by C. D. Gill
“No leads after five years of thinking about it.”
“I’m desperate for your help, Gia, or I promise I wouldn’t ask.” Xander slid off the stool and went outside to flip the chicken. At least he was making money to rebuild his future. A future that had nothing to do with his felon status. But what good would that life be if his family couldn’t be a part of it?
What if he couldn’t ever prove to his family that he was innocent? They had to believe that he wasn’t the horrible person they thought he was.
Lady A stormed over to him and seized his lungs like she owned them, and she did for those minutes where her vice-grip refused to loosen. The colors dulled. All he could hear was the pounding of his heart in his ears.
When the air returned to his lungs, his back was against a wall in the kitchen as he inflated and deflated a brown paper bag. A very concerned Gia knelt in front of him. Her hand was warm on his shoulder as she murmured, “deep breaths, inhale slowly.” Heat rushed to his cheeks. Now that she’d seen his panic attack, she’d write him off as a defenseless coward for good. He dropped his head against the wall and set the bag on the ground.
“So was that the ‘asthma attack’ Lucy swore she witnessed?” He couldn’t look at her face but the humor tinted her voice.
Staring out the window, he grimaced and nodded.
“I’m going to grab the chicken off the grill. You sit on that stool and drink your water.” She didn’t offer to help him up or give him some worthless platitude, giving him a chance at some semblance of dignity. By the time she returned, he’d drained his water and refilled it so she wouldn’t think he was trying to get away with one glass. He leaned against the stool back. When had he started caring what she thought of his actions?
Gia dished food onto his plate and set it in front of him. When hers was filled, she sat next to him. “So how long have you had ‘asthma’?”
Xander smirked as he cut into his chicken that turned out perfectly despite his lack of attention. “The attacks started in prison. Jerry diagnosed me. They used to be all the time. Since I’ve been out, I have only had a few.”
“The first?”
“Was when Lucy told me about your family being...” he stopped and waved his speared chicken in the air, “who they are. I thought maybe you would think I had targeted you for help. The next was when you suggested making playhouses for kids. You went to get the car and I couldn’t follow you because I had an attack.”
“Ah. You let me think you were lazy. They come when you’re surprised and when they have something to do with your predicament.”
He’d never thought his triggers through before. “Sounds right.”
“Maybe someone targeted you because you took what they wanted. You said before you were on the list to be a part of the US Men’s National Soccer Team coaching staff.”
Xander shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense. Why was I the only one on the short list targeted? The others on the list were spread across the country.”
This particular dead end felt so familiar.
After dinner, Gia roped him into watching an action movie while eating ice cream. She sprawled out on the couch and draped her legs over his lap like they were dating. Xander shoved the thought aside as he reached for her feet. She didn’t pull away, so he pushed his thumbs into the arches of her feet. All the movie actors looked so much older these days. Some of them aged well as they should have with as much money as they made. With millions to spend, anyone could look twenty years younger than their actual age. When the movie ended, Xander turned on the overhead light. In the brightness her feet on his lap felt too close, too intimate. Suppressing a sigh, he set Gia’s feet onto the couch.
She moaned and threw an arm over her eyes. “I’m too relaxed to walk. Your fault. I’ll give you twenty dollars to carry me to my room right now.”
Xander let his eyes linger over her limp form on the couch and murmured. “You do like to play with fire.”
He liked her a lot. She was fierce, kind, generous, and funny. She liked sports, building things, and helping others. She was smarter than he was, not to mention gorgeous. The strong urge to carry her to her room was reason enough not to. Everyone he was close to disliked him and she would find a reason to, as well. She was probably kidding anyway.
Her arm dropped from her eyes as she stared at him, her lips parted. “What’d you say?”
No need to muddy the waters with feelings. “I said, ‘you’re such a liar.’” Xander grabbed a pillow from the couch and tossed it on her stomach. He grabbed their ice cream dishes and headed to the kitchen. “I’ll see you in the morning. Lock the doors behind me.” Summoning the little self-discipline he had, he strolled out the door and waited on his staircase until he heard all the locks click into place and then went to bed.
