “I am home.”

  Then the most amazing thing happened; the angry man standing in front of me melted away. His entire face softened, and his voice lowered. “Not anymore. Your home is with me now.”

  He wasn’t wrong. It always had been.

  I had been back to Flint’s apartment no less than a thousand times over the years—never physically, but always in my dreams. And not the ones I made up, either.

  A week after I’d left, as I’d slept in my car at a truck stop, I’d had my very first dream. It was the most amazing thing I had ever experienced.

  Until I’d woken up.

  Then it had been agonizing.

  But each night as I’d laid my head on whatever makeshift pillow I’d had, those dreams kept coming—louder, stronger, and more painful every time. They were never the same, but they always started in his apartment and ended with him walking away.

  Despite all the years I had wished for those late-night fairytales, I would have given anything to get rid of them. For those hours of slumber, Flint and I were perfect. We had a life together. One where he was walking and I was laughing. One where he touched me every opportunity he got and I snuggled into his chest just for fun.

  One where we were in love.

  Then, when I would open my eyes, those dreams made the empty reality of my life that much harder. Which was why his being in that conference room scared me to death. I’d survived losing him once; I wasn’t sure I could do it again. He might have been searching for three years, but I had been running and carrying the staggering weight of my memories of him with every step. I couldn’t make any more memories with him. Not even that one, where his hard body touched mine and his every exhale breezed across my skin. I couldn’t bear to add it to my already overflowing burden.

  No matter how deeply I enjoyed it.

  “Please leave,” I squeaked out, ducking under his arm.

  He pushed off the wall and staggered back two steps, roughly sitting as if he couldn’t possibly have stood there any longer. Interesting. But I didn’t have time to focus on it right then; that would have to wait until I lay in bed after he’d left and cried for days.

  “Ash, stop. Just hear me out.”

  “Listen, I don’t know what you expected when you came here today, but I’m not the same girl you remember. I have a life, Flint. Sure, we had fun for, like, a month or so a while back, but I’ve really moved on. I have a boyfriend. Things are just starting to get serious.”

  He flinched, but I continued.

  “Yes. I live in a homeless shelter, but I love it here. The people are great, and I feel like I’m really making a difference.” I smiled, and it was real—not because I was telling the truth, but rather because it was aimed at him.

  The hopeful expression in his eyes when he glanced down at my smile barely covered the pain my lies had carved on his face.

  His beautiful, beautiful face.

  Flint was even more gorgeous than I remembered. His thin frame was covered with layers upon layers of muscles I could have touched for hours without feeling them all. Gone was that crazy wannabe beard. His strong jaw was covered with a five-o’clock shadow I was dying to feel brushed over my skin while his mouth trailed kisses over my breasts. I envisioned thrusting my hands into his jet-black hair, which was so neatly styled that James Dean would have been jealous.

  Not everything was different though. Those piercing, blue eyes were exactly the same as I’d envisioned every single time I had ever touched myself.

  He wasn’t a nineteen-year-old boy anymore.

  He was Flint Page, the man.

  And I was still Ash Mabie, the
criminal who wasn’t good enough for him.

  “I have to go,” I whispered and then bolted for the door.

  “Stop running from me,” he growled.

  “I can’t do this.” I pushed down on the handle only for it to remain in place.

  What the hell?

  I jiggled it again but achieved the same result.

  “Judy!” I yelled, knocking on the door. “Judy!”

  Her muffled voice spoke from the other side of the wood. “You’re lying to him. You don’t have a boyfriend.”

  “Shut up, Judy! Open the door.” I looked over my shoulder to find Flint donning a pair of black crutches that wrapped around his forearms. “Open the door!”

  I continued to fight with the worthless handle, and Judy continued to spill all of my secrets.

  “I read that book you are always writing in. You’re not happy here and you do love that boy. Stop lying to him and hear him out.”

  “Shut up!” I screamed as Flint closed in on me.

  “Show him the tattoo,” she added loudly enough for half the state to hear.

  Oh, I was killing Judy fucking Jenkins. She might have been my best friend for the previous year and a half, but her life was over. She was old. It would be okay.

  “I swear to God, when I get out of this room, you better run.”

  She giggled.

  Then I felt him.

  His chest brushed against my back as I flattened myself against the door. I moved as far out of his reach as possible. Unfortunately, it was only about an inch, and really unfortunately, he followed me forward, crushing me with his hard body.

  That stubble I so desperately wanted to feel scrubbed up my neck, and his smile was so wide that I could feel it on his lips as he murmured, “Yeah, Ash. Tell me about the tattoo.”

  “Fuck you,” I snapped when a witty retort failed me.

  “Soon enough,” he purred, and my entire body heard his promise.

  Instinctually, my back arched, pressing my ass into his hips.

  Foiled by my own body!

  It was at that point that I believed I must have had a small seizure—or perhaps a stroke? Because there were a full three seconds that I had absolutely no recollection of. One second, I felt Flint shift to my side. Then the next thing I knew, I was flat on my back on the ground with Flint on top of me.

 

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