by Wylder Stone
Nature serenaded them over dinner while sitting out on the deck. They ate the fish they caught – it went well with the beer.
“So, tell me something about you that I don’t already know,” she chimed, “and I already know you like to run, drink beer, and grunt a lot.”
“I don’t grunt. I just don’t always like to talk.” That’s where he wasn’t being honest. He did like to talk and wanted to talk to her and tell her everything. He just couldn’t because it wasn’t safe to get that close to one another.
“Oh c’mon, Force. I know you have a niece, at least one brother, and of course parents because…” She waved her hand up and down at him. “Well, you’re here, and that takes…parents.”
“That was a really weird way to say that.”
“Ehh, you’re deflecting. Out with it. You know everything about me. You probably know what kind of cake I had at my ninth birthday because of all your top secret, ninja, borderline stalker resources. In fact, chocolate or vanilla?”
“Vanilla,” he said without hesitation.
Her eyes widened in surprise before Trista squinted in disbelief. “Lucky guess.”
“I’m actually trained to read people. I can tell when they are lying, too. You did this little thing with your eyebrows when you said vanilla…gave the whole thing away,” he said with an it was too easy demeanor.
“Okay.” Trista put her hands over her eyebrows so she wouldn’t give anything away, and asked, “Did I have a unicorn or pony theme?”
With a mocking grin and tone, he fired back confidently, “Both. They’re both a type of horse, and you could never choose one over the other because you…love…horses.”
Giving nothing away, she sat quiet and still before dropping her hands in defeat. In a pitchy timbre, Trista asked, “How do you do that?”
With a nonchalant shrug and a no big deal attitude, he replied, “It’s a gift. Look, I know you. I know you love horses. It made sense.”
“So, you guessed.”
“Basically, but not until after I read you. Like I said, I know you.”
“So, you do,” she said. “Now let me get to know you…dish. Family. Spill it.”
“Well, I have a niece…” With his head down, looking at his plate, he peeked up at her through his dark, thick lashes to see her expression. “…a brother, parents.”
“Ha, sarcasm…shocker. I’m serious. There is more to Owen Force than that,” Trista said, “A lot more.”
Against his better judgment, he divulged far more than he should. “Okay, okay. I have four younger brothers and a little sister. She’s the youngest.”
“Only girl, with five older brothers? If they are anything like you, ouch! Poor girl!” Her teasing was taken as such, and he laughed at the accurate observation.
“Yeah, Lyla had it rough. We babied her until boys came around. Then we just humiliated her. It all worked out, though. She’s sweet as pie but tough as nails. The way I see it, she’s lucky to have us. She’s a fiery redhead, just like our niece, Ruby. Ruby is the spitting image of Lyla…it’s almost scary.”
“Good. Sounds like you boys need some strong-willed girls to keep you in line. So, tell me about your brothers. You said one had married and lost his wife? What about the others? Why aren’t the Force boys married? Are you that bad?”
“James married his high school sweetheart, Hannah. She was like a sister to the rest of us. We’d all known each other most of our lives. She fell ill while pregnant, and was diagnosed with an autoimmune disorder that pregnancy just made worse, but she insisted on having the baby. She fought hard to regain her health after Ruby was born. Reclaimed her health and did well for quite a while. But then, there was a car accident – her health stuff played a role, we’ll never know. Anyway, we lost her.” Owen looked off as he relived a painful memory. It was apparent that the loss was still very raw.
“That’s incredibly tragic.” She replied.
“Ruby got her mom for a while though, so we’re all grateful for that. She got to know her and have memories with her. James hasn’t been the same since, and he struggles with balancing grief and raising Ruby. Some days it’s just too much, so we all help where we can.”
Trista swiped away a single tear that had formed while hearing such a horrific story. She was a mother, it hit home for her. Especially since there was a very real possibility that her son could grow up not knowing his mother. It didn’t matter that she didn’t know the people Owen was talking about, it was relatable and horrific regardless. “That is awful. I am so sorry for your loss.”
“It is what it is, right? Life is just that, life. We aren’t guaranteed anything but the opportunity to deal with whatever hand we’re dealt and come out the other side the best way we can,” he said as his way of dealing with how her loss affected the family. “Anyway, James is a twin. Jackson is his other half. Those two couldn’t be more different but have a connection none of the rest of us have.”
“Oooh, twin boys, your poor mother!” Trista teased, then the reality hit her. “Wow. Your poor mom.”
“You already said that…” Owen laughed.
“Well, six children are a lot. Especially when five are boys, and two of them twins! She must be a saint!”
“My mom…yeah, I guess she sort of is. She put up with a lot of crap. We were always thick as thieves and getting into some sort of trouble. Derek is fourth in line and sort of the ring leader of trouble – always been a daredevil. Then Troy. He’s the youngest, but he’s the biggest because he had to be. We gave him a lot of shit – always called him a mama’s boy.”
“Oh, that’s mean. There is nothing wrong with a mama’s boy. There’s something special about that bond,” Trista defended, thinking of her own son.
