Sydney would have crawled on her knees to avoid walking on her feet if it wouldn’t have been too slow. Whimpering, she made her way across the lot. The trailer stuck out far enough from the side of the gas station that she was sure no one inside could see her as she limped around the back to shield herself behind the huge rolls of hay. The rolls were set close to each other, but not so close that she couldn’t squeeze in between them. She boosted herself onto the rough, wooden platform and scooted in between the bales, wincing as the wood cut into her hands and stomach with sharp splinters. Sydney wasn’t sure what would happen once she got to wherever farmer was going, but she assumed that she would be able to find water there. Hopefully, she would be able to avoid being seen until nightfall and could clean up, maybe even sleep in a barn for the night.
***
The jingle of the bell, signaling the farmer’s return in her memory was echoed by The Bark and Meow’s bell as a customer entered the shop. Xander sauntered in with a smirk and Sydney groaned and dropped her head back into her hands. Just what I need...
Chapter Seven
“What do you want?” Sydney sighed, refusing to meet Xander’s eye.
“Well, good afternoon to you too,” he pretended offense.
“Well? What do you expect? A curtsy and fanfare?”
Xander rolled his eyes. “Maybe one day.”
Sydney had no idea what that was supposed to mean and she didn’t bother to ask. “What can I help you with, sir?” she asked jumping off the stool and standing at attention.
“You.”
Xander’s gaze burned into hers and his answer caught her off guard. She suddenly felt naked and shivered, the effect he had on her was annoying. “On a silver platter?” she snorted.
“Sounds tasty,” he laughed.
Shit. She hadn’t meant to go there—or had she? She was implying that he would eat her alive. But she wasn’t stupid—she had known what she was saying and the door she was leaving open—she just hadn’t given herself time to care what she was saying. “I walked right into that one.”
Xander took pity on her and laughed it off playfully. “How about lunch instead?” Syd glared at him warily until he held his hands up in surrender. “Really. An innocent lunch.”
“Why?”
“I want to show you something. Something I’ve not shown anyone else.”
“Oh, I bet you say that to all the girls.” Now that the door was open Sydney couldn’t stop herself. The double-entendres were just begging to be made.
“Stop doing that.” Xander was serious and the deep vibrations of his voice raised a chill on her arms.
“Doing what?”
Instead of answering he waited for her to give up avoiding him and his request. “Fine. Lunch. That’s it.” Why the hell did I just agree to that?
The smile he gave her made up for her frustration she had with herself when her stomach tingled. You know better! And she did. She knew how stupid it was to get close to anyone. It was bad enough that she and Shay had become such good friends. The last thing she needed was to get emotionally involved with a guy like Xander. Her brain told her not to be stupid and stay away from him, but something further south than her head urged her on.
“Good. When does Shay take over?”
She sighed, “I thought you were leaving it to me to let you know if I wanted to hang out with you?”
He shrugged. “I got tired of waiting.”
Less than twenty four hours? “Two o’clock.”
“OK. I’ll pick you up then.”
Once he was gone Syd plopped back onto the stool and rested her head in her hands again. “I’m such a dumbass,” she muttered to herself. Her mind raced and she didn’t know which issue she should let consume her thoughts. The Dreamers. The dream itself. Shay bringing a cat that may irrationally and inexplicably hate her into the house. Xander wanting to hang out with her again, and the fact that she had agreed. Not to mention she still had amnesia and “someone” wanted to find for her for one reason or another.
What the hell have I done to deserve all of this? Sadly, the question wasn’t even rhetorical. She really didn’t know what she had done to earn the events of the past four months. For all she knew, she was a bank robber. She almost snorted to herself. What were the chances a young, white female was a bank robber? As awful as that question was, she couldn’t deny the truth of it. It was most likely that she had hurt someone drunk driving. A painful clench in her stomach confirmed the possibility. It wasn’t the first time she had considered the possibility. Given her propensity for drinking, it was a legitimate concern.
