Everywhere Unraveled (Foundlings Book 2)

by Fiona Keane

  “Is this it?”

  “Almost.” He laughed. “I can’t hold it anymore, Soph. I’m sorry.” He pulled into the parking lot of a rest stop.

  “Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to your bladder and kidneys.”

  “Will do.” He pulled his keys from the ignition and turned to me. “Come inside with me and stretch your legs for a minute. I won’t be long.”

  Nodding, I stepped out from the car and opened the back door for his school bag. There was too much money, and his photographs were too precious, for that to be left unattended. I followed Jameson into the building and paced the tiled lobby while I waited for him. Large maps of Florida and Georgia were on display on a corkboard, surrounded by travel brochures for sightseers. Not this trip.

  “Let me carry that,” Jameson said as he stepped from the restroom and reached for the strap of his bag. “It looks like it weighs a ton.” I let him peel it from my body and carry it in his hands.

  “Ready?”

  “Yes. Careful,” I warned him.

  He nodded at me and lifted it over his shoulder, quickly glancing at me before walking toward the car. One look. He passed one brief look toward me and it was his quest for reassurance. Was this what I wanted to do? Did I need to do this? Yes. I followed him into his SUV, snuggling into the warm leather that enveloped my body. I heard the back door close before Jameson came to my side.

  “Hey,” he said as he swiftly pecked my forehead, his lips spreading into the flirtatious grin with which I was sure he lured people to their demise.

  “Hi,” I replied, my voice somewhat shaky.

  He pulled the seatbelt around my waist, clicking it in, and studying me. I could have done that myself. Well, no; my hands wouldn’t stop shaking in my lap and he noticed. I had a moment to review those maps. We were minutes from escaping Florida.

  “You’re sure?” His hand squeezed my knee once I was securely pressed into the passenger seat. I nodded. Jameson closed my door and glided to his, opening it and sliding into his seat. The engine purred as it revved into life and Jameson pulled away from the state I had just begun calling home.

  “I’ve probably got another hour in me. I think that will get us to Alabama. We can stop there for the night…Soph? You’ll wake up and it’ll be like To Kill A Mockingbird.”

  “What?” I laughed at him; of all the things he could compare any part of this frightening experience to, I hadn’t expected it to be one of my favorite books.

  “I…” his throat cleared, “I saw the book in your bedroom.”

  “Oh.” Florida. We had just cleared the border and I promised myself not to think about it.

  “I just meant Alabama is where that story took place…”

  “I know, Jameson. I got it.” I grabbed his hand while it curled around the gear shift. “Have you read that story?”

  “Gabe did.” He laughed, an embarrassed chuckle. “Jameson did not. Jameson was too busy in art class.”

  “I didn’t know that.” I was embarrassed. “That explains why your clothes were soiled half the time.”

  “I didn’t know you paid attention to those details.” He leaned over, grinning at me and forcing a blush across my cheeks. “But yes, I painted. What else did you notice about me at school?”

  “What?” I took my hand from his and crossed my arms defensively, feeling the giddy burn within my heart.

  “Well…” He smiled, staring at the road. “I first noticed your hair. Then I saw you smile. You smelled really pretty too, like flowers. But what called me to you was how introverted you are. You were so quiet and reserved. It was actually refreshing.”

  “You were refreshed that people depleted my batteries?” I chuckled, my heart warming with our casual banter. It felt like we were an old couple on their first date; like there was history, but it was all new and undiscovered.

  “Well…” His eyes quickly flashed to mine, renewed with a golden glow. “I was attracted to you immediately, if that makes you feel better. Let’s cut to the chase, right?”

  “Right,” I mumbled, lifting my knees beneath my chin, glowing a deep burgundy in response to his soft, rumbling laughter.

  “Soph…” He continued to laugh. “Relax. I’m having a really great time getting to know you right now. We have pieces of each other that are still a mystery. We still have stories yet to be told.”

  “Oh?” My head rolled to face him, observing how tired his face was.

