Above The Surface

by Akeroyd, Serena

  “She was kind of interested in me, but I think she wanted to see—”

  When I hesitated, he prompted, “What? What did she want to see?”

  His voice had softened now, but I could see the spark of anger in his eyes. The large screen in front of us, mine showing the flight path and Adam’s showing South Park from when he’d fallen asleep, illuminated our faces, but I didn’t necessarily want him to see the despair on mine.

  I wanted him here, more than I knew how to deal with. I wanted him on this vacation, I wanted this treat, just like I wanted the stack of pancakes in a minute.

  Just a taste.

  Just a stolen moment, a reward to get me through until the next time I had to purge him from my soul once more.

  There would be a next time too. That I knew. We were magnets, attuned to each other, meant to be together, but life would tear us apart.

  I’d seen that.

  Had known it since my mother had made me promise to avoid Adam. And even as I had, I’d seen the disbelief in her eyes. She’d known I’d fall into temptation, had known it and had accepted it, because she understood.

  If anyone did, it was Genevieve Kinkade, and, in her own way, she was trying to protect me.

  From myself.

  And from love.

  “I think she wanted to know why Nanny hadn’t been in touch.”

  “She didn’t just think she passed on?” he queried softly.

  “No. She was young, don’t forget. She’d have been fifty-three this year.”

  “Holy crap, she had your mom young, didn’t she?”

  “That’s the culture for you.” I gripped the headphone wire in my hands and twisted it, made loops of it around my fingers.

  “I think you should tell me what this curse is.”

  “Genevieve made me promise to stay away from you. She said that the Kinkades are gifted with talents that make us unique, but each gift is a double-edged sword, I guess.”

  His brow puckered. “The healing—why you turn to ice in the aftermath.”

  I dipped my chin. “Exactly. That’s how I know she’s right about everything she said, Adam. Something is given on one hand, but taken away with the other. Balance.”

  “Why would your family be given the gift of knowing who you’re supposed to be with if you’re not supposed to be with them?”

  I thought back to what she said and knew, point blank, he wasn’t going to believe what Mom had shared.

  Why would he?

  He was rational.

  He was logical.

  He wasn’t Roma.

  But me? I was, even if it was only faintly. I knew what we could do in our family. Knew, even more, to fear it.

  Still, he needed to know. More than that, he needed to realize I believed she was right. “She said that there was a Kinkade who, long ago, was so accurate with her predictions that Fate decided to punish her for knowing too much.”

  His brow puckered. “You can’t be serious.”

  Not a question. A statement.

  I closed my eyes and tipped my head back against the seat. “I knew you wouldn’t understand. That’s why I didn’t bother explaining, I just got the hell away from Boston the second I could.”

  He stared at me, his hands clenched into fists, before he whispered, “That’s why you left me?”

  “There wasn’t much to leave, Adam,” I ground out. “You were living with Maria, raising a kid together. We had that one night, but I knew that was all I was ever going to get from you—”

  “Until Cain was released. You had to know that was as long as this shitshow was going to carry on—”

  I shrugged. “I never thought you’d divorce.” And I hadn’t. I’d thought Anna would make sure he and Maria were tied together forever—Jose was a donor to her campaign fund, after all.

  “You were wrong. I sacrificed enough years for that bastard. No way in hell did I go into that marriage thinking it would be forever.”

  “You never told me that.”

  “I-I just thought you knew,” he spluttered, rubbing a hand over his face. “I thought it was obvious.”

  I happened to notice the tremor and was surprised by it, even as I accepted the truth of what he was saying—he really had thought I’d know that.

  “You told me the statute of limitations is—”

  “Yeah. But once he was out, there’d be no worrying on that score, would there? I just had to keep the peace until then, and I did.”

  “He was released last year, wasn’t he?”