At times, Sydney considered going to the police. She wasn’t an evil person, as far as she knew. And since she harbored a profound guilt at even the possibility she was responsible for hurting an innocent person, she felt that was a reasonable assumption about her character. So, what stopped her? The obvious? She might not be guilty of any crime. And what if whoever was after her would use the police to catch her? They could have set her up for some kind of crime and was waiting for her to be arrested so they could come in and grab her. Or maybe she knew something or saw something she wasn’t supposed to and the police, or men in black suits were looking for her to shut her up permanently.
Of course Sydney knew how ridiculous those theories were. But at the same time, how ridiculous was it to wake up by Lake Michigan with absolutely no memory and a warning written on her arm? Syd’s best course of action, as far as she could figure out, was to hide from everyone. She knew that the plan was not a good long term plan, but it was good enough until she either got her memory back or thought of a new plan.
***
By the time two o’clock rolled around Sydney had worked herself into an anxious state. Mainly over Xander since he was the easiest thing to be worried about. She jumped when the bell jangled and was relieved that it was only Shay. “Hey Love!”
“Hey.” Syd tried to sound less worried than she felt. It must have worked because Shay didn’t comment.
“Did anything exciting happen?”
Well that’s a loaded question. “Not really.”
“Well, have no fear, I’m here!”
Syd laughed despite her mood and began gathering her stuff.
“What are you getting into for the rest of the day?” Shay asked.
Syd hesitated before answering. She didn’t want to lie to her friend but she didn’t want to tell her she was hanging out with Xander today either. Shay would find that so juicy she would squeal and never leave either of them alone about. And, if she was ever able to get Xander to back off Shay would give her a hard time about that too. She was saved from answering by the chirp of her text message notice.
“Meet me on Clark.”
The text was from Xander of course, she breathed a sigh of relief. He thought ahead and had parked a couple of blocks away so that Shay wouldn’t see him. He must have figured out that she wouldn’t want Shay to know they were hanging out. Or...wait...what if he doesn’t want Shay to know we are hanging out? Annoyance caused Syd to close her eyes for a minute.
“Ooh, who’s texting you?” Shay asked, her face lighting up with curiosity.
Of course Shay would want to know who was texting her since—as far as she knew—she was the only one who texted her. She knew that Syd talked to Xander enough to buy weed, but wouldn’t expect them to be chatting about anything other than business. Syd rolled her eyes dismissively and tossed the phone back into her bag. “Garbage text.” White lies were OK, she tried to tell herself. “I’m going to get lunch and then I don’t know what.” That was entirely true.
“Mmmhmmm,” Shay smirked at her.
Sydney just shook her head. Continued denials would be transparent, and she didn’t know if she could feign neutrality anyway. “I’ll see you later.”
“K.”
Sydney was aware that Shay watched her leave the store but she didn’t look back. Instead, she pulled on a pair of sunglasses and hurried towards Clark.
Her headache was mostly gone until she stepped outside and into the bright sun. Turning the corner, Sydney spotted Xander’s truck right away. It was an old pickup that was more rust than red. It should be a motorcycle, that would be more fitting, she thought to herself.
When Sydney opened the door Xander watched her climb inside without a word. A part of her wanted to ask him why he had parked well out of sight, but she didn’t actually want the answer. She stowed her purse by her feet and turned towards him. “So?”
“So?”
“Where are we going?”
“My place.”
“But—”
“I mean my garage,” he laughed at her and started the truck. Despite its exterior condition, it turned over easily.
Sydney had no idea why he would take her to his garage to eat but she decided to just ride this out to see where it was going. Xander may be a pain in the ass, but she was pretty sure he wasn’t going to kill her.
At the edge of the city, Xander pulled the truck into the parking lot of a garage that didn’t look open. “This is your garage?” Syd knew that he owned one but had never seen it.
