Instinct

by Mattie Dunman

  Below, I hear a knocking at the door and know that Cole is here. With another glance at the journal, I make a decision to tell him everything; of all people he can understand why I have to find out what happened to Miranda and Nicole, why I owe it to them. The flame in my chest flares as though satisfied and dwindles to a smolder. I will reserve the fire for the moment I need it most, but keep that same burning sense of purpose firm in my mind. Nothing matters now but finding justice for my friend Nicole, and for the damaged girl who could have been my friend had she lived.

  Chapter 12

  “I’m afraid of my brother,” Cole says in greeting, dropping into the chair at my desk with a weary sigh. I stare at him, taking in the slightly disheveled state of his clothes and the slowly darkening bruise on the right side of his jaw.

  “Did Jake do that?” I ask, pointing at the mark. Cole starts, putting his hand up to his jaw and then frowns, shrugging off the obvious evidence that he’s gotten into it with his brother.

  “It’s no big deal,” he says, rolling his shoulders uncomfortably. “I can handle Jake.”

  “You’re the one who told me to be careful around him,” I remind him, wondering how two such different people could be related. Cole is all sharp edges and soft center, a deceptive outward package with all the trappings of the classic misunderstood bad-boy. Looking at him now, his sapphire-blue eyes trained on mine defiantly, jaw clenched, I can feel something more is there, swimming just under the surface, waiting for me to ask the right question. Something I can’t see clearly just yet.

  “Look, I wanted to apologize. I should’ve come to see you in the hospital,” he says. I just raise my eyebrow at him, waiting for the explanation. When he doesn’t continue, but just glares at me, daring me to ask why, I retaliate by leaning back on my bed, studying my nails with deliberate interest.

  The silence lengthens and I can practically feel the frustration coming off him in waves until he breaks into an admiring laugh.

  “You’re good at interrogation, you know that?”

  I smile and glance over him, for the first time in days feeling something other than guilt or depression. I had planned on telling Cole everything, my suspicions and plans, but being so close to him, knowing his eyes are on me, hearing his voice, being just a short gesture away from touching him, I am suddenly giddy. It’s like being deprived of breath for too long and taking that first long, slow sip of air.

  “It’s been mentioned before. So what’s the deal? Why did Jake come see me and not you?” I ask, suddenly serious. Even through my pain over finding Nicole I had registered hurt at his absence.

  Cole grimaces and climbs up onto the bed next to me. My heart thuds in my chest as he takes my hand in his, holding it on his thigh.

  “I’m going to tell you some stuff about me, about my family, so you’ll understand what’s going on a little better. And I want to tell you, not just because of your ability, but because I’m worried about you.”

  My brows draw together in confusion and I open my mouth to speak, but Cole just squeezes my hand and shakes his head.

  “No, just let me get this out. Then we’ll talk.”

  I search his eyes for some sense of what he’s about to tell me, but finally subside, nodding to let him know I’m ready.

  “I think you figured out at the funeral home that my dad is like us. Talented.” I nod in confirmation and he continues, looking down at our entwined hands. “So was my dad’s brother. My uncle could make people happy, like giving them a shot of serotonin just by smiling. Kind of the opposite of what I do.”

  He pauses and glances up at me, looking for something. I just stare back at him, still confused as to why he’s telling me this. With a shake of his head he lets my hand go and walks over to stand at the window, looking out at the slowly melting snow.

  “I didn’t know any of this. Not until I moved here. My whole life, I thought I was some kind of freak of nature, an accident. I never knew my father, and Mom never really talked about him, except to say that he wasn’t the kind of man she’d want me to be. All I knew was that he got my mom pregnant and then ditched her. I know now that he was married to Jake’s mother at the time. She was pregnant with Jake when my mom was pregnant with me.”

  I curl my lip in disgust, feeling my earlier instinctual dislike of Geoffrey Wise cement. Cole glances back at me and gives a bitter laugh.

