by Ava Benton
“Beat myself up?”
“Yeah. You seem practiced at it.”
He surprised me again.
I laughed. “Yeah, I guess I do it a lot.”
“You shouldn’t. You don’t deserve it.”
The funny part was, I believed him.
He didn’t seem like the type who would say anything he didn’t mean.
He stood and brushed the sand from the back of his jeans. “We should go.”
“Go where?” I asked, still sitting there.
“Wherever you live,” he said. “We can’t stay out here forever, and you have to go home. To pack, if nothing else. We’ll figure out a plan shortly.”
“I only have one bedroom,” I said.
“It’s okay. We’ll figure something out.”
I could just make out the shape of his hand extended down toward me. I had a choice to make: accept his help or deny it, and something told me that denying it would be the worst mistake ever.
So I took his hand and let him help me to my feet.
Something about the touch of his hand on mine gave me strength.
6
Carter
She had one bedroom. And that was the only room.
“Oh,” I said as we stepped into the apartment about three miles from the beach. “You made it sound like you had a bedroom along with other rooms.”
She frowned. “That’s not what I said. I only have one bedroom. That’s what I said.”
“But… never mind.” I was shoulder-to-shoulder with my brother and cousins and she was sitting in the center of the bed and there still wasn’t room to move.
“This isn’t sustainable,” Drew said.
“And the award for today’s understatement goes to…” I whistled under my breath. “It’s not like there isn’t a hotel room waiting for us.”
“What am I supposed to do?” Alice asked.
She sounded terrified, and it hit me why: she was in a tiny room with four shifters. She picked at the flowered bedspread with trembling hands.
I had to ease her fears. And I didn’t think holing up in a hotel room with us would do it. “You’ll stay here, of course,” I said. “And one of us will have to stay with you.” There was hardly any room on the floor, but it would have to be that way until we figured out a better plan.
“Yeah, I think we already spent enough money on that extra suite back in Orlando,” Drew chuckled.
Slate scowled. “I didn’t ask for a suite, in case you forgot.”
“I know, I know. Chill.”
We were all irritable. It had been a long day.
“I’ll get in touch with our contact and see if there’s a better arrangement we can reach,” Roan said.
He looked at us.
We looked back at him.
I realized it was pretty much between Drew and me.
Slate and Roan wouldn’t want to spend the night on the floor in a girl’s apartment if they could avoid it. Not that they would ever cheat on their women, but it wasn’t worth starting drama over.
“Want to flip a coin?” Drew asked.
“No. I’ll do it.” The words were out of my mouth before I even thought about speaking.
Since when did my tongue get away from me like that?
His eyebrows shot up. Roan and Slate looked amused.
“Really?” my brother asked.
“Yeah, sure. Whatever. You can do it tomorrow if things haven’t changed by then.” I shrugged it off like it meant nothing. “I just hope there’s an extra pillow and a blanket around here.”
“Oh, sure,” Alice said, nodding fast. “I have extras in the closet.”
I wanted to ask how she could tell the difference between the apartment and the closet but decided to shut up.
“Then I’m cool,” I said.
“I don’t know if I would go so far as to call you cool,” Roan grinned, “but okay. I’ll bring your bag up.”
Slate and Drew shot me a knowing glance as they left—I was just glad Alice didn’t notice.
She was so jumpy, she might think they were hinting that I’d eat her or some dumb shit.
What was wrong with me? Why would I volunteer to do something so stupid? Sleeping on the floor. When was the last time I did that?
I rolled my eyes at myself when I realized how soft I had gotten since the days back in Special Ops. I had done less comfortable things than sleeping on a floor in a climate-controlled apartment back then.
“I’m sorry you’re stuck with me,” Alice said from behind me as I watched out the window for Roan.
“I’m not stuck with you. Stop talking like that.” I let the curtains fall back in place as I turned to her.
It was better if nobody saw me looking out the window, just in case there were eyes on us. I doubted anybody would be watching yet, but I wouldn’t have put it past the nameless, faceless people who cleaned up unfortunate messes. And Alice was one of those messes.
She looked older than she had when I met her, and it hadn’t been more than four or five hours since then. She had that hundred-yard stare people got after they had a big shock. I wondered if she would ever get over it. Poor thing.
“You can take the bed if you want to,” she said, gesturing to the full-sized mattress and box spring she sat on. “I don’t mind sleeping on the floor.”
“Stop being ridiculous.” I didn’t mean it to come out so sharply, and I felt about two inches tall when she winced. I deliberately softened my attitude. “Why are you so hard on yourself? Why be a martyr? I’m a man. I can handle sleeping on the floor for the night.”
“I didn’t want you to feel like I was making you do it. Like you’re an animal or something.”
I bit the side of my tongue to keep from laughing out loud and hurting her feelings. “That was literally the last thing on my mind, but you’re very thoughtful.”
