by Jo Holloway
Cindy Jackson clapped her hands and grabbed Cara’s arm, steering her to the middle of the room. Cara peeked back over her shoulder. Mr. Jackson had draped an arm across Rhys’s shoulder, and his red face chatted animatedly to the stony face beside him as they walked.
The Jacksons dropped them off in the midst of a sea of dancers and twirled off together, leaving Cara to stare at an unmoving statue who had no idea what had just happened. She drew in a breath. It wasn’t like she could ask him questions while they stood two feet apart in the middle of a crowd of dancers. She started to turn away.
He stepped closer, and one arm circled her waist. Slowly, he lowered his eyes to her and held out his other hand.
“Sorry about them,” she mumbled, nodding her head in the direction of the vanishing Jacksons. She placed a hand in his and raised her other arm to his shoulder as they started to move together. A hint of his cologne drifted to her, the heady scent of cedar wood mingling with the sweet note of oranges she recalled from the hospital. She had to focus on his sleeve for a moment to stop the world from spinning.
His eyes lingered at the hammering pulse in her neck, and the heat inched up her face. Their steps fell into a rhythm with a little pressure from his touch. He was a very good dancer. He’d obviously had a lot of practice with some other dance partners, probably a bunch of them. She swallowed and tried to focus on following without stumbling.
“Ransome? So Josh . . . is he your dad?” At least he wasn’t angrily hissing at her anymore. Not right now, anyway.
“My uncle,” she replied just loud enough for him to hear.
His eyebrow twitched with a moment’s curiosity, but she didn’t need to share any more of herself with him. That wasn’t what she was here for. She was gathering information, not giving it. He spun her around.
“Is that from my sister?” His eyes dropped from her face to her shoulder.
She tilted her head down to track his gaze to the ugly bruise on the front of her shoulder. It wasn’t fully covered by the fabric of the dress, but she’d tried to hide the worst of it with some makeup.
“It’s fine. She didn’t mean to.”
His eyes found hers, and she struggled not to lose herself in the storm again.
“I’m sorry she hurt you. But I hope you know you can’t go back. I made sure you were banned from her unit.”
“Yeah, I figured,” she huffed.
His eyes narrowed. “I’m serious. You’re not getting near her. And if you tell anyone you saw her there, or me . . .”
“Then what?” she challenged.
The song ended. She expected him to let her go, but he didn’t. The music melted into the next song, slower than the last. The rhythm of their steps changed with it. The butterflies had clustered around the spot where his warm hand rested on the bare skin in the middle of her back. She drew on the image of Olivia and set her thoughts in order.
“Look, I’m not going to tell anyone about her. I want to know about the Pyx.” No point being subtle. Apparently she’d been taking lessons from her friend.
Thanks, Wes.
The rings of gold lightning in his eyes flashed dangerously at her.
“I’m not talking about those things. And definitely not to you.” The raspy hiss was back.
“Why not? What have you been doing? What happened to Olivia?”
She was only inches from his face now, and his anger rolled over her in a hot wave. His arms tensed, only serving to draw her in closer. She kept her face tilted up to his, not willing to break eye contact even when his scent made her sway on her feet as they turned. He didn’t notice. His eyes blazed.
“My sister is none of your business,” he growled at her, stepping in a circle and spinning her into a more open space.
“I know you saw my dog. And you’re sure as hell seeing my eyes right now,” she snapped. “Not to mention the time you kidnapped my friend. So tell me again how it’s none of my business.”
His hand burned a hole through the skin on her back while he stared into her glaring eyes. Her other hand, enveloped in his, pulsed with fire too. Still, she wouldn’t look down.
He tore his gaze away first, breaking his hold on her all at once. A chill rippled the skin in the middle of her back with the sudden cold. Her hands fell to her sides.
“Go home, Cara, and stay away from me and my family,” he said.
Then he was gone, back into the crowd. She stood at the edge of the dance floor, beside the main doors. Somehow, he’d been guiding her there the whole time they’d danced, steering her out of the party.
