by C. L. Stone
Max went to his crate, expectant.
“Not now,” Kota said.
Max sank to the floor, his head dropping.
The security light went out, but Kota was far enough inside to get to the door. “Come on,” he said to her, trying to sound encouraging. If he got her inside quickly enough, maybe she wouldn’t be so scared. He tenderly reached for the arm she cradled, tugging her inside.
Once they were in the downstairs hallway of his house, he released her, and she fell in behind him. He checked over his shoulder. She followed close, her eyes squinting in the dark.
If she really wanted to leave, she probably would have. Kota blew out a breath, crossing his fingers that if she’d come this far, she might actually tell him what was going on.
He thought about taking her into the kitchen, but didn’t want to risk waking Jessica or his mother. He opened a door in the hallway, revealing the staircase that lead to his bedroom above the garage.
He started up, checking again to make sure she was following. She seemed to hesitate at first, but then started climbing. He hurried over to the computer desk in the corner, touching a lamp a couple of times to brighten the place up.
He turned, and seeing her in the better light, he froze. He’d seen her during the day and had tried to determine her age, but worked out that she had to be his own age: sixteen or close to it. Her blond hair was wet, making it darker, and it was pulled back, messy now. Her cheeks and nose were pink from blushing or from chill or both. She was wearing a poncho, and he hadn’t realized it until now. Her jeans and shoes were wet.
Her eyes, light green in the light, really drew his attention. Beautiful, aware, terrified, haunted...and above it all, curious.
He hadn’t been able to get this close to her since she’d moved in. She was stunning from a distance, and more so even now. He tried to smile to show he was friendly, and started counting: ten fingers, two eyes, one, two, three, four...light bruises on her arms but they appeared old. Was that a light scar at her elbow? And then he noticed the bright red scrapes along her arm. He felt a pang of guilt, and even more guilt when he realized that while he was sorry for hurting her, he was entirely relieved that she also wasn’t too injured and managed to trust him enough to follow him. Try looking on the bright side.
“I’m sorry,” she said, jarring him from his thoughts. “I should probably have taken my shoes off. They’re soaked.”
Internally, he was grinning at her concern, but he tried to suppress it a little. “I’m not worried about the carpet right now. One thing at a time.” He took the book bag off his shoulder, and then headed to the bathroom. He wanted to get a good look and bandage her up. “Take that poncho off and let’s look at your arm.”
The bathroom was snug, even for one person. He pressed a palm against his forehead, wiping away some of the remaining drops of rain.
She struggled for a moment with the poncho sticking to her. When she managed to get it off, her shirt was sticking to her body.
He swallowed, urging himself to turn quickly, but he couldn’t help but look. Part of it was expecting some other form of injury, and part of it was her shape and the sudden surprise of seeing it in such a way.
When she tried to fix her shirt, he realized he was staring and focused on the poncho, taking it from her to hang over the curtain rod. Focus, he told himself.
He reached for her arm, trying to turn it enough to check it. There was a gash, and she lightly tugged, wincing.
He looked closer, testing it, and the guilt settled harder into him at seeing the blood. “My god,” he said. “I’m sorry. Really. This was my fault.”
She shook her head. “It was your dog. Not really his fault. He was excited, I guess.”
If only that was how innocent it really had been. He’d meant well, of course, but he wished there had been a better way. “He was excited,” Kota said. He moved quickly to stop the urge to tell her more, worried he might reveal something he shouldn’t. He found the first aid kit, and took out a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. She didn’t appear to need stitches, but he’d have to clean it up to find out how bad it really was. At the same time, he came up with what he’d prepared for his story, trying not to out and out lie by talking about real things that were technically true. “I’ve noticed the lead was getting thin in the middle for a while. When he smelled or heard you, he took off and it broke.” Okay, small lie. Did he have to explain everything? “He’s not usually that bad. He needed to go out but hates this weather. So, I’m sorry about that. I should have replaced the lead before now. And I don’t know why he jumped on you. He never does that.”
Was he rambling? He stuck his tongue to the roof of his mouth, stopping himself from talking any more. He started arranging what he wanted to use to clean her arm, and then looked up, noticing her stare. He looked quizzically at her. Did she know? Could she tell when he lied? He wasn’t sure if he had many tells left, maybe a few, but some people were more perceptive of others. Maybe she...
“...name,” she said, in a soft voice.
He stopped for a second, confused. “Hm?”
“I don’t know your name.”
He started to smile. Of course. “I’m Kota.” She stood quietly, and he found it hard to read her. He released a chuckle. “What’s yours?”
“Uh...Sang.”
There was a short pause, like he expected more to it, or that maybe he’d heard it wrong. “As in, I sang a song?”
She nodded. “I know it’s weird.”
Weird wasn’t the term he would have used. Unique was better. “No weirder than ‘Kota’.”
She smiled, and the subtle change boosted Kota’s confidence. This had to be the right thing. She had to feel safe here. Mr. Blackbourne and the others couldn’t say anything against this.
Part of him didn’t really want to mention it. Maybe he didn’t have to. What if he could talk to her and figure out what the problem was? He normally wouldn’t hesitate to bring anything to Mr. Blackbourne or the other members of his team, but if he could solve it himself quickly enough, or at least provide some support for her, there wouldn’t be a reason to ever tell them.
