by Ava Gray
The pizza was delicious, though—light, crisp crust, plenty of cheese, spicy tomato sauce, extra sausage, light peppers. When Julie carried it in, she’d joked that the peppers served as a nod to the four food groups. He tried to follow the conversation afterward, but they laughed too much and switched topics too fast. Three voices talking over one another, and the words turned into noise.
Once they finished eating, everyone settled down to watch the movie. That was easier. They dimmed the lights and then he only needed to understand one person talking at once. His muscles eased a bit. But he wasn’t sure he could stay for two more movies. He needed to be moving. Doing something. Sitting still like this didn’t work unless he was sleeping.
During the first intermission, Julie and Travis went to the kitchen for more beer. They couldn’t know he heard them whispering about him and then the soft little sounds that came from kissing. He didn’t want to be able to hear this. Her soft sighs should be for her man alone. The need to run rose up.
“You okay?” Neva asked.
Surprise washed over him. He’d thought he was doing a decent job of hiding his unease. “Why?”
“You look . . .”
You wouldn’t believe it if I told you. Hell, sometimes he didn’t. Sometimes he thought weak minds ran in his family, and that his mother’s sickness had finally taken him. Maybe he was crazy.
“Sad,” she finished.
That wasn’t it but it helped that she’d paid enough attention to notice. He calmed some. Listening to her voice let him block out what was happening in the kitchen. For the first time, he found he could turn it off. He shifted and found her gazing at him with concerned eyes.
“Hasn’t been easy,” he said.
“I guess not.” She hesitated, as if she wanted to ask him something more, maybe what hadn’t been easy, but Julie and Travis came back with the beer, putting a stop to further talk. Just as well. Still, he relaxed as he’d been unable to before. Even the faint scent of sexual arousal that clung to Neva’s friend didn’t alarm him.
After the second movie, Travis went to the bathroom and Julie called Neva into the kitchen. To talk about him, he guessed. Shortly, he was proven right.
“So is this a date?” she whispered, right away.
He gazed at the big, blank screen, trying to pretend he couldn’t hear. But he wanted to know the answer to that himself, so he didn’t block. His hands curled into fists on his knees.
Neva sounded shocked. “Of course not. I just hired the guy. I wanted him to feel more at ease working at the clinic and I hoped this might help.”
“Just checking. But you’ll never meet anyone if you don’t get out there and start looking.”
“You sound like my mother. Not everyone’s as lucky as you, Jules.”
The other woman sighed. “I know. I’m sorry.”
Zeke’s heart lifted. It could’ve been a lot worse. She could’ve said she felt sorry for him or that she’d never want someone like him. He almost smiled.
Travis came back down the hall, drying his hands on the thighs of his jeans. “You want that last slice?”
“If nobody else does.”
“Go for it. Are you sticking around for the third one?” It was a friendly inquiry, but the question told Zeke he’d stayed long enough.
Maybe it wasn’t personal. Maybe the guy just wanted to be alone with Julie. Given how they’d been messing around in the kitchen, he’d want private time with his woman; that was for sure. He stood up, still chewing the last of the pizza.
“Should get home. Thanks.”
“Not a prob. Next month we’re watching the Weekend at Bernie’s movies.” He grinned. “My turn to pick. Maybe you can make it?”
Huh. So Travis hadn’t been asking him to leave? God, he’d lost so much in his ability to read other human beings. He could figure out more from their breathing and their smell than from their words and expressions. But since he’d already said he needed to go, he just nodded.
“Sounds good.”
Travis called, “Zeke’s heading out. Want to say bye?”
The women came out of the kitchen together. Julie offered a warm smile. “It was great having you. See you at work tomorrow.”
Pleasure washed over him. As of tomorrow, he’d have somewhere to go and work to be doing. At the end of the week, there would be money to get the power back on and put food in his cupboards. Neva couldn’t know how much she’d done for him by giving him a job.
“Good night,” he said.
Lifting a hand, he headed for the door. Neva surprised him by saying to the others, “I’ll walk him out.”
Outside, the air was crisp and cool. No clouds in the sky. Stars glittered overhead, and the night sang with sounds other people wouldn’t even notice. He could hear a raccoon prowling in the bushes. There were squirrels in the trees, too, and nesting birds as well. He saw the shadow of open wings and the sensation of swooping rushed through him. Owl. For a dizzying moment, he saw through its eyes just as it dove after a mouse.
He stumbled, barely catching himself on the hood of the truck. Tremors ran through him. Christ. Just when he thought it couldn’t get worse, it did. Can there be any doubt I’m nuts?
“What happened? Did you step in the hole?”
Still dizzy, he couldn’t speak. Zeke let her go on about some defect in Travis’s driveway maintenance program. He lost the thread of her words. Instead he just breathed, trying to regain control of his own head. When he finally did, he realized she had her hand on his arm.
Warm.
The heat shocked him. He couldn’t remember how long it had been since a woman other than Aunt Sid had touched him. Here it was, skin to skin. He would’ve pulled away from anyone else, but for her, he stood quiet, drinking in the feeling.
“How many beers did you have?”
“One.”