  “Yes.”

  Smiling, I continued, “What’s your story, Jameson Burke?”

  “My story?” Jameson’s left fingers rubbed along his jaw, his mind deep in thought.

  “It starts and ends with you, Sophia Reid,” he continued. “You know how to drive, right?”

  To begin, my heart had stopped. I think I died…or I was in the process of dying. His sweetness made my teeth hurt in the most beautiful, desirable way. That was the love I didn’t know. That was the foreign, terrifying, and absolutely consuming, hopeless love that I also felt. I did. Secondly, of course I knew how to drive. Effectively communicating my feelings, no. Driving, yes.

  “Of course I do. I stole Jules’s car.” I laughed. “Why?”

  “I’m falling asleep.”

  “Let me drive.”

  “No.” He shook his head, pulling off the freeway. “We’ll stay at a hotel. I don’t want you to drive alone at night. There’s too much for you to worry about to focus on that. Besides, I’m not much of a protector if I’m asleep.”

  There was no use in arguing with Jameson on the issue so I watched submissively as he pulled into the parking lot of a small hotel. It looked clean enough on the outside, but I sort of resisted leaving the car. As Jameson killed the ignition, I grabbed his arm and looked at the amused smile spreading on his lips.

  “It’s fine,” he assured me. “Nothing is going to happen to you while I’m holding you in bed. I promise.”

  “If you say so. I’m still putting a chair at the door.”

  “What are you talking about?” His laugh echoed outside of the car as he climbed out and opened the back door for my bag. I closed the door behind me and followed Jameson to the front of the car, grabbing his arm while we walked.

  “My mom told me once about this girl she knew who stayed at a hotel that was right out of a horror movie.”

  “Just stop, Soph.” He laughed at me as he held open the front door of the hotel.

  “No. Listen. She was afraid of sleeping in there, even with her husband, and she put a chair beneath the doorknob so nobody could get in, but she woke up in the middle of the night and some nut-job psycho was sitting in the chair.”

  “Was he smiling at her?”

  “Yes! How did you know?”

  “Because I saw that in a movie once. You’re so gullible. It’s adorable.” Jameson bent to kiss my forehead, sighing once his laughter had subsided.

  I waited at his side while he checked in with the front desk. I was floating between my own strange state of heightened, gullible alertness and desperation for sleep. I stood in a daze at his side and only returned to speaking once his left arm spun me around and held me at his side.

  “It wasn’t a movie. It really happened,” I urged.

  “Okay.” Jameson guided me toward the hallway. “We’re room twenty-five.”

  “What are you going to do if someone breaks into our room in the middle of the night, Jameson? You’re driving a BMW, for heaven’s sake.”

  “I don’t know, Soph.” His hands pulled against his face and the small laughter returned to his throat. “I guess I’ll ask how they’re doing. Maybe they have some tourist tips for us.” I smacked his chest, earning his laughter and pathetic, overly dramatic act of injury.

  “How can I hold you if you break my arm?”

  “You’ll find a way.” I smiled up at him.

  Jameson nodded, his eyes full of exhaustion but smiling widely at me. He placed the key into the door, opening it to reveal the musty hotel room. I was hesitant to
step in first.

  “Look.” He nodded into the room. “There are two chairs, Soph. We’re definitely safe here.”

  “Ha,” I mocked, following him in.

  He placed his school bag on the laminate dresser, next to the outdated television. My gaze fell upon his reflection in the mirror above the dresser, watching as Jameson pulled off his shirt and scratched his head. His face turned, catching my stare in the mirror, and I knew my cheeks turned pink.

  “This bed was probably used in a porno.” He laughed, breaking the silence and reaching for his shirt. “Are there towels in any of those drawers?”

  “For what?” Oh, my god, put your shirt on. Please.

  “Um…” He laughed, approaching my frozen figure. “A shower? I haven’t taken one in days…”

  “I’m too tired.” I yawned, finally pulling my sheepish eyes from the mirror and turning toward the bed. “I’ll take one in the morning.”