  He nodded and answered my silent question. “I was going to do this then. But then the Olympics...and the Coronavirus.” He blew out a breath. “It just shifted my timeline by a year. I wanted you to have this. I didn’t want to get in the way, Thea. I know how much time and effort you dedicated to your training. I knew you wouldn’t have time for me, so I let you do what you needed to, and I bided my time.”

  My jaw worked as I ground my teeth at his arrogance. Even if, truly, he deserved it, because he’d been right, hadn’t he?

  The second he came for me, told me about a divorce, I was here with him, about to spend three weeks alone with him—and I highly doubted that time would be spent with us spring cleaning.

  “We can’t be together. Not long term,” I told him.

  “Fuck that, and fuck the curse, and fuck your mother. I don’t give a shit about some goddamn claptrap. I refuse to believe that you and I have this link between us, this goddamn connection, and all for what? For us to be miserable with it? To love each other, but to never be together?

  “I know I sure as fuck won’t believe that because I’ve been through enough shit, and so have you—we deserve each other, Thea. We deserve to have what this bond promises us.”

  “I’m not going to disagree with you, Adam. I hate it as much as you do. But you didn’t see my mother. You didn’t hear her—she blames herself and the curse for what she did to my dad. She said Nanny told her to leave him alone, to stay away, and she didn’t.”

  “We are not your mother and father, Thea,” he snarled, and I wasn’t surprised when his face was suddenly right next to mine.

  His hand was there, at the back of my neck, and he hauled me upright, dragged me into him, and didn’t stop until his mouth was against mine.

  The moan escaped me before I could take heed. I tried to keep it soft, silent, but it was hard. The whimpers that wanted to escape me, the mewls and groans and sounds of delight that I almost choked on as he thrust his tongue against mine, fucking my mouth, reclaiming me, reminding me of what we were together.

  Of what we had together.

  I shuddered against him, loving the feeling of his hand against my neck, the tight clasp, the firm grasp that made me aware of one hard truth—he wasn’t going to let me go.

  And God help me, I didn’t want him to.

  A throat cleared, and I jerked in surprise, not because of it, because I ignored that, but the steward touched my arm, making me jolt back, breaking the kiss. I stared up at the guy with blind eyes, even as he averted his gaze, and went about retracting the table from the side compartment, laying a white cloth atop it, and setting out the cutlery.

  A woman did the same for Adam, and after they both disappeared, a tray was brought to us.

  I stared blindly at the pancakes, my brain in a whirl, my mind fractured, even as he’d glued the broken pieces of me back together again.

  My appetite was gone—for food. Not for him. My body ached, pulsing and throbbing, needing him so desperately I wasn’t sure I’d survive until he could hold me in his arms, until he could take me and make me his once more. He reached out, his hand sliding down my forearm, and when our fingers connected, he muttered, “Thea, you need to eat those before it gets cold.”

  I blinked at him, gulped. “I’m not hungry.”

  “You are. I know you didn’t eat much last night, and you’re so slender right now that you—”

  I was just on the brink of being underweight, we both kne
w that. My body fat was at a low eighteen percent for race conditions, and that would change now that I was no longer having to train so hard.

  He was right.

  I needed to eat.

  Sure, I didn’t need to eat the carb dump, but, out of nowhere, I wanted it again.

  Craved the concoction that had been denied to me for months as Coach and I fought to get me to the level of peak performance.

  I squeezed his fingers and assured him, “It’s okay. I’ll eat.”

  “No more talking,” he muttered. “Let’s just enjoy the flight, chill out, and relax. We can talk plenty when we go to your hotel—”

  “We’re not staying in a hotel,” I interrupted. “We’re staying in a private apartment. I hate hotels. Spending time in one this week only reinforced that,” I muttered, forcing myself to stop stuffing my face so I could reply.

  How the hell had I lived without white flour?

  As I moaned around another mouthful, it didn’t take much to realize I had Adam’s full attention.

  I cast him a look, then narrowed my eyes at him in warning. “You know what it’s like in the run-up to a competition.”

