by Brinda Berry
“Well, whatever the reason, thanks.” I moved forward to indicate that I was leaving my room. His uncertainty squeezed at my chest. Uncertainty that repelled my senses with a chalkboard scraping sound only I could hear. Synesthesia. Uncertainty rolling from him that made me want to cover my ears.
“We have this history, this chemistry,” he said in a quiet voice. “I know it upsets you.”
“No, you’re wrong.” I forced my voice to be light. Disinterested. “We dated, we broke up, we don’t have a lot to talk about now.”
“Hey, you guys are needed down here.” Em called from the bottom of the stairs. I thanked the forces of ESP, divine intervention, or plain old good luck that she’d come to rescue me.
“Coming,” I yelled.
Regulus took a deep breath. “We need to have this conversation. You saved my life in Goliath,” he said. The words ran together in an urgent, bomb-defusing speed.
“And you saved mine. So, we’re even.” I turned sideways to edge around him since he blocked my doorway. I sucked in my breath, trying to make sure that my skin didn’t touch his. He put a hand across the door frame and trapped me between freedom and his body.
“I am not trying to upset you. I want to understand why you hate me. I’m trying to be your friend. I didn’t choose to have the memory cleanse.”
“Yeah. I got that.” I pushed against his arm blocking my way. He didn’t budge.
“I don’t understand why you keep pushing me away,” he whispered and let his arm fall.
My heart rate tripled. I didn’t lift my head and forced my breathing to slow.
“Pushing away would imply that I care. I don’t. See, you didn’t study about this in that place—the Vault—but this is how it works. We date people, have fun, then we move on. It’s the way we do things here.” I made the mistake of looking up. Regulus’s hurt expression knotted my stomach. I walked away before he could see me fighting tears.
Everything about him pulled me in—his strength, his honesty, his awkwardness. Breaking my ties with him felt like pouring alcohol over my deep emotional cut. A personal cleansing I needed for self-protection.
* * *
We played video games until midnight. Austin and Tiny were the first ones to leave. I waved into the darkness, watching them hop into Austin’s jeep. A sliver of moonlight illuminated Austin’s grin. Tiny turned the radio volume up and a guitar riff broke the silence.
Behind me, Em giggled. Her happiness smelled of pink, sugary bubblegum with a hint of salt. I turned to see Arizona holding the mistletoe he’d brought. He dangled it over Em’s head. Their lips met in a movie-screen passionate kiss.
“Merry Christmas to you,” Arizona said to Em.
Em opened her eyes and sighed.
“Oh, get a room.” I swore under my breath at the scent of cinnamon hot lust that filled the space.
She looked guiltily at me and turned to Arizona. “You’d better go. I have to be home in a few hours.”
Arizona frowned. “OK.” He picked up his Christmas gift and immediately began grinning. “Thanks for this.”
Em smiled with him. They were ridiculous—kissing and flirting constantly. I wanted to warn her that happiness doesn’t last. That it would weave a fantasy around her heart and magically disappear when she least expected it.
“You never opened yours,” Em said to Regulus. “It’s a book. I had to special order it from Amazon. American Slang for the Tourist. I thought it might come in handy.”
Regulus nodded. “Thank you, but I’m not a tourist. I consider myself a dual citizen.”
“Oh, I know. I thought, well, um…” Em said.
“Even dual citizens might find a new phrase.” I looked at the grandfather clock that stood in the entry. “It’s getting late.”
Regulus and Arizona walked to the door, carrying their packages. Arizona opened the door and turned to Regulus. “Hey man, can you grab that package of cookies on the coffee table? Em’s giving those to us.”
Regulus turned back and retrieved the package. I watched him bend. His perfect butt was an unfair secret weapon. I mentally kicked myself for faltering. Off-limits. I scolded myself for thinking about him that way. Scolded myself for even letting my gaze travel his direction.
