Finding Unity

by Ripley Proserpina

  Nora turned up her phone, not willing to miss any of what was to come. Some of it she knew, like Dr. Murray being in the army, but some of it was brand new to her. Lucy had Murray’s published studies and read them aloud. In stark black and white, they were impossible to stomach, and from the look on Kenneth Morris’s face, even he was shocked.

  “My producer has handed me this document,” he said, passing it over to Lucy. “Can you explain what it is and why it’s important?”

  Lucy studied it. “This is the Belmont Report, which came out in… was it the 1970s?”

  Kenneth nodded. “And that outlines the basic ethical principles scientists must engage in—for medical and psychological research—am I right?”

  “You are,” she answered.

  The scene switched to someone Nora didn’t recognize, but who was introduced as a leading scientist in the field of human psychology and warfare. The woman on the screen didn’t hold back, not one bit, in her explanation of how Dr. Murray effectively tortured college students.

  “Wow.” Nora let out a breath. Lucy’s story was good, but it didn’t hit home the way this one did. Maybe Lucy hadn’t had the resources this outlet did because she’d only touched on some of Dr. Murray’s background, and she hadn’t interviewed anyone who called Murray on his shit in such blatant terms.

  There was a soft knock on her door that startled her way more than it should have. The phone slipped out of her hand like it was covered in butter and tumbled onto her bed.

  “Sorry.” Ryan chuckled as he walked inside. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “No,” she replied, hitting pause on the video. “I was just in my own world.”

  “What are you watching?” He slid onto the bed next to her, one knee bent.

  “The producer from Newsline sent me the rough cut of their show. She talked to my mom, Ryan.”

  His response was to move closer and kiss her. “Nore…” he breathed.

  “She’s clean, so that’s good.” It had been at least six or seven years since her mom had been off drugs and alcohol. “Do you want to watch the rest with me?”

  “Absolutely.” He shifted, pulling her back so she was tucked beneath his chin. He propped the phone on his knee and started the video.

  “Why is Nora Leslie, who some could argue was a hero both in the Twilight shooting and in alerting the authorities to Dr. Murray, viewed so negatively in her hometown?” Kenneth was speaking again, and the person across from him was another psychologist.

  The man on the screen began to talk about things Nora had never heard—transference and trauma, how people need to place their blame on an individual in order to cope with problems. A series of interviews followed that had Nora holding tight to Ryan’s hand.

  “The guys need to see this,” he whispered after the first and second interviews, this one with Frank, who sang her praises and then with Cai’s boss down at the youth center, who talked about her volunteerism.

  Ryan must have texted the others, because in seconds, they crowded around the bed, elbowing each other for space until Matisse got his computer and set the show up there.

  People all around Brownington were interviewed about their perceptions of Nora, and—it was too much. Each person—every single one of them—spoke about her in glowing terms. They even interviewed students from Twilight, who described what she did to get them out of the cafeteria the day of the shooting.

  “Baby girl,” Apollo whispered, kissing her cheek. “Don’t cry.”

  She hadn’t even realized she was. It was just—she hadn’t expected that—none of it. Not her mom, or the interviews around town, and especially not the final interview, this one with Detective Vance.

  “I can’t talk a lot about Nora,” he said, steely blue eyes boring into the camera, “but she’s our hometown hero. We were wrong when we named her a person of interest, and I wish to hell we could take it back because it made that girl’s life harder than it needed to be.” He sighed and looked somewhere off camera. “But then again, if we hadn’t, she wouldn’t have joined Murray’s study. And if she hadn’t done that, we’d never know what we know now.”

  “What do you know, Detective?” Kenneth Morris asked.

  The detective smiled, and if Nora had been Dr. Murray, she might just have pissed her pants. “You’ll have to wait to find out.”

  The guys remained in Nora’s room after the video finished. It was silent for a minute, and then Matisse broke out with, “I think you should let them interview you. If this is it—chére—that was beautiful.” His voice cracked and he shook his head. “Shit.”

  “I’m with Matisse.” Cai had been staring at her from where he leaned against the wall. His golden eyes blazed like the sun. “Our experiences with the media weren’t good. Seok and Matisse, they were pretty much ripped to shreds—”

  “Harsh,” Matisse interjected.

  “Accurate.” Seok shrugged.

  “But this—Nora—it almost plays like a love letter to you. Your bravery and tenacity and, fuck, all the things about you that we love, they showed.”

  “But what if it’s a trick?” She couldn’t help but plan for a worst-case scenario. “I agree and they suddenly drop a bomb on me and it’s on camera.”

  “So what?” Ryan asked. He’d been standing with his hands on his hips, staring at the floor but now he locked eyes with her. “There’s nothing they could surprise you with that you wouldn’t respond to genuinely. I watched the worst thing happen already, Nora, and you and my best friend survived it. This stuff? Reporters and news stories and trials, none of this even registers compared to what you’ve lived through. What we lived through.”

  He was right. He was totally, completely right. She could do this. “I’m going to call Serena,” she said. “I’m going to do it.”

