Layers Off (Layers Trilogy)

by Silks, Lacey

  Sliding into the tub, I let out a long, exhausted breath. This was my daily ritual, although one I only shared with Clara, my nurse. She knew me probably better than I knew myself at that moment, and had helped me recover in the past.

  Over a week ago I’d thought I’d never again feel warm water every single day, penetrating my skin, heating me to the core. We had been allowed to shower only twice per week, or just before a job if the client was high-class. Most of the time the water was cold; lukewarm at best. Having lost so much weight the past month, my body always felt frozen. These days I slept wearing warm fluffy socks, under a down-filled comforter, and still shivered.

  “That smile really suits you,” Julian said, startling me. “Take your time. You’re looking better every day, K.”

  Julian stared at me in absolute adoration. My body melted underneath the bubbles and my empty stomach tingled with a warm feeling. I’d wondered on several occasions why he was here. After I had rejected him and what had been done to me, could he truly want to be near me? Even if he forgave me for throwing myself at his brother out of spite and eventually falling in love with him (or so I thought I had), I could never let it go – the guilt would consume me forever. But I had no choice. Those drugs held power over me at the time, and even when my heart guided me toward him, I chose Tristan, his younger brother. I was fifteen at the time; Julian was nineteen. For months I was sure I did it out of revenge – partly because I could, and partly because he went out with someone else before me. Yeah, I was the queen of bitches, and jealousy was my middle name.

  Savoring the warm water, I wanted to say something to him again, but my mouth was shut firmly. Instead, I took a sponge and started washing myself. Julian sat at the side of the tub, watching as I pulled the suds along my arms and my chest. He reached for a wash cloth, soaked it, and began washing my back. I recoiled at first.

  “I won’t hurt you,” Julian whispered.

  My shoulders eased and I leaned my head onto my folded knees. Julian’s clean strokes over my spine felt more welcome than I could have thought. It was as if his scrubs were washing away all those memories, one by one. It was so different from what I’d remembered a touch to be: caring and gentle. My heart pounded in my chest, trying to free itself. I’d never been this grateful for anything in my life. The brush of that cloth on my skin was enough for me to feel like gravity didn’t exist. Or perhaps Julian caused those pleasant feelings to spike?

  “Kendra, you need to eat when you finish bathing,” he’d said. “Otherwise they’ll stick tubes up your nose when the doctor comes in tomorrow for your weekly exam.”

  I didn’t want to see a doctor. In fact, I didn’t want to see anyone other than Julian. Tristan had come to visit every day. It made me feel a little uncomfortable, and I couldn’t look at Julian the way I liked in Tristan’s presence. I’d moved on from the pain of losing Tristan, finally admitting he was only another addiction. Soon I’d find the strength to apologize for nearly killing him as well. Perhaps he could find it in his heart to forgive me and truly move on with Allie. She was so good for him. They were a perfect match. But not yet: I wasn’t ready to face Tristan just yet.

  “Do you want me to wash your hair?” he asked.

  I shook my head sideways. My stomach grumbled. With Julian at my side, returning to some kind of normalcy felt so much easier. Julian stood up, opening his arms wide, holding a towel. I stepped out of the tub and he wrapped me into the soft cotton. Back in his bedroom, I changed into a fresh set of clothes. I could never get enough of the clean smell of any kind of fabric. I wasn’t sure where all the clothes had come from, but judging from their quality, I bet most were new – and then some were my own, which Julian brought from my apartment. I hadn’t been back there yet and didn’t want to return. That’s where they took me from: my own home. They dragged me from my bed with a bag over my head. I hadn’t been to my club Kissed either, although Julian assured me everything was running smoothly. I liked the way Julian kept talking to me, despite my muted mouth. Part of me didn’t want to go back to work. The lure of drugs and alcohol was still too much. And as bad as I wanted to be healthy, and really truly tried to be, the need to forget and ease my body into a limbo where I wouldn’t feel nor care about anything still drew me in. As much as I wanted to deny it, I was still hooked. Could I ever heal?

