“Bingo,” he said, his voice soft. “There are a lot of photos of the ranch on its Facebook page. Photos of every single employee-”
“Except me,” I interrupted.
“You don’t have an individual photo, no. But the photo of Oscar, in the kitchen. Behind him, out of focus, is a woman, her head bent, hair fanned to conceal her face. It’s entirely innocent, except for the comment on that photo.”
“Show me.”
Julian pulled out his laptop, a slender rectangle of silver, and sat next to me on the bed. He booted up the machine and a moment later he turned the laptop to me. I saw the photo of Oscar, knife pressed to the cutting board, his usual scowl evident. The photo was captioned “Oscar the Grouch, Chef Extraordinaire.” And over his shoulder, on the opposite end of the kitchen island was me. My hair was indeed covering most of my face, and because I didn’t remember the photo being taken, it was likely a quick candid. I was definitely out of focus, but I knew it was me. It wouldn’t have been so clear to anyone else.
I scrolled down to the comment section and instantly recognized Dylan’s model looks as the author of the comment. “Haha, is this supposed to be Andra’s employee photo too?” it said.
I handed the laptop back to Julian and ran my tongue over my teeth. Dylan didn’t know my past, knew nothing about Cora Mitchell. I couldn’t be mad at him for a seemingly innocent comment. He didn’t know. I looked at Julian. “But you said it yourself, I’m out of focus. How did you know it was me?”
Julian clicked on Dylan’s profile. “When I saw the comment, Dylan had a different profile photo up.” He clicked on Dylan’s profile pictures album and scrolled until he found the right one. It was one of me and Dylan, right after I’d gotten the Queen tattoo. Dylan had his arm around me and we were standing in front of a mirror. Off to the right, in the reflection, you could make out the ink on the back of my neck, the skin red and irritated. But our faces were in focus, and I had one eyebrow raised while Dylan made a goofy face. I dragged the memory out of the cobwebs of my brain. “I took this to send to Six,” I said, touching my hand to my neck in remembrance. “He told me not to get tattoos, so naturally I did.” I bit my lip, my lip ring still missing. “I got my lip pierced later that day.
Julian went back to Dylan’s albums and opened one up, navigating quickly to the photo of me, coyly smiling at the camera, pointing two fingers at the fresh piercing, challenge evident in my eyes. I was obnoxious. And I was on Dylan’s profile, in at least two photos.
“Dylan texted the photos to me so I could forward them to Six,” I explained. “I honestly did not think he would post them to his Facebook page.” I felt like a total idiot. “And Dylan has all his photos public?” I asked, incredulous.
Julian nodded. “He didn’t make it hard for me to find you.” He closed the laptop and turned to face me. “When I stepped out of the car and saw you, my heart stopped in my chest. But it wasn’t from recognition, Andra. Or, at least not the recognition you think. Frankly, I was dumbfounded. You stood in the sun, wisps of hair framing your stunning face, legs up to your neck. And then you stalked towards me with such purpose. You had that teasing smile on your lips, eyeing me haughtily, not taking my crap for even one second. When I stepped into my cabin and closed the door, I had to shake my head to clear my thoughts. It was then that I remembered I’d come here to find you. To see if you were Cora.”
I absorbed his words like a sponge, soaking up the knowledge he was so freely giving. “You acted pretty damn sure of yourself when I first met you.”
“I’ve told you I enjoy a challenge. I don’t find pleasure when women bend to my will so easily. I want them to want me to work for it, to match them in wit. I want to compete with a woman, even if we’re hoping to win the same thing. When you spoke to me with challenge right away, it was second nature to challenge you right back, to get on your level.” He ran his hands through his hair, frustrated. “Maybe I’m not explaining myself well. I met you, was immediately intrigued and captivated by you. My entire focus had been finding Cora – I hadn’t planned further than that. But then I met you and I didn’t care if you were Cora or if you weren’t, but I needed to get to know you.” He stood up and walked away before turning right back around and grabbed my hands, pulling me to standing.