  “Yeah, I know. Great guy, right? Anyway, she never had contact with him and neither did I. Until she died.” He sits back in the chair and leans forward on his knees, one leg bouncing agitatedly, as though he simply cannot keep still.

  “It was after…after the neighbor died,” he whispers, and I can almost see the tortured boy he had been, standing in front of the collapsed body, empty beer bottles clinking noisily as they rolled across the floor away from the impact. There is a catch in his breath before he continues.

  “We didn’t have any other family, so I was staying with one of my mom’s friends while social services tried to figure out what to do with me. And then he came and said he was my father and I had to come live with him.”

  “He knew about your mom?” I ask, prodding him gently.

  Cole nods, a faraway look in his eyes. “He knew where we were all the time. Just never bothered to come by. Anyway, of course my social worker was thrilled that he came forward, and was even happier about the fact that he was wealthy and a mayor and everything. So I left with him by the end of the week.”

  “Where did you live before?” I wonder out loud, curious about what kind of changes he had been through.

  “Not far from here, just over in Frederick. Half an hour away and he never came to see us.” Cole’s voice is quiet, controlled, but a vague sense of unease creeps up my spine and I know his restraint is weakening.

  “Cole, you don’t have to tell me this if you don’t want to,” I tell him, seeing the rigidity of his back, his too-straight posture.

  He glances back at me as though he’s forgotten I was there. “Sorry.” He takes a deep breath and the slowly increasing disquiet I felt fades to nothing. “Strong emotion makes it harder to control,” he admits.

  “You never told me what you were so upset about the first time I saw you.”

  Laughing under his breath, relieved in the change of subject, Cole wipes a hand over his face. “It seems so stupid now. I told you I was expelled, right? Well I was trying to get back into school. I had a meeting with the principal that morning. He told me I would never set foot in his school again. It really pissed me off.”

  “I can see why. Seems pretty unfair,” I commiserate.

  “Yeah, well. They have some kind of zero tolerance policy for violence, and I guess hitting a teacher, even accidentally, is a big violation. It doesn’t matter anyway. I’ll be done with my equivalency exams before Jake graduates.”

  Seeking to preserve the relative peace, I keep the drama talk to a minimum. “I’ve already passed mine. Equivalency exams,” I clarify when he raises an eyebrow. “Technically I don’t need to go to school. I just wanted to see what it was like, before it was too late.”

  The blue chips of his eyes soften as he walks back over to perch next to me on the bed. “And what do you think now?” he asks kindly.

  I am alarmed and embarrassed to find that my eyes are pricking with tears. “I think maybe my mom was right. Maybe I should’ve just stayed home, worked in the store. Maybe people like me aren’t meant to mix with everyone else,” I whisper, revealing a fear I hadn’t dared admit to myself.

  “I think you should do whatever makes you happy. It sounds to me like you haven’t had much opportunity.” Cole puts an arm around me, pulling me close. I don’t resist, noting even through my clumsy attempts to stem the tide of tears, I fit perfectly into the curve of his body, my shoulder tucked snug against his chest, hips tight against his like matching puzzle pieces. A warm tingling flows through me that has nothing to do with our conversation.

  “How long have you known about what you
can do? I mean, I didn’t really get what was going on until I was around thirteen or so. Was it the same for you?” he asks quietly, his fingers tracing circles around my elbow. I feel all my blood rush to where his fingertips brush my skin and it is suddenly difficult to focus on what I want to say.

  “No.” I clear my throat and force my attention back on his question. “I mean, not really. I don’t know exactly when it started. I’ve been this way as long as I remember.”

  “Even when you were a kid? That must have been tough. I mean, they say kids are perceptive, but I guess in your case it was more than that.” Cole tucks my head under his chin and I can feel his breath shifting my hair.

  “You could say that. My dad certainly didn’t appreciate it,” I say without thinking and then stiffen, trying to pull away from Cole. He tightens his grip and holds onto me until I relax again.

  “How is that?” he asks in the same quiet, undemanding tone. Gently, he eases himself back on the bed, tugging me with him, until we lay together, his hand absently twisting my hair.

