by T K Barber
A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, even as his eyes stung.
Whoever else moved in would make their own memories, none the wiser. He chewed on his lip as he strode past the pile and into the kitchen.
Boy, he just thought seeing the living room empty was hard. Not a salt or pepper shaker in sight. Wonder where they all went.
He cleared his throat, and backtracked through the living room, headed to her bedroom.
Empty too. Not that he expected anything else. He leaned his shoulder against the door frame with his hands in his pockets and stared at the aged burgundy carpet.
Missing people never got any easier. He was pretty damn sick of it. When he got Anna, he was going to carry her around in his pocket. He chuckled and wiped his eye on his bicep.
As he was turning to leave, his eye scanned the open closet.
Huh. What was that?
He walked across the faded carpet and set his hand on what turned out to be a picture.
A wave of bittersweet nostalgia swept through him.
“Ha! Would ya look at that.”
It was him, Charlie, and his Gran, four years ago on her birthday. He rubbed his cheek in embarrassment and shook his head with a grin.
“Man. What was I thinking with that hair?”
He looked at it for another few seconds before his smiled faded, and he swallowed. As angry as he’d been at Charlie, knowing his pop, maybe he hadn’t given his bud much choice. He kinda missed the big old lug. Maybe if Thomas got the word out he wasn’t mad, Charlie would surface again. If pop hadn’t already had him killed.
Thomas left that sad train of thought right the hell where it was and refocused on the picture. They were the only ones to come that day, and he’d only come one time since, a little over two months ago.
Not that he thought it was possible, but he hated his pop even more now. The man was such a slave driver he wouldn’t let him go. Said she was a waste of time.
One thing was for sure. Thomas would never treat his mother-in-law like that. Even though Anna’s mom deserved it.
He clutched the photo in his hand as he walked back into the living room. The open door stared at him, an invitation to move on, but he froze.
He just couldn’t bring himself to leave yet. It still felt safe, even without her stuff in it. He sat down hard on one of the paint buckets, and rested his elbows on his thighs, gazing down at the photo.
“Tell ya what, Gran,” his voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “You’d have loved her. She’s funny. Made me feel like a normal guy.”
The smiling face that looked back at him was suddenly hidden under a bubble of salty water, and Thomas sniffled.
“Hello?”
Time stalled, right along with his heart. He could pick that voice out in a crowded stadium in the middle of a touchdown.
Thomas shot up like a bullet, eyes wide as his mouth dropped open.
Anna . . .
Annalise
Her hand froze, hovering next to the weathered wood.
She was dreaming.
“Anna . . .”
Her name in his voice hung like a sad echo in the air. Just like it used to sound.
Painful jolts of electricity screamed through her veins as her stomach twisted. A nearly deafening whoosh filled her ears. Her breathing stopped altogether, and her brows knitted. Her eyes stung.
Thomas was here. Not possible.
Her stomach churned and fluttered, stealing her breath, like her lungs were being threaded through the eye of a needle.
She forced her eyes to blink and couldn’t reopen them fast enough.
Not real.
He looked just as amazing as when she saw him last. Just like every dream since. Every fantasy. Every night terror.
Black oxford with the sleeves rolled up, showing off those sad, beautiful tattoos. Dark jeans over shined black shoes. Silver buckle on a black belt, expensive silver watch. His dirty blond hair still shaved tight on the sides and styled on top. Suntanned skin . . .
And very much alive.
Her legs buzzed as adrenaline raced through her, and she swayed. So beautiful. Just like his soul had been.
When he took a step toward her, hand outstretched, she shot out a short breath and snatched her arm out of the air. She grabbed a handful of her shirt collar and clutched it for dear life.
Was she hallucinating? How could he be here?
Memories flickered in her eyes, and her brows furrowed.
She was there. They both were. The beginning of the end of her entire world.
Ms. Eliza’s apartment became the warehouse, and Annalise couldn’t move.
