Catching Teardrops

by Abigail Davies

  I try to read what she’s silently saying, but it’s no use. Why is she doing this? For five years she hasn’t cared to talk to me other than in passing. She was the one person I was sure wouldn’t pull away when Mom died, but it’s like she disappeared right along with her.

  Moving my gaze over her shoulder, I see his narrowed eyes and straighten up. “I… Yeah, of course.”

  “Great.” She pulls her hand away, smiling big and wide before pushing her light-brown hair out of her face. “I’ll see you then.”

  I watch as she walks down the small path that winds between the grass outside the front of the small church, leading out into the parking lot. She halts when she comes toward the end, turning around to face the large oak tree sitting at the edge.

  Memories of running around the tree as a kid with my brother assault me. We were happier back then, not a care in the world. How can things change so much in a decade? I know it’s a long time, but in the grand scheme of things, it’s not really.

  My eyes widen when a shadow moves, a man pushing off the trunk of the tree. I squint against the sunlight as he steps toward Kim, pulling his sunglasses off his face before he wraps his arms around her. Her tinkle of laughter floats on the air and back toward me.

  It’s not until then I realize there’s only us left, and everyone else has gone.

  Kim and the guy separate before she says something to him and he looks over her shoulder, zoning in on me at the same time Dad places his hand on my shoulder.

  “Home. Now, Liliana.”

  I can’t talk, can’t concentrate when the guy is staring at me. He may be thirty feet away, but I can feel the tension rolling off him.

  He looks mean. His shoulders are bigger than any I’ve ever seen before and he towers over Kim, but not in the way my father towers over me. It’s protective, not out of anger and control.

  Who is this guy? And why is Kim talking to him?

  He widens his stance and crosses his arms over his chest before Kim places her hand on his arm, pulling his attention away.

  As soon as he looks away, I suck in a breath.

  “I won’t tell you again,” Dad growls.

  I turn to face him. “Yes, Father.”

  Stepping away, I spin around, but both Kim and the guy have gone.

  LUKE

  I sit staring at the waning sun, the colors in the sky fascinating me. Every memory watching this skyline from the exact same spot has been happy. I can’t sit here with the poppies surrounding me without feeling like my mom is with me.

  This is our place; nothing can change that.

  Her laughter whispers around me, her smiles reflecting off the stems of the flowers. I can almost see her dark-blond hair wafting in the wind from beside me as we run through the path she created between the flowers.

  I feel my lips lifting into a smile the longer I remember her and the happiness she radiated no matter what was happening.

  I don’t allow anything but happy memories to consume me in this field. Sadness and pain surround me in every other walk of my life, but this sea of red is for joy only. How ironic.

  Standing up when the sun starts to lower, I check the time on my watch adorning my wrist and see I have ten minutes to get to Kim’s house. I still don’t understand fully what she was trying to tell me with her secret look on Sunday, but I’ll go along with it for now… at least until I find out what her game plan is.

  My legs burn when I make it across the field, and I can’t help but look back to the other side, seeing the back of my house and the light coming from one of the rooms. I know he can’t see me from here because I’ve spent countless hours staring out of his office window that looks out onto the field. There’s also been just as many hours turning away from that same window when everything overtakes me and I can’t push myself into my happy place.

  Taking a deep breath, I pull my jacket further around me, warding off from the chill that sweeps across the field. Breaking out into a small alley, I walk through it before stopping at the end and turning left. Passing three houses before I get to Kim’s, I sometimes wonder if this is why Mom loved this field so much because she could quickly get to Kim’s house.

  It’s been such a long time since I came here, but that last time I remember like it was yesterday. I wish I would have done more—said more—but what are you meant to do as a twelve-year-old kid?

  As I push open the small, black metal gate, the squeak of it surrounds me, forcing me back into that day—the day my mom took her last breath on this earth.