It was like being plunged into a bucket of ice water. His words punched a hole where the little flip in her chest had been before. If the scene at the hospital had been an explosion, this was a targeted strike. It was personal, and it hurt—an actual physical ache. When her eyes finally came back into focus, her uncle was ten feet away, staring at her with a look of mingled surprise and worry. Her feet carried her to him.
He gaped at her in silence for a long moment. “Anything I need to know?”
She shook her head slowly. “Can we go home?” The night was a total waste. She wrapped her arms around herself and went out the doors to wait in the entryway.
By the time her uncle was able to leave forty-five minutes later, she had paced the length of the lobby at least a hundred times. Rejection morphed into resolve.
Who cares what he says? This is not over. This is only the start.
The feelings she was having were about the girl she shared a connection to. That was it. They were about being unable to help Olivia, not about her dumb brother. He was involved. There was no way around it. But she wasn’t going to let it spin out into anything more than whatever he was up to with the Pyx he was taking, and whether he was responsible for Olivia’s current condition. The rest . . . she wasn’t going to think about it.
She couldn’t do it alone. Wes and Jory needed to know all about Olivia being a pyxis so they could talk over the options. The main priority needed to be finding out where her brother might be taking the animals he managed to abduct, and where he might be holding the Pyx he removed. That was the only thing that mattered.
Josh opened the car door for her. She climbed in and arranged her dress around her while he circled to the driver’s side and got in.
“Anything you want to talk about?” His voice was soft.
She was glad he wasn’t watching her face as he pulled the car away from the curb. Tears flooded her eyes again before she could stop them. The new resolve still had some cracks.
She bit her lip and blinked until the tears went away. “No.”
“I’m sorry if something happened. I know you told me you think he’s the one taking the Pyx, but if there was something else . . .” Josh glanced over.
“Nothing else happened. I’d just hoped I’d find something out and I didn’t. That’s all.” She picked up her phone for something to stare at.
She had two messages, both from Jory. The first one came in a couple hours ago.
(Jory M.) How’s it going? Is he there?
Crap. She’d forgotten to tell them she wouldn’t have her phone on her. The next message was sent ten minutes after the first.
(Jory M.) Send us an update as soon as you can.
She started to type but couldn’t figure out what to say over the phone. There was too much. She deleted the few words to start again. While she was thinking, the phone buzzed in her hand. A new message from Jory popped up, and her face hardened as she read it.
(Jory M.) Guess you found him. Looks cozy.
Double crap. What the hell, Jory?
First of all, what was he talking about? And second, what was that tone about? She hadn’t had her phone on her all night, so she couldn’t have messaged back any sooner. Was he annoyed? She couldn’t even begin to decide how to respond. Maybe no answer was best.
“You okay?” Her uncle kept glancing over again. Apparently she had made some sound to give away her irritation.
“Just m
ore people being jerks.” Her terse reply got no response from him. Maybe no answer from him was best too.
Her phone buzzed again.
This one was from Wes, and he’d left the group chat to send her a private message.
What Jory meant to say is you looked really nice.
If you haven’t seen it, this photo is out on the charity’s socials.
The photo in the link he sent showed a tall, handsome guy in a crisp—and extremely well fitting—tuxedo. His elegant form danced closely with a brunette in a gold-and-black dress. It took her a moment to register her own face. The couple in the photo looked so natural together. Somehow the distance imposed by the camera lens had transformed the moment.
She also definitely remembered angry glares burning between them. The camera had captured a very different kind of intense gaze. Heat flushed through her body, rising from somewhere deep inside her. She clicked off the phone and tossed it into the center console in disgust. She wanted to scream.
After assuring her mom she was just tired and the gala had been great, she climbed the stairs to her room and carefully took off the dress to hang it up. As soon as she was in comfortable pajamas, she flopped down on the bed and grabbed a pillow to press over her face. Instead of screaming, she took a few long breaths into the cool fabric while a nagging desire wormed through her brain.
