Sweet Water

by Lena North

  “Go back to sleep,” he murmured.

  “Okay,” I whispered.

  He had to be tired and needed his sleep, so I tried to relax as I lay there, gazing into the darkness. I didn’t mind being awake. We were warm, and I felt protected, and I realized that we were again breathing at the same pace. His breath tickled my neck a little but not in an uncomfortable way, and I smiled.

  “What are you thinking about?” he murmured.

  “You should go back to sleep.”

  “Is it okay if I stay here?” he asked.

  “No one ever held me when I slept before,” I heard myself admitting.

  There was a long silence, and I wanted to kick myself. Why had I told Dante that?

  “Jiminella…” he whispered into my neck and shifted a little to hold me closer. I felt him brush my mind and then he murmured softly, “Sleep now, I’ll keep you safe.”

  “Okay,” I said, thinking that there was no way I’d ever sleep again, and I didn’t even want to. Laying there in the darkness with Dante’s strong arm around me, hearing him promise to keep me safe, felt so good and I wanted to savor the feeling.

  Then I immediately sank back into sleep. I had no clue that it took a long time before Dante did the same, and I didn’t feel him gently brushing a few strands of hair from my face.

  ***

  For a couple of days, sleep was the only thing I did. I slept all day, in bed, on the couch or in the chair outside. I still woke up a few times during the night and every time I did, Dante was there. Sometimes I went back to sleep immediately, and sometimes we talked for a little while, but in the end, I always slept.

  It felt like I was caught in a bubble and the only persons inside it were Dante and Snow.

  The few hours during the day that I was awake I spent with Snow, and it felt good to have someone there next to me as I dozed off. She had a wry sense of humor that I appreciated, and since she’d studied a variety of topics off and on at the University for the past years, we had a lot to talk about. We kept our conversation to simple things, though, and studiously stayed clear of talking about me being sick, or why her eyes sometimes glazed over and became so haunted, I had to look away. She’d said that she knew what it felt like to hurt so much it was unbearable, but since I appreciated that she never asked about what had happened to me, I didn’t pry into her life.

  “Who’s Olly?” Dante asked as he walked up to us through the small garden.

  He held my phone and had apparently checked my messages. I stretched my hand out, but he moved the phone away and speared me with a look that clearly communicated that I was still on phone hiatus.

  “Olly?” he prompted.

  “You don’t know him?” I asked. “He’s one of the guys that works with Hawker.”

  I’d assumed Dante knew from Snow about everyone with a link to one of the birds, but he just looked calmly at me with raised eyebrows, so he clearly didn’t.

  “He’s a really sweet guy, Dante. Huge, shaves his head, has fantastic black tat’s all over his back and up his neck –”

  I stopped talking when Dante started chuckling.

  “Yeah, I know him, or about him, at least. Didn’t know he was called Olly,” he snorted and raised the phone. “Is there a reason that guy is sending you a weird list of random shit to eat?”

  “He did?” I asked, and Dante started reading.

  “Soy yogurt, crumbled saltines, honey, cinnamon. Berries when you feel better. No bananas.”

  I blinked, but then I remembered the lunch I’d had that last day at Double H. I had eaten all of it without any stomach pains.

  “That is so sweet,” I said. “Olly gave me that for lunch, that last day before I left Double H. It made me feel better.”

  Dante started laughing, and I could see a small smile play at Snow’s lips. I had no clue what the joke was about, so I waited for them to explain.

  “He gave you soy yogurt?” Dante chuckled, finally.

  “Yeah?” I said, confirming that Olly had indeed fed me that but also making it into a question because I still didn’t understand what he found so hilarious.

  “Honey, you know him as Olly and think he’s sweet?”

  “Yes,” I snapped, starting to get irritated.

  “I know him as one of the most dangerous men in this country, and I’m sure law enforcement thank the gods every day that Hawker keeps him in control. I also had no clue he was called Olly.”