  CHAPTER 3

  Snuggled in my bed, I drifted in and out of sleep. A crisp breeze filled the room and I opened my eyes. The wind fluttered the white sheers through the open balcony door. Outside, the picture-perfect night was shadowed by a conversation I could overhear between Julian and Tristan. Each brother held a glass of golden liquid in his hand, which I assumed was scotch. I shut my eyes as just the thought of booze watered my mouth and rushed my veins. I concentrated on their hushed voices, barely loud enough for me to hear.

  “I wish we could get in touch with her family,” Julian said to his brother. “There has to be a connection they can make with her to get her out of this.”

  “She doesn’t have a family,” Tristan replied. “We’re it. We’ve always been it.”

  “You know what I mean, Tristan.”

  I opened my eyes.

  Julian’s brother lowered his head, shaking it from side to side. “I know. She’s not ready for that kind of shock. And we’d have to run it by them first. You know what the consequences could be, right?”

  “This sucks.” Julian kicked a stray pebble off the balcony. Leaning against the railing, he had his back to me. With his neck strained and feet firmly planted on the ground, he lowered his head to his arms.

  “It’s part of the job,” Tristan said.

  “Remind me to never mix a job with family again.”

  “She wasn’t family back then. She was a job and a direct order. If we break the contract, you and I aren’t the only ones who are going to pay.”

  I wondered what they meant. Why would they want to contact my foster parents? And at the same time, why wouldn’t they, if they thought it would help me – which I doubted. The fact that I met the Cross family while they were on a job, hired by my father to protect me, wasn’t a secret; but was there more? Was there a part of their service they’d never disclosed? That day I met Julian and Tristan seemed so far in the past, it was sometimes difficult to remember all the details.

  This had to be a dream – my imagination working overtime again, hearing things I wanted to hear, twisting a conversation I wasn’t privy to. Wishing I could go back to that simple time in my life when living made sense, and when memories didn’t hurt, I snuggled deeper under the covers. I focused on drifting back to sleep. I needed to focus on the time when all I worried about were silly boys and what outfit to wear. The two most important men in my life had saved me. But that same day I met the Cross brothers my life had changed, and I wished I knew then, not years later, the exact reason why it had.

  Eight years earlier – Central Canada

  The train ride across Canada was supposed to be the vacation we never found time for. My parents and I were looking forward to family time and privacy, free from cameras and press. My father had served in Congress since my birth, and in next election he could be running for the Presidency. At least that’s what I’d overheard when he spoke to Mom. It seemed keeping secrets was my family’s specialty, but finding secrets was mine. The news hadn’t been made public yet, so I knew this was a conversation I shouldn’t have eavesdropped on. This surprise trip bubbled fresh excitement inside me. Even if it had been planned at the last minute, I didn’t care.

  The security team was always tight around us. A private limo would drive me to school each morning and back home afterwards. I couldn’t go to the mall with my friends. Grant, the security guard sitting in the corner of my private school’s classroom, was there specifically for me. He made any cheating on tests nearly impossible – yes, I said nearly. Crafty see-through pens with rolled-in cheat sheets were still the best way to go. And if that failed, there was always that little sheet
pinned underneath the hem of my kilt. But after the incident at my previous school, my parent’s guard was up, and they didn’t even know the whole truth. The past twelve hours they’d been nervous around me, and I couldn’t quite remember why. Weren’t we all supposed to relax on a trip?

  I wasn’t a trouble maker, but I knew how to adapt and survive. What teenage girl didn’t? In a world where the design of your clothes, hair style, and the shortness of your skanky skirt defined your status in the high school hierarchy, surviving without using your parents’ money was next to impossible. And I refused to use my family’s wealth for my gain – I refused to be like the other bimbos prowling the hallways for their next nerd victim. I was my own person and no one would define me. There were a few of us, so I wasn’t completely alone. Still, it wasn’t easy to make a statement even against the greatest of bitches and keep your self-respect. That was one of the reasons I’d finally switched schools.