  Off-balance, I answer honestly, telling him something I haven’t admitted to anyone, not even Nicole. “It’s my fault he left us. He didn’t want to be my father anymore.”

  I feel Cole’s lips brush my forehead and something inside me stretches and expands, reaching out for him. The tenuous, golden thread I felt between us the first time we talked is there again, strengthening and drawing us closer. In a rush, I tell him the rest, knowing somehow this connection is important, vital.

  “He was already weird about me. When I was taken out of school because of an honesty incident, he stopped spending as much time with me. He never wanted to be alone with me, and he barely spoke around me anymore. My mom and he were fighting all the time, and one night she was tucking me in and told me to ask Dad if he loved somebody else, and to tell her exactly what I heard him say.”

  Cole draws in a sharp breath but doesn’t interrupt; he just keeps stroking my hair, the sharp, citrusy scent of his cologne filling my senses.

  “I was eight, and I didn’t really understand what she wanted, but I said I’d do it. So the next morning I walked right up to him at breakfast and said ‘mommy wants to know do you love somebody else?’” I cringe, remembering the fury that had flooded his face, the almost purple tinge to his skin when he looked up from me to glare at my mother.

  “He answered. I think whatever he said was probably bad enough, but I heard what he really meant. He said, ‘I don’t love you.’ And then he left. And never came back.”

  My throat closes over and I can’t speak anymore, all the confused hurt of being unwanted barreling through me all over again. Drawing in a shuddering breath, I turn my face into Cole’s chest, trying to smother that dismal, forlorn place where memories of my father live.

  “God, Derry. I’m so sorry,” he whispers, tightening his embrace until all I can feel are his arms around me, the press of his body against mine. I drag my head up and meet his eyes, dark pools of sympathy and apology for something he hasn’t done. “No wonder you were so angry at me for accusing you of being manipulative. That’s the last thing you’d be after being used like that. I’m sorry,” he says again, and I feel the truth in his words, the tender weight of them settling around me like a soft blanket.

  “I forgive you,” I whisper, finally letting the bitter taste of rejection I’ve held onto for weeks dissolve into nothing. He moves closer, his eyes locked on mine, asking permission. My lips part slightly and he closes the gap with his mouth.

  This time there is no uncertainty to our kiss, no second thoughts or reproach. For a moment, our lips simply rest against each other, our breath mingling in a perfume of peppermint and honey, and then his hands are tangled in my hair, pulling me closer, as though he can fuse us together forever from the heat of the kiss.

  Colors swirl behind my eyes and an intoxicating lightness spreads from our joined lips into my chest, weaving golden strands around the inflexible, frozen thing that has formed there, melting away some of the isolation. My own arms are wrapped around him, twisting his body until he is on top of me, his skin blazing to the touch, making me feel as though I’ll never be cold again.

  When we finally part, both of us are gasping for air and every inch of me is trembling, aching for more. His eyes are dark and hungry as he gazes down at me, our bodies still pressed together in painful awareness.

  “That was…” he murmurs, breaking off to press his lips to mine again. I feel that he is shaking too, and I glow with pride that he is as lost as I am. He releases me again and buries his mouth in the nape of my neck, sending delicious tremors through me until I squeeze him tighter with desperate need.

  With a shaky sigh, he draws away, sitting up and pulling me onto his lap, still unwilling to completely break contact. “I’m going to need a bucket of ice, or a cold shower or something,” he finally says, a rough laugh in his voice.

  A ridiculous urge to giggle rolls over me and I take a deep breath to halt it. “Do you still believe that was me manipulating you?” I ask playfully, nearly drunk with the heat still pulsing through me.

  Cole kisses my jaw just below my ear and laughs softly. “I think I was an idiot. Please tell me we can do that again.”

  For a while, we don’t speak, but I learn the curves of his face, marveling that he is not made of sharp angles at all, but smooth contours and delicate skin. His hands drift over my back and hips, memorizing my shape and discovering how to steal my breath.

