Rush

by Beth Yarnall

  “What’s wrong?”

  She stared up at him, the phone clutched in her hand. He took it from her and put it to his ear, then jabbed the off button.

  “Who was that?” he demanded. “Who were you talking to?”

  “We have to go. We have to go.” She ran to the closet, grabbed her shoes, and headed to the elevator with Lucas on her heels.

  He gripped her elbow and pulled her around. “What’s going on? Where are you going?”

  She jerked her arm out of his grasp and punched the call button for the elevator, then punched it again.

  “Mi, wait,” he told her, then jogged back down the hall.

  “Come on, come on.” She smacked the button over and over until the doors finally slid open. She jumped inside and hit the lobby button.

  Lucas slid into the car, a shirt and gun in one hand, shoes and keys in the other. “What’s going on? Where are we going?”

  She paced the small space, fear squeezing her insides like a garlic press. Fire. Shit. Not again. Shit. Shit. Shit. She exploded out of the elevator, Lucas right on her heels.

  He pulled her up short just before she hit the door to the garage. “We’re not going one more step until you tell me what’s going on.” She tried to jerk away, but he only hauled her in closer. “Querida.”

  “My mom put Ethan in the fire again. I have to go.”

  “What?”

  “Lucas, please. Please. We have to go.”

  He didn’t argue. Didn’t ask anymore questions. It occurred to her vaguely that she should have wondered about that, but panic rode her hard and she couldn’t think about anything except getting to her mom.

  While they waited in his truck for the garage gate to roll up, he looked over at her. She could see the concern etched into the space between his brows. Why didn’t that gate move faster?

  “Where are we going?” he asked, slipping his shirt over his head.

  “My mom’s house in Garland.” She pounded the dashboard. “Hurry up, you stupid gate.”

  They didn’t speak until they were on the freeway. Lucas had managed to put his shoes on at stoplights, but they weren’t tied. The occasional worried looks he cast her only intensified her frustration and dread until she couldn’t take it anymore.

  She turned to the window so she wouldn’t have to see his reaction to what she was about to tell him. He would look at her differently, as though she carried her mother’s madness just under the surface. There were times when she was sure she did. Like some dormant virus, it lay in wait for the perfect storm of contentment and happiness in her life to flood her system. Just like her mother.

  She tried to remember a time when her mother was normal, but the last thirteen years had coated those memories over with a fine layer of dusty soot and misery. Like photos stored too long in an attic, the images of her life ‘before’ were pale with grime and hardly worth looking at. They were filled with people who didn’t exist anymore and places in her heart she’d never get to revisit.

  “My mother is… different,” she began, then quickly backtracked, frustrated with herself. “Remember you asked me if I had a baby when we first met?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer. “I don’t. My mom did. A boy, Ethan. He… died. My mom didn’t… take it well.”

  She paused, uncertain how to explain the next part. Everything she came up with sounded, well, crazy. He didn’t speak and she could only be grateful to him for it. She was awash with gratitude toward him, she realized sickly, and wondered if she’d confused real affection for massive indebtedness. Maybe they were too tightly woven to be separated. She’d have to think about that later, trace the strands to see which was the strongest.

  She took a breath and dove in again. “I found something that helped her. Shit.” She put up a hand. “Please don’t say anything when I’m done. Promise me I won’t have to talk about this again. And no questions.”

  “Why would you ask me to make a promise if you don’t expect me to keep it?”

  She looked at him then, her eyes wide with shock. Did he really know her that well? He glanced at her, taking his eyes off the road long enough so she could see the depth of his loyalty. She stacked it with the other things she was grateful to him for and turned her attention back to the window.

  “A doll.” God, this sounded so stupid. “I got a doll and dressed it in Ethan’s clothes. She takes care of it. Pretends it’s Ethan. The car seat, baby bed, all of it is to keep the illusion going. Keep her… stable. But sometimes… sometimes it doesn’t work.”