“When I look at you, into your green/gold/hazel eyes, something settles, comfortably, in my chest. Every single time. I see stubborn bravery and sorrow in those big eyes of yours, and they both inspire me to be a better man so that I am deserving of knowing the secrets you keep, of seeing into the pieces of your soul that you’re willing to share with me.” His eyes were earnest, his hands open. “I want to take the sadness away from you. Not all of it, because I know the experiences you’ve had have made you this person, this wonderful, intelligent, incredible person. I just want to take the parts that burden you. I want to free you.”
With those words, my heart somersaulted in my chest, a heavy lump settling in my throat. I was wholly overwhelmed with all the information, and his admission. Though I knew my feelings for Julian were of the strongest variety, I still felt that urge to push him away, to keep the blackness I nurtured from touching him.
I wanted my words to be sharper than a knife, and I wanted them to hurt, to push away his goodness before I turned it black from my secrets. I mustered all the anger I felt, let the words crawl from my throat, let their lies serrate my heart. There would be no taking it back, no way to swallow them once I let them free. I swallowed and turned my face away from him. “I told you this was casual, Julian. That’s all I’ve ever felt.” Lie. “You were fun to be around, but I didn’t take this seriously.” Another lie. “I don’t want to see you again.” The lies were beginning to choke me on their way up my throat, so I closed my mouth and walked towards the door.
“Stop.” His voice was soft, but firm in its request. I turned to look at him.
Julian moved closer to me. One step. Two steps. Three steps. And then he was right in front of me, his harsh breathing disrupting the air around me. Sandalwood and cinnamon assaulted my senses and I squeezed my eyes tight, unwilling to look at him. Unable to look at him. He knew me; he knew the parts where Cora Mitchell and Andra Walker intersected. The parts I tried to hide the most. So he would know I was lying to him, see the fear at losing him reflected in my eyes.
He didn’t say anything for a moment, but I could feel the turmoil, the rage, rolling off of him in waves.
“You think you don’t deserve to share yourself, your secrets. You think you burden people with your darkness. But you don’t. You’re not dark. You’re light. You’re warmth. You’re good. God. Andra,” his voice broke, “you are so good.”
My entire body trembled, a need to hold him warred against my stubbornness. And yet, I couldn’t believe the words he was saying.
How could he believe I wasn’t dark? If your soul was comprised partly from experience, then my soul would at the very least be some shade of grey. And each lie I told hung heavy on the dark side, slipping the gradient scale more towards the dark. I didn’t believe light and dark could exist without the other. It was the absence of light that made us dark in the first place. And while I wasn’t wallowing in some emotional self-pity, I knew my soul was more dark than light. I was more bad than good. And it was with that realization that I made the choice to walk away from Julian. Not because I was dark, but because he wasn’t.
My heart felt heavy in my chest, weighed down by my decision. I turned away from him, towards the door. My hand gripped the handle and I reached to pull the door open. I felt his hand slam against the door, right next to my face. I looked over my shoulder at him and tried to keep my face calm. “Let me go.”
“No.”
I gritted my teeth. And pushed his hand from the door. “I told you, I don’t feel the same.”
“Stop lying.”
I ran my tongue over my teeth, contemplating. “What can I do to make you believe me?” I asked, staring at the door, my voice completel
y calm.
“Look me in the eyes and tell me I mean nothing to you.” His voice was smooth, as if he didn’t think I was capable of lying to his face. “And make me believe you,” he added.
“Okay,” I said, forcing annoyance into my voice. I turned around and time felt as if it had slowed down significantly. Meeting his eyes was harder than I expected. I felt my heart thundering painfully in my chest and willed it to calm. But it was futile. My heart beat harder whenever I was in his presence. I was betrayed by its reaction. I swallowed.
“You mean nothing to me,” I whispered, my voice strangled.
“Look me in the eyes when you say it.”
I swallowed again and finally looked him in the eyes. I was surprised to see his face completely calm, no trace of the anxiety I was feeling at all. Probably because he knows you’re a big, fat liar, Andra, I told myself. I opened my lips, but no sound came out. I tried again. This time I formed the words. “You mean nothing to me,” I repeated shakily. My voice was siding with my heart, both of them betraying me, making my voice weak.
Julian braced his hands on either side of my face, against the door. He leaned in. “Make me believe it.”
