by Tara Brown
“I know, Jane. I taught you all of this. One face isn’t a big change. It’s a very minor change—just so that the man you would love wouldn’t be the man who took Ashley. I wanted it to be that maybe I would be the hero who saved you.” A slight smile twitches on his lips.
“You wanted to be the hero?” The words leave my lips in a breathless tone that mocks him, even though his words are sort of sweet.
“I did.” He glances down, folding his arms. “I hate that I’m always the bad guy. I’ve read through the files, the other seven mind runs you did. I am always the bad guy.”
I bite my lips, completely scared of what I am about to say. In a moment of clarity and possibly hand-of-God action, I pause and stare at the wall of mirrors before us. “Can we take a quick walk?”
He sighs and makes for the door. I can see he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. He saunters through, sulking almost. It’s the strangest experience for me, but I honestly fear the things he thinks of me. Not that I haven’t spent my entire life wondering and worrying what people think, but with him it’s everything. He does normal things like reads the paper while he eats or sorts the contents of our house, which I notice are rapidly growing since he moved in with me. Everything is expanding, creating clutter in our house as we become a couple—a thing—an entity. I try to look busy like he does, wiping counters and sorting papers, but I don’t know how to look busy and yet still watch him for his reactions to things. Every move he makes is natural. Where my movements are deliberate. I copy him and others like a sociopath might. Because regardless of always making him the bad guy, I am the one most likely to be a psycho, I am the one who is detached and damaged. He is the epitome of normal.
Following him out into the hall feels natural, as does the annoyance in his meddling in my run through her mind. But the part that feels forced is wanting to talk about why he can’t interfere with my mind run.
I don’t want to talk about it, but I have to. Even if it will embarrass me.
He folds his arms, cocks an eyebrow, and clenches his jaw. He has no idea how hot I think his annoyed face is. It brings a girlish smile to my lips, making me immediately feel like a schoolgirl. “Why do you always make me be the bad guy? Are you unhappy?”
And there it is. The difference between us. He can just ask, but I can’t just answer.
“Do you want me to be a bad guy? Do you want us to fight more?”
I grimace, wishing the words would just fall out. I’m not the simpering mess he makes me. “No.” How do I explain without sounding like a sissy?
“What then? Why can’t you just use a random guy as the bad guy?” His tone is impatient, which somehow always makes me feel like a child.
“I need to be safe when I’m in there.” It’s the best I have for an explanation. “The people in their heads are what nightmares are made of, but it is impossible for me to have a nightmare with you as the bad person.”
He pauses, stopping himself from saying whatever he was about to. The answer pleases him. I can see the look on his face. “Safe?”
“You are the safe bad guy. If you’re him, I’m not scared, not truly. Not in my heart. You could do anything, and I would never be scared. Except maybe leave, I suppose. If you left me I would be scared.”
“Leave? Are you crazy?” He melts as every one of his muscles loses its tension. “So you want me to be the bad guy to keep you safe in there?”
I nod, hating that I’ve shown him this piece of it all, but loving the smile that’s spreading across his lips. “So you want us to be the way we are? We don’t have to change it up? You aren’t bored? You don’t want me to be a bad guy?”
“Of course not.” I shake my head slowly, unsure of the reaction. Is he mocking me? Or is he high? Clearly he hasn’t ever thought about what it’s like for a girl to meet a guy like him. I could never be bored, except when I take the job with the profiling section, but that won’t ever be about him.
He scoops me up, pressing my lips against his. I sigh into the kiss, wishing we could stay here, but knowing I have to have the answer. I need the happy ending. I need to know why and who and where. His tongue lazily slips into my mouth as his hand lowers, gripping my butt cheek. “Tell me.”
I have to close my eyes to say it, because it’s like wishing when you blow out a candle; if you peek, the wish is broken. “I love you.”
Dash smiles, changing the way his lips sit against mine. “I love you more.”
I smile back, scared of the thing I’m about to say. “Except I made you the safe guy way before we ever dated. So clearly, I love you more, Benjamin Dash.”
He shakes his head. “See you after?”
“Yup.” We kiss once more before he puts me down. I turn, waving backward and stalking back into the room where the small girl is slumbering after being brought in with severe hypothermia and more broken bones than anyone would think they had in their body. What a way to spend Thanksgiving weekend, dying in a medical lab while being experimented on.
I climb back onto the table as Angie comes hurrying back in. “I need ya to focus, Jane. This is going to be a quick reinsertion. A third time in the same girl is unheard of.” She leans forward, whispering, “And between me and you, we don’t think she’s going to make it. She’s being switched to life support. Her brain activity flashes only when yer in there. She’s a vegetable, and I don’t know how easy it’s going to be to go rooting around in a dying girl.”
I give her a look. “You know it feels different this time. Like I know too much going in. So maybe it’s that she’s brain-dead, and I’m just making up the story.”
She turns back to the large mirror where everyone is watching. “Right, and I suppose having a jackarse mess with the recording because his moronic friend pointed out he’s always the bad guy doesn’t help. Does it?”