“Oh, I know. He didn’t care much, though. He could kick all of our asses even though he’s still a mama’s boy. He’s all fun and games, a real prankster, who laughs at his own stupid jokes. But he also takes care of business and would give you the shirt off his back if you needed it. He’s a good kid.” It was nice to speak freely about his family in this way, but something about it also pained him a little. He couldn’t tell her everything, and it felt a bit like denying them something.
“That’s actually kind of beautiful, to be so close. You take care of each other. I wouldn’t know what that’s like. I’ve always wanted a big family, close, too. You’re all very lucky to have each other. It all makes sense now. You’re the oldest? That’s why you grunt so much. You’re used to annoying tag-a-longs.”
Maybe telling her wasn’t such a bad idea after all. “That’s right. We are close. We would do anything for each other. I’ve been undercover for about two years. That means no contact with my family, or I put them in danger.”
“So, what do they all do…are they they covert, undercover, tough guy types like you?” she playfully asked.
Now that was a loaded question. Telling her how many siblings he had and that they were a close family was one thing. Getting into the full family dynamic was another. Letting her in as he did was dangerous enough. The truth could make her a target.
Owen answered as honestly and vaguely as he could. Just enough to satisfy her curiosity but without compromising anything either. “They’re all in…the family business.”
“Oh. They all work together too! That’s amazing. You’re the odd duck, then, huh?” She was impressed by their bond, but more so by the fact that Owen was opening up and letting her in, even if it was with limits and boundaries. It felt less lonely.
“Umm, something like that.” That was all Trista needed to know – for now.
Their evening conversation went well into the night while Owen elaborated only on what he had shared so far. His family of personalities and shenanigans – the rest was still off-limits. He told her about how his parents owned a brewery in the city that he and his brothers called home, while their sister moved away to the family vacation home in the mountains just so she could date without their interference. The
ir cousins were like siblings, and there were a lot more of them out there, but he didn’t elaborate much there. She’d know the whole story eventually.
It was nice to see the side of Owen that had his heart. His walls were down, even if only for the evening, and she saw who he really was. He was loyal, loving, and die-hard.
Trista wanted to build that someday. She didn’t realize how badly until now. She could sit and listen to Owen’s funny stories about his family mischief for hours. They were sweet and made her a little green with envy.
It also made her see just how superficial her life with Cesar was and that it took tremendous tragedy and misfortune, like life on the run, to see it. Cesar swept her off her feet, got her out of Atlanta, and promised a happily ever after that ended not long after the wedding. None of their life together was real, despite having everything money could buy. Trista wasn’t real, until now. She wanted what real people had. The stuff money couldn’t buy.
When her eyes were too heavy, and sleep began to claim her, Trista reluctantly went inside for the night but demanded more stories the next day. Owen was looking forward to it. He didn’t doubt her when Trista said she wanted a big family like his. It was obvious by the way she hung on his every word. It suited her – the real her.
Simple living looked good on her. Owen noticed the changes Trista had made. She was an entirely new person. The best part was Trista liked the person she was now. All she’d really wanted was a simple life and to raise her son. Perhaps find a real happily ever after while she was at it.
He wanted that for her. Trista deserved it after what she had been through. She traded in her proverbial silver spoon for a plastic one. It wasn’t shiny, and it wasn’t high maintenance. It was just what Trista needed and nothing more.
Lost in thoughts about what she needed or deserved in her life, and always coming up with himself, he cleared the remaining dishes from the table and turned in for the night himself. Without a single regret over telling her about his personal life, he felt lighter. Even if it tied them closer together and that meant danger for her, he was committed to keeping her safe at all costs – and probably would, always. This wasn’t the kind of story that ended abruptly. It was the kind that went on long after the villain was apprehended by the hero and the heroine was rescued from the tower she’d been locked in for years.
4
A little cheating went a long way. At least as far as Trista was concerned. Cutting through an open space between a couple of clusters of trees, she chose a shortcut, rather than running the length of the berm that sat between their house and the lake, then going up and over. She went all flat land in an effort to win because those bluffs were steep and kicked her ass.
Running up the steps to the rear deck, Trista turned to see Owen crest the rocky berm, nearly on his way down. She only had a few minutes to pull off her surprise. It was all Trista needed, and it was going to be totally worth it.
While shopping together in town the day before, she put a plan together. Trista excused herself and said she would meet him at the exit, to which he didn’t argue because Owen really didn’t want to know what she needed to buy…in private.
She let him believe it was something very private like tampons. He didn’t question a thing. After checking out as far from the exit as she could, Trista kept a straight face so he’d continue to assume it was something she was embarrassed to mention and he didn’t want to know about. When you’re together all the time with very little personal space, especially in public, you did what you had to if you wanted to surprise the person who was your constant sidekick.
Quickly grabbing the items Trista had stowed under her bed the day before, and two bottled waters on her way back outside, she had just enough time to sit and make it look like she’d been there for hours. Owen couldn’t see Trista, sitting as she was. She was just high enough, and the railing gave her a nice cover. Trista could see him, though, between the rails, looking over his shoulder every few seconds. Owen was looking for her to come over the berm.