He strolled toward me and stared into my eyes. I thought maybe he had seen me checking him out when I felt something touch the top of my head. I broke eye contact and tilted my head up to see the mistletoe held by Em’s fingers. When I lowered my head, Regulus was inches from my face.
“Kiss,” Em said from behind me. “It’s tradition. Go on.”
I planned to kill her at those words. A slow death involving greenery and maybe a couple of Christmas ribbons.
Regulus leaned closer and I froze. Everything at that moment moved in slow motion. I saw the question in his eyes and the movement of his arms as he let them fall to his sides. He leaned down, his warm breath touched my face and I willed myself to move.
I didn’t.
He didn’t go for a deep kiss. I wouldn’t have been able to stop that because my brain had given up sending signals to my muscles. All my energy powered my racing heart.
After his soft lips brushed mine, he paused then pulled away long enough for our noses to touch. My stomach knotted and tingled.
“Merry Christmas.” And he was gone.
I blinked. He and Arizona had already stepped out the door and I could hear them starting their motorcycles. I’d officially morphed into a living, breathing zombie.
Em shut the door softly. “Hey,” she said. “You OK?”
I rolled my head to loosen my tension-filled neck. “Sure. Fine. You shouldn’t have done that.” I walked back to the living room to pick up a platter of cookies. Carrying it to the kitchen, I stared straight ahead to avoid her.
She put her hand on my shoulder. “You are definitely not OK. You’re freaking out. Stop walking.”
I continued into the kitchen and set the cookie platter on the counter.
“I can’t talk about this.” I rushed back to the living room to collect some empty soda cans.
My want-the-boy-can’t-have-the-boy moment worsened because Em put her arms around me in a consoling hug. She stared at me, leaning her head against mine before speaking. “I know Arizona told you that you can’t date Regulus. That the IIA are watching for that. I don’t care about their rules. The only important thing in life is love.”
“Em, you’ve watched The Notebook too many times.”
She blocked my path as I turned. “It’s OK. It’s going to be OK.”
I blinked and swallowed. “I said I’m OK. How OK do I have to be?” I yelled.
I grabbed more empty soda cans and waited until she left the kitchen. Leaning over the sink, I cupped my hand under the faucet and splashed cold water onto my face and neck.
Why wouldn’t my friends let me get back to the way it was before? Before my emotions held me hostage in a cyclone of hurt?
We didn’t talk like we usually did while cleaning up after the party. Em knew me better than anyone and she knew a conversation would mess me up. The mistletoe was evil. Pure holiday wretchedness.
My stomach churned at the betrayal.
We stood on the dark porch step. “I’m sorry,” she said, holding both my hands and pulling me in for a hug. I buried my face in her humongous scarf.
“I know. I know. But you can’t fix this. So stop.”
I walked her to the car and stood in the darkness, watching her leave until the taillights disappeared.
I hugged my arms to my body, feeling alone and hopeless. The wind whistled a lonely tune through the pines—a soundtrack for my life. The suspended swing creaked, an eerie squeaky sound from the chains. Biscuit give a low growl from behind me.
“Shh. It’s only the wind,” I cooed.
A man crept toward me from the shadows.
6
Pete
“Hey Sunshine.” Pete knew he’d startled her by the drop of her mouth, the w
idening of her eyes, her quick intake of breath. It gave him an odd feeling that Mia didn’t expect to see him again. Ever.
“Pete?” Mia said his name with a disbelieving lilt at the end. Her mouth made an ‘O’ and she put one shaky hand against the porch’s stone wall. She had the look of a lottery winner, all smiles and don’t-wake-me-if-I’m-dreaming. “Is it really you?”
Her voice washed him in light and goodness and the smell of peanut butter. She smelled like she’d bathed in peanut butter and honey, but he knew it was only his synesthesia at work. They’d both been blessed—or cursed if you asked some synesthetes.
Only five feet separated them. She squinted at him in his dark coat, dark pants, dark everything. He was accustomed to blending into the background. He moved a little closer and set down his duffel bag, thunking with more than one night’s change of clothes.
