Spice

by Seressia Glass

  She could call Kane.

  Indecision raked her. She’d tried to push Kane away earlier, but he’d refused to go. Did she dare expose him further to the sudden mess her life had become? He’d already seen plenty, and she still hadn’t shared everything with him yet. Was Audie right, and Kane would cut and run if he knew everything about her life as an addict?

  No, she didn’t believe that. She wouldn’t believe that. He’d been protective and supportive from the moment Audie had called. He’d contacted a counselor. He wouldn’t do all that then turn around and abandon her. He wouldn’t.

  Hope and dread mixed inside her as she sent a tentative text to Kane, not expecting him to respond. Hey.

  Hey yourself. How’s Audie doing?

  Thank God. Nadia clutched the phone to her chest for a moment, so relieved that he was still awake and willing to reach out to her. She wanted to call him, but she wasn’t sure she’d be able to get more than a couple of words out without crumbling into an emotional heap. She’s asleep right now. Don’t know what morning will bring.

  Morning brings another day, another chance to do the right thing, and that’s what’s important. How are you?

  Not good, she answered honestly.

  Do you need me?

  Maybe she didn’t want to need him, but that didn’t make the need go away. She didn’t want to be by herself, not when she was feeling so alone. Kane could at least banish that abandoned feeling, and perhaps the other need would slide back into the dark recesses where it belonged. Yes.

  A brief pause, then: I’ll be there in five minutes.

  Her hands shook anew. Five minutes? If he was that close, that meant he hadn’t gone home. It took five minutes to get to her door from the parking deck.

  With her lungs threatening to burst as they searched for air, Nadia dropped the phone on the couch then surged to her feet. Her body seemed unwilling to help her cross the long distance, unwilling to fumble open the locks. She flung open the door, then stopped.

  Kane stood in the hallway, still wearing the clothes he’d worn earlier, rumpled and tired but so beautiful to her starving spirit. She drank in the sight of him, her heart thudding into hard action once more, her lungs finally able to draw air again.

  “Kaname,” she breathed. “You’re here. You’re really here.”

  She saw concern wash over his face a split second before he opened his arms, scooping her up. She fell against the warm wall of his chest, a sob fracturing her control. Feeling his arms around her, smelling the spice of his scent, hearing his low voice offering words of comfort, pushed her over the emotional edge. Burying her face into the side of his neck, she breathed him in once, twice, then broke, muffling her sobs against his skin.

  Dimly she was aware of him kicking the door closed, striding over to the couch, then sitting down, all the while holding her close. “I’m here, sweetheart,” he crooned, rocking her gently as he stroked her back. “I’m here.”

  She had no idea how long the tears had her in their grip, how long she clung to Kane like a rock in a fast-moving emotional stream that threatened to sweep her away. Finally she pushed back, gulping down a huge breath of air. “I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t ever have to apologize to me.” He cradled her face in his warm, capable hands, his thumbs lightly brushing at her tears. “Can I get you something? Water, coffee, tea? Wine? Tissue?”

  She managed a weak smile at his attempt to lighten her mood, then slid off his lap, drained. “We’re at my place. I’m supposed to be asking you that.”

  “You were crying. I’m supposed to fix things so you don’t cry anymore.”

  Remembering Audie’s words had her heart lurching in her chest again. “I don’t know if you can fix this, Kane.”

  He kissed her forehead. “Then let me start with something small. Can I get you something to drink? Or do you want something to eat?”

  She leaned against him, appreciating his presence more than she could put into words. “Tea would be good. Chamomile or the jasmine. It’s in the—”

  “I know.” He kissed her again, then rose. “I’ll get it. You take a moment.”

  “All right.” She stood as he crossed to the kitchen. “I need to go splash my face. I think I snotted all over your shoulder.”

  “The neat thing about clothes is that they can be cleaned.” He pulled down two mugs then opened her caffeine cabinet where she stored all her coffees and teas. He’d learned his way around her kitchen with an effortless grace, just as he’d become an integral part of her life. At that moment, she didn’t mind. She didn’t mind at all.

  “Kaname.”

  “Hmm?” He looked up, the dim light reflecting off his glasses before revealing his night-dark eyes.

  “Thank you for being here.” She curled her toes into the throw rug, hugging herself. “For coming back, or rather, for not leaving in the first place. For knowing that I might need you, even if I didn’t know it. I-I appreciate it.”

  His smile lit up his entire face, the tenderness in it pushing away the last of her sorrow. “You’re very welcome, Nadia. Always.”

  His words were a welcome, but his tone was an invitation, an offer for so much more than a demonstration of antiquated sexual treatises. At least, that’s what it sounded like to her wrung-out mind. Touched, she made her way to the half bath, turning the taps on so that she could splash her face. One look in the mirror had her groaning aloud. She was a wreck, her hair spiked up at odd angles, her skin blotchy from crying, her eyes red and swollen and devastated.

  She hadn’t bawled like that in years. In fact, she’d taken great pains in her recovery to make sure she wouldn’t have to experience any emotional upheavals. Feeling pain led to wanting to do anything to numb the pain, leading her down a slippery slope she never wanted to traverse again.