  “I do, but I never watched you carb dump in the aftermath before. Well, not since Fort Worth.” He twisted around in his seat, his own eggs Benedict forgotten, as he stared at me and watched me eat.

  My cheeks flushed, but there was no way in hell I was going to stop enjoying my first normal breakfast in too long.

  When I’d finished, which was an embarrassingly short length of time, he started to eat. I saw his eggs were still steaming, which meant I’d plowed through my pancakes like a tornado.

  Feeling no shame, I reached for my tea and took a hearty sip.

  With my stomach full, I was pretty much as close to purring as I could be, especially now that it was my time to watch Adam.

  There was something about him that invited my attention, and I didn’t question it much because I knew he felt the exact same way. He often watched me, even if I wasn’t making sounds of enjoyment like I just had with my breakfast.

  We were always watching one another when we were close, our gazes always finding a way to connect.

  I’d long since considered us magnets. Everything about us united and bound, even if we were destined to be torn apart when life threw shit our way. But I didn’t want to think about that. Not now. I wanted to focus on the vacation ahead of us which, sadly, was pretty much all I could allow us.

  Adam hadn’t seen my mom in jail. Maybe if he had, he’d understand. He’d have seen why she spoke the truth, would understand my concerns.

  He wasn’t Roma. He was Gadže. And that had never been hit home more than it was when I’d explained the curse. Even I, who’d been raised in the culture for part of my life, had found it hard to comprehend, but seeing my mom was believing.

  She loved my father.

  Loved him even though he’d hurt her.

  And it wasn’t the kind of love that an abused woman felt for her abuser. It wasn’t that kind of twisted affection that kept two people together when they should be separated by the world.

  No, it was the kind of love that came with regret.

  She blamed herself.

  Not, again, like an abused woman would say, ‘Oh, I shouldn’t have angered him. I spoke to the guy in checkout too long. That’s why he hit me.’ Genevieve’s blame came from the curse.

  She knew she should have stayed away from Nicodemus, and her punishment was a life without him, a daughter she couldn’t raise, a mother who died without her at her side, and too many years in a prison cell.

  My throat clenched at the thought.

  If I didn’t stay away from Adam, what would happen to him? To me?

  Suddenly, I realized I had Adam’s full attention, and when I focused on him, he was shaking his head.

  “We’re not them, Thea.”

  Four simple words, but their meaning was complex.

  “No, we’re not,” I agreed. “That doesn’t mean we won’t end up like them.”

  “You think you’ll kill me?”

  My brow puckered. “I’m sure if you asked my mom that, she would never have said yes. It’s not something you think you’ll do, is it?”

  “We’re different,” he argued stubbornly. “I’m not Roma. I thought I was the first non-Roma jílo in your family?”

  I plucked at my bottom lip. “That’s true.” At least, as far as I knew. I hadn’t dedicated a decade to discovering my family tree, had I?

  Still, he looked triumphant, his eyes flashing with pleasure, and I flushed, loving that particular look on him because it reminded me of when he came, exploding inside me, gifting me with every part of him. “There, you see. We are different.”

  But were we different enough?

  The rest of the flight was quiet as we chilled out and watched TV. Well, Adam zoned out, me? I was worrying, even as I knew I couldn’t avoid this vacation.

  I’d stayed away from him for so long. Each day apart had been painful.

  I deserved this.

  Didn’t I?

  Just a short time together before the world drew us apart once more.

  My focus was off for the rest of the time onboard, and I managed to grab some sleep. Adam gently woke me when it was time to land, and I sighed when he pressed a kiss to my lips as he did so.

  “I want to wake up with you every day like this.”

  God, I did too.

  Denying this, avoiding us, was so fucking painful.

  I sucked in a shuddery breath as I slipped an arm around his shoulders and brought him back to me.