He wanted to believe, but she was standing in his bedroom late at night after she’d tried to run off. There couldn’t be a simple reason for that. Most girls wouldn’t have followed him home. Most girls would have been suspicious. But this one didn’t seem like most girls.
He prepped a clean cloth with the peroxide quickly. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said. “And please don’t hate me.”
“For what?” she asked.
He took her arm, and as gently as he could, applied the cloth to her arm. She stiffened hard at first, like it was unexpected, and then started shaking.
Kota grimaced and tried to clean her arm quickly. She turned her head away, and he assumed it might be easier on her if she wasn’t watching what he was doing. The gash was raw, and bled a bit, but looked like it was mostly a surface wound. He could imagine it really stung.
He found a large bandage to cover it. She didn’t say anything, or reach to do it herself, so he went ahead and applied it. “I think you’re patched up,” he said, rubbing the edge of the bandage to make sure it stuck, and then tossed the wrapper away. “Anything else broken or bleeding?” Please say no. Not that he wouldn’t fix it, but the arm was enough to feel guilty about.
She shrugged and shook her head. “I’m fine.”
Kota wasn’t really sure if that was true. She did fall, so he imagined a few more body parts struck the ground pretty hard. Maybe she meant there wasn’t anything scraped up like the arm. If that was the worst of it, then—while it wasn’t perfect—it wasn’t so bad. He nodded. “Okay. Well, Sang, I hope this won’t ruin your impression of me right off.”
“What do you mean?” she asked. She looked...alert. Curious. Her eyes darted around, her body shook. She was nervous, and he understood, but that spark of interest in her eyes captured his attention. She wasn’t too afraid of him.
<
br /> He thought of an angle he could start from to figure out what was going on. It was on the tip of his tongue to simply be blunt and ask outright, but he got the feeling she might not answer, or might quickly get uncomfortable. It’d be better to ease into it to gain her trust. “I mean we are neighbors, right? Your family just moved in?” It was an obvious question, but he had to start somewhere.
Her eyes widened. Was she surprised by the question? Or surprised that he noticed they’d moved in? Maybe it felt like he recognized her, and she didn’t recognize him. “Yes,” she said. Her head shook a fraction. “No.” Her head moved slightly in a nod. Kota’s training would normally say she was lying, but it felt more like she just wasn’t sure how to answer. “I mean, don’t worry about it. It was just an accident.” She pressed her lips together.
Kota struggled with how to ask, because her lip movement usually meant she didn’t want to reveal too much. Instinct told him she maybe wanted to talk, but wasn’t sure if she should. She didn’t trust him that much yet. Still, he thought if he asked, she’d at least try to answer. “So what were you doing out so late?”
Short pause. Her eyes darted, and Kota knew it was a lie before she even said it. “Just taking a walk. I couldn’t sleep.”
“With a book bag weighing a ton on your back?” he asked. He was trying to be delicate in calling her out. “In the middle of this weather?”
Her cheeks turned red. Her lips twitched like she wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the words.
Worse than he thought. He tried to look sympathetic. “Hey, I’m sorry. Look, it’s personal. Whatever it was, did you have to do it in the middle of the night?”
Her shoulders moved back, her chest expanding as she breathed in. “It felt like a good idea at the time.”
She answered because he’d asked, but she seemed to not want to talk about it.
Then he realized she was still in wet clothes, probably freezing, and really stressed. If he was going to get her talk, she needed to be more relaxed and comfortable first. “Okay,” he said. “Here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to find you something to wear. I’m going to go downstairs to change. I’ll make some hot chocolate, too. If I come back and you’re not here, I’ll understand. If you are, you get to tell me what’s going on.” He moved closer, and slowly, until his head was near hers; he wanted her full attention.
For a moment, he stopped, because those light green eyes stole his attention. It was a delicate cut across his heart, feeling her wanting to trust him, the curiosity still as bright as ever, and then that little twinge of haunted ghosts floating around inside her. She held back because that was how she protected herself.
Take a chance, he told himself. Be honest with her about what you want. “I make a halfway decent friend, if you give me a chance.”
She didn’t say anything, but she nodded. She turned her head to look away.
He studied her for a moment. Was she just trying to appease him for now? If he went downstairs, maybe she’d take her things and go.
He couldn’t make decisions for her. He could only offer to help.
If she tried to run off, he’d have to call Nathan. He’d have to call on the others. He’d follow her, to make sure she was okay. He might not be able to push her to stay, but he wasn’t going to let her run off in the middle of the night without making sure she was safe. The Academy could send in a girl, perhaps, someone she might be more comfortable talking to.
He hoped she’d stick around. The longer he stood there, the more determined he was to figure this out.
He moved to the closet quickly, seeking out some clothes for her to change into. He supposed she might have something to wear in the book bag she carried, but he wanted to offer something.
“It’ll be big on you,” he said as he pulled out a gray T-shirt.
He found some pajama bottoms as well, some a little too small for him. They might actually have been Gabriel’s or Luke’s, but their clothes sometimes got shuffled. Gabriel sorted through them when he got a chance, but they’d all been pretty busy lately.