They were back in her nightmare, crouched on the ground, holding hands, and happy. Filled with hope.
She slapped her other hand over her stomach and fought doubling over as her knees threatened to give out.
‘Shit just got real complicated. I dunno who’s shootin’ who! I dunno if we should stay here or make a break for it!’
“No . . .” her voice startled her, and she swallowed as he let his hand fall to his side with his brows pitched up. The memory of stale warehouse air made acid boil her throat. She clenched her jaw to keep the terror from escaping.
‘Hey, it’s all good. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you. Let’s sit tight here for another second. Maybe they’ll kill each other off an’ we can just waltz right out, yeah?’
“N—No . . .” All that came out was a hissing whisper, her lungs unable to give any more air. Her heart stuttered, and she dug her fingertips into her stomach, just to anchor herself to reality.
She wasn’t there. She was free. They’d rescued her. She just left dinn—
Then the gunshot.
She screamed and slapped her hands over her mouth as tears burned paths down her cheeks. Every other memory was quickly replaced with the coppery tang of his blood filling the air. The light leaving his eyes as she shook his lifeless body and begged God to finally answer one of her prayers.
Maybe she was dying. The universe had frozen for just long enough, aligned just this once to bring them back together. She knew he’d be waiting for her. Right where he said he’d be. The end, where they had nothing but time.
But . . . maybe . . .
“Are,” her jaw was nearly locked from struggling to bite down on the sob.
Tears still dripping to the floor, she finally managed to force out words. “Are you . . . real?”
A one-sided smile hit his mouth, and the floor swayed under her feet. “Yeah, gorgeous. I’m real.”
Time stopped. The world stopped.
He stood across the room from her, a walking, talking reminder of every horrible and magnificent thing that happened to her during captivity.
He was a razor blade dipped in syrup.
Her heart burned a hole in her chest as she sucked at air. She wanted to hit the floor, to drop to her knees, but instead, she ran.
She ran.
Straight into his waiting arms.
Every breath was a gasp, a torturous use of oxygen. He caught her with a grunt, arms tight around her waist.
“My God, Anna.” He buried his face in the crook of her neck and inhaled. Chills ran down her side as he stuttered a breath out with his words.
Words she knew for a fact she’d die without ever hearing him say.
“I love you. I love you so much.”
A screeching sob ripped itself from her chest, and she crawled up his body. She grabbed at his shoulders and the back of his head. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he held her fast as her arms cinched around his neck.
“You’re not dead,” she cried. “You’re not dead?” He shook his head and held her even tighter as her sobs wracked her, the sound bouncing off the empty walls.
“Thomas, you—”
She loosened her arms, and in an instantaneous motion was claiming his mouth, kissing him through the mixture of
his tears and hers.
He tasted like love. Sweet and warm. Like a reason to live.
A single cry choked out when she got to feel his scar against her mouth again. Blazing fire roared through her body. Her heart was finally full to bursting after a lifetime of being empty.
She clutched at his face as he maneuvered her back down to the floor with another soft grunt. He planted a warm hand on each hip and dug in his fingertips.
Oh, God!
She pulled back and sucked in a breath before slapping her hands over her mouth.
“I’m so sorry! Did that hurt?” She cupped his cheeks. “That hurt! You’re alive!”
He grinned, and tiny holes in her soul began to knit closed. She laughed until sobs burst forth again, then she crashed back against his chest, with her hands tucked under her chin.
He wrapped his arms around her and rested his cheek against the top of her head. Her heart stuttered and skipped as his personal species of butterflies took their place in her stomach again.
His smell. Crisp. Clean. Woody and fruity. How could she have ever forgotten it?
She breathed in and cried harder as he rubbed her back. His arms. His hands.
She sniffled and leaned her head back to look at him. His face. His mouth. Those eyes . . .
Real.
She wiped at her own face, then wiped the tears off his cheeks. Blowing out a slow breath, she outlined his features with her shaking fingertips.