“So you should be fine to drive.”
Sid would call Neva a caretaker, someone who made sure everyone else was okay. But who looked after her? He never could’ve imagined a world where Geneva Harper would be asking about him like this.
“Just tripped,” he said. “Tired. Been a long day.”
He wanted to say more but the words wouldn’t come. He wanted to tell her that it mattered she cared—that she was kind and decent—and that he’d known little enough of either in recent months. But his tongue seemed to swell in his mouth, and he couldn’t.
“Would you like me to follow you home? I owe you. Anything could’ve happened to me the other night.”
He shook his head. “You done plenty.”
By the time he got in the truck, the dizziness had passed. The owl had flown away, mouse in talons, though Zeke didn’t like to think about his surety. Blood scented the night air, surely not just from one small mouse. Just more of his crazy. Best not to speak it or think of it.
“’Night, Zeke.” Neva stood in the shine of his headlights, watching him drive away.
He had a strange feeling about leaving her, like it was the last thing he should ever do. The urge to slam the truck into park and run back to her nearly overwhelmed him. Gritting his teeth against his quiet horror about being behind the wheel, he held on tight, ignored the impulse, and went on home. He just had to hang on a little longer.
Day by day, he told himself that. One day he’d wake up and the world would be right again. A quiet little voice said, No, that’s not happening. Not ever.
Zeke ignored that whisper. If he didn’t, they won.
That night, the dream came. It was always the same. He lay strapped on a hospital-style bed, his arms buckled at the wrists, straps on his ankles as well. He was completely naked, bright lights shining down while people stood all around him talking about him like he wasn’t a person. The low murmurs were indistinguishable, but he heard displeasure in their tones. Then the pain began.
Needles at first, jabbing into his skin, over and over. He had no way of knowing how much time passed while they worked on him. After the n
eedles, they used electricity: electrodes on his head, his chest, and his sex. The current made him howl; the shocks went on and on, until he screamed and it all went dark. Awakening found him back in the cell, still naked, blood trickling from his arms and legs. Unlike the others, he couldn’t scream or weep. He had no voice. No words. So he curled into himself and waited for the torture to start again.
Zeke woke in a pool of sweat, ready to kill someone for what had been done to him. They’d stolen almost a year of his life, all told, between the time he was held hostage, and the long months it took him to work his way home. But he didn’t kid himself that he had the resources to find answers, so he’d do the next best thing.
You bastards thought you broke me, but you didn’t. I will rise. Then he began the long hike back to the house because when he woke from one of those nightmares, he was never in his own bed.
Neva worked at a mad pace, and the following week went in a rush. Hunting season always brought its share of calamities. Having an extra body around helped greatly, and Zeke proved amenable to pitching in as needed. Sometimes there was no substitute for a strong man willing to hold a frightened animal. She and Julie occasionally had trouble with the larger dogs.
Over time, she noticed he had a real rapport; injured creatures calmed around him. He was as patient and capable around animals as he was strange and awkward in the presence of people. And unlike the others who had come and gone, he was dead reliable. With him on board, she found herself working shorter hours because she didn’t have to stay late and clean up.
The downside? Most nights, she had too much time to think.
Fortunately, this wasn’t one of those times. She had a Great Dane in the exam room and a worried owner to deal with. She donned her professional smile and went in. To her surprise, she found Zeke in with them. The dog had been whimpering pitifully when they arrived, but she was fine now. Maybe that was just because she was lying down. That suggested a wide variety of possible causes.
“Got a sec?” he asked.
Nonplussed, she stepped into the hall with him with a parting smile for the client. “What’s up?”
“Her hips hurt.”
“The owner told you that?”
He shrugged.
“Great Danes are prone to hip dysplasia and Yancy’s getting on in years. Thanks for letting me know.”
She didn’t understand why they’d needed to have that conversation in private, but Neva had given up trying to make sense of Zeke’s quirks. It was enough that he helped so much; the practice ran smoother than it ever had. He’d picked up their routine quickly and cleaned the exam room between patients without being asked. He never complained, no matter how dirty the job, and sometimes . . . it got pretty bad.
The rest of the day sped by in a blur of appointments. At seven that night, she stood resting her head against her office door. She had finished the last chart and it was time to go home, if she could muster the energy, because in the morning, she had another full day scheduled.
“Tired?” Zeke asked.
She had gotten used to the idea he wouldn’t leave until she did, though she only paid him for four hours a day. Which was why she’d started trying to get out of the building earlier. He seemed worried about her safety. But then she’d noticed the way he was always scanning the darkness, like he thought something scary lurked out there. He never seemed to relax fully; she just didn’t know why.
“Just hungry most likely.”
“No lunch?”
Thinking back brought none to mind. An emergency surgery had screwed up her afternoon, requiring a couple of routine checks to be bumped until tomorrow. “Nope. But I’m ready to head out, if you are.”
They checked the place once more and then she led the way to the front door, where she set the alarm and then locked up. He went out first, his expression wary as he checked the shadows. It was almost like he expected somebody laying in wait.
“Dinner?”
Neva paused, keys in hand. “Are you asking if I plan to eat?”