  Now at fifteen and under constant surveillance, I had to be creative so that my social life wasn’t completely imaginary. I’d snuck out the window a few times, only to find a squad of reds and blues parked around the theater when I left the movies or a friend’s house. After that my parents installed a window sensor in my room, and my house became like a prison. How would I ever meet a boy suitable for dating if this continued? And finding someone my parents would approve of was a task I vowed to accomplish. The recent pixie do that I had cut and styled myself definitely made a statement (one about which my parents were furious), but how was I supposed to showcase it to anyone if I couldn’t go out? There had to be a way.

  Yet today, on this perfect morning as I stared out the train’s window at the passing yellow fields of wheat stretching out and colliding with the horizon, an odd feeling lingered in my stomach, as if my life was about to be changed with one single decision – and it wouldn’t be my own. My parents had been acting weird the past twenty-four hours. Could this trip bring us closer together, or would it tear us apart?

  We sat in the upper lounge, where the glass rooftop and sidewalls gave a perfect panoramic view of the plains. I’d been mesmerized by the scenery for over half an hour, wondering what the Canadian west coast would look like. But first we had a stopover at the Fairmont in Banff – a castle-like resort nestled in the valley of Rocky Mountains, overlooking a turquoise lake that looked like the center of the world (at least, it had on Google). Would the hot snowboarders hang out on the slopes or in the lounges? And how much leeway would I have while we stayed there? Perhaps I should make plans to experience the resort on my own?

  As I reveled in the idea of meeting a nice guy who could finally break my parents’ shell, we entered a tunnel. The train slowed around a curve. The lounge turned black for a moment, and before the dim lights illuminated the cabin with a soft glow from the floor, I saw their reflection.

  Those feelings I had never understood the other girls raving about flooded my system. From tingles in my hands to sweat on my back and butterflies in my stomach, I fought to keep my mouth closed. How in the world did I miss them before? Hemsworth brothers watch out, you have some competition!

  The two model-like brothers, whose genes had definitely been brewed in a pool of pure jaw-dropping hotness, could have passed for twins. They sat crossed legged, scrolling on their iPads. Their fluffy hair, tossed to the side, appeared to have been modeled by a professional. Right away I knew they had a good sense of style hiding beneath those polo shirts and crisply ironed slacks. All trim and proper, the boys – no, men – couldn’t have been more than twenty, which made them a perfect target pour moi. The one further away appeared older by a year or two. The look in his eyes held danger and excitement, and I wondered whether he went for younger girls. I must have been served four-leafed clovers for breakfast this morning to be so lucky as to find them on this train. How had I not noticed them before?

  “I’m going to the bathroom,” I said to my mom, who fortunately was too busy reading a book on her tablet to notice the source of my new fixation.

  “Catch your father at the front first, please. And tell him where you’re going. Be careful, Kat.” For a moment I thought I’d heard a slight tremble in my mom’s voice, like this was our last minute together. She squeezed my hand tightly, reluctantly letting it go. She couldn’t have been worried about security. I’d overheard my father saying they’d hired a team of professionals, who wouldn’t be seen and whom I hadn’t seen since we boarded, to protect us.

  Without wanting an argument or to draw too much attention at myself, I complied and headed in the opposite direction of the bathrooms toward my father. He stood in the corridor between the train carts, with his phone in his hand, talking to a man whose back was turned to me. As I approached I heard the man say, “It’s either your career or your daughter, Stephen.”

  What was that about? And before the man could say anything else, my father noticed me and nudged him with his elbow. Whatever their conversation entailed, I knew my father would never let his career suffer, so whatever he had crafted for my future, it just couldn’t be good. But at that moment I had more important things on my mind – namely bachelor numbers one and two that I planned on stalking for the rest of the trip. Not wanting to upset my mother and draw unneeded attention, I stepped up on my toes and kissed my father on his cheek. Earning some bonus daddy’s girl points was my specialty too. “I’m just heading to the bathroom,” I whispered.