  My jaw fell and I wondered what he was talking about.

  “What did you think his name was?” I asked weakly.

  “Everyone knows him as Reaper.”

  “Reaper?” I asked.

  “Reaper,” he confirmed.

  I couldn’t help myself. The thought of mild-mannered Olly with his sweet eyes being known as a killer called Reaper was completely unbelievable, so I started laughing, and it didn’t take long for Snow to join me, but it did take quite some time for us to calm down. I turned to look at her and that almost set me off again.

  “Oh God,” I choked out.

  “I know,” she replied, and then we giggled.

  “What’s so funny?” Dante asked sourly, but I could tell that he wasn’t angry for real.

  “You’ll know when you meet Olly,” I said and continued curiously, “I wonder if the store has soy yogurt?”

  ***

  I opened my eyes and moved my head around slowly, working the kinks out of my neck. I’d slept in the deck-chair outside again, and as I woke up, I wondered how many hours a person could sleep in one day. I’d used to sleep four hours each night, and now it seemed that I was awake four hours each day instead. I felt better, though, and even though I hadn’t dared to try coffee yet, I had eaten almost the same dinner as Snow and Dante the evening before. They had poured hot sauce all over their plates and used plenty of salt, but I’d had lightly grilled chicken breast and rice, and for the first time in months it hadn’t hurt my stomach. We’d laughed and talked about silly nonsense during dinner, and then we’d settled on the couch to watch a movie. I woke up when Dante carried me to bed, but only a little, and then I’d slept through the night.

  “That’s why you didn’t eat,” a voice said next to me, and I jerked around to look at Mrs. Fratinelli who sat in the chair next to mine.

  “What?” I asked although I knew what she meant.

  “There's something wrong with your stomach, and I made spicy food,” she said, and went on, “For being so very clever you are a surprisingly stupid girl.”

  Our gazes held for a long time and I saw sadness and something else I couldn’t identify in her calm eyes.

  “Yes,” I said, finally.

  “I know everything there is to know about being stubborn, Jinx. I also know everything about not asking for help and about pretending everything is just fine. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize what you were doing and apologize for what I said.”

  I made a small sound but since I didn’t know what to say I didn’t say anything at all. Her face had softened, and there was suddenly compassion and kindness in her eyes.

  “You should come back to the house,” she said, and when I started to shake my head she kept talking, “I'm not a bad cook, Jinx. I can do bland and do it well.”

  “I know you’re a good cook, Mrs. Fratinelli. I did try the food you made for me, and it tasted so good, but my stomach just couldn’t take it,” I murmured.

  “I wish you’d call me Mrs. C instead,” she sighed.

  I’d heard others call her that, and at first, I’d assumed I misunderstood. Later, I’d wondered why they did but never asked.

  “Mrs. C?”

  “I wasn’t always a Fratinelli, and people in the village have always called me by my first name. The C is for Carina.”

  “Okay,” I said, wanting to ask her why she didn’t want to be called Fratinelli, but not sure if she’d be offended.

  “I know you’re curious, Jinx,” she said, “and one day when we have more time, I’ll tell you about i
t.”

  “Okay,” I repeated.

  We were silent for a while.

  “Someone needs to teach you how to dance,” she said quietly, and when I didn’t say anything she continued, “I used to be a good dancer, and if you let me, I could show you.”

  When I didn’t say anything, she put her hand on my arm and squeezed a little.

  “Please. Let me do this for you.”

  I nodded slowly, not too keen on moving back to her house and definitely not willing to leave the safe haven I had found with Dante and Snow.

  “Hello ladies,” Dante interrupted before I could come up with a nice way to reject her offer, which in reality had been a command. He sat down in one of the chairs and narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

  “Jinx will move back to my home,” Mrs. Fratinelli, Mrs. C, said calmly.

  Dante straightened and started to object, but she spoke over him immediately.