“There you are. Started to worry when I didn’t see you behind me.” He was out of breath and pacing back and forth to cool down.
With her legs stretched out in front of her, perched on the railing that surrounded the upper deck, she tossed him a water. “Nah, I’ve been here for at least ten, twenty minutes. Didn’t mean to worry you.”
“Ten or twenty minutes? How the hell did you beat me by that much?” He looked at his watch as shock and bewilderment told her exactly what was going on in his head.
Pulling her legs from their place on the railing and turning in her seat, she tossed a thumb over her shoulder, directing his view to the far side of the deck. “Give or take. I ran the rim of the berm, much flatter and faster, I guess. I had enough time to grab waters and have a seat. Oh, and set those babies up.”
Following her gesture, he noticed two long mats, one blue, one pink, set up next to each other. “Yoga mats?”
“Yep! My turn to teach you something. Yoga.” Bolting to her feet, Trista’s hands went to her hips, and she wore a proud smile. She pulled it off. He was surprised. It was still unclear if it was a good surprise, though.
He chuckled. “Huh. Yoga mats. Is that why you needed purchase privacy yesterday? I thought you needed, well, it doesn’t matter.”
“I know what you were thinking. That was the plan. I wanted to surprise you. So are you surprised?” Trista’s question hopeful.
Rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, he answered, “I’m…something alright. I don’t know if yoga is really my thing.”
“Drink up, and catch your breath. Your workout has only just begun, Force.”
“Oh, really? Pretty sure I can handle a few down with the dogs and sun salutes,” Owen guffawed.
Melodramatic eye roll delivered, she corrected his failed attempt at yoga lingo. “You mean downward dog and sun salutation. Okay, tough guy. Let’s see how you survive yoga. Welcome to Berley Rose Studio.”
5
With their first yoga session behind them and post-workout showers done, Trista spent time resting and reflecting. She couldn’t help the budding feelings she was having for Owen and had to remind herself that this was just business and a relationship would be inappropriate. Technically, Trista was still married, even if nothing that resembled love remained in her heart for her husband, only disgust and anger.
It didn’t help that Owen was looking at her differently and treating her different. It left her wondering why? What it meant and if that was just him being a friend during a time when she needed one. Even though he was more open with her, she realized he was still very guarded. That’s why she questioned his change in disposition. Maybe he was just making the best of a bad situation. It was odd, though. Some days she forgot they were on the run. That there was a psychopath out there, possibly looking for her at that very moment.
They had become so settled and comfortable in their day to day that Trista was almost content. She just missed her son, however. Having him there would have made it perfect. Or as perfect as a situation such as theirs could be.
Laughter overcame her when Trista thought about how awkward Owen had been at yoga. He tried – she’d give him that – but big burly men just weren’t entirely graceful. And they fell a lot. Hard. When they were done for the day, he was limping and mumbling something about soaking in a hot bath.
Ready to get on with her day, she went to meet him on the back deck as they always did. It was their favorite spot. Both could just sit there for hours with hardly a word between them and be content. It wasn’t like before when the silence was out of anger or annoyance. It was just them, enjoying the company – their silence speaking volumes as they watched nature at work and took in its wonders.
When she saw that Owen’s bedroom door was already open, Trista figured he beat her to the back. He usually did. What she wasn’t expecting was to find him there with a big pleased smile plastered across his face. Her eyes glassed over, filling with tears
. Owen stood next to the only thing to make her day better than it already was. Her art easel. Her canvases. Her paints.
“You surprised me, so it’s my turn to surprise you. My surprise is less painful. I just want to point that out,” Owen said while rubbing out his shoulder.
“Yoga? Painful? Real tough guy, huh?” A tear made its way down Trista’s cheek when she dragged her hand down the blank canvas. “What should I paint?”
“So…you like it? Surprised?”
She leaped into his arms, overjoyed by the gesture. He held her, lifting her off the ground, pulling her in, and she melted. When he slowly put her back on her feet, she tilted her head back to look at him. Nearly nose to nose, they were locked in each other’s stare.
The earth quaked beneath their feet, a certain heat between them intensifying. Who needed fireworks when the seductive tension between them could make the earth move from the undeniable spark coursing through them. Eyes heavy from the sensual desire building, he leaned in for a kiss but missed his shot when the earth quaked once again. This time from a military jet flying over, interrupting their near entanglement.
Laughter consumed them both at the timing of it all. Desire quickly turned awkward, the moment a bust.
“I just don’t understand where you get these things so quickly. We’re always together. Smoothie makers out of nowhere, all of our IDs as soon as we need them, now all of my art stuff? I mean, it’s been months. I figured it was just…gone. If my old makeup shows up…” She looked up at him, their eyes locked once again.
“We’re never alone. Help is always nearby even just to grab stuff. It just takes some a little longer to get here. A big art easel and stack of supplies is a little more to deal with than a couple of IDs.”
“Oh, you said you needed a cleanout at the last place…I guess I know what that means now,” she figured, to which he nodded. “Your team?”