She lowered the pillow to her chest, hugging it to her and staring at the ceiling. Reaching for her phone, she held it while she chewed her lower lip. Her finger clicked the button and unlocked the screen in one fluid flick. She stared at the message from Wes again without seeing the words. Her eyes landed on the small image where two people were barely visible.
Her finger hovered and then tapped the image so it filled the screen. The breath caught in her throat. She studied the lines of her dress where the gold fabric wrapped over her shoulder and a shadow of her bruise was barely visible, if you knew to look for it. She traced the line of gold down to where it rejoined the black skirt, where a black-sleeved arm around her waist interrupted the image. Her eyes followed the arm to the rest of his figure. Shallow breaths moved her chest up and down slowly.
She stood and took small steps across to the light switch, plunging her room into darkness. Resolve didn’t need to burn quite so brightly in the dark. The only light now came from the screen still in her hand. Her eyes kept returning to the two faces, locked together in the intense gaze. One finger tapped the image again, and she saved a copy to her phone. The other hand set the pillow back in its normal spot and turned back her covers. She crawled into bed, absorbed in the image she held.
CHAPTER 14
A Tiny Crush
SHE WOKE IN THE MORNING with the phone still gripped in her hand. She’d fallen asleep that way. When she clicked it on, Wes’s message appeared on the screen. Instead of a thumbnail image in the link under his words, the screen said “image not found.” Weird. She checked her local photos. The saved copy was there, but she didn’t tap on it. She did go back to reply to the message from Wes with a quick “Thanks.” Back in the group chat, she ignored Jory’s last message and simply typed that she had things to tell them.
In spite of the events and emotions of the evening, she’d fallen into a deep and dreamless sleep. Her new resolve burned inside her now. Go see Wes and Jory. Fill them in on Olivia. Come up with a plan to find the Pyx. Simple. No need to linger on photos that meant nothing.
She turned off her phone, determined to stick to the plan. A quick shower made her feel like she could manage it. She ran her fingers through her wavy hair and went downstairs to find some breakfast.
“Morning, Cara-col,” Josh greeted her in the kitchen.
“Caracol? That’s a new one.” She was glad to feel her face smiling.
“It’s some kind of horse dancing move or something.” He paused, and she caught the twinkle in his eye. He winked at her and handed her the orange juice. “You know . . . because even a horse’s ass can dance.”
If she’d already been drinking, she would have spit it out. How did he always know how to cheer her up? Laughter soothed the remains of the hurt. She poured a glass of juice, still shaking her head.
“Are you really leaving tomorrow? I wish you could stay longer,” she said.
“Me too, kiddo. Time flies. Hard to believe it’s August already.”
It was hard to believe. But when she looked out the back door for Jenner, the first Sunday of August had brought rain. It was cooler than what she’d become accustomed to the last few weeks. Summer probably wasn’t over. One rainy day meant nothing, not around here. But it might be a sign. They were past the midway point, and school would be here soon. All the more reason to get to the plan.
The doorbell rang.
Her eyebrows lifted as she turned to her uncle.
“Don’t look at me,” said Josh.
She went to open it with a bowl of cereal balanced in one hand.
“Wes. Was I expecting you?” she asked.
“Not unless you got the message I sent about ten minutes ago,” Wes replied from her doorstep. “Sorry. Mak’s driving me and wouldn’t wait. I thought you might want a ride because of the rain.”
She ducked her head past Wes and waved to his brother behind the wheel of the red beater he drove around. Mak lifted a few fingers from the wheel in response.
“Sorry, I turned my phone off. I just need a minute.”
Wes held up a finger toward Mak to indicate he’d be right back and stepped through the door even as Mak raised an arm in exasperation. She started shoveling cereal into her mouth.
“Where’s Mom?” she asked her uncle through a mouthful of breakfast.
“She went to check on Lydia again,” Josh answered.