  A knock thunders on the bedroom door and we break apart, giving each other sheepish looks as my mother swings the door open gangbusters style and stands there, hands on hips, a censorious expression on her face.

  “My daughter can’t get laid if I can’t,” she says sharply, and I choke on a wild laugh, biting my lower lip to keep from getting hysterical. She narrows her eyes at me and then flushes, guessing at what I must have heard. Clearing her throat to mask her somewhat lessened righteous rage, she gives me a knowing look. “Just keep the door open, okay?”

  “Sure thing, Mom,” I gasp, nearly losing it when Cole turns to me in bewilderment. Mom nods and disappears, giving me the freedom to lose myself in laughter for a moment.

  “What’s so funny? What did she really say?” Cole is asking, amusement spreading across his features, making everything in my room a little brighter. I just shake my head and wave the question away. When I finally get myself under control we are both grinning madly and everything has changed between us.

  “So you’re my girlfriend now, right?” he demands, suddenly serious, his deep blue eyes searching mine. I give him a teasing nudge with my elbow and he relaxes, smiling again.

  “Why don’t we just start with going on a date?” I suggest and he laughs, putting an arm around me again as he leans against the wall.

  “Yeah, okay. But only if it means we get to do this again,” he adds.

  “Sounds good.” I shift closer to him, amazed how different I feel now. The sorrow over Nicole and what I learned about Miranda is still there, the determination to take action still intense, but I don’t feel alone anymore. I don’t feel like this is only my battle, and a warm rush of gratitude flows through me.

  “Look, we still need to talk about some stuff,” I say, knowing beyond a doubt that telling Cole everything is a good idea.

  He sighs and nods, dropping a kiss on my forehead. “Yeah, I know. I got kind of sidetracked, but I did come here with a purpose.”

  I open my mouth to interrupt, to tell him what I meant, but Cole doesn’t notice and starts talking about his father again. Remembering how concerned he was when he first arrived, I listen, knowing he needs to get this off his chest before I can ask for his help.

  “So I was telling you about my dad. The day he brought me home, he sat me down and told me that he knew I was talented and wanted to know what I could do. I was pissed at him, but kind of relieved at the same time, you know? Knowing it came from somewhere, it wasn’t just me.” His tone is lighter now
, freer, and I suspect that our new closeness has made it easier for him to talk to me.

  “Anyway, I told him. And then he told me about his ability.” Cole’s expression darkens, his lips pulling tight and thin. “He has…I guess you’d call it persuasion. It’s really subtle and he’s good at it. You don’t know what he’s doing until you’re trapped in some action you didn’t mean to take, and then there’s this resistance; like pushing against a car that’s slowly rolling down a hill. You know it’s inevitable, that you can’t hold it back forever, but once you realize what’s happening, that’s he’s manipulating you, it’s so hard not to fight back.”

  The strain in Cole’s voice is painful, and I wonder how many times he has pushed back against his father. I know I got a taste of Geoffrey Wise’s talent today, but then again, he wasn’t really trying to convince me to do anything. A greasy, dirty feeling is tangled up in my gut at the thought of being made to do something against my will. Cole looks at me and I can see the haunted expression in his eyes. Taking his hand in mine, I kiss his fingers and rest my cheek on his palm. He sighs deeply and smiles at me, making my heart constrict and swell all at once.

  “The reason I’m telling you all this is because my dad is interested in you now.”

  I swallow nervously and bite my lower lip, thinking that I really can’t handle any more problems just now. Cole must read some of this in my expression because he shakes his head mournfully, sorry to add to my burdens.

  “I’m sorry, Derry. It’s mainly because of Jake. He’s been…kind of fixated on you for the past few weeks. He talks about you all the time at home. He and Dad are really close, and Dad has a way of making you tell him things anyway. It’s why I didn’t come to see you in the hospital. Dad used his persuasion on me, made me stay home so I wouldn’t be in Jake’s way. He only let me come to the viewing tonight because he thought it would look bad for him if I didn’t.