“Wanna get some? Tom’s Diner?”
Now she had date confusion. Maybe he just meant for them to share a meal since they were leaving at the same time. Nobody liked eating alone. If it had been Julie issuing the invitation, she wouldn’t hesitate, so maybe she was making it more complicated than it needed to be. The other attendants had been . . . different than Zeke. The first man had been in his late fifties, and the second had the drawn features of the habitual drinker, though he had been careful not to come to work drunk. If either of them had asked her to dinner, she wouldn’t have hesitated over the no.
“Sure. I’ll follow you.”
“No need. Can ride with you and then run back.”
“It’s two and a half miles.”
He shrugged in answer and walked to her Honda. She got in and leaned over to unlock the door for him and then scrambled to clear the junk off the passenger seat. It was easy to tell she hadn’t had anyone in her car in a while. Once he joined her, she felt conscious of his height, though he didn’t try to take up more space.
Nerves made her ramble about the pets she’d seen today, and she was relieved when the diner lights appeared on the left. The place was pretty packed, since apart from Armando’s and Pie in the Sky, there were no other options for dining out. And Tom’s had the most varied menu by far. The diner had a retro air: black and white trimmed in red neon. A chalkboard announced the daily specials.
She chose a booth near the bathrooms, mostly because it was the last one left. Emmylou Fish hustled over with the laminated page that comprised the menu. Zeke took his with an air of abstraction.
“Today’s special is chicken fried steak with mashed potatoes, gravy, and corn. Served with your choice of roll or biscuit. Y’all know what you want?”
“Sounds good,” Zeke said. “Biscuit, please.”
“I’ll have the bacon cheeseburger. Salad instead of fries.”
“Sure thing.” Emmylou scrawled the order and took it to the window behind the counter.
People watched them, whispering, and soon it would be all over town where she’d gone and who she’d been with. When she was a kid, it made having fun in this town damn near impossible. This time, Neva didn’t let it bother her. She ignored the stares, but they appeared to trouble Zeke. Trying to make small talk proved fruitless while he fiddled with the salt and pepper and flipped his thumb back and forth across the sugar and sweetener packets. Eventually he went to the bathroom to wash up, but his mood hadn’t improved when he came back.
He sat back down, his jaw tight. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”
“You get used to it.”
“Yeah?”
“Okay, no. But you learn to deal. When I was a kid, I made faces at people.” She glanced over at Mrs. Gillespie—still watching their every move—and stuck out her tongue. “As you can see, sometimes I still do. It helps.”
He laughed, and then exhibited the most charming astonishment, as if he didn’t immediately recognize the sound. The smile eased his face of its sharp tension, and she couldn’t stop looking at him. The color of those eyes ought to be called nightfall in heaven. Oh no. She really couldn’t think this way about him.
“Thanks,” he said softly.
Emmylou returned with their food, interrupting the moment. Probably just as well—she had been staring in a decidedly unbosslike way. Over the course of the meal, Neva noticed he ate with excessive care, paying attention to his knife and fork at all times. He acted almost as if he had trouble with minor motor functions but she didn’t think that was the case, based on his graceful, almost predatory walk.
By the time the waitress brought the checks, the atmosphere had eased between them. Emmylou had split them into two, but she raised a brow and grinned, obviously in search of gossip. “Should I have put it on one?”
“No,” Neva said. “This is fine.”
“Let me.” He plucked her green ticket from her hand and strode toward the cash register.
/>
It’s not a date, she told herself. Even if he buys. Nothing wrong with that.
But from Emmylou’s avid expression, she scented a juicy story and leaned in, effectively blocking Neva’s retreat. “So you’re seeing Zeke Noble? What’s that like?” Her green gaze lingered on his butt.
Dammit, she had to try and head this off. Maybe a big tip would work; she fished a ten out of her wallet. “It’s not like that. We work together.”
The other woman just grinned. “Well, aren’t you the dirty girl?”
With a huff of breath, she gave up and edged her way out of the booth and went to join Zeke, who was finishing up at the register. Mrs. Gillespie still nursed her coffee, eyeing them with undisguised speculation. Damn, sometimes she hated being a Harper. Neva made her face impassive, like she didn’t know or care what everyone thought. It was none of their business.
“Ready?” she asked.
“No need to wait on me.”
“I know that. But there’s no way I’m letting you walk back to your truck at this hour. It’s not that far.”
A small smile plucked at the corners of his mouth, tugging simultaneously on her heartstrings. “Worried ’bout me?”
“Yeah.”
“Can’t have that.” His hand brushed her waist, as he guided her toward the door with inborn courtesy, and she felt the touch all the way to her toes.
November sped toward Thanksgiving. It was a Wednesday like any other, Neva thought. Might even have been quieter than usual—until the end of the day. The last patient was a pregnant female cat, and she wasn’t on the books.
A woman brought her in, nearly in tears. “I don’t know what happened to her. She’s not mine. I found her . . . I think maybe she was hit.”
Or she could’ve been tossed from a moving car—Neva had seen it before. People could be unspeakably cruel.
“It’s all right. You can go. I’ll take it from here.”