  One bed. This again. Jameson followed my gaze, returning his eyes to the mattress. His hand squeezed my shoulder while his lips gently met my hair.

  “Get in,” he whispered. “I can’t protect you from the scary movie guy if I’m asleep on the floor with the cockroaches.”

  Those thoughts were enough to send me into panic, but his crackled whisper against my ear melted me into a pile of compliance. Still fully dressed, I lifted the sheet and climbed in. My eyes quickly shut, despite the flat pillow and uncomfortably hard mattress, craving sleep. I was on my left side when the mattress shifted and Jameson’s lips were against my forehead. Please don’t let me die in this hotel room tonight.

  “Tell me why you left before,” he whispered, my mind just above sleep. “Please, Soph?”

  “I run.”

  “No. Beyond that. I’d run if I were you too. Heck, I am running with you. But before, at the Ritz, in the hall…you pushed me away. Why did you leave?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it, Jameson. I want to sleep. I want to forget it.”

  “I can’t, though.”

  My eyes flew open, startled by the proximity of his body against mine. Exhausted pools of hazel pleaded with me for answers. I responded with a heavy sigh, my mind threatening panic at reflection of the day.

  “When my mom was killed,” I waited, willing my mind not to shut down, “…I couldn’t stay in Oregon, obviously…”

  “Did you have friends there?”

  “I had one or two. I don’t require people to function. I think you know that by now.” I smiled up at him, warmed by the tender expression on his face.

  “Did you get to say goodbye?”

  “Where are you going with this? And would you let me finish?”

  Jameson kissed my forehead, softening my tone, and whispered, “I was just thinking how you started all over here and I…all of this…caused you pain.”

  “It does.” My eyes closed in reflection. “But it won’t for always. I had to start over with you three times in a month, Jameson. That is what was the most difficult for me. Hearing Thomas tell you to leave me again…I couldn’t handle it.”

  “I wouldn’t have listened to his order again, Soph. Please believe that. The first time I did…I messed up. I thought I was doing what was best for you.”

  “Listen to me, Jameson. I don’t do people. I don’t do scary things. I don’t socialize; I don’t talk to people with whom I am uncomfortable…and I had to do all of that, over and over, to be with you. It was incredibly overwhelming. I just…”

  “You needed space.”

  “I needed space.”

  “Do you…do you still feel that way?” His brows met in concern while his left hand lifted to my face, gently stroking my cheek. It tickled when Jameson placed some hair behind my right ear. I let out a sigh of comfort, closing my eyes. What a day.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-THREE

  JAMESON

  I didn’t want to wake Soph. The way the dawning sky and dying moon glowed against her face in bed was enough to keep me in a perpetual state of pause. I couldn’t get her to elaborate on her thoughts and I felt like the wall I had rebuilt between us was growing deeper, despite her running away with me. I forced myself not to feel that way, ever, and not to care, but I was so beyond who I was a month ago. There was no going back from the person Soph had made me. I felt whole again. My soul felt as though Soph was on her hands and knees, collecting the shattered pieces of my heart, my memory, and assembling them despite the cuts and scrapes she incurred.

  I rolled my head against the pillow, glancing toward the door and laughing to myself when I noticed Soph had woken at some point and placed a chair beneath the knob. I was surprised she even got out of bed to use the bathroom, let alone put up the chair. She made me sleep on the door side of the bed, so nobody would get her. It was easy for me to protect her from the fictional monsters. It was the real ones I struggled with.

  I had to get our next steps in order. My head rolled to the left, absorbing what my mind would allow of Soph’s sleeping form. She was curled in a ball on her right side, hands beneath her cheek, facing me, sound asleep with her lips slightly parted. I could eat them…just a quick nibble. Holy hell, Jameson. Control yourself. I needed to shower in the Arctic. I hadn’t lied earlier. She was entirely my undoing, and delightfully so.