  Rocking a little in her seat, she hugged herself, biting her lip. This is where the questions would come: Why didn’t they ever get her mother psychiatric help? What about medication? Should she be hospitalized? Is she a danger to herself or others? How often do these things happen?

  But he remained silent, leaning over to capture her hand and giving it a squeeze. She squeezed back, keeping her gaze on the passing cars. She appreciated the support, but knew it wouldn’t last. She’d only opened one of the doors of her past. The other one well… that was where the real nightmare lurked. He wasn’t asking questions now, but he would. And when he did, it would change things between them forever.

  She directed him off the freeway to her mother’s house. They turned the corner onto her street and found emergency vehicles blocking the way. As soon as Lucas pulled to the side of the road, Mi leapt from the truck and ran to her mother’s house. It took her a few terror-filled moments to locate her mother on the porch of the neighbor’s house. When she saw her mom safe, she nearly sank to her knees with relief.

  Lucas jogged up behind her and spun her around. “Don’t ever fucking run off like that again.”

  “What?”

  Anger darkened his features, turning his eyes black and his lips into a thin hard line. If he was imposing before, he was downright terrifying when furious. “You took off without me.”

  “Miyuki?” her mother called from the porch.

  “I lost sight of you when you went behind the fire truck,” he snapped.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her mother stepping off the porch and she cringed inside.

  “Miyuki?” her mother called again.

  Lucas turned toward the voice calling Mi’s name. A blond woman about the right age to be Mi’s mother walked toward them, clutching a blue baby blanket. Mi seemed to wither away, her gaze darting back and forth between the woman and him as though she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t.

  He could tell the woman had been beautiful in her youth, but her face had been gouged deep by the hard edges of life. She’d made a valiant effort to recapture her looks with makeup, but had overdone it, reminding Lucas of a paint-by-numbers portrait. Red lipstick bled into the creases around her mouth and when she kissed Mi on the cheek she left a stain, like a lonely lip print on an empty shot glass.

  He stood to the side while the two women exchanged greetings, wondering how in the world these two could possibly be related. Mi was petite, at least a head shorter than her mother, and dark where her mother was light. He couldn’t find a single point of similarity between them. Not one single feature matched in shape, size or color. And then the older woman turned to him and he saw it—that same deep unfathomable kindness in her eyes as in Mi’s. He found himself liking her even before he knew her.

  “Mom, this is Lucas Vega. Lucas, my mom, Faye Easley,” Mi said.

  Lucas held out his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Ms. Easley.”

  She gave his hand a firm shake. “Nice to meet you, too.” She took her hand back and clutched the blanket to her chest, then turned to Mi. “Where have you been? You’re late. Is he why you’re late?”

  “No, Mom. What happened?”

  “You know you’re not old enough to date. Is he a senior? He looks like a senior.”

  “Where’s Mrs. Crandall?”

  “Oh, Miyuki.” Tears welled in Ms. Easley’s eyes. She wrung the blanket like a dirty dishrag.

  Luc
as took a step back as Mi wrapped an arm around her mother’s shoulders, closing him out of their conversation. He’d been so focused on Mi and the people around them that hadn’t glanced at the house. It would be a total loss. The windows were black eyes that once looked out onto a nice neighborhood, a few steps up from Mi’s. A fact that irritated him at the same time it impressed him that she would give her mother better than she gave herself. He now understood where all her money went—to this house and to the care of her mother.

  Part of the house’s roof had caved in. There would be water damage. He watched the firemen wind up their hoses and put their equipment away by rote. Her mother was lucky to have gotten out unharmed. She wouldn’t be able to stay here anymore. He wondered if Mi had a backup plan. Knowing what he knew of her finances, he’d bet not.