  “One day at a time, one step at a time,” she told her reflection, repeating the mantra that had been a part of her life for the last few years. When things became overwhelming, it helped to turn away from the big picture, to focus on little, manageable things. Like splashing cold water on her hot mess of a face, pulling herself together piece by tiny piece.

  Somewhat composed, she returned to the living room to find Kane waiting for her on the couch, two mugs of tea on the table in front of him. As always, he’d kicked off his shoes and left them by the door. He’d also taken his sweater off, leaving him in just his jeans.

  Nadia groaned. “I did ruin your sweater,” she said as she flopped onto the couch beside him. “I hate ugly crying.”

  “It’s just a sweater.” He handed her a mug of tea. “Chamomile. Thought you’d appreciate the calming effect.”

  “I do.” She took a tentative sip, mindful of the heat seeping into her fingers. “I appreciate everything you’ve done.”

  “You’ve said that already.” He pushed her hair back from her face, tucking the longer strands behind her ear. “And I’ve said you’re welcome. This is just one of those things I do for my girl when she needs me.”

  My girl. The words should have sent a shaft of panic zinging through her, but at that moment, they were exactly what she needed to hear.

  “Now, tell me what happened.”

  “You know what happened,” she answered, unwilling to expose him to the toxic conversation she’d had with Audie.

  “I know what happened with Audie was emotionally traumatic for you, but that’s not the only thing all these tears are for.” He brushed at her cheeks again. “You were crying as if someone broke your heart. Did Audie say or do something that upset you?”

  “You could say that.” She returned her mug to the table, then turned to face him. Haltingly, she gave him an edited version of her conversation with Audie. The longer she spoke, the tighter his jaw became until she was certain he was going to explode.

  “Please don’t be angry at her, Kane,” she sai
d, reaching out to clutch his forearms. “She’s in a really bad place right now, and I don’t think the painkillers were helping her think clearly.”

  “You still don’t say crap like that to someone who’s your friend,” he said, his voice tight with repressed fury. “Especially after that friend rushes to your side in the middle of the night to take care of you and give you a place to stay.”

  “I know,” she whispered. Tears burned in her throat, and she tried to swallow them down, swallow down the pain, the hurt, and, God help her, the anger. “I know, but I don’t want to give up on her. I can’t give up on her. We’re her family. Where would I be if my family had given up on me?”

  “Ah, sweetheart.” His fury dissipated as he pulled her into his arms again, just as she’d hoped he would. She went, needing the comfort he offered, the connection. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

  “She thinks she’s going to lose me. To you.” Nadia hiccupped. “She said that before.”

  He stiffened. “I wouldn’t make you choose between me and your friends, Nadia.”

  “Siobhan said the same thing.”

  “Siobhan is pretty smart.” He tilted her chin up. “You believe us, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” Somehow she knew he wouldn’t make her make that kind of choice. What she didn’t know was if she’d do it to herself. She’d done it once before, and was still living with the fallout all these years later.

  He stroked her hair, calming her, and maybe himself. After a while he spoke. “Do you mind if I put on my counselor hat for a moment?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “I don’t know anything about Audie or about her past, but I have worked with enough people to know that there must be a past trauma that has bearing on what she’s doing to herself now. Audie’s self-worth is tied in to people wanting her. She measures that in her number of sexual partners and also in how far she can push her friends. She thinks anyone interested in her, whether it’s for sex or friendship, wants something from her.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  “She’s afraid of losing the things that are important to her, but she also thinks she doesn’t deserve them. So she keeps picking and picking in an effort to drive you away, which she doesn’t want, in order to say that she was right to believe that people just use her for what they can get out of her.”

  “Oh, God. Audie.” She covered her mouth with trembling hands.

  “Her choices are not your fault, Nadia,” he said gently but firmly. “Even though she didn’t make good choices tonight, that doesn’t mean she should have been hurt like that. This could be a turning point for her. That’s part of the reason why I called Sally Jensen. I’m hoping she’ll work with Audie, get her on the right track. Sally can help her help herself. Audie’s a good person underneath it all. She just has to believe it herself.”

  She wanted to believe him. She needed to believe him. If he was wrong it would mean that she’d have to give up on Audie, and that was the last thing she wanted to do. Especially when she knew it wouldn’t take much for Audie to give up on herself.

  “I guess I’m not as thick-skinned as I used to be.” She huffed out a laugh. “A few years out of Los Angeles and my skin has already softened.”

  “I’m glad you don’t have thick skin,” he said, hugging her tightly. “You’re much more touchable this way.”

  “Thank you. You say the sweetest things.” She yawned.

  “You’re exhausted. Come on.” He stood, helping her to her feet. “I won’t stay if you don’t want me to, but I want to make sure you get some rest.”

  “Kaname Sullivan, you’re as exhausted as I am. There’s no way I’m letting you drive home now.” She folded her arms across her chest, biting on her bottom lip. “Besides, I wouldn’t mind having you beside me while I fall asleep. It’s . . . comforting.”