  I pulled some sort of crazy gymnastic move to get out of the bed without waking her. I was on the nasty carpet floor, reaching for my cell phone, searching for my shirt when I heard her weight shift. Frozen and crouching with all my weight on my left knee, I waited at the side of the bed for her to settle again. When she was still, I pulled my shirt over my head, grabbed the room key, and stepped into the hallway.

  I walked, regrettably barefoot, down to the opposite end and out the narrow exit door, searching for the familiar contact in my phone. I felt like a criminal while I walked along the sidewalk. I listened to the soundtrack of early morning freeway traffic as I waited.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s Jamie,” I whispered, my restless feet still pacing the sidewalk, “I’m sorry to call you so early. I need your help.”

  “What’s going on?” Olivia’s tired voice muttered from the other line. “Is Sophia okay?”

  “Yes,” I assured her. “I need to talk to your dad, Liv.”

  “He’s not awake. It’s…Jamie, it’s like four in the morning. Tell me what’s going on?”

  “I can’t…yet. Just trust me. Believe me.” My left fingers dragged through my scalp, firing unsettled nerves into my brain. Just wake him up, Olivia.

  “What do you mean? Jamie, what are you talking about? Let me talk to Sophia.”

  “She’s asleep.”

  “You’re with her?”

  “Yes. She’s fine, Olivia. We’re fine.”

  She huffed, her voice now awake with condemnation. “I thought I knew you, Jamie. You really hurt her. I’m going to find you and kick you in the junk again.”

  “You do know me, Olivia,” I groaned, beyond frustrated this conversation was already so long, keeping me from Soph. “Trust me.”

  “I did. I was your best friend when you moved here.”

  “Soph’s too.” I smiled. “You sure have a knack for taking in the orphans.”

  “Or I care about people. So, let this be your final warning…”

  “Got it. Can you please get your dad?”

  I heard Olivia grumble something, followed by static noise before a male’s voice resumed our conversation.

  “Jameson?”

  “Mr. Hart.” My posture stiffened. This was it.

  “What can I do for you, son?”

  My free hand pulled along my face, bracing myself for the reality of this dialogue.

  “I needed to leave Florida for a while,” I whispered. “I remember you told me once when I first got there…you told me if I was ever in need of help, that I could call you…I wanted to know if that offer still stands.”

  His response was mute. Silence. I’m such an imbecile. He’s goi
ng to call Thomas, flag my phone, and this will all be for nothing.

  “Let me call you back from my phone. This number?”

  “Yes, sir.” Click.

  I glanced at my phone, watching Olivia’s contact photo fade away. The moon and sun were bidding each other farewell, holding on to their last embrace as the stars drifted behind the rising glow of morning. I paced back and forth, knowing if Soph woke without me in the room, she would panic. My phone buzzed with an unknown number.

  “Hello?”

  “Jameson,” Mr. Hart said, as relief washed over me. “What do you need?”

  “I need your help.”

  “Where are you going, Jameson?”

  “I don’t know yet…I once overheard you and Thomas talking about some work you did for a case he had to oversee. There was a kid involved. He was testifying against some psycho who shot outside of his school.”

  “Right. The Colfax case.”

  “The kid never came in to testify the second time,” I continued, hoping he would admit my theory. “You helped him. Didn’t you? You helped him get out of Florida?” Silence.

  “Jameson,” Mr. Hart’s throat cleared. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, and whatever it is you’re suggesting is entirely absurd and illegal. I’m going to give you the contact of a friend of mine. Since you don’t know where you’re going, he should be easy for you to find. I’ll text you.”

  “Thank you, sir.” My words were brief.

  Living with Thomas for four years taught me literacy in avoidance. I could read between the lines. He’s actually helping me run. He’s helping me keep Soph safe.

  “Mr. Hart?”

  “Yes?”

  “If you do happen to come across my aunt and uncle…” I smiled to myself. “Please tell them thank you for everything they did.”

  “Take care, Jameson.”