by JJ Knight
“He did,” I say. No use denying that.
“You been an item long?” He breaks his gaze on me for that question, staring out the front windshield. His earbuds are piled in his lap now, white cords on faded blue jeans. He still has the black leather jacket on.
“A few months,” I say, stretching it a bit.
He doesn’t have the young rebel attitude anymore. His face is more filled out, still handsome, but not the lean, spare look he had as a teen. He’s rough around the edges, his whiskers grown out more than Blitz lets his get, and lighter colored. He looks hard, like he’s seen a lot. He’s been in jail, I remember.
“He doing all right by you?” he asks. His hand drapes over the steering wheel like he’s feeling laid back, but I can see the tension in his jaw.
I know this face, I realize. At one time, I knew what he was thinking just by the expression he was trying to hide. Watching him now sends a million memories flooding back to me.
“He is,” I say. “Although he’s worried about this. About you. What do you want, Denham?”
He turns to me then, his light eyes piercing me. “I came here to tell you about the DNA.” He sniffs. “But now I need to know about my baby.”
I don’t know what I should tell him. I could lie, say it is a boy and he lives in Nebraska. I could say he died when he was three. I could say I don’t know anything, that I hadn’t even seen the baby or found out the gender.
But I’m not good at those things. I think the less I say, the better.
“I hired a lawyer,” I say. Maybe I can intimidate him into leaving. “I know you have a criminal record. You won’t be able to get her.”
“So she’s a girl,” he says. “Imagine that. A baby girl.” He turns back to the windshield. “Is she as pretty as you?”
This is why I shouldn’t talk. Heat rises in me that I’ve even said that much. “I don’t have her, Denham. She was adopted at birth. It was all legal and square. It’s a good family. Please don’t mess up her life.”
He taps his thumb on the steering wheel. “I don’t see how it could be all legal and square if I didn’t sign anything. And I might have a past.” He glances at me. “But I do know one thing about the courts.” He flashes me a smile. “They love reforming bad guys.”
My blood chills. “Denham, this is not about you. It’s about her. Leave her be. I wasn’t happy to let her go either. I was too young to make that decision. But I stand by what’s happened, for her sake.”
This is the wrong thing to say. I know it immediately. Denham’s face lights up and he takes my hand. I want to pull away, but he’s got me.
“Livia! Then let’s do this for us. Let’s get our baby back. We can raise her. You got your man. And that’s all right. But let’s get her. Let’s right this wrong.”
I jerk hard to get my hand away. “That’s selfish!” I say. “It’s not what she would want. She thinks of her parents as her parents!” I must be careful not to say the father has died. This will only fuel Denham’s determination.
“She’s a kid. She’ll recover. When she gets older, she might be mad that she never got to meet us.”
I know Denham is right about this part, but there has to be a way in the middle, where Gwen keeps Gabriella and nobody is upset or destroyed by this.
But I remember what Blitz said. Make him fight and keep it expensive.
“You won’t win,” I say. “We’ll fight you.”
“Interesting,” Denham says. “Interesting that you want to fight so hard not to see her.” He picks up his earbuds and slowly rolls them into a coil. “Unless, of course, just speculating here.” He winks at me. “You actually know where she is and get to see her all the time. So you’re just keeping my daughter from ME.”
I’ve said too much. Coming here was a huge mistake. I fumble with the handle and throw open the door. I can hear Denham’s laughter as I dash across the parking lot and around the building.
I’ve made things worse.
Chapter 13
When I get back to the hotel, I want to bury myself under the covers and never come out. I have the whole rest of the day and night without Blitz. We haven’t been separated since I left home, so this is actually the first time I’ve been alone, pretty much ever. I suffered through many years of being homeschooled and watched by my hawk-eyed father. Babysitting my brother. Volunteering. Dancing.
But never alone.
I drop my bag on a chair and head to the balcony, my happy place.
I sit on Blitz’s seat instead of mine and look up into the sky. The sun is warm, and for a moment, I can block out all the unhappiness of the past hour.
I remember meeting Blitz, and how we danced the first time. The moments in the storage closet. His first intense kiss. Ballet lessons. Waltzing. That movie we saw early on and what he did to me in the empty theater.
My body shivers. This is making me miss him more.
I stand up and lean over the balcony rail, looking out over the city. In the distance, the revolving restaurant on the top deck of the Tower of the Americas slowly turns.
Despite my efforts, my mind goes back to Denham. I gave up so information. I never should have gone out there. I’ve only made him more determined to find Gabriella.
I need company. Somebody who knows my situation and can help. There aren’t many, other than Irma up at the church, but I can’t exactly ask for her advice.
Then there’s Mindy. My best friend.
She wrote me after seeing me on Dance Blitz. We had a flurry of conversations then. She tried to come up to me when I went to the church to see Andy, but her parents kept her away. Probably my father convinced them I was a bad influence.
I’ve been bad about keeping up messages with her since I’m always with Blitz. But I’m not now. I head back into the suite to find my phone. Maybe she can meet me at the park.