  The kiss was slow and sweet, long and languid. I didn’t care that my mouth probably tasted gross, and neither did he. Both of us had been traveling for hours, and we weren’t the freshest apples in the bowl, but it didn’t matter because I was his, and he was mine.

  I shuddered into the kiss as he pulled away when the stewardess cleared her throat, and we quickly put our seats into the appropriate positions for landing.

  His hand entwined with mine as we began our descent, and we landed in Australia with little aplomb.

  An hour later, baggage in hand, and through customs, we took our first breath of non-airport circulated air.

  It smelled of diesel and gas, nothing special, but the sun was warm, even if the skies were gray.

  Adam remained behind the trolley with the bags, while I only carried my purse as we sought out a taxi.

  It didn’t take long, and we were suddenly driving through the Gold Coast heading to Broadbeach.

  The city blurred past us, even though things were so much different here. I’d been to Australia a few times, but had never traveled up to Queensland. It was why I wanted to vacation here and why I didn’t care that the taxi driver had definitely taken us on the longer route to our destination, because I wanted to see it from this angle, while I was relaxed and a little sleepy with Adam at my side.

  The vibe in Australia was like nowhere I’d ever been before. There was an expectancy in the air, like each man, woman, and child was trying to figure out how to get the most out of their day. We passed parks where people were stretched out on the grass, napping, and so many churches and schools all along one stretch that I had to figure this was their Bible Belt. But as we veered toward Broadbeach, things grew a little more touristy, but still with that twang that was unique here.

  I saw dozens of different restaurants, huge swathes of lawn and fountains, but more importantly, I saw the ocean.

  Somehow, we’d driven toward it without seeing it once—damn highways—but the second I did?

  I sighed.

  As we stepped out of the vehicle and Adam handled the fare, I sucked in a deep breath.

  Here was the tang I’d been waiting for.

  The air was sticky with salt. There was a different humidity here, and in the near distance, I could hear the roar of the ocean, could feel it in my veins like I could feel arousal when I was near Adam.

  I st
ood on the sidewalk, just beside the building where we’d be staying, and I peered down toward the beach.

  The urge to run across the sand, toward the rugged shoreline, was a tempting one. I could feel the beat of the tide pulsing like a song I wanted to dance to.

  “It’s a shame there are cars parked there,” Adam murmured, stepping to my side and curving an arm around my waist as he supported me.

  It was, I guessed, but I shrugged. “They have to park somewhere.”

  “So practical,” he teased, laughing as he did so.

  I shrugged. “I don’t care. I bet, once you’re on the sand, you feel like you’re in your own world.”

  “It doesn’t look busy,” he agreed. Then he tipped his head back and looked at the sky. “Might rain.”

  “You afraid of a few drops of water?”

  He snorted. “No. But I don’t think we should go swimming in the middle of a storm.”

  Though I agreed, I muttered, “Wuss.” Then I squealed when he tightened his arm around my waist and dove into my throat. When he bit me, I moaned, my knees sagging. The groan escaped me before I could contain it, but there was no need to hide what he did to me.

  He already knew.

  His arm around my belly had tightened up in anticipation of my sudden drop, and I was hauled even more into his side.

  “We need to sleep first,” he rumbled against the tender skin he’d just bitten.

  “Spoilsport,” I whispered.

  “No. Someone’s got to look after you,” he retorted. Then, he was shaking his head. “If you’d come alone, you’d have gone into the ocean, wouldn’t you?”

  I shrugged, but that was answer enough.

  “You have to look after yourself, Thea. You can’t put yourself in danger.”

  I knew my eyes were blank when I turned to face the ocean. “I’m never in danger in the water.”

  “You might swim like a fish, but you aren’t one. Nor are you a goddamn mermaid,” he rattled out, and I knew his temper was founded in concern for me, so I didn’t rise to the bait.

  I wasn’t alone.

  He was here.

  I was safe.

  “You have to think about me, Thea,” he rumbled, making my heart stutter.