*****
The next morning, Xander browsed a boutique shop next to the office while Gia delivered the footage from her security camera to the police. In the back of the store, a floor-to-ceiling glass display case housed a variety of collectibles. There at eye level was a replica of his grandfather’s sailboat, although the paint scheme differed. He’d know it anywhere. After Grandpa died, Dad hung a massive painting of Grandpa’s boat over the mantle. He’d loved his boat so much he’d commissioned a painting of it in the early seventies. Smooth Sailin’ Thru Life was her name and when Grandpa passed on in the nineties, Dad held onto the painting like a lifeline. The boat had been a restoration project that Dad helped Grandpa with as a teenager after Grandma died from a rare heart condition.
The small sailboat replica cost $125 but Sunday was Father’s Day. Maybe a gift to Dad would be the olive branch that would get their relationship back on track. Spending the money was worth it if only to make up for the years of gifts he’d missed. His luxury pillow could wait. Fifteen minutes later, Xander left the boutique with the sailboat gifted wrapped to perfection with a little card attached to the bag’s handle so he could write a note.
Sunday morning dawned rainy and dismal. Xander sat on his bed with the bag on the bed beside him. The blank note stared at him, mocking him. What words were appropriate after all this time? He scribbled a note that said “Happy Father’s Day. Wishing you smooth sailin’ for the rest of this year. Hope to see you soon. I love and miss you both, A.”
At breakfast, he told Gia he was going out for a couple of hours and would be back. He drove Chachi to Lakewood, wishing for yet another year he could sit comfortably with his family at a holiday dinner. Unless things had changed, the family would get together after church for a big lunch and watch Dad and Kelsey’s husband Doug open their gifts. His family was great about celebrating life with each other. Xander missed having someone or something to celebrate.
Xander parked Chachi in the driveway. The house was quiet as he expected. He sauntered to the doorstep, taking in the details of the flowers planted beside the walkway, the condition of the wood that was given a recent coat of paint, and the hole raccoons dug under the porch years ago to have their young. At the door, he placed the gift bag on the doormat where it would be tripped over at some point and protected from the rain by the porch awning. Xander raised his finger to the doorbell but froze.
Wasn’t it best for everyone if he stayed away? Xander dropped his hand and strode to the car. He sped out of the driveway and drove toward Denver. Since today was the day to torture himself with what could have been, it was the perfect time to make the visit he’d been putting off.
A moment of weakness yesterday had him looking up the Colorado Miners’ next home game. And there on the staff page was his ex-girlfriend’s smiling face. The game would start in thirty minutes. A Father’s Day tradition. He drove to the baseball field and found the patch between the outfield and the dugout where the fence was shorter. Strange how he remembered the small details after so many years of being away.
In the two years he’d dated Macy Kipling, he came to this field to watch her hard work in action whenever he wasn’t on the sideli
nes for his team. Macy was incredible at keeping these guys healthy and getting them repaired before sending them out to play. She was the most hands-on therapist in the minor league sports field. She’d have her pick of any major league teams in the next couple of years.
Xander scanned the dugout for Macy’s blonde hair and caught a glimpse of a head that could be hers. He shifted to see better. Beside the tunnel’s exit, Macy engaged in a lively conversation with an older man. She was close enough that he could hear her sweet laugh. Her hand landed on the arm of a tall brown-haired guy whose features somewhat resembled Xander’s. Athletes moved around the field giving him a clear visual of her as she rubbed her hand across her protruding belly.
His shoulders sagged as he dropped his head against the fence.
Macy had moved on. He knew she would. He’d kissed her one last time that night so long ago with all his goodbyes wrapped inside. She deserved a good man with no baggage. If his life had continued its path, that could have been him by her side and his baby on the way. Xander hadn’t purchased the ring yet, but he knew which one he was going to get her.