  Looking up at the sky, I pray and hope she’s up there watching over me. But that thought depresses me even more, because if she is then why does she allow it to keep happening? Can you love and hate someone at the same time? Because that’s how I feel. She left knowing what would happen, yet she didn’t have the strength to stay. Not even for me.

  “Lily?” I snap my gaze to the light-blue front door, seeing Kim standing and watching me, a soft smile on her face. “Are you going to come inside or stay out there all night?”

  I chuckle, shaking my head as I shut the gate behind me. “Sorry, I was caught up in…” I trail off, not wanting to tell her what I was thinking, but she looks at me knowingly.

  “The last time you were here?”

  I walk up the path lined with flowers, taking the two steps up to her front door as she moves back. “I… yeah.”

  Closing the door behind me, I then slip my ballet flats off, my feet sinking into plush carpet. It’s been so long since I felt it under my feet, being so used to the wood floors at home that I can’t help relishing the feel of it between my toes.

  Standing awkwardly in the small entryway, my gaze skirts over the gray painted walls and the framed photographs, but the images don’t register.

  “Come on in.” She waves me in, stepping into the living room and pointing to the sofa. “Have a seat; I’ve just ordered some pizza.”

  “Pizza?” My eyes widen as I follow her.

  “You like pizza, right?” Her hand lands on her chest. “I should have asked! I’m sorry, I just—”

  “I like pizza,” I interrupt, frowning at her as she grins. “But why did you order it?”

  “Because I was hungry.” She laughs, throwing her head back. “Nothing that a couple of slices can’t fix though.” She rubs her stomach before padding through the only door in this room that I know leads to the kitchen.

  I stand stock still, not knowing whether to sit or stay standing, but when she comes back in with two cans of soda, she points to the sofa again before sitting down in the chair next to it.

  Worrying my lip, I open the can before taking a small sip and sitting with my back ramrod straight. Questions fly through my mind as she flicks on the TV, clicking on a romance movie I’ve never watched.

  We sit in awkward silence for a few minutes before she says, “Go on, ask me.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “I can hear your mind turning from here.” She pauses the movie. “I see the way you stop yourself from saying what you really want to, Lily.” She smiles gently. “I remember the kid who used to say what she was thinking without a second thought. But something happened between then and now. And I…” She looks away, her chest rising and falling as she takes a breath. “I think that’s partly my fault. I promised your mom—”

  I gasp, tears immediately springing forward and threatening to fall. “No.”

  “Sweetheart.” She stands up, moving toward the coffee table and sitting in front of me. “I haven’t been there; I broke my promise. I know that.” She clasps my hands in hers, and when I look in her eyes, I see the truth shining through. “Your mom confided in me that day… I should have done more. I should have…” She shakes her head, her features falling. “I didn’t realize… not until Sunday.”

  “R…” I croak, clearing my throat. “Realize what?”

  She frowns when I pull away, but her attention doesn’t move off my face as she takes everything in. “You’re not read
y,” she whispers before standing up and shaking her head. “Tuesday evenings are yours now, Lily.”

  “Wh—”

  “This isn’t bible study; this is your chance to do something normal… to be out of that house.”

  I know what she’s saying, but neither of us voices it. We can feel it in the air, we know the truth, but we’re coasting around it, afraid what the other person will say.

  I open my mouth, about to tell her that I don’t need Tuesday evenings because I can be me any day of the week. But it’s a lie… a lie I don’t want to tell, so instead, I nod and smile even though it’s forced.

  “Good… now let me introduce you to Nicholas Sparks.”

  “Nicholas Sparks?”

  “Yep.” She sits back down in her chair, clicking play. “You’re gonna love this.”

  I lean back on the sofa, bringing the can of soda with me as I watch the open sequence to The Lucky One.

  The doorbell rings about twenty minutes later, and Kim leans forward, opening her wallet and handing me some bills. “Can you grab the pizza, sweetheart?”