“Rory brought that to Dash’s attention?” I whisper and shake my head, looking at the glass. I’m sure my face betrays the fact I don’t understand what she means, I don’t understand why he would do that to me, he’s my partner.
She rolls her eyes. “Och, ya dinna think that Dr. Charming found that information all on his own, did ya?” She leans in, whispering so they can’t hear us. “I’ll whip Rory later for ya. He’s really just a meddling old woman in that sexy body of his.” She winks and attaches the monitors to my chest and head. “Must be some of that Irish treachery brewing in those veins.”
I swallow hard. “Why would he do that? He was the only person who knew everything.”
“Welp, I imagine he thinks he was trying to help, doesn’t want ya two to break up. Says he’s never seen either of ya so happy. Not sure what he would know on the subject, scowling bastard.”
A nervous smile crosses my lips as I lie back, wishing he’d keep his greasy paws off my damned records, but at least Dash knows the truth of it. Something Rory and his snooping won’t find in my records. I never wrote down why I made my bad guy the way I did. No one knows that Dash makes me feel safe. Well, except for Dash, thank God. The odd bit of vulnerability with him isn’t so horrid.
I close my eyes, giving a loud sigh.
5. Professor Charming
The cold air stings a bit on my nose, not frosty but windy and bitter. I close the window to suffer through the smell of hairspray in the dorm. I hate the coastline. I prefer to be inland, where the wind has less of the damp ocean in it. The cold salt water makes the very worst wind I’ve ever felt.
“You meeting him after class?” Angie asks from her bed, where she’s curling her red ringlets.
I sigh, not sure of the answer. “I guess. He’s sort of asked me to go away for the weekend.”
Her jaw drops. “What?”
I nod. “He’s got a cabin or something, a family vacation spot. It’s a few hours from here, rugged and romantic, apparently.”
“Then what’s the problem?” She gives me a dubious look.
“Something I can’t shake. He’s just too awesome. He speaks slowly, with purp
ose, and enunciates every word. He’s handsome in a way that makes me sweat. He’s sweet, he cares about everything I say, and remembers every tiny detail.” My eyes lower. “It’s like he isn’t real. He hasn’t even tried anything with me. He’s always a gentleman. We’ve been on like ten dates and only kissed.”
She scoffs. “Och, this is the honeymoon. All men are on their best behavior for the first year. It goes to shite then. Then it’s a quick shag and they got one eye on the football game while they do it.”
A laugh and a snort slip from my lips. “It just feels like too much for eighteen, don’t you think? He’s overwhelming for someone like me.”
She winks, dropping a curl and spraying it. “Ya know I do. I love me some intense men with obsessive qualities.” She laughs and curls another piece of hair on her wand. I know she’s talking about my brother. She likes him a lot, and he seems to think she’s charming. He just hasn’t heard one of her racist rants about the English or the Irish.
I want to say that I don’t like men who are that way, but instead I just make a mental note to break things off this weekend if he doesn’t chill out.
At the end of the day, class drags on. The teacher actually sounds like Charlie Brown’s teacher. The name Charlie Brown sits funny in my mind. I can’t seem to make out his face, but I know it’s a cartoon. I just don’t know where I’ve seen it before.
As it ends and I make my way out of the building, I see him. He’s leaned against a tree, smiling at me like a cat watching a mouse. He makes me nervous, and regardless of the obvious attraction I have for him, I can’t stop feeling uncertain around him.
He waves with nonchalance. I grin, walking over to the tree. He doesn’t wait for me. He turns and walks to the car, a gesture I don’t appreciate. He says it’s because he’s a professor at another school and we shouldn’t really be dating. We keep it secret, except for Angie. She knows everything. Without her I think I’d go crazy. She and Binx are my sounding boards.
I follow him to his Jeep, climbing in and wishing for a moment he would open the door for me or hold my hand or carry my books.
But he just grins as I struggle to climb in with my books and purse. “Hard day at the office?” he asks with his intense way of speaking. I get lost for a moment in his eyes. The stare whispers to me that I’m foolish to doubt his love for me. He’s sweet the moment we are off campus. He just doesn’t want anyone to know he’s dating a student. It’s logical.
I shake my head, placing the books on the thick rubber mats on the floor. “Just did a few theory classes and English.”
He doesn’t bat an eyelash at the mention of his favorite subject. “You ready for the trip?”
I nod. “My bag is at the dorm, ready to go.”
He looks out the window like he’s struggling with the sentence. “Why don’t you run back to the dorm, get the bag, and meet me down the road a little?” The question makes my stomach ache, but the idea of being on a mountaintop with him, alone and able to be together, makes me nod again. “Okay.” I leave my books and climb out. He points. “Take those.” The way he says it makes me frown, but he just grins more widely. “You won’t be needing them.”
I grin back, picking them all up and hoofing over to the dorm.
Angie isn’t there when I get back, but I know she’ll be watching Binx. I sniff his thick fur, pet his chin a bit, and leave, carrying my heavy bag out into the hallway.
“You going home for the weekend?”
I glance back, seeing Michelle and Leona in the hallway. They have hit it off as well as Angie and I have. “I am.”
