by T K Barber
She’d been so close. He’d still be alive. And Nick would have been free sooner. Maybe. Hard to know that one for sure, though.
She spun to face the near scalding stream of water and turned her face up to the shower head.
Now she never would. Never could. Someone had to keep Thomas alive. Someone that loved him. And no one loved him like she did. No one loved anyone the way she loved him.
She went through the motions of washing and scrubbing, while her mind threw her arms around his neck. Felt his chest rise against hers. Heard his voice as it hummed against her neck.
Chills shot down the side of her body, and she pitched her brows in the center.
She pulled him closer, and their mouths met as she breathed in his—
Oh no. She gasped and froze, hands locked in her hair. She couldn’t remember what he smelled like.
Her stomach dropped, opening a pit in her chest. No.
“No . . .”
How could she forget that? He smelled like . . . like . . .
Tears streamed and she dropped down, tucking her knees against her chest, arms locked around them. One slow breath out.
He smelled like Thomas. Thomas smelled like love, and heaven, and all manner of things she’d never have in her life. Ever.
She grit her teeth and swallowed. “Thomas, I miss you.”
Talking helped. Sometimes. It was one of only a couple decent things the psych ward had taught her. She cleared her throat.
“The shop is looking better. I’m not fast, and I keep dropping things, but . . . I’ll make it awesome for you.” She hugged her knees tighter and dropped her forehead to rest on them.
“I love you. At least you knew that . . . before . . .” She didn’t fight the sob that grated her throat, letting the wail echo like it had so many times before, as her head fell back to thump against the shower wall.
It burned. Thomas would always burn.
He was a blazing hole in the center of her chest. If she could have any wish in the entire world, it would be to hear him say he loved her. Just one time.
The water ran cold by the time her tears stalled enough for her to stand. A loud squeak from the faucet punctuated the end of her shower, and she stepped in front of the mirror. She wrapped up in her fluffy, pink towel and wiped the fog from the glass with her forearm.
A deep, slow breath blew against the surface, making a smaller wave of fog swim across it and disappear just as fast as it appeared. She had gained back all of her missing weight, but she could still see bones.
Maybe they had always been visible, and she never noticed, but now they stared at her. Mocked her. She pushed her fingers in several places, brushing against scarring and molding the skin. Would it ever look like her? Would she ever see herself again when she looked in the mirror? She leaned in and rested her hands on the sink letting her eyes travel down the mirror until her gaze fell to her wrists.
Her hands shook as she lifted them out in front of her, examining the veins under the skin, the tendons, the knuckles. The scarring.
Thomas had never shied away from touching her. Not even when she was pretty damn sure she looked like death itself. She trailed a nail up the marked skin, up her forearm, imagining his fingers smoothing across her wrists.
She never wanted anyone else to touch her. Ever. They wouldn’t be Thomas.
Another slow breath and she jammed her toothbrush in her mouth.
Her text notification went off, startling her, and she popped up, foam dripping.
She finished up and trotted to her phone. The AC kicked on and the air against her damp hair made chills shoot down her body. She tugged the towel tighter and grinned at the screen. Scarlet.
Hey Annalise! Want to come over for a late dinner?
Annalise snorted and flew off her response.
Is Nick cooking?
…Yes.
She groaned. Pretty good idea what horrible delicacy awaited if she said yes.
Ugh. Sure.
Lol. I’ll tell him you’re looking forward to it. He’ll be there in about 15.
Annalise smiled and shook her head as she walked to the bedroom. Having dinner with family was a perfectly normal thing to do. Something she’d spent eight weeks convinced would never happen again.
Too bad her family would never be complete.
Thomas
It was the life he wished was his, and the family he wished he’d had. But this one wasn’t his. It was just on loan.
“Nah, look here. You gotta give it a flick. Pop it up like you’re tryna hit the roof.”
Thomas flipped and rolled the zippo over and between his fingers as he spoke. He sat cross-legged on the floor of the rectangular living room, the head of a triangle that included Paulie and Peter. Both followed his movements like a cat after a bird.