  “Sure.” I stand up, taking the money from her before walking toward the front door. I’m about to pull it open when it’s pushed. I squeak, my hand flying to my chest as a guy fills the doorway—and when I say fill, I really do mean fill.

  His eyes connect with mine, the ice blue shining brightly. “Kim?” I don’t know what to say or what to do because all of his attention is on me, not wavering as Kim moves forward.

  “Luke! I didn’t know you were coming over tonight!”

  “I paid for your pizza,” he tells her, his deep baritone flowing through me. I shiver at the deepness causing him to zone in on the action. It’s then I realize this is the same guy who was standing at the tree on Sunday.

  “Well don’t keep standing there! Come on in. Lily and I were watching a chick flick.”

  “Lily?” he asks, raising his brow at me, his lip lifting on one side.

  “That’s me.” I point at my chest. “I’m Lily… or Lil… or Liliana.”

  He stares at me, his gaze roving over my face before his eyes narrow and darken. His gaze flicks behind me.

  “The preacher’s daughter?” Kim must nod because he shakes his head, his ice-blue eyes looking more royal blue at that moment. “I told you to leave it alone, Mom.” He pauses, stepping toward me. He’s her son? “You should go home.”

  “Luke Jameson King! You will be polite in my home to my guests.”

  A muscle in his jaw tics and I catch movement as his hand lifts. I flinch automatically, hating how that’s my first reaction to a man who is merely scrubbing his hand over his face. The move seems to anger him even more so I step back.

  “It’s getting late.” I spin around, stepping toward Kim. “Thanks for inviting me, Kim. I’ll see you at church on Sunday.”

  Turning away, I don’t look at either of them as I step past him, his woodsy cologne penetrating my lungs. Leaning down, I slip my ballet flats on, hearing them both whisper-shouting behind me.

  I wince, hating that I’ve caused them to argue. Placing my hand on the knob, I turn it and pull it open before a hand hits the wooden surface, slamming it shut. Gasping, I don’t move an inch as a chest touches my back, only this time it feels completely different to what happened Sunday.

  I feel safe against this chest; the safest I’ve ever felt.

  Turning my head slightly, the top of my head reaches his bicep—a very big bicep—before I tip my head back and look into his eyes.

  “Stay,” he murmurs, his gaze flicking over my face.

  It feels like he’s saying so much more than that as his attention moves to my neck where my scarf has slipped.

  I reach up, pushing it back into place to conceal the finger mark bruises, but it’s too late—he’s seen them.

  Swallowing, I don’t move until he backs away a step, shaking his head before spinning around and walking through the living room and into the kitchen.

  “His bark is worse than his bite,” Kim says, ending on a laugh.

  My gaze moves to the kitchen when I turn around. He leans against the counter, watching me in the same way he did on Sunday. What is he searching for?

  I can’t stay in this house with him; he makes me feel things I shouldn’t want to. Things I’m not allowed to feel.

  Pulling the door open, I don’t say another word before rushing out of the house, banging it closed behind me and running for the field.

  The field that calms my warring thoughts.

  LUKE

  I keep my gaze connected to Evan’s car, a tablet on my lap so I can see any cameras surrounding the place. My nostrils flare, my hand tightening on the steering wheel as Dean opens a bag of chips, my jaw clenching as he chomps down on them.

  I’ve had to sit in the same SUV as him for the last three weeks, and I can’t fuckin’ wait until he’s out of the picture and as far away from me as he can be.

  “Where to after this?” Dean asks, to which I ignore the fuck out of him.

  My gaze flits to the tablet, spotting an SUV coming this way. I keep my attention trained on it until it turns the corner into the industrial park where the meet is set up.

  “Black SUV coming your way,” I tell Evan through the earpiece.

  “I’ve got eyes,” he replies as the SUV comes into his view.

  I watch as it turns around, stopping approximately ten feet in front of Evan, but he doesn’t move to get out of his car until Darrell opens his door and steps out.

