Takeoff (Open Skies Book 5)

by Becca Jameson

  She shook her head and met his gaze. “No. Never.” A strange smile lifted the corners of her lips. “If anything, you did something right. Too right. I’m sorry I stopped answering you. It was rude and immature of me. We’re grown adults, not in high school. You deserved better.”

  He nodded slowly. “Would you like to talk about it?”

  She smiled again. “Do I have a choice?”

  He chuckled. “Well, I’m not going to force you to talk to me. So, yes. You have choices.”

  She tipped her head back and groaned. “Why do you have to be so nice?”

  He licked his lips. “Because I’m a nice guy?”

  “Well, stop it. It makes it hard for me to tell you to take a hike.”

  “I’m pretty sure I got that message loud and clear a month ago. You did it fine without words. I’m not going to ask you out again. I have a shred of pride left,” he joked. At least he hoped it sounded lighthearted. “But I’m worried about you. You seem…distracted. I suspect something happened to you a month ago.”

  She lowered her gaze to his. “Are you psychic or something?”

  He shrugged. “No, but I don’t think you’re the sort of person who usually drops someone like a hot potato without a word. I also know that the woman I dated for two weeks was not the same woman I saw tonight. You’re stressed about something. Your smile isn’t broad enough. You’re tense and fidgety.”

  “Maybe I was nervous about seeing you,” she pointed out.

  “Oh, I have no doubt.” Silence filled the air for several seconds before Deacon added in a soft voice, “Talk to me, Rae.”

  She offered him a slow smile. “You’re the only person I’ve ever let call me Rae.”

  “Does it bother you?”

  “No. I like it.” She dropped her head back again, staring at the ceiling. Seconds ticked by while he waited. “It’s like a pandora’s box, Deacon. I don’t want to open it.”

  “That sounds incredibly lonely.” His chest tightened. At least he wasn’t wrong. Something was not right in her world. “Have you told anyone else?”

  She shook her head.

  “Then you need a friend.”

  She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Maybe I just need to leave it all in the box where it’s nice and tidy.”

  “Except there’s a hole in the corner of the box, and you’re running out of tape to patch it,” he hedged.

  She lowered her gaze again. A tear slid down her cheek as she nodded.

  Deacon turned around to grab the box of tissues off the end table and set it between them. He had a feeling she would need more than one. Whatever was haunting her, he hoped he could deal with it.

  “Do you really want to hear my problems? I’m a hot mess. You should take the out and run from me.” She grabbed a few tissues and dabbed at her eyes.

  Deacon settled himself more fully against the back of the couch. “I’m not going anywhere. Let me be a friend.”

  She sucked back a cross between a sob and a laugh. “The thing is that you like me as more than a friend, and I can’t be what you need me to be. I can’t date you.”

  “Okay. Let’s worry about that another time. Right now, you don’t need me to be more than a friend. You need me to listen.”

  “Yeah.” She laughed awkwardly.

  He wondered why she hadn’t shared whatever this was with her friends. Why not with Heather? Or Shayla? Surely the two of them had noticed that Raeann wasn’t herself. They knew her much better than he did. Didn’t they?

  Raeann looked down at her hands in her lap where she was wringing them. “My mother was schizophrenic. She died three years ago after spending ten years in a mental hospital.”

  “I’m so sorry. That must have been hard on you. And your father?”

  She shrugged. “If my mother knew who he was, she never told me.”

  Deacon nodded. How sad. “Do you have siblings?”

  She shook her head. “No. Thank God. That would have been a nightmare. It was hard enough taking care of myself and my mom while I was growing up. If I’d have needed to take care of younger siblings, I don’t think I would have lived to adulthood.”

  Jesus.

  “Anyway, and this is where things get wonky, so withhold your judgment.”

  “Promise.” Though he did furrow his brow in confusion.

  Raeann tugged her hair from behind her ear so that the lock of white draped across her face. “This white lock of hair is caused by poliosis, basically just a lack of pigment. No big deal. It’s hereditary. It’s often referred to as a Mallen streak.”