Thomas held it up in front of his face and raised his eyebrows. “All in the technique.”
He extended his arm level to the ground and hit his elbow with his other hand, launching the lighter clean into the air. It flipped end over end several times before he caught it in just two fingers.
Pete, with all the spunk of a nine-year-old, gasped and clapped once. Paulie tried to act like he didn’t care, but he still did. How could he not be impressed with this level of awesome? Anna would be, for sure. Least, he hoped so.
Thomas held the lighter out to Pete, who snagged it and launched to his feet.
“Sweet! K. Watch me poke a hole in the ceiling or something.”
Thomas snorted, and Paulie rolled his eyes.
“Better not. Mom’ll have you on dishes for a month.” Then he sat up, a gleam in his eye. “On second thought, go ahead. You should try to go as high as you can.”
“Shut up, Paulie.” Pete’s glare could have raised the dead.
Thomas clicked his cheek and frowned. “Keep it copper, boys.” He reapplied his grin and inclined his head to Pete, rubbing his palms together. “Now, show me whatcha got!”
Paulie rolled his eyes again and crab-walked backward up the couch, where he sprawled out and started scrolling through his phone. What the hell did he spend so much time looking at anyway?
Only way he’d spend that much time looking would be if the thing was full of Anna pics. His heart stuttered, and he swallowed as his eyes widened. He’d better upgrade. Maybe buy a spare.
Pete grinned excitedly and steadied himself, arm level with the floor. He gave Thomas a sideways glance, then hit his elbow sending the lighter flying . . . right into Becca’s waiting hand.
“Aww Mom! That was gonna be epic!”
“Pssh. Epically bad.”
Pete threw a nasty glare to Paulie who sneered right back. Thomas rose to his feet slowly and sauntered over to Paulie. When he didn’t look up, Thomas lightly thumped him on the head. Paulie rubbed the spot, then clutched his heart.
“Oh, the pain! The PAAAIN!”
He doubled over, rolling on his side and curled his knees up in the fetal position.
Thomas laughed and sat down square on him, resting his foot on his knee, like he was in a recliner. Paulie laughed and grunted, trying to shove him off, to no avail.
“Boys. Enough.” Ms. Becca narrowed her amused eyes at Thomas. “All of you.”
Thomas put his hand to his chest in mock disbelief. All the while being bucked into the air by Paulie’s desperate attempts to escape while laughing.
“Why, Mrs. Becca! I ain’t done a thing!”
She chuckled and shook her head as she held out the lighter to him. When he leaned up to snag it, Paulie launched Thomas off and ran upstairs. Pete ran after him, shouting something about being too fast for Thomas to catch. He was about to chase them down when his side twinged, and he frowned.
“You should still be resting.” Becca ushered him to the couch and smiled. “Not sitting on my children.”
Thomas grumbled and sat down, sinking into the soft cushions.
“Pfff. I’m
fit as a fiddle. Besides, ain’t that what babysitters do?” He grinned widely and she laughed.
“No. But thank you for watching them. Any trouble?”
“Not a lick.” He took the small pillow she offered, gently wedging it between his side and the arm of the couch. “Thanks.”
Becca sat down beside him, perched at the edge of the cushion, and cleared her throat. “Did they eat?”
Thomas thinned his lips and tilted his head. “You oughta know by now if it involves food in any way, I’m all over it.”
Her brows lifted. “You cooked?”
Thomas tugged as his collar and crossed his arms. “Eh, not exactly. I made P-squared a sandwich. Paulie grabbed one of those smoothie things you had on the top shelf by that amazing fudge.” He cleared his throat. “Which you’re out of. Now.”
Becca’s head fell back in laughter, and she refocused on him with a shake of her head. “Guess I need to make more, huh?”
A sheepish grin spread on Thomas’s mouth. “Well, I sure won’t stop ya.”
She looked down at her clasped hands and Thomas pursed his lips.
“What’s up?”