The inability to catch his breath lasted moments before clearing away.
None of that mattered now.
Turning to leave, Xander glanced one more time at his past that he’d been so sure would become his future. In the darkest moments through the years he’d imagined that maybe she waited for him, that she believed in their love and in him. But in a way, he was glad she hadn’t.
Macy’s eyes caught his gaze. Her registered surprise morphed into a tentative smile and a wave. The corners of his lips lifted as he gave her a nod, then he turned and walked away one last time. When his feet hit the pavement in the parking lot, he inhaled the fresh warm summer air—the smell of healing, freedom, and life. It was time to move past the crippling pain and endless hurt. It was time to fight for his survival and the future he envisioned.
Chapter 14
Since Friday, all Gia heard from Lucy was “when I kissed Tucker” this and “when he went in for a second kiss” that, so Gia quit texting back, nursing major regrets about asking for details. Gia wasn’t the jealous kind. Kissing Tucker was not on her wish list. She had Xander’s coma-inspiring foot rub to think about. Wasn’t that more attractive than a kiss anyway? Any man could kiss your lips so long as your breath isn’t foul, but a man who rubs your feet accepts you for who you are and embraces all the potentially hazardous parts of you. And that was not something any man volunteered for.
It’d been a blissful distraction from the stress over the interrogation and Bob’s gruesome death. She wasn’t naive. She’d grown up with a black father. He’d talked at length about how racism had affected him and his relatives. Every day he carried the fear of having a target on his back even as a successful, well-off black man. Her parents had prepared her for the reality of their world. It wasn’t fair. And they predicted something catastrophic would have to happen to actually see reform.
Xander understood injustice.
For the rest of the week, he had stayed on task with work and kept his hands to himself. It’s not that she read into things so much as that certain actions had their own level of meaning in her mind. In her mind—that’s where the drama was happening. Not in real life.
Gia paced in her office, listening to Xander hammer upstairs. Sunday he’d disappeared for a couple of hours and returned for lunch standing tall exuding the strangest sense of peace. Maybe she was overreacting to Joey’s call, but knowing Xander might be more feral than she anticipated had produced a burning sensation in her chest. She couldn’t think straight.
Joey was right. Life was getting to her. She’d be safer at home in New Orleans.
A knock interrupted her thoughts.
“Come in.”
The door cracked open and in stepped the last person in Golden that Gia wanted to see. Her stomach churned as she restrained her grimace. “Grant, what are you doing here?”
Grant hovered in the doorway with a large fruit basket in his hands. “I came to say I’m sorry about Bob. It’s never easy to see someone you knew die, especially not outside your office. I know you’d prefer not to see me, but I thought you’d appreciate fruit more than flowers.” He lifted the basket, exposing his taped fingers in a splint.
A small measure of satisfaction flooded through her. His gaze scanned the surfaces of Gia’s office which was the victim of a paper hurricane for somewhere to place the fruit. She let him struggle in the awkwardness of the moment. It seemed too kind to let him off the hook without some sort of suffering. With a grunt of frustration, he plopped the basket on her chair and nodded to her on his way out. “I’m here if you need anything or decide we can talk.”
“Thanks.” Her voice sounded flat.
She waited until she heard the door close behind him before she strolled over to the basket. Despite her frustration the chocolate-covered strawberries were calling her name. She slid one off the stick and popped it in her mouth, savoring the tang mixing with sweetness. She was a sucker for chocolate-covered fruit and Grant had made sure this basket had plenty of that. At least he was attempting to be thoughtful.
Xander’s footsteps thumped down the stairs and he swung into her office with a rap of the knuckles. “I’ve got more ready to take to Carlos.” He paused and reached for the fruit. “Nice fruit basket. Where’d you get it?”
A smile crept on to Gia’s face. Xander already treated what was hers like his and instead of annoying her, it flattered her. “Grant brought it by as a sympathy gift for Bob.”