I closed my eyes and let my head fall back against the door. I summoned all my courage and opened my eyes. “You mean nothing to me.” My voice sounded foreign even to me.
“Again,” he said. He was scarily calm.
“You mean nothing to me.” If anything, my voice was getting weaker and weaker. I saw triumph in his eyes and gritted my teeth again. I pushed against him, pushed him away from me. “Fuck you, Julian,” I spat. Frustration simmered just under the surface of my words.
“Now that I believe. I really felt those words. Now say it again, and maybe you can try to sound less like a dying robot.”
“Fuck you.”
“I told you, I believe that. Make me believe I am nothing to you.”
It was a pang to my heart just to hear the words from his lips. My natural instinct was to deny it, but I sucked the words in. I blew out a breath and met his eyes once more. I mustered everything I had left and opened my mouth. The words refused to form this time and I pushed him again. “Damn you, Julian,” I growled, frustration finally boiling over in the form of tears streaming down my eyes. “I can’t say those words with meaning, and you know it.” I slid down the door until I was sitting on the ground. “But it doesn’t change anything,” I mumbled, wiping the tears from my face.
Julian crouched in front of me. “Yes it does. You can’t push me away. I won’t go quietly.”
I shook my head and covered my face with my hands. “You don’t get it. I can’t go back to that life. I can’t be Cora Mitchell again. As far as I’m concerned, she’s dead.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your father. You found the lost girl. He’s going to want to close that case.”
Julian pulled my hands away from my face. “My father has nothing to do with us. Cora Mitchell is not his only cold case.”
“I won’t go back, Julian. This is my home.” This time, my voice was strong.
“I don’t want you to go back. Are you serious? You think I’m going to report your location to the police, so they can send you back to your uncle?”
“I don’t know! This is all kind of overwhelming right now. Isn’t finding me kind of thrilling for you, the mystery author?” I said it snidely, I knew, but I couldn’t help it.
“Look. I don’t give a fuck that you’re Cora Mitchell. Are you listening to anything I’m saying? My feelings for Andra Walker, for you, they’re stronger than any feeling I’ve ever had. From the moment I overheard you praying in the grass, finding Cora Mitchell has been secondary to getting to know you, Andra. I don’t feel like I’ve won a prize for finding Cora Mitchell, the missing girl. I feel like I’ve won something far more profound for falling for you, Andra, stubborn, sarcastic, warm, beautiful, intelligent, funny woman. I want Andra, I want you. I want everything you’re willing to give me, and I want the parts you don’t want to give me.”
“You don’t know what you’re taking on, Julian,” I answered, wearily.
“Then tell me. Tell me everything. The bad, the good, the mundane.”
So I did. I told him of growing up without a father, but with a devoted mother. I told him of my mother’s death, of having to live with my aunt and uncle and then later, her death. Then, with a deep breath and a heavy heart, I told him all about the abuse, not leaving out a single detail. After, with a lighter heart, I told him of the escape and my life since. And while the tears flowed from my eyes, Julian held me and let me unload all of it. I purged everything until I was empty, until my voice was hoarse.
Not for the first time, I fell asleep secure in his arms. But, for the first time, I felt peace settle over me like a warm blanket, and I slipped into sleep without the threat of a nightmare looming.
I awoke disoriented. I looked to my left and then to my right and remembered where I was. The bed was empty on the side that Julian had slept on so I stretched my limbs and sat up.
He was in the kitchen, shirtless, humming along with the radio he had playing on a low volume. I heard sizzling and crackling and realized he was cooking. I watched him dancing and humming as he transferred something from the skillet to the waiting plate. He poured water from a kettle into a mug and turned around, seeing me awake.
He carried the mug over to me and sat on the edge of the bed. I watched him set the mug on the end table before I felt his fingers on my face, cradling me as he kissed me.
“Mmm,” I murmured against his lips. “I have morning breath.”
Julian’s eyes were tender. He brushed the bed head hair from my face. “Don’t care,” he whispered before kissing me again. How could I pretend I felt nothing for this man? How could I pretend for even a second? His lips moved to my cheek and then he handed me the steaming mug. “Tea,” he explained before standing up, brushing his lips over the top of my head. “Hungry?” he asked as he walked back into the kitchen.