Her face opened into a toothy grin that threatened to overtake her face. A goofy grin he remembered well. He’d last seen her in secret, in the hospital, in a real mess.
She wasn’t out of trouble, but she didn’t know it. She couldn’t know or she wouldn’t be standing on the porch alone.
He closed the distance in two giant steps and pulled her into a crushing hug that said he missed her. They’d never hugged when they’d been young. A hug usually ended in a half-Nelson that merited scolding from their dad.
She sniffled and pulled back.
“Hey there. No crying. You’re acting like you thought I was dead. Come on—”
She rubbed one hand under her eye and slugged him on the bicep. Hard. She grimaced and rubbed her fist. “What are you doing here? Have you come home for good? Why did you—”
“Shush. Dad up?” He pivoted in a one-eighty to study the woods, and finally looked back at her face.
“No, probably not. He went upstairs hours ago. But you’d better wake him.” She studied the duffel bag. “You are staying, right?”
“Yes.” He picked up the bag and led the way inside. “I’ve stood outside for the last half hour, trying to come up with a believable story for Dad.”
“Hope it’s a good one. As a matter of fact, it’ll need to be stellar. Like there was an alien abduction and they just landed the mother ship to return you. No, that won’t work. They’d have returned you way before now.”
“Smartass.” He goosed her side with one finger.
“I thought I was Sunshine,” she said, her voice wobbly. One fat tear slipped down her cheek.
He pretended not to see and busied with taking off his coat and gloves. “I missed you. More than you know.”
She nearly knocked him over with another linebacker-style hug from the side.
“Hey, easy there.” He kissed the top of her head. “You’re quite a bit stronger than the old days. You might hurt me.”
She smirked and sniffled again. “Oh, funny. You’ve bulked up.” She reached over and squeezed his bicep. “I didn’t know you had muscles.”
“And you’re not a little girl anymore. When did you grow up?”
She blushed and took his hand in a vise-grip and led the way to the kitchen. Releasing him, she pointed at the barstool. “I can’t believe you’ve been outside for that long. Tell me the real story and not the one you’re telling Dad.”
“We can talk later. Right now I’ve got to face Dad.”
She frowned with the same irritated look she always gave him. The one that said she was going to argue. But she didn’t.
“OK. But I have questions that you’d better answer.”
He leaned on both elbows and examined platters of candy and cookies. “These look great.”
“Don’t try to divert my attention.” She leaned forward on the counter across from him. “You’re giving off nervous vibes like a freaky glowworm.”
“Can’t fool you. You can read me like a walking billboard.”
“Don’t get me wrong for saying this. I’ve been waiting for the day you’d come home. Dad needs to know you’re alive. But what’s going on? Why home now?”
“It was an emergency,” he said.
“What?”
“I asked to be sent home. We received intel that Bleeker is planning something. He’s watching you.”
The reason for his return ruined the simple childlike pleasure she’d shone at seeing him on the porch. He could see it in her face. He smelled her fear, felt it vibrate.
“Oh?” She evened out her tone and added a hint of indifference. “Can I make you something to drink? You drink coffee, right?”
Now, she was diverting the conversation to a safer topic.
“Yeah. That’d be nice. Coffee with creamer.”
“OK. Anything you want. This is going to make Dad’s Christmas.” Mia scooped out some cocoa mix into a mug. Grabbing the milk from the fridge, she turned her head, staring at him like she was afraid he’d disappear.
He didn’t respond.
“Having you home is like the best present I could get. I haven’t breathed a word to anyone. Not that you were alive. That I’d seen you. Well, except my friends who know…” Her hands shook when she poured the milk in a coffee mug.
“Sis, I’m so sorry that you got pulled into this. When I left home, I did it for more than one reason. I thought if I removed myself from this location, from you and Dad… Well, I was naive. I thought I could keep this away from you.” He shook his head.
“You didn’t create portals. This mess isn’t your fault.”