“Have fun.” Michelle rolls her eyes, dragging Leona off down the hall with her. She really is a miserable twat, as Angie would say. Has said.
I offer a weak wave and strut down the stairs and out the door. The cool wind bites at my fingers as I send Angie a quick text to remind her to feed Binxy. She responds with a happy face.
I almost text my brother to tell him where I’m going, but the realization I’m an adult hits me. I don’t need to check in with anyone. He wouldn’t tell me he was going to shack up with an older lady for a weekend. He would do it, have fun, and maybe text me when he got home to fill me in on the gross parts I prefer not to hear.
The bag cuts into my hand with the weight of my hiking boots and a thick coat. I have to assume a mountain retreat isn’t going to be as warm as it is down by the sea, and it’s friggin’ cold here.
I round the corner, leaving the nursing college completely, and see his vehicle. He jumps out, opening the door like a gentleman. He’s like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde that way. He scoops me up, kissing me after he’s tossed my bag like it weighs nothing.
He buries his face in my neck, and I know it’s going to be a wonderful trip.
He drives for what feels like forever, just to get out of the city. He offers me hot chocolate, my favorite drink. I sip it slowly, staring out at the people bundled up on the sidewalks. “It’s so cold out,” I mutter as I close my eyes and let myself drift off.
I don’t know how long we drive. I don’t know how long I sleep. But I wake as we’re making our way up a hill. I have a slight headache from the nap; I never nap anymore. The sun has set, and the headlights of the Jeep bounce off the road ahead of us. It’s gravel, and the only other lights are coming from random cabins we’re passing.
When we get to what seems like the top of the hill, he stops and turns onto a wide driveway with a large barn next to a beautiful cabin. The back side has no windows, just a door and a porch, but I can tell it’s stunning just by the architecture. The roof is a dark tin, and there are several eaves. But instead of logs, the cabin is covered partially by regular siding and rock. It looks like the back side of a mansion, all closed off so the public sees very little.
“This is your family cottage?”
He grins wide, nodding and sighing. “This is my favorite place in the whole world.” He leans in, kissing softly on my cheek. “And you are my favorite person, so you can see why I was excited for you two to meet.”
It makes me blush and embarrasses me. Even in the dark car where I know he can’t see my cheeks glowing, I hate it. He hops out and runs up to the main door at the front and opens it, leaving it ajar. I grab my bag from the back and hop out, walking to the door he’s left ajar. He points at the barn. “I have a few things in here I need to tend to, mechanical crap. Why don’t you head inside, snoop around, and find the hot tub. It’s on the back deck, overlooking the woods and mountaintops. I’ll join you in a moment.”
I don’t feel particularly comfortable going, but I just shrug and walk inside, closing the door behind me. It’s dark, but even so I can tell the home is magnificent. It’s not a chalet or a family cottage—it’s remarkable. The foyer is large, opening right up into the massive great room. A river-rock fireplace climbs the wall to the left, and the kitchen is to the right.
I drop my bag and stumble in, stunned at the beautiful house. It flickers in my mind, contrasting with the stone walls of a building I’m not sure I’ve ever seen. It’s a barren place with children running and playing, making up for the lack of joy in the air.
But this, it’s something completely different. It’s like a whole other world, and I don’t know how to be in it.
A vision of my childhood bounds into my brain. My house is nothing like this. There’s warmth in my house, surrounded by clutter, and my mom shouting at me to bring her the thing she’s looking for. And yet, the place with the stone walls and running children feels like home for a second too.
Walking into the living room I reach to flick on a lamp, but the moon surprises me, rising above the mountains. It’s so large and bright that I stay my hand and watch it fill up the room.
It’s cold and silver, a perfect moon for the dark night. As it crests the hill across the valley from me it lights up the small valley. All of the hills fill with shadows, crevices I imagine are dark places someone could hide. Or places where something could lurk.
I s
hiver, lost in the captivating brilliance of the cold moon, realizing I’m cold too. The fireplace on the wall is a wood-burning one, and even though I don’t know how to start it, I walk to it, dropping to my knees in front of it. And then, as if the silver light of the moon gives me knowledge I can’t possibly have, I light the fire. I make a teepee of sticks, and stuff the paper I’ve rolled up under it, lighting and watching as the soft sparks lick at the paper and then build into orange flames. Immediately I feel the heat from it, realizing how cold the room actually is. I leave the glass doors open as the fire increases, giving off a slight scent of the smoke coming from the hardwood crackling inside the fireplace.
I turn and walk into the kitchen, leaning on the large, pale-marble island. There are pictures on the fridge of small kids and Christmas cards, but when I blink they vanish, leaving behind only a steel refrigerator. The Christmas cards and pictures and old coupons are on my mom’s fridge, but I don’t know what made me think of that. Except maybe because the house is so cold in some ways, and yet homey in others. It’s staged to be inviting and warm, but it lacks life. It is missing people.
That doesn’t take away from the beauty under the silver moon.
“She can build a fire—who knew?”
I turn, smiling as I see his lips curling up into a grin. He’s a bit out of breath, and he looks like he’s been running or working at something hard.