  He pulled her close. “I like sleeping beside you too, Nadia Spiceland.”

  They made their way upstairs to her bedroom, stripped down, then slipped into bed. He reached for her as he usually did post-sex, wrapping her in his arms and tucking her against his chest, her head resting over his heart.

  She cupped his cheek, listening to the reassuring rhythm of his heartbeat. “I’m sorry our weekend was interrupted.”

  “We’ll have other weekends. Tying you up and having my way with you won’t be a onetime thing if I can help it.”

  “You won’t have to try too hard to convince me.” She pressed her lips to his skin. “What you did for me tonight, and for Audie . . . I’ve never had anyone be there for me like that outside of family and Siobhan. You were my hero tonight.”

  “Thanks, but I’m not a hero. I’m just a man who wants his woman to realize she doesn’t have to go through things alone. I’m here for you as long as you’ll let me be.”

  Nadia closed her eyes against the almost painful warmth that spread through her at his words. She wanted to believe him. Here in his arms, it was easy to believe him. But Audie’s words stayed with her long after Kane fell asleep, and though she tried to bury them deep, she knew they’d fester for a long time.

  SEVENTEEN

  The bell over the café door jangled, signaling a customer. Nadia looked up, hoping it was Audie. They hadn’t seen her since the Sunday after her attack nearly two weeks ago. While Audie had slept, Nadia had called Siobhan and Vanessa. Together the three of them had staged an intervention of sorts, except that they hadn’t issued ultimatums since those never worked with Audie.

  It hadn’t been a pretty moment, a highly charged nonconfrontational confrontation in which curses were hurled, tears were shed, apologizes were made. In the end, Audie had agreed to work with the counselor, then Siobhan had offered to take her to get her car so she could make her meeting with the advocate. It had been almost a week without any returned phone calls or text messages, and Nadia worried that Audie had cut her losses and run.

  Her heart fluttered as she caught sight of Kane walking toward her. He was sinfully gorgeous in his dark navy suit, crisp white shirt, and multipatterned tie. She recognized a power suit when she saw one, and this was definitely one. It was so unlike his usual style of dress that she instantly suspected something was wrong.

  “Kaname.” She rounded the corner of the counter, stopping in front of him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nadia.” The strain in his dark eyes eased slightly as he took her hand. “When you say my name like that, it makes everything all right in my world.”

  “Now I know something’s wrong.” She stared at him, wanting to soothe him but hyperaware of her staff and the few customers watching. She guided him to their most secluded table. “What’s going on? Why are you dressed for a funeral? Your parents are okay, aren’t they?”

  “My parents are fine, but something’s come up.” He squeezed her hand. “I have to go down to Los Angeles for a couple of days.”

  “For work?”

  He nodded. “I’ve been asked to consult on a case, and they want to meet in person.”

  It was Thursday. A couple of days meant that their weekend together was in jeopardy. “That makes sense. It must be important, or they wouldn’t have asked for your help. Have they told you what they’d like for you to do for them?”

  “No.” He frowned, rubbing his thumbs over her knuckles as if she was his human worry stone. “It depends on the nature of the case. It could be anything from me reviewing their work and agreeing with and signing off on their conclusions, to working up a full-fledged profile. I’m hoping it will be something simple, but if it was, they wouldn’t have called me.”

  She smiled despite her disappointment. “That’s because you’re good at what you do and they know it.”

  That brought an answering smile to his lips. “Your faith is a treasure I keep close to my heart.”

  “Ooh, that’s a good one. You should write that one down and
use it for the next time I’m all hormonal.”

  He wiggled his eyebrows. “You seemed to be just fine the last time you were hormonal.”

  “That’s because a certain professor seems to have discovered the perfect cure for cramps.” She sobered. “How long will you be gone?”

  “Until late tomorrow at the least, but more than likely I won’t be back until sometime Saturday. I would ask you to come with me, but I know you can’t leave the café.”

  “Not really.” Except that in an emergency, she could get Jas to take over for her. Her assistant could reproduce her recipes as well as she did. To go to Los Angeles though, even to be with Kane . . . she didn’t think she could do it. The bad of LA far outweighed the good. “It’s just that I haven’t been in Los Angeles since I left four years ago.”

  “I know, sweetheart.” He drew their clasped hands up. “It’s merely wishful thinking on my part. I don’t want you to be there any more than you want to go, even for me. Besides, I’m not sure how much free time I’d have. My goal is to spend every waking moment working so I can get back here to you as soon as I possibly can.”

  “It seems like there’s always something interrupting our weekends,” she said wistfully. She didn’t want to think of the import of that, didn’t want to think there was some deeper meaning in the fact that their efforts to be together for longer than a night at a time were stymied at every turn.

  “That just makes the time we do get to spend together that much sweeter.” He leaned closer. “I would like nothing more than to walk through the Garden with you this weekend, you know that. I find myself living for the moments I get to be inside you, so much so that I’m tempted to drag you upstairs right now.”