  Fascinating. He’d assumed she dyed it like that.

  “Unfortunately, there are plenty of people living in the twenty-first century who believe it’s a sign of witchcraft.”

  What? He held his tongue.

  “I grew up in a small town in Virginia and even my earliest memories include these modern-day witch hunters. They call themselves the consectari venatoribus, which means huntsmen in Latin. Usually they go by Venatoris. They would hang around our apartment and harass us when we left the house. They held up their five-point stars to ward off evil and would shout at my mother that she was a witch.”

  “My God.” He couldn’t hold back his reaction.

  “Yeah. Luckily, my own hair didn’t change until I was fifteen. By then I was old enough to stand my ground with these people. I had been doing so for years.” She waved a hand through the air. “But the point is that I don’t know for sure if my mother’s schizophrenia was strictly inherent in her biological makeup or exacerbated by these people driving her literally insane.”

  “Is that a thing?” He had no idea.

  “Yes. Unfortunately. Probably my mother was on that path anyway, but people can be pushed over the edge, and I’d say she was.”

  “Does it matter? I mean… Does it matter what the cause was?” I’m not sure that came out right.

  She shrugged. “Maybe. It might matter to me.”

  Deacon frowned. “Oh, you’re worried about heredity.”

  “Yes.” She tucked her hair behind her ear again. “But that’s not my current problem. My current problem is that I fled Virginia after my mother died so that I could escape the Venatoris who plagued me my entire life. And now they found me.”

  Deacon gasped. “No.”

  She nodded. “Yes. One of them was on my flight coming from Virginia. She recognized me during takeoff.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “A month ago.” She met his gazes. “The day I stopped talking to you.”

  Deacon swallowed and inched closer. “Why, Rae?”

  She shrugged. “It’s overwhelming. Running into that bitch just brought back all kinds of concerns. I thought I had left that part of my life behind. The world isn’t exactly filled with assholes who harass people with a white streak in their hair. Hell, until today when I told Heather and now you that it isn’t dyed, no one even knew.”

  “You told Heather?”

  “Just that part.” She sighed. “Coincidence. She asked me why I bothered to dye it and then try to hide it all the time.”

  “I didn’t notice you trying to hide it before today,” he pointed out.

  She drew in a long breath. “When I moved here three years ago, I worked hard to get my head straight and shake myself of those crazy lunatics. I’ve even learned to embrace the white streak. People pay good money for them,” she joked half-heartedly.

  He didn’t laugh. “So these crazy people… Are they bothering you again?”

  “Yes. It’s insane. It took them less than a day to find me on social media and start harassing me. It’s only a matter of time before they figure out where I live.” She looked down. “I haven’t told Heather yet.”

  “Jesus, Rae. That’s a lot of pressure. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

  She dropped her shoulders and sighed. “My plate is full, Deacon. I’m always going to be loo
king over my shoulder my entire life. On top of that, I have to fucking worry about schizophrenia. I don’t date. Not seriously. I let myself get carried away with you, pretending I was a normal person for two entire weeks. It felt like life was reminding me that I’m not a normal person when that bitch showed up on my flight. My entire world crumbled during takeoff.”

  “Rae… That must have been awful, but you are a normal person.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Not even close. I’m a hotbed of messiness.”

  “So let me get this straight. You refuse to get close to anyone because you’re worried about eventually developing a mental illness and some crazy people think you’re a witch?”

  “Basically. Trust me. It’s the right decision. Even if I never succumbed to schizophrenia, I could pass on the genetic marker. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.”

  “So you’re planning to keep people at arm’s length for your entire life on the off chance you might down the road need some medication? People live with schizophrenia.”

  “My mother didn’t handle it well at all. I watched her decline until she finally died. She wasn’t very old either. Which honestly was probably a blessing. At least she doesn’t have to fight demons every day anymore.”

