by Lydia Reeves
I blinked down at my lap, unable to process the emotions his story churned up inside me. I’d always considered my life to be pretty hard—I knew there was a lot of grief and hurt inside that I’d never managed to process—but listening to Levi made me realize how easy I had it. Despite what I’d been through I’d never had to worry about money, or paying off debts, or where my food was coming from. I’d never had to care for another person, or worry about someone else’s wellbeing. I felt suddenly very spoiled, and ashamed. I’d never really had to work hard a day in my life, and here he was, working since high school and never looking back.
“What about your brother?” I asked. “Did he have to get a job in high school too?”
For the first time since he’d started speaking, the crease in his brow vanished as his expression softened. “No, I wouldn’t let him. My brother…he’s a good kid.” He glanced at me and his mouth twisted in the ghost of a smile. “So smart, so focused. Always straight As. He was young during the worst of it, and I don’t think he always knew what was really going on at home. He was only in sixth grade when my dad took off. I didn’t want him to end up like…well, like me.”
He frowned and the crease in his brow returned. I longed to reach up and smooth it away with my finger.
“I wanted him to have choices, opportunities. Have fun. Enjoy his life. Not to work himself to death and worry all the time.”
“So, what happened? Where is he now?” I asked quietly.
“He and my mom still live over in that shitty little house past Cherry Park. But he’s in college now. Studying engineering. He lives at home to save on room and board, and I still send money each month for tuition.” His mouth quirked, and I could see the pride reflected in his shadowed eyes. “He’s going places. Following his dreams.”
“What about you?” I asked. He glanced over and his brow furrowed in confusion. “What about your dreams?” I clarified. “Do you have any?”
He didn’t answer for a long moment, just looked at me with that intense expression I’d come to realize wasn’t meant to be scary or intimidating; it just meant that he was focused, that you actually had his whole attention.
I held my breath, but he didn’t answer. He just squeezed my hand tight where it lay against his leg, and after a moment said, “You asked what happened on the night that I moved in. Why I was…mean to you.”
I opened my mouth to stop him. To say it didn’t matter, that I already knew he wasn’t the person I’d thought he was, but he kept going.
“My brother was supposed to come help me move that day. He’s very responsible, Mason is, so when he didn’t show, I started to worry about him.”
My stomach dropped, but I didn’t interrupt.
“He didn’t answer his phone all day,” he went on. “I hadn’t wanted to call my mom to ask where he was, because I didn’t want to worry her, but when I was done moving and still hadn’t heard from my brother, I gave in and called her.”
He blew out a breath even as I held mine, not sure I wanted to hear where this story was going.
Levi looked over, catching my eye, and his voice was low and gruff. “My dad had showed up that morning.”
My jaw dropped slightly.
“After being gone for years, he showed up out of nowhere. Drunk again, of course, broke, asking for money. He got rough with my mom, and my brother stepped in, tried to break it up. My dad took off, but the neighbors had called the police, and when they showed up, the story got confused, the neighbors were there, everyone was yelling, and the police thought my brother had hit my mom, and they arrested him.
“What?”
Levi turned to face me, and I saw the closest thing I’d ever seen to a smile flash across his face. “Yeah. And right after I hung up from that phone call, there was a knock on my door, and I opened it to see this crazy girl brandishing a freaking hedgehog with plants sprouting out of its back at me.”
I choked on a laugh.
“I don’t even know what you said to me that day,” he told me, “and I certainly don’t know what I said to you. Hell, I probably slammed the door in your face.”
That wasn’t far from the truth.
He released my hand and turned, lifting both of his to frame my face, and I froze, my breath caught in my throat, my blood pulsing beneath his fingertips.
His face was so close, his eyes serious and his voice soft. “But I’m sorry for whatever I did or said, that made you feel afraid of me for two years. Because if you’d caught me on any other day, or if I’d had any sense at all, I wouldn’t have run you off. I would have done this.”
And he lowered his head to mine, his fingers against my jaw a rough counterpoint to the softness of his lips as he pressed them firmly against mine.
Chapter 12
LEVI
I hadn’t even realized how much I’d wanted her until I felt her mouth against mine. She was soft and warm and her brief sound of surprise transformed almost instantly into a breathy sigh.
Her hands came to my shoulders, gripping tight as I slipped one hand around from her jaw to the back of her neck, holding her to me, my fingers twining in the soft hair at the nape of her neck.
I’d meant for it to be a short kiss, something sweet and gentle to gauge her interest, to make sure I wasn’t overstepping. Any second now, I’d let her go.
But her small hands fisted in my t-shirt and pulled me tight to her, and at the feel of her warmth pressed against my chest I couldn’t resist.
With a groan I pulled, lifting her into my lap, and the kiss turned sloppy, breathless, all sliding lips and tongues and hot breath, and I didn’t remember kisses ever feeling like this before. Her legs settled on either side of my lap and I could feel the tension in them, muscles taut with strain as her hands moved down my chest, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. I desperately wanted to feel them on my skin.