She glanced at him with that damned pained smile he was sick of seeing, and rubbed her palms on her pants before standing. She paced a small path, arms crossed, gaze on the floor.
Huh. Couldn’t be good if she’s acting like that. Did something happen to Mr. Antoni? He sat up straighter and cleared his throat.
“Hit me. What’s the scoop?”
She stopped walking and tilted her head, smiling at him affectionately, before a cloud swept back across her features.
“I think I knew somewhere in the back of my mind, but Antoni confirmed it today.” She sat back down beside Thomas and put a hand on his shoulder. “Lyle knows you’re still alive. Antoni overhead him talking with someone. They had eyes on Annalise’s shop.” She caught his gaze and raised a brow. “Which you shouldn’t have gone to.”
Thomas withered and adjusted on the couch. If he’d just been stronger for a little longer. If he’d just been able to stay away from her. He shrugged, moving her hand with the motion, and rolled his neck.
“I ain’t worried. I’m good enough now, I think. It only hurts a little.” He chewed on his lip and exhaled through his nose. “He know I’m with you guys?”
“I—” She swallowed. “Don’t believe so, no.”
Thomas nodded. He stood up, and she rose with him, holding out her hands like she expected him to keel over. He was too tough for that.
“Well . . .” He glanced around the room, his sanctuary for almost two months, and cleared his throat. “I can’t thank ya enough for taking care of me. You guys were like the family I never had. I’m really gonna miss the pipsqueaks. And you and Mr. Antoni.”
He roughly wiped his nose and crossed his arms, giving her a small smile. Tears floated in her eyes and she nodded.
“I wish you could stay. But—”
“Nah, I know.”
She gave him a warm hug, and he patted her back as he pulled away.
“Well. Lemme head on up and grab my things, I’ll be outta your hair in two ticks.”
She wrung her hands and nodded.
When his foot hit the bottom step she called out. “You . . . could come visit? That should be safe, right?”
Thomas shook his head, eyes trained on a snag of carpet fibers by his foot. Safest place to look right then. He couldn’t stand heartache in people’s eyes. He’d seen enough of that for three lifetimes.
“Nah. Not worth the risk. Better he doesn’t see me with you, other than in passing at the firm. If ever. And for sure not with Mr. Marcet or the boys.”
At a loss for anything else to say, he sighed and climbed the stairs one at a time, with heavy steps. He scanned the walls, covered with family photos. With memories. There were even scribbles of pen and leftover crayon down near the molding.
A sad smile curved his lips. If he ever got lucky enough to have a kid, he’d be right there on the floor with them, marking up the walls like some kind of Picasso or something. Paint’s cheap. Hell. When it filled up, he’d paint it over so they could do it all over again.
His heart squeezed. Anna would be the best mom on the whole planet, no question.
He shook his head with a glance at the roof. No time to think on that. When he crested the top of the stairs, he jammed his hands deep in his pockets and took a hard right into the room that had been his these last few weeks.
Before he made it through the door, he was tackled from behind by Pete. “Oof!”
His little arms wrapped around Thomas’s waist. “Ha! Told you I was too fast.”
Thomas barked a laugh and spun around, snagging Pete in a bear hug. His side twinged, but that didn’t stop him.
He set Pete down and ruffled his hair. “See ya, P-squared.”
Pete stood up straight and blinked. “You’re leaving? Why?”
Thomas shrugged. “Time for me to go, that’s all.” He crouched down on one knee in front of Pete and stared at him with a tight smile. “You remember my bein’ here was a secret, right?”
Pete nodded and shrugged. “Yeah. So?”
Thomas smiled wider. “So. Just don’t forget. That’s all. Can’t tell anyone, right?” He stood up and smirked. “Or I’ll have to come rough up yer new rat.”
Pete thinned his lips and glared. “No way. You’d never find it.” His expression fell into a frown. “Well, you’ll come back right? Mom’s making waffles again in the morning. She went and bought three more boxes of mix, just so she’d have enough for you. I bet she’d even put chocolate chips in yours again if you asked.” He added with a grumble, “Even though I never get them.”