  “I’m so sorry, Rae. I can’t imagine how difficult your childhood must have been. Your adulthood too apparently. How old are you?”

  “Thirty-five.”

  “Okay, so in the short run, you need a game plan in case these people find you.”

  “I haven’t even told Heather. I feel bad that she just moved in with me and now this.”

  “Well, as your friend, I advise you to tell Heather first. So she’ll be prepared. Just in case.”

  “Yeah. I will. I just… It’s exhausting. I was hoping it would go away. Instead, it’s escalating.”

  “Can’t the police do anything?”

  She shrugged. “Not usually. The Venatoris are sneaky. I can file a restraining order, but that won’t stop them. Besides, restraining orders require names of actual people. I don’t know their names.”

  Deacon closed the distance and took her hand in his. “You don’t have to fight these demons alone, Rae.”

  “I do.”

  “No. You don’t. You have friends. They will help. And I’m one of them.”

  “I can’t ask that of you or anyone else. You don’t understand how overwhelming it can be. It doesn’t end. It just goes on and on forever. It’s not like I’m telling you I’m having surgery on Wednesday and I need a ride to the doctor next week. People are going to follow me around my entire life. I’m going to look over my shoulder every day of my life. And on top of that, I have to worry about mental illness. If I don’t end up crazy genetically, these people will drive me over the edge.”

  “You’re not crazy, Rae.” He squeezed her hand. No wonder she was not herself. She was under a lot of pressure and trying to handle it on her own. No one person could be expected to manage all that by themselves. “Please. Let me in. Let me lighten the burden.”

  When her shoulders started shaking, he pulled her forward into his embrace. He held her while the tears began to fall, grabbing a pile of tissues before knocking the box out from between them.

  It felt good to have her in his arms again. He’d missed her. Of course, the last thing she needed was for him to insinuate he liked her as more than a friend. She couldn’t deal with that right now. So, he’d take a step back. Be what she needed.

  It was the only choice he had right now. After all, he hadn’t been honest with her either a month ago. He had a pile of life challenges of his own that rivaled hers. No way in hell could he burden her with his issues. Eventually, he’d have to. Eventually, he’d have to tell everyone. But not yet. Certainly not today.

  Right now, the kind, sweet, caring woman in his arms needed a hug, and that was all that mattered. One day at a time.

  Chapter 3

  Raeann wasn’t ready to deal with the stress of her mother’s illness, but she did finally talk to Heather and Shayla about the Venatoris who were likely to track her down for heresy. The more she said it out loud, the more comical it sounded.

  She did it two days later when all three were off in the morning. Over coffee at the condo.

  “So, can you cast any spells?” Heather teased as they’d exhausted nearly every joke in the book.

  “I don’t have a cauldron with me. Sorry. I assume you’re hoping for someone tall, dark, and handsome to sweep you off your feet?”

  Heather shuddered. “God no. No men please. I’ve had a streak of bad luck. I don’t need another one.”

  Shayla reached out from across the table and squeezed Heather’s hand. The two of them had both been harassed by Hawke Richman. Thank God the man finally took his own life. Now he couldn’t bother another woman. But the damage was done to several women, and Raeann knew Heather was seeing a counselor. Raeann suspected Heather’s issues ran deeper than what happened with Hawke. The woman never dated at all. But Raeann wasn’t one to pry, especially considering how many secrets she had of her own.

  There was no reason to divulge her paranoia about mental illness. It wasn’t something that was directly related to the Venatoris who thought Raeann was a witch.

  Heather looked at Raeann, her expression suddenly more serious. “I hate to sound absurd and there is no way to ask this without doing so, but why don’t you just dye the hair?”

  Raeann smiled. “It won’t hold dye. It’s a waste of time. Believe me, I’ve tried. It lasts like a day and then it washes out. That’s if it takes at all. I’ve tried everything. Naturally, white hair really doesn’t dye well on most people.”