  “Dante Sebastian d’Augustine, don’t even try to argue with me on this. Everyone knows this house only has two bedrooms, and no one thinks Jinx is sharing a very small room with Snow.”

  I straightened too then because I hadn’t thought about that. Surely no one was thinking that Dante and I were sleeping together? Except we were, of course.

  “But –”

  “You are a good man, Dante, and we all know that Jinx has been ill. Now she’s better, but we’ve all seen how you’ve been looking at her and, good man or not, you’re still a d’Augustine.”

  “What?” I asked weakly.

  “Mrs. C –” Dante said exasperatedly but stopped speaking when she pierced him with a sharp look.

  “I told you not to try pulling one over on me, boy. You have one more night, but tomorrow, she’s moving back into my home.”

  “But –” I started.

  She turned her glare to me, and it was determined but not in any way unfriendly.

  “I was married to his grandfather, a long time ago, so that makes me family. He knows he needs to do things the right way.”

  I didn’t understand what she meant, and it was a surprise that she had been married to Dante’s grandfather. She hadn’t said she was his grandmother, though, and I turned to look at Dante only to find him grinning. Then he shrugged, and I wondered if it was because he wanted to have his bed and full nights of undisturbed sleep back, or if he was just convinced that arguing with the older woman would be futile. Regardless, I gave in.

  “Okay. Tomorrow,” I mumbled.

  “She’s right, Jiminella,” Dante said. “I don’t want everyone to…”

  Okay, I thought as he trailed off. It was clear that he didn’t want everyone to assume that we were a couple, and since we weren’t, that made sense. I’d move back to Mrs. C, and once I was better, I’d leave.

  Chapter Eight

  Haven

  Dante walked with me when I moved back to Mrs. C’s house the next day, carrying my small bag and not saying a word. We met a few villagers, and I could see that they were curious, but since Dante kept walking and barely looked at them, they nodded but didn’t try to engage us in any kind of conversation.

  “Are you angry?” I asked quietly.

  He’d been the one holding me together for the past couple of days, and I was not exactly sure what would have happened to me if I’d managed to get to my car and driven off into the mountains. I knew that things would be easier for him when he wouldn’t have me to handle so I couldn’t figure out why he was so angry. Unless it was because he didn’t want me to move back to Mrs. C, which was a thought I tried hard to put out of my mind. I wanted him to want me in his house, but I also guessed that for a guy like Dante someone like me would probably not be his first choice.

  “Yes,” he muttered.

  I stumbled a little because I hadn’t expected him to admit that, and I didn’t like to hear it.

  “Oh,” I said, trying for flippant but failing miserably, so it came out a little hoarse and sad.

  He stopped immediately.

  “Jiminella, I’m not mad at you,” he said. “Why would I be?”

  “I don’t know,” I mumbled and looked down at my feet, feeling both stupid and embarrassed.

  He put a hand under my chin and pushed gently until I faced him.

  “I wish I hadn’t promised to stay out of your head,” he muttered.

  “What?”

  “Are you happy to move back? Did you want to stay? Should I have fought Mrs. C or is this the right thing for you? I don’t know what you think behind that calm face you show everyone, and you don’t talk about yourself. You never ask for help, so I’m left guessing,” he said and grinned ruefully. “I’m not used to guessing, Jiminella, and I don’t like it.”

  I took a small step back and wondered if his words meant that he wanted me to stay. Then I inhaled deeply and decided to take a small but important leap of faith.

  “I’m smart, Dante,” I whispered.

  “Yeah, Jiminella. I know that,” he replied calmly.

  “No, you don’t. I’m super smart. Like, beyond what scientists can measure. I cheated on an IQ test when I was ten, to make myself seem less clever. To make myself seem more normal.”

  He blinked.

  “Wh –”

  “I’ve lived on my own since I was fourteen.”

  “Ok –”

  “So I’m smart, and I know how to take care of myself. I’ve never asked anyone for help because I’ve never needed to,” I said, but added, “At least, I never thought I needed help.”