Thomas laughed again and cleared his throat. Talking right then would be a bad idea for maintaining that whole superman image he had going. So, he shrugged and ruffled Pete’s hair again, earning another glare.
Thomas strode across the beige carpet, Pete tight on his heels. When they reached the bed, Pete hopped up on it, and Thomas fished his large duffel bag out from underneath. He jerked open the nightstand drawer, grabbed his gun, and jammed it in his waistband at the small of his back.
Marianna—still felt weird to call her that—had given it to him. Also, she got him a bunch of new clothes since he couldn’t go back home. He hated to ball them up and shove them in a bag, but he didn’t really have a choice. Which sucked, because now he’d have to buy an iron. He wrinkled his nose.
“Tommy?”
“Yeah?” He grabbed items from drawers and clothes from the closet, shoving them in as quick as he could. No sense dragging it out.
“My friend Oren said all rats are gross.” Pete’s voice was quiet, and Thomas glanced at him, hand halfway in the bag.
“Well, he ain’t ever seen yours, so how could he know? Besides—”
The thud of a car door out front snapped his head up. Mr. Antoni always used the garage. Whoever it was had no issue making his arrival known, either.
“Boys! Come here please.”
Thomas straightened. The strain in her voice set his hackles up. He threw a look at Pete, who shrugged with a grin. “Maybe we’re having pizza.”
Thomas snapped and pointed to himself, then put a finger to his lips. Pete rolled his eyes and threw his hands out to the side. Thomas then shooed him from the bed and urged him out the door.
“Okay Mom, coming!”
Thomas leaned against the door frame, listening to Pete’s footfalls as they retreated down the stairs. Man. He hoped like hell it was a pizza guy.
Paulie came strolling down the hall with earbuds in, bobbing his head. Thomas waved a hand in front of his face, snapping him to attention. Paulie snatched them out of his ears and stared at Thomas. He opened his mouth to speak, but Thomas put his finger to his lips and gestured to the stairs with his head.
Paulie swallowed and gave a curt nod. Unspoken danger hung thick in the air bet
ween them as they stared at each other for two heartbeats.
Then, Paulie plopped his earbuds back in and straightened his spine as he stalked down the stairs.
“Yeah, Mom?”
Thomas closed his eyes and exhaled. Damn it. He bumped the back of his head against the wall. Thanks to his stupid, lovesick heart he’d put them in danger. Why couldn’t he have just waited? He frowned as his heart fluttered. Stupid question.
The front door creaked open and Mrs. Becca’s practiced, silky, receptionist voice rang out through the foyer.
“Mr. Valentine, welcome! What brings you here?”
“Good evening, Rebecca.” The cold, empty voice Thomas hadn’t heard in two months drilled terror into his stomach. He wasn’t so much afraid for himself, although there was sure as hell some of that, as he was for what he might have done to the Marcets.
This would either be nothing, or everything.
Lyle’s steps echoed as he crossed the threshold. “Sorry to intrude on a Friday night, but I have . . . well.”
Thomas’s heart raced, his pulse jumping in his neck. He blew out a slow breath and glared at the ceiling as his pop continued.
“I heard something very . . . interesting. Concerning, you might say. I was hoping Antoni would be here, too. He hasn’t made it home yet?”
Mrs. Becca cleared her throat. “I asked him to swing by and grab some pizza for movie night. He’ll be here soon. Would you like to wait?”
Pete sucked in a sharp breath and clapped. “We’re watching the one about the penguins!”
Paulie groaned. “Not that one again. Mom, I’m not sitting through that stupid movie. Let’s watch the one with—”
“No.” Lyle’s voice was harsh as it shot out, silencing the room. “Thank you, Becca. I can see you’ve got your hands full already.”
Thomas could hear the sneer in his pop’s voice, but his mind was going a hundred miles a minute, playing each scenario that might go down if he were discovered. There wasn’t a single one that didn’t involve someone getting hurt and that wasn’t going to happen.