“Yes, very.” I sipped the tea. It was raspberry, my favorite. The man didn’t miss a thing.
A moment later, Julian returned with breakfast: a mound of fluffy scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. I took the plate from his hands. “Thank you,” I smiled up at him.
“It’s my pleasure.” He kissed the top of my head again before returning to the kitchen.
I dug into the hot food. “These eggs are delicious.”
“One of the quickest and easiest meals to feed a group of people.”
His sisters. “Well, you’ve impressed me with your chef skills thus far.”
He grinned at me as he loaded up another plate and came towards me, sitting next to me on the bed.
“Today’s your day off,” he said, in between bites.
I swallowed the bite of bacon. “Yes, and I think I remember you mentioning bringing me to your house.”
“I did. I was thinking we could head over there in a few hours.”
I stretched my back and took a bite of toast. “What time is it?”
“Almost noon.”
I nearly choked on the toast. “Noon? How did I sleep so late?”
“You were exhausted, obviously. I let you sleep in.”
I let that sink in. I ate my toast silently. “I’ll just need to shower and change and I’ll be ready.” I stood up to bring my plate to the kitchen, but Julian stopped me.
“I’ll take that,” he offered, taking my plate and standing up. He set it on the kitchen island before following me to the door.
“I still have things I want to tell you,” he said when we stopped at the door. “Things about Cora, and things about you. But today, is it okay if we just live in a bubble, not let the troubles of the world touch us?”
I nodded, swallowing hard. “That sounds perfect to me.”
He leaned in, wrapping an arm around my waist. He pulled me against him and I found myself wrapping my arms around his neck. “I’m sorry I kept sec
rets from you,” he whispered in my ear.
“I kept secrets, too.” I gripped him tighter. “I don’t want to anymore.”
“Good.” He kissed the skin right next to my ear. “Come back when you’re ready.”
“Okay,” I breathed. And just like that, he forgave me for the lies, for the secrets. My fingers found his facial hair and I lifted my lips up to kiss him. It was different this time. Kissing Julian was existential.
I walked back to my cabin with a lighter heart.
When Julian pulled his convertible up the long driveway to his home, my mouth fell open in awe. It sat back off the driveway, built into a hill, with large windows facing the trees. The entire second floor was glass, the windows separated only by some support beams. The house was made of log, glass, slate, and stone, with a tall pitched roof capping it off. The main floor had glass doors onto a stone patio and on one side of the house was a stone stairway, providing access to the garden that was built into the hill. The house had a two-story wing off the other side, with a stone bay window on the ground floor and all glass bay window directly above it on the second floor, to match the large picture windows that stretched from side of the second level to the other.
The house was built into a clearing of trees, so it was surrounded on all sides by tall pine trees. And I imagined with the abundance of windows, it made one feel like they were in the woods themselves. I couldn’t wait to find out.
Julian opened my door and held a hand out for me. Holding my hand, he led me into the ground level entrance, his hand on the small of my back, guiding me through the door. The main floor was a mess of construction equipment everywhere, completely bare of furniture.
“Come upstairs,” he said, tugging on my hand. In the back of the house was a grand staircase. The staircase was curved, wrapping around a stone wall. It was like something out of a medieval castle. Two different wood tones made the steps up to the second floor.
The second floor was lit up from the floor to ceiling windows that dominated the living area, where rich, brown leather sofas sat. They were covered in a sheer sheet of plastic. You could tell the interior was still being remodeled, with boxes of wood flooring sitting up against walls, hammers strewn about. There was a large fireplace on one side of the living room and Julian moved to light it. I watched him crouch down, lay a couple logs into the grate before crushing the newspaper he grabbed from the basket on the side of the fireplace. I watched his arms, the muscles stretching the sleeves of his shirt. My body started humming, the desire to be wrapped in his arms growing stronger by the second. I turned away and walked to the windows, breathing a sigh at the view. There were trees for miles, in every direction. You couldn’t even see the main road we’d entered from. It was truly like living in the forest.
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