  Clicking on the button under my seat, I roll it as far back as it can go, preparing my muscles to move quickly if I need to.

  I don’t trust Darrell much the same as Dean; the difference is if he’s threatening Evan, I can take him out. Not so much with Dean—at least not unless I have sufficient evidence to back myself up. That may sound extreme, but the fuckface is hiding something, that much is clear. Why come here after all this time? I get it, Kitty wanted him here, but why stay?

  I listen with one ear while Evan and Darrell talk, mentally taking screenshots of what I can see and recording what they’re saying. It’s one of the many skills I have, that and being able to detect a bullshitter from a mile away.

  My gaze bats to Dean as he leans over the center console, trying to watch Evan hand back the chip on the tablet. Ty was adamant that Evan not install what Darrell wanted, but the only way we can get inside is to do what he wants and watch him. Either way, Evan has coded in a fail-safe, so he won’t be able to use it for more than a few seconds before he stops it.

  “Payment?” I hear Evan ask.

  “Wire it,” Darrell shouts toward his SUV.

  “Nice doing business with you.”

  I push my chair forward as Evan spins around but stop when Evan halts as Darrell says, “The job is in four weeks, be ready.”

  I wait until Darrell is back in the car before asking, “Is it done?”

  “Yeah... but he said the main job is in four weeks,” Evan replies, getting back into his car. “I’ll see you back at the compound.”

  He speeds out of the industrial park, and I frown, wondering what the hell is going on. I’m on high alert as I start my SUV, spinning around and following behind him.

  “Thinks he’s a racecar driver,” Dean comments.

  I don’t answer—yet again—but my hands tighten even more on the steering wheel. I want to reach over and shove my fist into his mouth to stop the fuckin’ commentary. He wouldn’t know how to handle a push bike never mind a goddamn car like Evan’s.

  Clicking my fingers on one of the paddles on the back of my steering wheel, I turn up the rock song playing, blocking him out but keeping an eye on him as he pulls his cell out, his fingers flying over the screen. I side-eye it. If I could get hold of it, I could see who he’s talking to.

  I take the turn for the compound, a few minutes behind Evan, noting that we’ve made it back in record time.

  “What was the rush?” I ask once I’ve parked and I’m
climbing out.

  Evan shrugs. “He gave me a rough date; I want to know what Seb and West know.”

  I nod in understanding before following him into the warehouse.

  “What’s going on?” Seb asks, standing up from the meeting table where he, West, Ty, Kay, and Kitty are sitting.

  “I just met with Darrell.” Evan sits down as I take my usual seat. “What do you know about this job?”

  “Nothing we haven’t already told you,” West answers, his gaze meeting Evan’s before narrowing. “It’s the gallery, something to do with them.”

  Evan opens up his laptop, seeming to be thinking something but not saying anything. We know that Darrell is wanting a piece of art, so him giving Evan this rough date means he knows when it’s coming in.

  “There’s nothing here,” Evan announces. “He must have an inside person in the gallery to know when it’s happening.”

  “Wait… what are you talking about?” Seb asks, his brows furrowed.

  Tilting my head, I skirt my gaze over him, noting his bunched-up shoulders and the way his face is taut. He doesn’t know.

  “He told me the job is in four weeks’ time. He knows something that we don’t.”

  Seb turns to West, both of them sharing something silently with their eyes. “He hasn’t told us anything yet.”

  Like I said: They don’t know.

  I can practically hear everyone’s thoughts from here. Why tell Evan but not them? The answer is simple, and I’m about to open my mouth, but Evan beats me to it. “He doesn’t trust you.”

  West’s head reels back before he shoots out of his seat, his hands clenched into fists. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “He’s right,” Dean interrupts—of course he fuckin’ inserts himself. I clench my teeth, skirting my gaze to him. “If he trusted you, you’d be one of the first people he’d tell about the date… not Evan.”