I could tell her about the baby. I’m not afraid anymore.
I scoop up the cell and tap out a quick note asking if she can meet today. That I’ve missed her and have so much fun gossip to share.
But almost as soon as I hit send, my phone beeps.
Message undeliverable.
That’s weird.
I go out on the balcony to get a better signal and try again.
Message undeliverable.
Strange. I’ll just call and leave a voice mail. I dial her number and tap my foot on the balcony floor. A brisk wind blows in and sends tendrils of loose hair into my eyes. I push them away. Another cold front, I guess. Texas weather is always unpredictable.
The phone never even rings. It goes straight to a computerized voice that says, “This caller is unavailable at this time. Thank you.”
Then hangs up.
What?
Did they take her phone away?
Even if they did, wouldn’t it ring? Did her parents deactivate it totally?
I head back inside the suite to pace a circle around the sofa. Is Mindy in trouble? And if she is, is it because of me?
I glance at the clock. It’s a little after noon. Her mom and brother are almost certainly at home, eating lunch with her. They are homeschooled, like I was. That’s how we became friends.
There’s a chance she might answer her home phone.
I dial it quickly and continue to pace the room as it rings. After a few seconds, I get a message that isn’t their voice mail. Again, a computerized voice saying the caller isn’t available. And no chance to leave a message. It just hangs up.
Surely they haven’t disconnected their home line too.
Then I get it.
They’ve blocked me. My number can’t get through on either line.
I sit down on the sofa. They must really think I’m a threat. Me! Mindy’s best friend!
I’m really worried for her now. Did she get any other kind of punishment?
I walk over to the polished wood desk in the corner of the room. There’s a phone there, one that they wouldn’t know to block. I pick up the receiver and puzz
le out how to use it. The instructions say to dial 9, wait for the dial tone, then key in the number.
I do that, typing in Mindy’s cell phone first.
She doesn’t answer, but I do hear her voice on the message. “Hey, everybody,” she says. “I’m losing my phone for a while. Don’t leave a message, because I can’t get it. Hopefully I’ll be back soon. Miss me!”
Despite what she says, I do leave a message.
“Hey, Mindy, it’s me. I’m staying at a hotel, but I don’t know if I’ll still be here when you get this. I’ll keep trying you, though. I miss you.”
Dang. I could try calling her home number from the hotel, but I’m not sure I’m up for talking to her mother, who would most certainly answer if they are watching her so closely.
She’s on Facebook. I’ll try that next.
The drawer to the desk glides smoothly on its track and I pull out the iPad Blitz gave me for Christmas. It’s been my window to the world, which used to be so small. When I lived at home, my parents didn’t allow me to have a phone or computer or even watch television. I had to sneak time online at the church when I could, and that was severely limited.
But now, I can look up anything, talk to anyone.
I power it on and head to Facebook. I have a fake profile there that I created to watch Gwen and Gabriella back before they came to the academy. It’s how I knew when the accident happened and that I should start a wheelchair dance class.
I bring it up now. I still haven’t started an account under my real name, and given my recent bout of fame on Blitz’s show, plus Denham stalking me, it’s probably not the right time to do it.
But I could friend-request Mindy with the fake one. Then send her a private message saying it is me. She doesn’t know I have the account because it is tied to Gwen. But the profile has fifteen or so random strangers as friends, so it wouldn’t be obvious right away why I set it up. I want to save the bombshell about Gabriella for when I see her in person.
Facebook pops up. I’m about to search for Mindy when I see something interesting.
Gwen has added a new picture. It’s her, Gabriella, and a man I’ve never seen on her profile before.
He’s tall and handsome and has his arm around Gwen. Gabriella is reaching up from her wheelchair and holding his hand.
Gwen has met someone.
I’m so glad for her. It’s been well over a year since her husband died. And Gabriella seems to like him.
I flip through her pictures to see if there are any others, but this is the only one. Then I click to her profile to see if there are any mentions. I find one from a few days earlier.
I didn’t say anything sooner because I didn’t want to jinx it, but I’ve been dating a wonderful man. Gabby seems to love him and I think he’s healing both our hearts.
My breath catches. This is wonderful! I click back to the picture and scan the comments below it. Lots of happy well-wishes.
I roll back the chair and turn to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. Gabriella will have a dad again!
Except…her birth father is looking for her.
I stand up and press my fingers to the glass. Denham has a very strong will. He will keep trying. He never gives up.
There was only one time that he faltered in his resolve. And that was in his determination to stay away from me.
After that first kiss behind my father’s car, Denham did manage to keep himself out of my way for a while. We only saw each other at dinnertime, and he kept his head down.
He took an interest in my little brother Andy, who was three and had a serious case of hero worship. Andy was delighted that Denham had dropped the brooding act and actually started carrying him around and having wrestling matches. They were always together, playing with action figures or having tickle fights.
Dad was pretty strict, wanting his kids to be quiet and obey. Denham took on the roughhousing and piggyback rides that Andy had been missing.