“Yeah. I know that’s logical, that I didn’t bring this on us. But I feel responsible. I need to make sure you’re safe.”
“From the IIA?”
He arched a brow. “The IIA doing something I need to know about?”
She ignored him and took a couple of minutes before speaking again. She continued with the hot cocoa prep. Stirring powder, pushing buttons on the microwave. Watching her make coffee seemed so normal compared with discussing an agency from another dimension. “I don’t know. Regulus keeps bringing up the fact—”
“You tell him to back off or if you don’t want to talk to him, I’ll take care of it.” He picked Biscuit up and placed the dog on his lap.
“Are you going to tell me the truth about what you do?” She chewed her thumbnail and only stopped when the microwave beeped. She removed the steamy mug.
“I’ll tell you what I can. I’m telling you because you have decisions to make. Decisions about the IIA. I didn’t know they’d try to force you and I’d assumed you’d tell them to take a hike.”
She didn’t make eye contact. “I sorta went all swoony over their team leader. I went did a stupid girl thing. I’m smarter now.”
He laughed. “People do stupid ‘swoony’ things. Human nature.”
She snorted. “Oh, I’m sure I’d win some sort of crown for it.”
“You have choices you don’t even know of yet.”
“Like what?”
“I was recruited for Operation Zodiac. OZ for short. It’s a black op, a military unit that doesn’t exist.” He shouldn’t even tell her that much.
“Like Call of Duty.” The minute she said it, he could tell she regretted it. She probably expected him to laugh or roll his eyes, but it was too close to the truth. She continued. “So if this is so clandestine, how can you tell me about it?”
“That’s all I’m telling you. And you won’t tell. You don’t have to know more.”
“It’s dangerous?”
He stared at her without blinking. “Every day.”
“Then why did you join it? Why?” Her voice cracked and she wouldn’t look him in the eyes.
“I had to, Mia. It was agree to work with the IIA, or join Operation Zodiac. Our guys.”
“Oh. So, it’s a matter of national allegiance.”
“You’re simplifying the issue. Mia—”
“You left us. We needed you.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t know.”
He reached across and took her hands. Squeezed both in hi
s. “I don’t pretend to know what I did to you guys. But I did it to protect you both. Please forgive me.”
Another fat tear slid down her cheek and hit the counter. He watched it fall and looked back into her eyes. Pain stabbed his chest. He’d seen her cry twice in one night. He couldn’t remember ever seeing her cry that much. “I’d have done anything for you guys. Even leave you.”
“It’s a crazy life. Why does it have to be like this?”
“I don’t know. ‘Cause we crave high adventure?” He grinned at her.
She looked at him and raised her eyebrows. “Huh?”
“We train for this life. To be good at it.”
“You are making zero sense.”
“Quest of Zion. The agency that selects operatives for OZ uses the game.” He ran a hand down his neck. Took off his coat. Grinned at her open mouth and the confused furrow between her brows.
“You’re joking, right?”
“Not a bit.”
He took a deep breath and looked down at the mug she’d put on the counter. “And I know my assignment is dangerous…” He kept the smile on his face. “But not as dangerous as trusting you to make coffee.”
She frowned and looked at the mug. “Oh no, I’ve made you cocoa.” She shook her head. “I was excited to see you. So fire me. Coffee. Yeah. Making coffee now.” She slid the mug to herself and began to start the coffee maker.
Pete laughed and she joined him. They were laughing and grinning like old times. Then Mia’s smile froze and he turned to see Dad, standing with a frown on his face.
Dad stood in flannel pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. He looked older. Tired.
“Pete?”
“Hi, Dad.” Pete slid from the barstool. “I’m home.”
Dad rushed forward and embraced him. The older man’s shoulders shook and Pete lowered his head, not looking at Mia.
“I can’t believe it. I can’t believe you’re alive and here.”
His resolve to stay emotionally distant toppled like a teetering house of cards. Mia’s evident relief at his homecoming, the pinnacle on top, his dad’s wet cheeks, the base. His defenses were gone.