Over the crooked eyebrow, down his hard cheekbone, and across his light stubble. His eyes glittered as he gazed down at her. When she began to trace his lip scar, he made like he was going to bite her finger, and she shot out a laugh, then sucked in another breath.
He was real.
“Thomas, I love you.” She almost couldn’t say it fast enough. And sure as hell could never say it often enough. What if something happened?
His chest rose and he smiled wider. Even his eyes said her name. He slid both hands along her neck, spiking her pulse, and tangled them in her hair as he tugged her into a tender kiss.
Eventually, he rested his forehead on hers and whispered, “I love you, Anna.”
Her heart nearly exploded in her chest, and she clutched at the front of his shirt as tears fell again.
It would never be enough. “Say it again.”
He leaned back and gazed into her eyes for one heartbeat with a more serious expression than she ever remembered seeing on him. He leaned in and whispered as he kissed the tears away on her left cheek. “I love you.” Then her right, making her hands clench the fabric even tighter. “I love you.” Her jawline near her ear, where his hot breath waved across her skin. “I love you.”
She released his shirt and gripped his forearms to keep standing. Unspoken promises fluttered around them, falling like cherry blossoms in a gentle breeze.
“I,” she swallowed when his kiss landed on the side of her neck. “Missed you. So much.”
He moved to cover her mouth with his. Their pace sped, his grip tightened. Without even looking, or slowing, he wiped a tear from under her eye with his warm thumb.
She hadn’t even known it was there.
He pulled back, tugging on her bottom lip with his teeth as he held her gaze. She shuddered when he released it.
“I missed the hell outta you, too, Anna.”
She let his arms go and smoothed her hands over his face again. He leaned his cheek against her palm, and they shared a smile.
All at once, she realized what this meant.
Her smile faded, replaced by confusion and a sudden stab of heartache. He furrowed his brows and moved his hands to her hips again, a searing heat even through her jeans. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt ya?”
She couldn’t answer. He was alive. Alive. Had been this whole time. She’d spent the last—
Blood rushed to her head, screamed in her ears, then vanished, taking with it all her air. Her knees buckled, and he caught her.
“Hey, whoa, I gotcha.” He pulled her close, holding her hip against his, and she pressed her cheek to his chest.
“You were alive,” she whispered. “Why—”
“I didn’t have a choice.” He hugged her again. “My God, I wanted to tell ya. When I woke up, I called for you. It was the first word I said. And the second. And the third through thirtieth. They eventually had to knock me back out, ‘cause I wouldn’t stop. Delirious, I guess. I was so scared you’d gotten hurt.”
His voice thickened, and she picked up her head to look at him. Tears clung to his lashes making her heart twist again.
“That I’d screwed up something else.” One broke free and dripped down onto her cheek. He wiped it away with a muttered, “Sorry.”
“Thomas, you had a funeral.” She searched his heartbroken eyes. “I couldn’t go, I was still—” she swallowed. “It was so horrible! I was covered in your . . .” She exhaled and counted four heartbeats. “ . . . blood. And I watched the light drain from your eyes. I had to be put in a fucking institution to deal with what that asshole did to me, but you were all I thought about. I was on suicide watch. For two weeks they thought—” she gnashed her teeth, fighting tears. “They were right. I wanted to. I didn’t want to live without you.”
“Anna, I’m so sorry.” He bent, wrapping his arms around her waist and rested his forehead against the side of her neck. “I went through hell too, even though it ain’t the same. Gettin’ shot ain’t no picnic. Pain. Surgery. Recovery.” He scoffed. “That fuckin’ therapy was the worst. I just wanted you so bad. Begged to see you. But Ms. Marianna said it was best to keep it a secret. Give me time to heal. Keep me and you safer that way.” He shrugged, holding her tighter.
Annalise’s eyes popped open, and she launched backward out of his arms. “How do you know—” She wobbled again, and he reached for her. She held up her palms to stop him.