  So much made sense now: Mi’s lack of funds, her unwillingness to talk about her family, the stuff with her brother, the secret phone calls. There was more to the story, he was sure. She’d picked her way through telling it. Frowning, he studied Mi’s body language as she spoke quietly with her mother. Did she really think he wouldn’t understand? After spending one evening with his family, she’d have to know that he would. Whatever secrets she kept, she held onto them as tightly as her mother did that blanket. He’d put money down on it having something to do with her baby brother’s death.

  He’d held off grilling her for more details, but her respite would be temporary. As soon as he got her back home, they would sit down and talk. She had been right not to expect him to make that promise.

  He should be angry with her, but he wasn’t. He understood her now. She’d been through so much, lost so much. He was just so damn glad her mother was okay. That at least wouldn’t be added to the list of all the fucking awful things she’d been through lately. He surveyed the ruins of the house, another significant loss. His gaze tracked back to Mi and he caught her looking at him. There was a wariness in her expression that punched a hole in his gut. And pissed him off.

  She glanced away and bit into her lower lip. Fuck it all. He’d give anything to make sure she never did that again. He took a step toward her at the same time one of the firemen approached her and her mother. Joining the group, he caught the most salient information.

  “—uninhabitable. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Mi sighed. “Thank you, Captain.”

  “I can stay with Vicky—” her mother started to say.

  “No, Mom. Let me call Jason.” Mi took out her cell phone and dialed. “Hey, um… there’s been a little accident at mom’s house. Yeah, she’s okay. I know. Would you just stop?” She listened, her small body vibrating like a plucked spring. “She needs a place to stay.” She huffed out a breath. “I don’t know how long. No. I just can’t right now.” She groaned, stepping into the shade of the neighbor’s house, away from her mother. Lucas followed. “Jas, please.”

  While Mi begged her brother to take their mother in, Lucas studied her. Her lower lip trembled slightly, her gaze fixed to a point in the distance, and she gripped the phone as though it was the only thing tethering her to the earth. She hadn’t asked for his help, stubborn woman. Instead she turned to her useless piece of shit brother. He’d better come through for her, Lucas thought.

  She sagged a shoulder against the house, clicking her phone off. “He said he’d take her for a few days and then I have to find her someplace else to live.”

  “She can stay with us,” he offered without thinking.

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Just no.” She looked out to where her mother stood by a fire truck, smoothing the blanket over her cheek. “This is not your problem.”

  Feeling his shoulders tighten with annoyance, he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Why won’t you let me help you?”

  “I told you, it’s not your problem.”

  “What if I want to make it my problem?”

  Her gazed whipped to his, her eyes red rimmed and sharp with anger. “Let it go.”

  “You don’t make it easy to care for you.”

  “We’re just fuck buddies, remember?”

  Fury roared through him like a wild fire, his voice taking on a quiet menace he couldn’t control. “Just fuck buddies, huh?” He edged toward her. She backed away into a corner between some bushes and the house where they couldn’t be seen from the street. Lifting her, he brought his leg up between hers, pinning her to the wall with his body. He kissed her hard, rubbing her mound against his leg. He slipped a hand under the hem of her shirt to her breast. And just like that she responded.

  Holding on to his shoulders, she gave back as good as she got. Rolling her nipple between his fingers, he kissed her neck just below her jaw where he knew it drove her crazy. Tipping her head back, she let out a soft cry, and gripped him harder. Riding his leg, she panted, the beginnings of her orgasm taking control of her body. He could make her come right here, didn’t even have to get her naked.

  Then suddenly he released her, his breath coming in harsh puffs. “We’re more than fuck buddies, Querida.” Taking in her red swollen lips, heavy lidded gaze, and the rapid rise and fall of her breasts, he wanted her now and forever. Did she really not know that? He bent low and pressed his forehead to hers, looking into her eyes so she could see. “So much more,” he whispered and then he kissed her softly, pouring everything he wanted to say into that one kiss.

  She melted into him, twining her arms around his neck. He broke the kiss and held her, stroking her hair. She sighed deeply, her breath hot on his chest.