Xander’s hand recoiled like the proximity of the fruit seared his fingertips. “In that case, I’ll pass.”
Gia shrugged. “More for me.” She bit into a chocolate-covered pineapple. “I’ll go with you. I have to get out of this office so I can think.”
They dropped off another dollhouse, more stools, and a few birdhouses that Xander had pieced together. One birdhouse he’d painted with the local high school’s colors from some crates he’d found. It was adorable and a smart move. At the office, Gia retrieved their lunches from her mini-fridge and laid the food out on the table in the front office where they could watch the pedestrians and cars go by. Xander volunteered for lunch-packing this morning and didn’t have to ask her how she liked her sandwich. That didn’t mean anything other than that he’d been haunting her kitchen for the past two weeks as she made meals. Nope, it didn’t mean a single thing.
Gia couldn’t take the suspense anymore. “What happened yesterday that has you so different today?”
Xander shrugged. “I got some closure and decided I’m ready to fight for my future. Holding on to past hurt will rob my life faster than a personal vendetta ever will.”
Fighting back a gag, Gia swallowed hard against the wave of nausea sweeping over her. She shoved her sandwich into the bag. Stabs of pain splintered her abdomen. Gia blinked to bring Xander’s face into focus.
Spinning. The room tilted left then right.
She swayed to her feet in time to bolt for the trash can with a heave.
Tears soaked her cheeks as her stomach insisted on emptying itself. The heat rushed over her. She stopped to catch her breath. A wet paper towel touched her hand. She grasped it and wiped her mouth and face.
“Is it my presence that makes you ill? Or do you think you caught that flu Lucy said kids have been spreading all over town like diseased rats?”
Gia almost summoned a laugh, but instead stuck her head in the trash can again. When she stopped, a tab popped on a can. Xander rested his hand on her back.
“Take a sip for me.”
With a shaky hand, Gia sipped the cold ginger ale dispelling the bitterness of bile.
“I do believe this is the second time I’ve had to rescue you when your insides have revolted.” Thank God Xander sounded more amused than angry.
Her body shivered.
“I’m making the executive decision and saying your work is done for the day. You need to be at home in bed.�
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Xander grabbed the trash bag from the can and replaced it with a new one. He came inside and helped her stand while she clutched the trash can to her stomach. This was beyond humiliating. She settled into the car while Xander made a few trips inside and finally claimed the driver’s seat.
“Why didn’t you tell me this morning you weren’t feeling well?” He started the car and drove without any jolts or sudden movements.
Gia winced at his words. “I felt fine this morning.” She rolled her head so she faced the window.
“The time frame is right for food poisoning or it could be an aggressive flu virus.”
Her stomach clenched and she buried her head in the trash can.
“Almost home.” Home. His words were like a cool washcloth on her skin.
Gia changed into shorts and a t-shirt while Xander retrieved another ginger ale for her. The rest of the afternoon disappeared in a blur. The trash can stayed by her side as did a glass of water that Xander insisted she take small sips from. Nothing stayed down. Finally around five o’clock the violent pains wore her out enough that she fell asleep.
Cracking her eyes open, Gia glanced at her clock. One in the morning. Her body ached but didn’t feel like twisting itself in knots. That was considerable progress. She stared at the ceiling waiting for sleep to reclaim her when a flood light clicked on in the front yard. Usually curiosity tempted her to at least peek at what wildlife crept across her land. This time she didn’t have the strength to do it.
A black silhouette appeared in her window. Big shadow. Broad shoulders. Weird-shaped head.
Gia rolled off her bed and scrambled for her hand gun in her night stand. She cocked her gun and aimed at the window but the glass shattered around her before she could pull the trigger. The alarm system screamed, piercing her eardrums. Glass shards showered the carpet. When she lifted her head and brushed the glass from her skin, she smelled smoke. Orange flames ignited her curtains, spreading to her bed. If she didn’t get out now, the fire would block her exit to the bedroom door. Glass pieces littered the floor, waiting to shred her bare feet.