  Apollo picked her phone up from the table next to her bed and handed it to her. “Do it now.”

  Serena picked up on the first ring.

  “I’ll do it.”

  There was a squeal so loud she had to pull the phone back from her ear. “I’m shocked. I really thought, after everything, you’d say no.”

  “You not going to throw a curveball at me? Catch my reaction on camera?”

  “No.” She sounded honest, but time would tell. All she had to go on was Serena’s word. “Are you working tomorrow? Frank has offered his shop as a place to interview you, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted your boyfriends with you.”

  And there it was. Boyfriends. Plural.

  Nora took a deep breath. “Would it be a problem if I wanted them with me?”

  “Not at all,” Serena answered. “I know some of them have had negative experiences with the press, so they probably are hesitant. Or protective, at the very least.”

  It hit her that Serena was laying all her cards on the table, in a way, proving that she really wasn’t going to blindside her. Imagine how juicy that would be, revealing the guys on national television. Seok and Matisse were pretty well known, and Cai, Apollo, and Ryan’s stories were no less fascinating for being local.

  “What time?” she asked, and when Serena told her, muted the phone to tell the guys.

  “We’ll be there.” Seok answered for all of them. He didn’t even need to glance at them to know they were nodding their heads.

  “Okay. You’re sure Frank’s okay with it?” she asked when she unmuted the phone.

  “He was. He and Kenneth hit it off, and Kenneth is kind of spearheading the ‘go back to Frank’s’ charge.”

  Frank did have that ability.

  “What changed?” she asked Serena, the question coming out of her before she could think twice about saying it. Once it was out though, she didn’t try to backtrack. “With the people you interviewed about me. You know I couldn’t get a job in this town before Frank.”

  “You know, I wondered that, too,” the other woman said. “I thought—initially—that you had this persona that needed rescuing, but that wasn’t it. I think it was that peo
ple saw themselves in you. Just a regular girl trying to get by. And it didn’t hurt that people dislike Daniel Murray so completely. The man even gives me the heebs, and I’ve been to maximum security prisons to interview serial killers if that tells you anything.”

  Bursting out a laugh, she pulled the phone away from her ear. Wow. If that didn’t put her in place. People changed their minds about her because Dr. Murray was so awful. It was like a teeter-totter and the dislike of him equaled the public lifting her in their estimation.

  Whatever. She’d take it.

  Logistics worked out, Nora hung up and leaned against her pillows. She was tired. The video had been an emotional roller coaster, but strangely enough, it felt like the perfect end to her day.

  “You look happy.” Matisse touched beside her eyes. “Are you?”

  She was aware of Apollo’s ring on her finger. Grazing her thumb across the metal, she nodded. “I am.”

  He studied her, eyes moving over her forehead down to her lips and then to her hand. When he saw her playing with the ring he smiled. “Sadie Sadie, married lady.” His smile disappeared for a moment. “You should marry Seok. Officially, I mean.”

  Automatically, she snapped her gaze to the other guys, but none of them seemed the least shocked or upset.

  “There’s time to work that out.” Seok crossed his ankle on top of his knee and leaned back on his palms. He’d found a spot on the floor next to Apollo.

  “Would you take our names?” Apollo asked. “Hyphenate it, Honora Leslie-Boudreau-Morris-Jheon-Valore-Josephs?”

  “That doesn’t seem fair to load a kid down with so many names. Maybe you should all take my name.” She was joking, but they didn’t smile.

  Seok nodded. “Hmm. Not a bad idea.”

  Nora laughed and it turned into a yawn. Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea. Still, “I’d hyphenate all your names.” She leaned back into the pillows on the bed.

  Matisse stretched out next to her, leaned over and kissed her. “You would? Five last names?”

  Her eyes drifted closed as his lips touched hers again. “Mmhm. But it would actually be six.”

  Chapter 31

  Nora

  Soft kisses trailed down her neck, waking her. The room was dark, and she was still in the clothes she’d been wearing all day.

  Long cool fingers wrapped around her hip, pushing aside her shirt to grip her skin.

  “Tisse.”

  A low chuckle filled the room. “You fell asleep in my arms.” His breath tickled her neck, sending goosebumps all over her skin. “I woke up and it was just us. It was too good an opportunity. I thought for sure Seok or Apollo would steal you.”

  There was a pause at the end of his sentence, a thought left hanging. “Because they proposed.”

  Matisse’s hair touched her neck as he nodded and moved to the other side of her body. “When I propose, I won’t let you out of my bed for a week.”

  Those cool fingers tucked into her jeans, unsnapped the button, and pulled them down. Nora lifted her hips and joined him in the effort to shed her clothes. His chest was already bare, but he still wore his jeans.

  As soon as she was naked, she made a move to take them off, but he stopped her. The darkness was almost complete. Someone had drawn her curtains, so while her eyes adjusted, the only thing she could really make out was his shadow. She had to explore him only by touch.

  Reaching around his body, she gripped his hips with her hands. His skin was cool, like he’d gotten a chill from the room, so she held him even closer. “You’re cold.”