  “You –”

  “But, Dante, I do. I might have an IQ that is off the charts, but I have no clue about most things. And I’m not very social, mostly because I’m awkward around people. Miller said I was overbearing and Hawker told me I talk too much.”

  “What the f –”

  “They were right, you know,” I assured him because he’d started frowning.

  “The hell they were –”

  “And I’m broken,” I whispered. “So, I really wanted to stay, but it’s right for me to move back to Mrs. C’s. Because it’s not your responsibility to fix me. I have to do that myself, and it sounds really weird, but I think she can help me.”

  “Shut up,” he growled.

  “Wh –”

  He put a hand over my mouth.

  “Jiminella, honey. Please. Just shut up for a while,” he said.

  I nodded, wondering what he thought about my rant and worrying that he was trying to figure out a nice way to drop me off and leave as quickly as possible.

  “You lived on your own when you were fourteen?” he asked, and suddenly his eyes were hard and angry again.

  I nodded.

  “Okay,” he muttered hoarsely. “Your parents left you?”

  I nodded again, and since he still had his hand loosely over my lips, I mouthed a silent, “Yes.”

  Our eyes held for a long time and his gray ones slowly melted into a softness that made my own eyes sting, and I swallowed.

  “Okay,” he said. “Thank you, honey. Now I know what I’m dealing with.”

  Then he started walking, and I stood there in the middle of the street, staring at his broad back.

  “Dante,” I called out.

  “Come on, Jiminella,” he called back. “Mrs. C is probably waiting for us. I hope she has made lunch.”

  I started walking too, but I felt a little light-headed. I’d put a piece of me out there, and he hadn’t said anything at all about it. I’d expected him to either laugh at me or smother me with reassuring words. Instead, he turned and stretched his hand out so that he could grab mine when I caught up with him.

  “Why don’t you call me Jinx like everyone else?” I asked, just to say something that would cut through the silence.

  “It doesn’t sound like you,” he replied.

  I stopped walking, but he tugged at my hand to get me moving again.

  “It sounds harsh, and you’re often put in situations where you have to act that w
ay. Where you must make difficult decisions and deal with hard facts. But, Jiminella, you’re not hard, and anyone who gets to know you sees it immediately. I’ve been in your head, so I absolutely know that you’re not.”

  I stopped walking, and he made that gentle tug again.

  “I’ll have words with Miller because he’s usually not that much of a moron. You’re not overbearing and I can’t believe the man said that to your face. You’re soft and sweet and way to damn loyal for your own good,” he muttered. “So I won’t call you Jinx because people who don’t know you call you that.”

  To my embarrassment, I promptly started crying. It wasn’t loud, and I tried to breathe quietly through my mouth to cover it up and to get a grip, but it was useless. Tears simply formed in my eyes and slowly started to run down my cheeks. Dante noticed and stopped abruptly.

  “No,” he breathed. “Please, don’t cry.”

  I sobbed and leaned my forehead on his chest, feeling like a complete idiot.

  “Jiminella,” he whispered into my hair. “Please, I didn’t mean to –”

  “It’s okay. I’m okay, Dante. It’s just…” I cut him off, not knowing how to explain and not wanting to hear him making excuses for being the first person to tell me he saw that part of me.

  “Okay,” he murmured.

  We were just outside Mrs. C’s door, and since her house was on a small side street, we weren’t bothered by anyone as I slowly calmed down. He leaned his head down and the scruffs on his cheeks scraped softly over my neck, making me shiver a little in a way that was far from unpleasant.

  “Are you growing a beard?” I asked.

  He raised his head and so did I. As he wiped the last remaining tears away he asked softly, “Do you like it?”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “Then, yeah. I guess I’m growing a beard,” he said with a crooked grin.

  “Okay,” I said.

  He leaned down toward me, and I tilted my head back, hoping that he would kiss me.