  Heather nodded. “I guess that’s no different from the people who ask me why I don’t just straighten my hair if it bothers me so much.” She rolled her eyes. “If people had any idea how difficult that is. It would cost a fortune, take up a great deal of time every few weeks, and damage my hair all the time. Not worth it.”

  Shayla clapped her hands together. “So, you’re both stuck with your hair.”

  Heather groaned. “Says the woman with perfect, gorgeous, straight, dark hair with not a single curl and no white streak.”

  “Yeah,” Raeann teased alongside Heather. “How did you get so lucky?”

  Shayla shook her head. “Don’t get me started. You two don’t have a monopoly on harassment. For every person who thinks my skin and looks are the perfect combination of Caucasian and Thai, I’ll be happy to point out another person who can only see the Asian and treats me like a piranha.”

  Raeann cringed. Shayla was right. They were each dealt their own hands. No one’s life was perfect. She sighed and met both her friends’ gazes. “Thank you for listening to me. And supporting me.”

  “Of course.” Heather grabbed her hand. “If crazy lunatics want to stand outside our condo and make fools of themselves, let them.”

  “Thank you,” Raeann repeated. “It means the world to me.”

  “Now…” Heather narrowed her gaze. “What’s going on with Deacon?”

  Raeann shrugged. “We’re talking. We’re friends.”

  “Friends? Talking? That’s all?” Shayla asked.

  “That’s all I can handle.” She wasn’t about to go into the specifics. Not now. Perhaps not ever. It was one thing sharing about the legends behind her white streak. She wasn’t sure she would ever want to tell anyone about her mother. It would leave her vulnerable. Worrying all the time if people were wondering if she had the signs.

  She’d made Deacon swear he wouldn’t mention that fact to a single soul. He’d promised. She had to trust him. She had to trust someone, and he’d forced it out of her.

  “I’ve only known Deacon for a short while myself,” Shayla said, “but I can tell he’s a genuinely good guy. You could do worse than having a friendship with him.” She smiled.

  Raeann agreed. Too bad she was already struggling to hold him at arm’s length. Dropping him abruptly a month ago had been hard on
her. She’d missed him even though she’d convinced herself it was for the best. Now that they were talking again, she was grateful for him, but she was also falling for him again. Who wouldn’t?

  The guy exuded sex appeal. Even his voice over the phone made her heart race. Thank God she hadn’t slept with him during their two weeks together. She’d spent a lot of time with him, but he’d never pressured her to have sex and she’d never let things get that far. Every time they made out, she would pull back before it got too hot and heavy. Self-preservation.

  The reality was Raeann hadn’t had sex in years. Not since she’d decided there wasn’t a chance in hell she was going to procreate. She’d been less selective in her younger days, often going out with men to escape her real life. She’d slept with several guys, more than she cared to think about, in her early twenties.

  Eventually, she’d realized she was wasting her time. Sex wasn’t that great. At least not any sex she’d ever had. She may have been a little wild for a few years, but she had nothing to show for it, and once she realized she would never marry or have kids, she lost interest in less-than-fulfilling recreational sex.

  Until Deacon. Nothing about him was less than. Not even his kisses. The man exuded power. When his lips touched hers, she lost all common sense. Her brain cells flew out the window as soon as he held her in his strong arms. His hands seemed to span her entire back. When he threaded his fingers in her hair, she couldn’t think.

  “Raeann?”

  Shayla’s voice yanked her out of her thoughts as a flush raced up her cheeks. She smirked. “You sure this thing with Deacon is purely friendship because you just left us for a few minutes with the most pleased expression on your face.”

  Raeann cleared her throat. “Don’t be silly. My mind just wandered.”

  “Yeah. That’s what Shayla said,” Heather teased. “Wandered to what?”

  Raeann rolled her eyes, then took a long sip of her coffee. “We’re just friends.”

  “Okay. Well, your friend Deacon is calling. You might want to answer that.” Heather pointed at Raeann’s phone that was silently vibrating on the table.