Roan came in with my bag from the car. “Here you go. I’ll let you know when I get more information.”
“Thanks.” I wished I didn’t feel so damned awkward, but it was too late to worry about things like that.
He looked at Alice. “It’ll be okay. We haven’t lost a client yet.”
“There’s a first time for everything,” she reminded him with a faint smile.
“Not everything,” he replied. “Try to get some sleep. It’ll all look different in the morning. I promise.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, and she tried to smile again.
I had to give her credit—even pretend bravery was better than nothing. She was trying.
It was just the two of us.
I looked around the room. Bed, night stand, dresser. A little corner I guessed could be called a kitchenette by a very creative landlord. It was more like a sink with a counter built around it and a couple cabinets above it. Underneath was a dorm room fridge. A hot plate sat on the counter beside the sink. A door beside the bed led to the bathroom, which at least looked clean and functioning.
I wanted to ask why the hell anybody would pay for a shithole like that, but that seemed a little rude and very much not my business.
I was lucky. I had never needed to live in a hole in the wall place like hers. She didn’t even have an oven or a microwave. How did she manage?
“It’s comfortable enough,” she said, like she could read my mind.
I hoped my facial expression didn’t give me away.
“I’m sure it is.” I looked around again. “But no TV.”
“Do you see room for a TV in here?” she asked with a grin. “I use my tablet. Saves space.”
“That makes sense.”
But it didn’t make life easier.
I wanted some sort of distraction to fall back on, but there wouldn’t be any. I couldn’t exactly imagine hanging out in bed with her, the tablet between us.
It was late, anyway. “I’ll just set up my bed on the floor here.” I looked around for the closet.
“I can do that for you.” She moved like she wanted to get off
the bed.
“It’s okay. There’s hardly room for the two of us to move around at once.”
She winced.
I tried to make her feel better. “Just because I’m so big,” I added, pointing to my shoulders.
She nodded and pointed to the closet, which was about as small as I had imagined. It was neat, though. I guessed it would have to be. The whole place would have to be, or it would feel even smaller.
There were blankets and pillows on the top shelf. I pulled them down and left them on the floor before kicking off my shoes.
Things had gotten very uncomfortable all of a sudden. She looked at the bedspread and kept picking at the same spot over and over.
“I guess I’ll get ready for bed,” she said. “It’s a lot earlier than I usually go to sleep, but I feel so tired.”
I didn’t doubt that. She had already been through a lot.
“Do you want me to leave while you do?” I asked.
It would almost be a relief to get away from her for a minute. No, not her. Just the discomfort we both felt.
“Nah. I’ll use the bathroom.” She reached into her dresser—no need to get off the bed, since it was right there—and pulled out striped pajamas.
I stepped aside so she could get into the bathroom before setting up my makeshift bed. While she was in there, I decided to lose the jeans. I was never able to sleep well in jeans. I covered myself up with a blanket before she opened the door again.
She was just sliding a retainer into her mouth as she did, and something about that combined with the striped pajamas and the glasses she wore in place of her contacts reached out to me.
She must’ve mistaken the grin on my face for something negative.
“Yeah, I’m just this beautiful when I go to bed,” she said with a wink. “All the sexy pajamas I save for strangers who spend the night on my floor need to be washed.”
“You look fine. Nice, even.”
“Wow, nice even?” But the way she blushed gave her away as she scrambled into bed.
I wondered if her sarcasm and self-deprecation were a lame attempt at hiding something. Like her real self. Maybe we weren’t all that different. I knew what it felt like to hide, to feel like hiding was the only option. Why was she hiding? What was she hiding?
“Do you need time to yourself?” She nodded toward the bathroom door.
“I’m okay for now. I’m just going to lie here, anyway. I doubt I’ll get much sleep.”
She propped herself up on one elbow. “Too early for you? I’m sorry there isn’t anything to do here. You must be bored to death already.”
“No, it’s okay.” I could’ve used a hunt, but I had no idea where I’d even go It hadn’t crossed my mind to ask Lance or any of the others.
Even so, I wouldn’t have left her alone—and she probably would’ve freaked if she knew I was going out to do that. I could control my urges for a little while; I wasn’t a kid.
“I can’t believe this is all happening,” she murmured, looking down at me with those haunted eyes.
What happened to them? They had flashed at me when we first met, like emeralds on fire. Their color didn’t even seem the same.
“This did all hit you pretty fast,” I admitted.
“And all because of my stupid articles. I didn’t think anybody would actually read them.”
“Why write them, then?” I copied her pose until we were both on our elbows, facing each other from our respective beds. “What even inspired you to write about them?”
“I thought they were interesting. I mean, think about it: a group of wandering nomads who traveled all over North America, not settling in one place for too long, I wondered what sort of stories they had to share, how they survived on the road like that. And I wasn’t the only person who noticed them. I really wasn’t. I’ve seen people looking at them on the beach. I’ve heard people asking questions about who they are—I mean, they sort of stick out, don’t they? They really ought to dress in rags if they want to fly under the radar. No, even then.” She smiled a little wistfully.