Oh. Lydia. She’d forgotten about her mom’s friend. The memory of the psych ward only served to fuel the fire inside her when it brought Olivia to mind.
“I was going to go hang out with Wes and Jory, but I don’t have to. Mom’s out, and you’re leaving tomorrow . . .”
Wes had followed her into the kitchen and raised a hand in greeting to Josh, who nodded back.
“Don’t be silly, Cara-col,” Josh said with another wink. She snorted, and Wes looked back and forth between them with one eyebrow lifted. “I have errands, anyway. I have to return the tux and deal with some leftover stuff around some of the donations. Don’t worry about it. We’ll meet back here for family dinner, deal?”
“Deal,” she said.
THERE WAS NOTHING THEY could do for Olivia. It kept running through her head like the ghost of an old mantra. There was nothing they could do. They’d talked through the options once the boys got over the surprise of learning about the Pyx in the girl.
“I thought you said that was one of the absolute laws, or whatever,” Jory said to her and Wes in his living room. “They told you they never use humans, didn’t they?”
“They’re not supposed to. It’s too dangerous for the people. I guess we see why now.” An extra jolt of discomfort hit her. Jenner and Thomas were staring at each other. Was the feeling coming from both of them at once?
“It would be good if we could find out why this one is breaking that particular law.” Wes had his chin resting on his hand.
“Well, I can’t go back to the hospital. I’m banned from volunteering there,” Cara said, “and Jenyx can’t get in with Jenner without me. Plus, Jenner’s probably banned too.” She took a sip of her lemonade.
“We could train Thomas to be a therapy cat instead,” Jory suggested.
Wes cocked his head at his friend. “You know you wouldn’t have to train him, right?”
Jory shrugged, petting the orange furball curled up on the couch beside him.
“At least you told him before I had to,” Tomyx grumbled through Thomas’s purring.
Cara stifled a giggle for Jory’s sake. “I don’t know how long it would take to get it all set up, anyway. Besides, I already told you. She never said a word the whole time we were there.
There’s no point.”
“It is true,” Jenyx confirmed. “The Pyx is there, though her signature was much fainter than I would expect being so close to her. Unless she will speak, if she can, there is nothing a Pyxsee can do. Not a normal Pyxsee, anyway.”
“Well, then—” Jory started replying to Cara’s comment before Wes cut him off with a raised hand.
“Normal Pyxsee?”
“Apologies. I simply meant—I did not mean to say normal. Pyxsee is all I intended to say.”
“Wow,” Cara huffed. “Well, now at least we know Jenyx is a bad liar. Good to know.”
Her stomach clenched as she met Wes’s curious gaze. She wanted to spill all her secrets to him when his face got that open, inquisitive look to it. Well, she’d come this far. What was one more? As long as it had to do with the Pyx, and with Olivia, but not with her brother . . . Okay, so she didn’t want to spill all her secrets. Only the useful ones.
“What Jenyx means is I’ve been having these weird feelings around Pyx. He thinks I’m sensing them, sort of like they sense each other, but more how they’re feeling than just how nearby they are.” Her eyes fixed on a spot on her sock. “I don’t understand it.”
Wes surprised her with his response. “I wondered. I’ve been seeing you react to them before they say anything. Like you know what Jenyx feels about something before he says it.”
“You have? But you’ve never . . .” Cara hoped he would say he felt it, too, but Wes only shook his head.
Jory leaned forward. “That doesn’t sound so weird to me. You’re just sensitive.”
He’d apparently forgiven her for whatever had been bugging him last night.
“Well, thanks for your support, Sunshine, but I’m not sure you’re the best judge of what’s weird for a Pyxsee.”
He sat back, stung, and she immediately regretted her tone. He didn’t know the emotional crap he’d stepped in with that message last night. How could he? She bit back her sharp tongue and continued. “I just mean Jenyx has never heard of it, and I asked my uncle too. He’s never heard of it either. So I’m back to being the weirdo.”