“Yeah, why?” Xander shut the engine off and climbed out.
Sydney met him at the front of the truck. “I don’t know,” she shrugged. “It doesn’t look open, I guess.”
It was Xander’s turn to shrug. “It’s open when I need it to be.”
He lead and Sydney followed. When his hair blew in the wind you couldn’t even tell the sides were shaved, it just looked like his hair was shaggy and carelessly unkempt. He was probably six foot tall and had the body of a blue collar worker. Fit but not overly so. He kept in shape by working, not going to the gym. She tried to stop staring at his shoulders that seemed to ridiculously define masculinity. He unlocked the door and held it open for her. Having no idea what to expect, but prepared for the worst, Syd stepped into the dark garage.
Light shined through surprisingly clean windows but did little to light up the interior. The space smelled of the expected oil and cold metal, but also of something else that she couldn’t identify at first. The loud click of Xander turning on the industrial, overhead lights caused her to jump. As the four huge lamps flickered on and illuminated the space Sydney backed up in surprise. Of course she bumped right into Xander when she did. Her back coming into contact with his hard stomach caused her to gasp and step forward again. He chuckled as she glared back at him as if it was his fault.
“What is that?” she asked, trying to forget the feel of him against her back. There was a tall, triangle-shaped object covered with a drop cloth, in the middle of the garage floor.
“Go look,” one side of his mouth twitched.
Sydney narrowed her eyes. Sure she would regret, it she turned away and stepped toward the mystery object. The garage was big enough to house and work on three or four vehicles. And the farthest space was taken up by his tow truck but in the area closest to them, the triangle shaped “thing” loomed ominously. Further, near the back wall, was what appeared to be a shelf also covered in a beige drop cloth. She had no idea what to expect, so she tried not to jump to conclusions. Syd stepped closer to the structure in front of her and swallowed. It was taller than she was, a little taller than Xander even.
Glancing back at him, Sydney hesitated before reaching out to touch the cover. He nodded at her and she grabbed a handful of cloth. Since she didn’t know what was under it, she didn’t just jerk the cover off. Instead, she pulled it up, her brow furrowing at what she saw. A tripod? Close, she realized. It was an easel. When she had the cloth high enough to see what rested on the easel she gasped again.
It was beautiful. Fittingly, the easel looked homemade, and Sydney had to resist the urge to reach out and touch the painting. It was a representation of the Chicago skyline as seen from the lake. It was a classic picture so that wasn’t what was breathtaking. Instead, it was the style in which it was painted. She didn’t have any idea if it had a name or not, and if it did she didn’t have the foggiest what it would be called. But it was fascinating. None of the colors were entirely accurate. Even the lines of the buildings were questionable. If she was going to give the style a name she would call it graffiti.
Color splashed across the canvas as if they were just tossed there and it was a matter of luck that they fell into recognizable shapes and structures. The carelessness of the paint’s appearance couldn’t cover up the sheer talent behind their application though. Sydney didn’t realize Xander was next to her until he was helping raise the cloth. When the protective cover was draped over the top of the easel she finally turned to him.
“You did this?”
“Yes!” He was pretending to be offended but Sydney could see the vulnerability in his indigo eyes.
“This is...amazing.” She cringed at the inadequate word.
A soft smile softened his face. “Thanks, he muttered, not looking at her.
They both continued to stare at the painting. Sydney kept finding more and more details in the strokes of paint across the canvas. The Hancock Building was dark purple. The CNA building was white. Willis Tower was pale blue. Seeing the familiar skyline rendered in unexpected colors made her feel uncomfortable in an awesome way.
“Wow.”
“I’m glad you like it,” Xander whispered.
“I love it.” Syd didn’t know what else to say. This was pretty much the last thing she would have expected him to show her. A motorcycle he thought would impress her—sure. A huge pile of weed—yeah—in fact, he had done that once before. Hell, if he flopped his junk out at her suggestively she would have been less surprised. But this? This was...laying himself out there. No pun intended. Well played, she snorted to herself. Nice touch. “But why are you showing me this?”