  “I like the icy air.” He kissed her, not giving her any further explanation. He curled his tongue into her mouth, dragging it along her teeth and the roof of her mouth before sucking hard on hers.

  Arching into him, she opened her legs until he fit between them. His jeans were soft, but the friction just bordered on too much as he rocked into her.

  He shifted, pulling back and onto his knees and dragging her with him. There was something about Matisse’s lean body that made her forget how strong he was. To someone who didn’t know him, he’d seem skinny, maybe even lanky, but there wasn’t an ounce of undefined muscle on him. The way his mind raced, it was as if his metabolism had to speed up just to keep up with him.

  He sat her on one thigh, urging her into a gently swaying motion that kept up a constant pressure on her clit. She gasped at the sensation and how quickly it had her going from turned on to molten.

  Matisse spread his legs, grabbed her knee, and pulled it over his other leg. The motion opened her up so cold air drifted along her hot folds, but then his hand was there. Fingers diving into her, stretching and opening her up while his palm pressed against her mound. He kept up the movement—rocking while he drove his fingers into her over and over.

  There was nothing she could do to control the depth or speed of his penetration. She had to hold on to him as he set a punishing pace.

  “So fucking beautiful.” He was out of breath as he pulled out of her and came over her.

  Now he let her touch him. His hands shook as he trailed them over her breast, kneading and cupping while she ripped open the button on his jeans and pushed them over his hips. He positioned himself at her entrance, but didn’t push inside her. When she arched up, he drew away.

  “You’re on the pill.”

  She nodded before remembering he couldn’t see her. “Yes.”

  That was all he needed. But the desperation that had him shaking didn’t have him ramming himself inside her. Instead, he slowed, pushing inch by inch like he was savoring the sensation.

  Nora slid her fingers through his hair, framing his face so her thumbs touched his sharp cheekbones and then brought his face to hers. Their kiss was as soft as his thrusts. Long. Slow. Friction of skin against skin. Matisse’s breath caught in his throat and his entire body tensed.

  Trailing her fingers to his throat, she could make out the cords in his neck straining. But he didn’t rush her, or even quicken his thrusts. He was drawing all of it out, keeping her poised on the edge of a pleasure so intense it made her toes curl.

  “Tisse.” She never experienced a release like this. Instead of a crash or an explosion, this was like sinking to the bottom of a pool and letting the cool water cover her head. It was floating weightless while staring up at the stars.

  He followed her on a long, low breath that was just above a groan. “Nora.” He so rarely used her name, her eyes popped open. He kissed along her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose. “My heart.”

  For some reason, she placed her hand against his chest to feel it. It pounded, the speed equal to her own racing pulse.

  “I adore you, Matisse.”

  Their lovemaking had been so slow and languid, she expected him to wrap her up in his arms and fall asleep, but he didn’t. Instead, he stood, wrapped a sheet around her and lifted her into his arms. “Shower first,” he said. He didn’t bobble her one bit, even when he had to open the door, and for that, she was grateful. There was nothing like being carried as a bride, only for the man holding her to need to prop up her weight.

  Matisse moved like a gazelle. Three long strides and they were in the bathroom. Holding her gaze, he set her on her feet. “Can you be quiet?”

  She knew a challenge when she heard it and smiled. “Definitely.”

  Chapter 32

  Matisse

  Matisse couldn’t sleep. He wasn’t anxious, though, or crawling out of his skin, despite the fact that the ceiling fan’s cord clicked incessantly with each rotation of the blades.

  All he had to do was turn onto his side and stare at the shadowed profile of his girl. Her hair was a mess, the curls smooshed and frizzy, and god he fucking loved that. He’d done that. Messed up her hair. Left a hickey on her neck. Made her lips swollen.

  Her breath caught as she rolled toward him and scooted forward until he could tuck her head under his chin. His back gave a little twinge, the skin pulling where she’d clawed it.

  Not sorry.


  Maybe he should feel guilty for taking her tonight. If he’d been Apollo or Seok, he’d have fought to have her in his bed.

  He smiled as she nuzzled closer. Bending one arm on his pillow, he propped his chin in his hand and began to stroke along the side of her face. Her skin was like silk, so he leaned down and kissed her cheek.

  “Tisse.” Her voice was scratchy. “Stop staring and go to sleep.”

  He kissed her again before dropping his head to his pillow, and then, because she told him to, he fell asleep.

  Chapter 33

  Seok

  Seok’s phone vibrated on the bedside table. It was five in the morning, and the rattling had woken him from a sound sleep. No one who didn’t already live in this house called him at five in the morning. It wasn’t like he had work emergencies. There wasn’t suddenly a problem only a historical preservationist could fix.

  Which left one person.

  Lifting his phone to read the screen, he took in the message from his father.

  “Plane landed in LA. Please meet me at my hotel this evening.” He’d left the name of the hotel and the time he expected Seok to meet him. It wasn’t a request, just a demand he had no doubts Seok would meet.