  “Let me help you,” he said.

  “Lucas, please.”

  Aw, fuck. Now she was begging him just like she did her useless piece of shit brother. “All right. I won’t push. But I’m here if you need anything, okay?”

  She nodded against his chest. “Thank you.”

  He tilted her face up to his. “Anything for you.”

  Mi would have liked the luxury of dissecting Lucas’s words, trying to decipher the meaning behind them based on his tone and timing, but just then her mother called for her. The panic in her mother’s voice jolted Mi back to the torn reality of her life. She broke free from Lucas, feeling guilty for resenting her mother so much.

  He put a hand on her arm, stopping her. “I mean it, Querida. Whatever you need.”

  She nodded again, gladder than she had any right to be about his offer of help. He released her and fell into step beside her. Always by her side, on her side. She hadn’t done anything to deserve him or his loyalty. But she couldn’t help but be grateful all the same.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  They had to stop at a store to pick up clothes and other things her mother would need now that everything she’d owned was either burned or damaged except for the things in her purse, which she’d managed to grab before fleeing the house. Lucas stood by, his hand practically hovering over his wallet. Mi nearly groaned out loud when the total popped up on the register. She handed over the credit card she’d given her mother, hoping it wouldn’t be declined. She sent up a silent prayer laced heavily with guilt. Really, couldn’t one damn thing go her way for once? Surely she’d reached some sort of cosmic limit with all of the crappy things she’d been through.

  Lucas frowned at her deep sigh of relief as the register printed out the receipt. She could practically hear his brain cells sizzling in frustration. She appreciated his offer of help, she really did, but she just couldn’t take anymore from him. Her mother was her responsibility. The more involved he got with her mother, the more he’d expect to be involved. He’d want answers to the questions Mi so desperately didn’t want to answer.

  They stopped by Mi’s house to pick up a few more items. Mi hadn’t been back to her house since the night she left with Lucas. She had expected it to be a mess, especially after the police had gone through it and dusted for fingerprints, but it was clean. So clean she knew in an instant a cleaning crew had been through the house.

  Standing in the living ro
om with Lucas while her mother used the bathroom, she rolled her head his direction. “You had my house cleaned?”

  “Yeah,” he said with a one-shoulder shrug.

  She put her hands over her face and would’ve sat down except all there was to sit on was his awful, jagged furniture. Which looked absolutely ridiculous in her house. Just another thing on the long list of things Lucas had done for her. She didn’t know why she was surprised he’d had her house cleaned, too. She should have expected it.

  If she needed to dry her hands he was practically there holding the towel for her. If she felt the slightest twinge of hunger, he was there with a plate of food in his hands. If she could have come up with one thing she’d done for him she might not have been so upset. But there was nothing. Unless you counted the sex. Except there again he came out on top, giving her at least two orgasms to his one. Damn it.

  “Stop doing stuff like that,” she said.

  “What?”

  “Cleaning my house, bringing my stuff over to your house, helping me take care of my mother, letting me live with you, feeding me all the time, protecting me, giving me more orgasms than I give you.”

  A corner of his mouth bent up. “Excuse me?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I tell you what, I’ll let you give me an orgasm as soon as we’re alone.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “So am I, Querida.” He leaned down and nipped her earlobe. “Very serious,” he whispered, sending an illicit chill over her skin.

  “I mean it, Lucas.”

  “I know.” He rubbed the sting from her ear lobe between his thumb and finger. “I like doing things for you.”

  She liked it, too. “But it’s not even. You’ve done way more for me than I’ve done for you.”

  “We’re keeping score?”

  “Well, no. I mean, yes… sort of.”

  He wrapped his arms around her, bringing her in close. “Then by my score I owe you. Unless we’re talking orgasms, in that case you definitely owe me. I’ll begin collecting as soon as we get home.”

  “Deal. But you’re wrong about owing me.”