He looked at her for a moment before answering. “I thought you might be able to appreciate it,” he answered cautiously. “I don’t know. I just thought that you might get it.”
“Get it?”
“Yeah. Seeing something that you should be able to...I don’t know. Trust. Understand. Recognize. But nothing about it makes sense.”
Xander
Xander tried to breathe normally, but he was feeling exposed. Not to mention Sydney was close enough to touch. He could smell her coconut shampoo and he was resisting the urge to reach out and feel how soft her hair was. He had been surprised by how badly he had wanted her to see this painting. He rarely showed anyone his work. He had even only agreed to let Shay hang some of his work in her apartment if she swore she wouldn’t tell anyone who had painted them. Given Sydney’s reaction, Shay had kept her word.
He knew why he kept his paintings secret, it was just too much of himself on the canvas to just show anyone. Every stroke of the brush, every color choice, revealed something about himself and how he felt at that moment. Whatever the subject was, his feelings about it would be obvious through the paint. He never had to explain that to anyone, but he knew it nonetheless. When it came to this painting and Sydney, something was different.
He had told her he would leave her alone until she called him, but once he was done with the cityscape he hadn’t been able to resist showing it to her. He wanted her to see it because he wanted her to see him. He crossed his arms and studied her face for her reaction. She was awed and impressed. He hadn’t expected she would react so strongly and he wasn’t sure it was a good reaction. If the painting was an extension of himself and she was overwhelmed by it, what did that mean about her feelings towards him?
Xander had been trying to figure Sydney out since the first time Shay introduced them. He had been volunteered to help them get her get a bed after she moved in with his sister. At first he had been annoyed, just because he had a truck didn’t mean he wanted to spend his day off helping a stranger move furniture. But one look at her wary, blue eyes and he lost his annoyance. He was intrigued instead.
Who showed up to a city like Chicago with nothing except a bag of clothes and necessities? She didn’t look dirty and rough
enough to have been homeless, but the twitchy, steely look to her eye was familiar to Xander. She was running from something or someone. When he asked Shay about it she had told him to mind his own business. That Sydney’s story was her own until she wanted to tell it. Then Shay had narrowed her eyes at him before excitedly asking him why he was so interested in Sydney. “You don’t like new people or strangers, why do you want to know about her?” she had asked bouncing on her toes mischievously.
He had told her to shut up and passed it off as wanting to know who the strange woman was that would be living with his little sister. Shay hadn't believed him but also cut him some slack. She knew him well enough to know pushing him wouldn’t get her what she wanted. Instead, she made sure she got Sydney and Xander in the same room together as much as possible. He liked Zak enough, and he loved his sister, but he didn’t make a habit of hanging out with them often. Not until Shay cleverly began inviting him and just happening to mention that Sydney would be there as well. The most annoying thing was that he kept giving in. At least Shay and Zak had enough decency not to mention it.
Returning to the moment he watched Sydney study the picture. She reached out as if she was going to touch it and his gut tightened. It wasn’t dry enough to touch but he wouldn’t stop her, but she stopped herself. He hoped that she understood what he was saying by showing her this painting. I’m like you. You’re like me. I understand. You aren’t alone. We aren’t alone.
Chapter Eight
“Wow…” Sydney breathed again.
“You said that,” Xander smirked.
“Sorry, I...I just...I’m surprised, I guess.”
“By what?” Xander backed away from Sydney and the painting slowly.
“I don’t know...I just never knew you were an artist.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
Syd rolled her eyes. She thought about what he had said. That the painting represented not being able to recognize what should be familiar. Again, she wondered if she had slipped up when she was blackout drunk. He seemed to keep hinting at something—she just wasn’t sure it was something she should be worried about.
Don't Let Them Find You (The Dyian Series Book 1) Page 5