I didn’t know where to focus my attention, caught between the heat of her hands on my chest and the pull of her lips, catching mine in soft, sliding kisses, or the feel of her hair tangling under my hands. I lost myself in the swirl of sensation, the heat and softness of her small body, until with a gasp she jerked against me, a small, involuntary thrust of her hips against mine that sent a wave of lust coursing through me, and with a monumental effort, I forced myself to pull back, breaking the kiss.
Her eyes were glazed, and I leaned my forehead against hers, letting both of us catch our breath, even though that was the opposite of what I wanted. I wanted to rip off the clothing that separated us, pull her mouth back to mine and swallow the sweet sounds she made until she was gasping my name. I wanted to feel the softness of her skin sliding against mine. I wanted…I wanted.
I was a heartbeat away from pulling her back in when she sighed, lifting her forehead away from mine and sliding off my lap. I immediately felt cold and empty, though she took my hand with her as she went, tangling our fingers together again as she settled back against the wall at my side. The only indication that anything had happened at all was the lack of space she left between us—the feel of her shoulder against my arm, her thigh pressed against the length of mine and our linked hands a reassuring indication that maybe I hadn’t gone too far after all and scared her even more.
I didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to say any of the thoughts that swirled in my head, but if there was one thing we’d gotten good at over the past few days, it was comfortable silences, spaces that didn’t need to be filled, and we settled into one now.
I glanced over at her, and she had her eyes closed, her face soft and peaceful. I tipped my head back, letting it rest against the wall behind me and let out a breath, and a few minutes later she spoke.
“I wish you had done that when we’d first met.”
I gave a startled laugh. “You don’t think that might have been scarier than me slamming the door in your face?”
She smiled, opening her eyes. “Maybe. But we’ve wasted a lot of time hating each other, I think.”
> I turned to look at her, lifting my free hand and letting a finger trace down her jaw. “I never hated you.”
She met my eyes. “Me either,” she admitted. “Misunderstanding each other, then.”
I nodded. That was the truth, I thought. At least for me. I’d never taken the time to try to see past my own prejudices. I’d classified her as crazy and weak, strange right off the bat, and never bothered to see past that to who she really was. Someone who cared so much for everyone around her. A great listener. Someone sweet and strange and giving and completely unique. She wasn’t like anyone I’d ever met.
I wondered what her story was. I’d given her mine, fought past the embarrassment and shame to tell her the truth of why I was the way I was. And she’d accepted it—accepted me—listening to my words without judgement. Surely, I could offer her the same. If she’d talk to me.
“What about you?” I asked, sliding a glance her way.
“What about me?”
“What’s your story? Family? Siblings?”
She didn’t move, didn’t let go of my hand, and nothing changed in her expression, but I could still feel her pull away. Her answer was slow in coming.
“No. No siblings. No family. Well,” she amended softly, “I have an aunt, a few towns over. But we don’t really talk.”
It was a delicate subject, I could tell that much even if I didn’t know why. I kept my voice easy and light. “Is that where you grew up?”
She shook her head, looking down at her lap. “No, I grew up here in Fairfield. I only moved to Glassbury when I was fifteen.”
She trailed off, not volunteering any more information, and I didn’t know what to ask. I wanted to know more about her—anything about her. But I didn’t want to force it if she didn’t want to talk to me. Her fingers convulsed slightly in mine, and I reached over and tilted her chin up so I could see her face. Her eyes were damp and shining, though she was clearly working hard to keep the tears from falling, and I felt slightly taken aback. I’d barely asked her anything at all.
“I’m sorry,” I told her. “You don’t have to tell me—”
“No,” she said quickly, rubbing a hand impatiently over her eyes. “Don’t be sorry. I want to—I’m not…” She bit her lip and my eyes fell to her mouth, watching her teeth work at the tender flesh.
“Look,” she said finally, her voice breathy, and I dragged my eyes back up to hers. “Can you just kiss me again?”
That I could do.
* * *
I’m not sure either of us got any sleep at all that night, but it didn’t stop us from meeting in the hallway the following night as well, and the night after that. I wasn’t making any progress on the case—though there hadn’t been any new break-ins, thank god—and she wasn’t volunteering any additional info about her life, but none of it seemed to matter when I had her in my arms, squirming and panting, her soft sounds driving me insane as I ran my lips over every inch of skin I could reach.
It occurred to me in a vague haze that I should just invite her into my apartment. It would certainly be more comfortable and private than the hard, carpeted floor of the hallway, but part of me knew she’d say no. This stretch of dingy hall, for whatever reason, had become our safe space, and neither of us wanted to upset the balance. So we made out in the hallway like idiot teenagers afraid to wake our parents, and I thought longingly of my big empty bed and instead contented myself with running my hands up the soft skin of her sides, feeling the swell of her breasts beneath the flimsy fabric.
We talked too. She told me about her friends and coworkers—Sherry at the craft store, Sam and Geoff and Rachel at the bookstore. She was full of funny stories, and it amazed me how much she noticed about everyone around her. The regulars at the bookstore—Gary who came in twice a week to buy mysteries he’d already read, Mrs. Semmler and her two daughters who fought over books. Our neighbors Donna and Jake, who were trying to have a baby, Mrs. Linsey across the hall who would probably be moving out soon to go live with her daughter in Missouri. She knew everything about everyone.