“Does—”
Her throat closed. They’d never do that to her. Right?
“Did everyone . . . know?” A whisper was all she could eek out. Nick. Scarlet. They wouldn’t. It was bad enough to know Marianna hid it.
Thomas brushed aside her hand and wound his arms around her again. “Nah. Only Marianna an’ her two guys. Rico an’ Booker. Uh. Well. And the Marcet’s where I was staying. But, guess what?”
Booker . . . Why was that familiar? She trembled in his arms, nearly at processing capacity, but when her eyes found his again, she calmed. “Wh—” she cleared her throat. “What?”
That sexy as hell, Cheshire cat, Thomas original grin spread on his mouth, and her bones melted.
“I met him. Your brother. And Scarlet. They didn’t know who I was.” Pride beamed from his eyes.
Annalise’s brows lifted, and a small smile curved her mouth. So. That must have been the ‘new guy.’ The one she asked if he was hot. A single laugh burst free, and she shook her head once. Hot was anything but adequate to describe Thomas. God-like. Perfect. Thomas.
“And?”
Thomas chuckled. “He’s a big dude. But Scarlet could cut him at the knees, and he’d just ask for more. Same with Rico and Ms. Marianna. I don’t think she knows though.”
Anna giggled. “I think everyone knows but her.” She sucked in a shaky breath and pressed her cheek to his chest again. “Thomas, I love you.”
He hummed. That warm tenor rumble was the most amazing sound. It vibrated through her, loosening knots that had been tight for so long.
“I love you, too. My God, I wanted to say that for so long. I tried to say it. Uh. Then.” They both held each other tighter at the same time. “Hey, Gorgeous?”
He said it like it was an extension of her name. Or her actual name. That would never get old. She blew out a slow breath and looked at him again. “Yeah?”
“Whatcha doin’ here? In my gran’s apartment, I mean.”
Annalise’s eyes widened again. Thomas. The Thomas. Oh. My. God. “You’re Thomas? Ms. Eliza talked about you all the tim
e!”
His eyes widened that time, and he laughed. “You knew my gran? How?”
“We live here! Well, lived. Nick and I. It’s just me now.”
Thomas threw his head back and laughed as he tightened his hold on her. “My God. What the hell kinda twisty—” He glanced back down at her. “Wait. You’ve still got a place here?”
She nodded, as more Thomas shaped coils unwound inside her. “Wanna see it?”
“Lemme think.” He quirked a brow and looked off to the side, then fixed her with a wide grin. “Hell yeah, I wanna see it! Lead on, Gorgeous!”
Annalise
She wound every bit of herself she could around his arm as they walked side by side up the stairs. Her hand sat nestled tight in his like he was just as afraid of losing her as she was him.
“I can’t believe you lived in the same building as my gran this whole time.”
She nodded as they reached the second floor, the rhythm of their steps matching.
“Yep. Nick moved in with Scarlet and took all his stuff with him. Well, what she let him keep.” She chuckled. “They wanted me to get a condo in their building, but . . .” She paused and took a breath. “I didn’t want to give up, you know, normal or whatever. This was the first place I lived when Nick came and got me.” She shrugged. “So, I live here by my lonesome now.” She swallowed. “When I’m not at their place.”
He squeezed her hand, and she smiled. He knew.
“Man. So, how many cats ya got now? Twenty? Thirty?”
He snorted, and Annalise barked a laugh, her heart warming. She plopped her free hand on her hip and twisted to face him, taking the next stair first.
“Oh, only about—”
Her witty retort stuck in her throat. She was suddenly looking dead level into his eyes. Those eyes.
The ones wars would wage over.
Those precious jewels she wanted to steal and hide away from the world. He had stopped walking and was directly below her, his free hand jammed in his pocket, gazing at her like she was food for a starved man.
She fought to find air, and not from panic for once. Even still, a tiny thread of doubt still clung to her.