“I bet you noticed Lance right away,” I grinned.
“Nah. I mean, he’s all right…”
“Nia?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“No. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but no.”
Hmm. “You really like them, don’t you?”
“Sure. They’ve been nice to me.” She sounded so sad. Like she was talking about a bunch of people who had died. People she would never see again.
“They’re still nice people. They’re just not the people you thought they were, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t nice.”
“Oh, I know. I really do. And I feel awful for them. I wish I could help them, somehow…” She trailed off, staring just slightly over my head.
What she was looking at, I didn’t know. Some perfect future, some fantasy world where she was big and strong enough to make things right.
“Do you think I could read your articles some time?” I asked.
“You could read them now, if you want. Something to do.”
Inspiration hit. “Could you read them to me?” It would give her something to focus on other than the nightmares in her mind.
She looked surprised, but nodded. “Sure.”
I rolled onto my back and stared up at the cracked ceiling while she cleared her throat before starting.
“Go to the beach, and you’ll find them,” she began in a soft, tentative voice. “You’ll notice the way they band together. The way they stand out even on a beach filled with beautiful, tanned bodies. The way they draw the eye and make a person wonder where they came from—and whether they’ll stay.”
She painted a picture, and it was an accurate one.
Dozens of people who traveled as one. They helped each other, relied on each other. They each had their role to fill. She referred to the group’s leader more than once, though she had never met him.
He was a legend, she said. He was the one who gathered them, who convinced them to live and work together. I couldn’t decide if he was a god or a cult leader—the way the group members talked about him, he was just short of perfect.
Even more than her subject, it was the way she told their story which drew me in. She had a way with words that made me feel like I was on the beach with her, with the salt air in my nose and ocean spray hitting my cheeks as I built a bonfire with Lance and the others.
She never used their real names—her attempt at keeping them anonymous—but I knew who she meant right away.
When she finished reading the fourth piece in her series, she went silent. “That’s it.”
I rolled onto my side again and looked up at her. “You’re a good writer.”
Her cheeks burned deep red. “Nuh-uh.”
“Uh-huh,” I laughed. “You really are. And you know you are, or else you wouldn’t want to be a journalist. So don’t act like you don’t know.”
She shrugged. “I guess.”
“One day, you’ll get the chance to write even bigger stories. Stories that make it to the print version of the paper, if such a thing even exists for much longer.”
Her grin was like a ray of sunshine. “You really think so?”
“I know so.”
She was too good not to.
“I just wanted people to understand them. I didn’t want them to see drifters, people to be afraid of. Thieves. You know what I mean.”
“I do.”
She had a good heart.
I hated to think of her being afraid to trust her heart again after the trouble it got her into.
She yawned and rubbed her eyes. “I’m sleepy now.”
“Try to rest. I’ll be here if you need me.”
She nodded with a faint smile and curled up on her side, closing her eyes.
I watched her as she fell asleep and kept watching as the hours passed and the night wound down until morning.
7
Alice
My first tho
ught on waking up was worry for my friends. They were still my friends, no matter who they were.
I sat up in bed with my heart practically pounding out of my chest.
“What’s wrong?”
I jumped a mile when I heard Carter’s voice coming from the floor beside the bed.
“Jesus. I forgot you were there.” I put a hand over my chest. Just when I thought I couldn’t get any more freaked out.
“I didn’t know I was that forgettable.” He stood up, and I noticed he was fully dressed again.
“When did you get dressed?”
He grinned. “Right after I took a shower. You were really out cold, weren’t you?”
“I guess so. I have the loudest shower in the world.” I rubbed the heels of my hands over my eyes and hoped I didn’t look like too much of a hot mess.
I casually passed my cupped palm over my mouth and breathed into it. My breath wasn’t too heinous, at least.
“I have to get ready for work,” I said as I lifted the blankets.
“Negative.”
“Excuse me?” I put my feet on the floor.
He had even folded up the blankets. What had he done before I woke up?
Did he sit there, waiting for me?
What a borderline creepy thought.
“You can’t go to work. I thought you understood this.”
“Obviously, I don’t. I have to work.” I waved my arms at our surroundings. “I know it doesn’t look like much, but it costs money. I need to earn my money.”
“I can’t let you out of my sight. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is.”
“Don’t you think you’re being a little overprotective?”
“No. I don’t.” He leaned against the wall with his arms folded. Huge, muscular arms. The man could crack a walnut in the crook of his elbow. “Why do you think those people are on the run? Why can’t they stay in one place for too long? This isn’t a joke. I’ve lived in the middle of nowhere for years, all because somebody doesn’t like the idea of me and my family being alive. This is serious. You can’t underestimate what might happen.”
“If this is supposed to be reassuring, you’re falling short.”