I didn’t have nearly the stories that she did, but I told her about my mom and my brother, and the guys at the station and some of my friends at jiu jitsu. She seemed fascinated by everything, drilling me for information about everything from what it had been like training to be a police officer to how the belt leveling system worked in jiu jitsu. Her curiosity was insatiable, and the more I got to know her, the more I let her in, the more I wanted her to let me in. I wanted to ask her about the family she didn’t talk about, about the apartment she wouldn’t let me inside, about the bags I knew were piled up inside, about her fear of change.
But I didn’t push it. Even though I wanted to.
On the plus side, Sam had gotten the windows replaced at the bookstore, as well as installed a high-end security system, so I no longer needed to worry about her at work. She had been settling well into her new full-time position there, as everyone other than her had known she would.
I decided, as I lay awake in bed late on Wednesday night after leaving her, my hands tucked under my head and my senses still reeling from the sensation of her soft lips and smooth skin, that I would surprise her the following morning. She’d told me that she’d started stopping by Geoff’s bakery in the mornings on the way in to work, picking up pastries he had ready for her to sell at the bookstore cafe. I could meet her there, under the guise of picking up donuts for the station, and if nothing else, I could meet one of her friends. She spoke a lot about Geoff, and I knew she worried about him, just starting out with a new business. If I could kill two birds with one stone—meet her friend and support a new business, maybe it would bring her one step closer to letting me in. Besides, it would give me an excuse to see her again before the following night.
I’d meant to rise early and walk with her, but the sleepless nights must have been catching up with me because I overslept my alarm. When I did finally wake, I rose and dressed in a hurry. I knew she liked to stay a while and chat with Geoff before the bookstore opened, so there was a chance I could still catch her there.
The morning was bright but chilly, and I could feel an unfamiliar lightness in my chest as I drove the few blocks to the bakery. Spring had arrived in full, it seemed, the chill air of the morning giving way to a mild breeze, and the air was thick with the smell of mulch and newly blooming flowers.
I’d never been inside the store when it had been a coffee shop, but Marian’s friend had done a good job with the place. It was small, but warm, with dark wood floors and local artwork on the walls, and the smell of coffee permeated the air and made my mouth water.
A bell over the door announced my entrance, and a tall man behind the counter—Geoff, presumably—glanced my way with a welcoming nod. He was serving another customer, but to my relief, Marian was still there as well, deep in conversation with another man standing by the display case.
She looked up at my entrance as well, and the surprised smile she gave lit her face and caused something tight to ease within my chest. I could feel my own face relaxing in response, and I started to move into the room, but at that moment the man she’d been speaking to turned to glance my way, and I froze.
It may have been close to a decade since I’d last seen Gary, but I recognized him in an instant. The same scrawny build. The same hooked nose. His face lit up too, not so much with simple recognition as with horror, and I watched as the panic-driven thoughts played across his face. His eyes darted around, and I saw him arrive at a decision in the split second before he moved.
“Wait—”
But it was too late. He bolted, faster than I’d expected, across the room and out the door before I could react.
“Hey—”
“Levi, what—”
Fuck no, he wasn’t getting away.
I ignored the confused babble of voices from behind me as I turned to give chase, barreling out the door and back into the bright sunshine. I pushed myself as hard as I could, my shoes pound
ing on the cement sidewalk as I chased after the slight figure of the fleeing man—damn it, I wasn’t in uniform. I didn’t have my gun—even as my mind worked to put together the pieces.
The last time I’d seen Gary, he’d been where he always was, with my dad, coming out of a casino, face slack and eyes bright with alcohol and God-knew what else. While my dad had always brought his money troubles home to his family, Gary and Jack, my dad’s closest friends, had brought them elsewhere, turning to dealing drugs and petty theft to stay afloat. The last I knew, Jack had been arrested and shipped off to prison—where I assumed he still was—and Gary had fled town. It had only been another month or two before my father had disappeared as well.
I couldn’t imagine what had made him return, but from the looks of his sallow skin and prematurely aged face, there was no doubt Gary was still in the same trouble he’d always been in. And from the shock on his face when he’d recognized me in the second before he’d fled, there was also no doubt who was behind Fairfield’s string of recent robberies.
And he’d been talking to Marian. I felt the rage inside me burn hotter. I remembered her lighthearted stories from the night before of her friends and acquaintances. Gary from the bookstore. It was no stretch now to figure out why the man couldn’t remember what books he already owned. I was surprised he had enough brain cells left to read at all.
I snarled, pushing myself faster to close the space between us. I could see the slight limp in his step and hear the ragged draw of his breath; he would be no challenge to catch.
But I needn’t have bothered. Not even three blocks from the bakery he abruptly pulled up short, spun to face me, and fired off two rounds from the gun he held close to his side.
I heard a scream from behind me as I fell.