He folded the clothes over his arm. “These might be too big as well, but at least they have a tie.” He closed the closet and turned. She’d retreated a bit into the bathroom, and he offered them to her. She took them willingly, and he watched her expression. She seemed compliant. She’d gone deeper into the bathroom, not out further into the bedroom, toward the stairs. A good sign she wasn’t going to leave. “Just put your wet things in the bathtub for now. When they aren’t so soggy, we’ll toss them into the dryer.”
Her lips moved, and for a moment, it looked like she wanted to say something.
Then she smiled.
It was the warmest smile he’d seen from her the entire night, and perhaps since he’d noticed her at all. It lit up her eyes in a way that—in spite of the chilled, soggy outward appearance—struck him as absolutely stunning.
Kota struggled, wanting to smile, wanting to say something. Anything. Tell her she’s pretty. Tell her she’s safe. His words were lost.
What was wrong with him? He’d never felt so jumbled before.
He gently closed the bathroom door and leaned back against it, waiting, listening. If she wanted to leave, she’d turn the handle and peek out to see if he was gone.
Nothing. For a long moment, he didn’t hear anything. Maybe she was considering her options.
He waited for shuffling. When he heard her move, and it wasn’t to open the door, he blew out a breath, relieved.
At least for now, Sang was safe. If he had anything to do with it, that’s the way it’d stay.
He walked away quickly. He wanted to get downstairs to make something warm to drink and get back before she had a chance to change her mind.
As he moved, his heart was racing, pounding. His mind was zipping through ideas, one after the other. He tried counting; he was way too excited.
He shouldn’t feel like this. He was helping someone else, someone in trouble, but the deepest part of him was struggling to control a happy spark inside.
He knew, even if he didn’t want to admit it, that he did want to help Sang, but at the same time, he had a selfish desire to learn everything about her. Those green eyes of hers, that amazing smile... he wanted to see that smile again. He wanted it to stay in place and not disappear.
He swallowed, trying to pull himself together. He needed to focus.
Despite telling himself this, his thoughts settled on that smile. Those lips. Her lips. They managed to melt him in ways he hadn’t expected.
He pressed a palm against his chest, trying to calm his heart, as he hurried to do what he needed to so he could get back to her.
He’d help Sang, no matter what it took.
♥♥♥
Kota tried to take his time downstairs as he changed and made some hot cocoa. As he waited for the milk to heat, he knew there was a chance that when he returned, she wouldn’t be there.
He couldn’t blame her. She didn’t know him at all, and in the space of a few minutes, he had brought her home and to his bedroom. Under normal circumstances, even he would have considered it creepy.
In the back of his mind, he was counting the seconds until he knew the milk would have heated just enough for the chocolate mix. He’d done this often and with the same stove for years, so knew exactly how long it took to boil water or fry a pancake at the correct settings.
While counting, he was listening. He did some things to distract himself, collected the mugs, the marshmallows, and spoons. He cleaned his glasses with eyeglass cleaner kept in the kitchen. He straightened a few mugs in the cabinet that weren’t aligned the way he liked them.
The urge to run upstairs to make sure she was okay and to ensure she was still there was difficult to contain.
The moment he got to two minutes and thirty seconds, he poured the milk, stirred in the powder and added marshmallows, placed the pan in the sink, and hurried, as quick as carrying two filled mugs of piping hot chocolat
e would allow without spilling.
His heart thundered in his chest. What would he do if she’d managed to slip away into the night? He supposed he could follow her and watch to see what happened. If she left, he hoped she’d return home and he’d be more confident approaching her in the morning.
He’d have to stay up all night anyway at this point. What if she got the nerve to run off forever? He couldn’t let her do that. It was too dangerous.
Putting both mugs into one hand, Kota made sure the door was closed behind him before he climbed up the stairs. The stairs were tricky to navigate with the hot drinks in his hands.
He forced himself to slow down, holding his breath as he ascended.
She was sitting by the window seat after changing into the clothes he’d given to her. Her small frame was evident with the way the T-shirt draped around her shoulders and how she’d rolled up the pants around her ankles.
She was very still, very quiet as she stared out.
Nerves started to work up through Kota. Her hair was still a little messy and damp; ringlets framed her cheeks. Her face was mostly in shadow with the way she angled to look out the window, but there was a quiet beauty to her.
He dismissed this thought immediately. He needed to focus and not get too distracted. She was in trouble, after all. This wasn’t a date.
He searched for the right words to say to her. “I guess you’re staying,” he said, and then instantly regretted it. Wasn’t it obvious? He forced a gentle smile anyway, and hoped she wouldn’t think him too stupid.
She said nothing, but turned to him with those big green eyes of hers, studying him and then focusing on the two blue mugs he carried.
He looked down, almost forgetting he’d been carrying them. “I hope you’re good with marshmallows.”
Again she didn’t answer, but she smiled in such a strange way. He liked it, and yet, there was something off. He had seen it before, right before he had gone downstairs. She seemed haunted and her smile didn’t reach her eyes to light them the way he’d expected.