I, however, wanted more kisses. I’d felt the thrill of it, and now there was no stopping me. As I tried to orchestrate moments to get Denham alone, I found he always brought Andy along. My little brother became Denham’s mini-chaperone.
But it couldn’t last forever. Andy’s bedtime was way before ours, and it was only a week after that first kiss, the night before high school began, that Mom and Dad headed to the store for last-minute supplies and left Denham and me home alone.
I was determined to figure out a way to wrangle another kiss. I still had this vision of us walking down the halls at school together. Even though I could agree on a thinking level that it wasn’t right, not with the two of us living together, my body was driving the cause.
As soon as my parents’ car left the driveway, I tried to convince Denham I needed some help organizing my things for the first day of school.
A buzz went through my body just talking to him. I felt driven by the need.
Denham said he wanted to hit the hay early since it was the first day, but his eyes weren’t agreeing with his words. Us being alone was having an effect on him too. I knew it. He knew it.
“It’s only eight o’clock,” I said. “You don’t need that much sleep.”
We stood in the living room, him near the door as if he needed an escape route. I leaned against the back of the sofa, just a few feet away.
It had been unbearably hot that day, and I wore shorts and a spaghetti-strap tank. Denham had shorts on too, and a plain T-shirt. We were both barefoot and the air-conditioning ruffled his hair, since he was standing right in front of the window unit.
“You have the cool spot,” I said, walking up to turn my face to the blast of cold air. “It’s insufferably hot in my bedroom. Is it in yours?”
Now we were almost touching, the air cutting a channel between us, my long black hair blowing. I shifted and the tip of my breast brushed against his arm.
He leaped back as if he’d been burned. “Livia,” he said. “I have to stay away from you.”
I took up his space, turning to fully face the blast of air. I felt like a supermodel on a photo shoot, the wind making my hair fly away from my face, my shirt plastered against my body.
When I looked at Denham again, he was staring at me, his Adam’s apple working up and down. Then his eyes met mine, and that was it, everything changed.
He came at me like a bull charging. His hands cupped my head, pulling me to him. This kiss was like an explosion, his mouth opening mine, deep and passionate. It put every movie kiss I’d seen to shame.
My body pressed against his. His hands roamed down my back and cupped my bottom. He pushed me against him and I felt something shift against my belly. He was growing down there, and I could picture it like the drawing from health class, only getting bigger and harder against me.
He wanted me. This was what happened. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him back with all my might. The world was tilting, like I couldn’t figure out where the ground was anymore.
The air blasted one side of us, and Denham moved us away to escape the cold. We walked across the room until we backed against the sofa.
We had separated a bit, but he kept kissing me, now letting his hands run along my sides and ribs.
He was going to touch my body, I just knew it, and I couldn’t bear the wait. I wanted him to do it now, to feel what it would be like. His mouth was hot on mine and my jaw ached. I was ready to do anything he wanted.
But then he did something unexpected and thrilling, breaking the kiss and trailing his mouth down my neck and along my shoulder. He slipped a finger beneath the strap of my tank and tugged it aside.
He wasn’t really exposing anything new, as thin as that strap was, but it sent a flood of excitement through me. When his lips touched the spot that he’d bared, I thought I’d melt from the heat down below.
Then his other hand came up, just like I wanted, and cupped my breast. My knees felt wobbly and weak. I wasn’t sure I could keep standing. His thumb crossed my nipple and
the movement created a flash fire through my body. I was addicted, so completely erased by these feelings. I never ever wanted them to stop.
His fingers flirted with the top of my shirt, like he might pull it down and look at me. I wanted him to. I wanted him to see me. I wanted him to kiss me there. My breathing was crazy fast, like I’d run a marathon. Denham seemed controlled and focused.
Out on the street, a car door slammed, and Denham startled. He lifted his head from my shoulder, listening.
I managed to find my voice. “It’s just a neighbor. They haven’t been gone very long.” Please don’t stop, I thought. I can’t bear it if you stop.
But he did. He pulled back, tugging my strap back into place.
“Shit, Livia,” he said. “We can’t do this. We can’t.”
Before I could say anything at all, before I could stop him, he was gone.
~*´`*~
I open my eyes and look out the hotel window. It’s painful to compare the boy Denham once was to the grim, hardened man sitting out in front of the academy in his broken-down truck.
I don’t know if what we did sent him on that trajectory, or if he was already on it. But once we got started, there was no way to go back.
School started. I didn’t get to walk the halls with Denham, and in fact, I rarely saw him there. He was a junior to my freshman, so it made sense. But it still felt like a slight.
The first few mornings, we rode the bus together. But after that, he made friends and hitched rides. I was never invited to go along. As the first week passed, I felt abandoned by him. He avoided me at home more than ever.
School was hard. While I had friends from middle school, our schedules were all different and sitting at lunch wasn’t easy, as I scarcely knew the people at my table. Denham had the same lunch period as me, I knew this from stealing a glance in his binder, but I never saw him. I don’t know where he went.
I talked very little. Despite being surrounded by people, I felt alone.