  His eyes glistened. “I love you, darling.”

  “I love you too, Daddy,” I said, acutely aware how odd it was for us to have this kind of an exchange in front of a stranger.

  Leaving him there, with a man he was probably doing business with and whom I didn’t care to look at, I made my way back through the glassed lounge.

  As I passed my mom, she blew me a kiss and bit her lip. Did I see a crumpled tissue in her fist? But my questions to my mother would have to wait; curiosity led me toward the end of the train with the bathrooms. I squared my shoulders and pushed the two little peaks in my bra forward. I was a late bloomer, but given my mom’s natural cleavage, there was still some hope for me. With my head held high, I finally strolled passed the two hunks, warily peeking at the content on their iPads. Images of tattooed arms and piercings shone on both their devices.

  I knew they’re not the goody two-shoes boys they’re portraying!

  When I paused for longer than intended, one of them – the older one – looked up. And that first connection of ours hit me. I felt as if I was lying down right in the middle of the train tracks, letting the train cars pass over me one by one, unable to move because if I did I’d die.

  He grinned with a lopsided smile, reducing my legs to jelly. I quickly looked away and focused on the end of the car, where I was supposed to be heading, nearly tripping over my feet. Feeling my face heat, I could only imagine my beet-red cheeks on display.

  I’m such a doofus!

  Inside the bathroom, I washed my face with cold water and waited a few minutes until my pulse somewhat slowed. While fixing my white infinity scarf I pinched my cheeks to add a natural tone to their shade. I should have said something witty instead of running away like an immature kid! But I’d never met anyone like them. With just one look, gravity was stolen from underneath me. How in the world had I been so lucky to see them? I must have slept on a bed of horseshoes, too. With a deep breath of courage, I opened the door, planning in my mind to ask them about the weather. No, that was stupid. We were on a train, where the weather didn’t really matter. Besides, when not inside the tunnel, we could see the sunshine beaming through the windows and not a trace of cloud in the sky. Maybe I should ask them whether they’re staying at the Fairmont too?

  Stepping out of the bathroom, I lost my footing and bumped into someone.

  “I’ve got you,” he said, holding the sides of my arms to steady my stance. When I looked up, there he was, staring at me from above as if he had actually been waiting for me, those gem-like hazel eyes boring right through me.
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br />   “Is it safe to go in there?” he asked.

  What the hell was that supposed to mean? Did he think I stunk up the bathroom? O.M.G. This couldn’t have been more embarrassing!

  “I’m kidding, sweets. What’s your name?” He leaned against the door I’d shut, blocking my way. The smell of him was intoxicating. His manly scent was unlike any of the borrowed colognes the boys in my class wore.

  “K... Katherine, but everyone calls me Kat.” My body did not feel like I owned it. Come on! You got this! I said to myself.

  “And yours?” For the next decade I would wonder how I’d managed to speak at that moment.

  “Julian. Julian Cross.” He extended his hand, presenting himself as if he were James Bond or something. But there was no way any of the Bonds could compare to Julian, because they didn’t step out of heaven. I fought the urge to look behind him to see whether he’d tucked a pair of wings on his back, because if someone told me he was an angel, I’d believe them.

  I reached my hand forward. My frozen limb got lost in his big grip as he shook it.

  “Should I ask to have the temperature raised?”

  I stared into his deep eyes, feeling a rush of excitement roll through my body. Could you possibly fall in love at first sight?

  “Why?”

  “Because your hands are freezing.”

  That’s when I noticed both my palms were encased in his big hands. Julian gently massaged them, then drew them up and blew a warm breath of air. I leaned against the wall for support.

  Someone please hit me over the head so I can speak again!

  Yet I couldn’t get a sound out of my mouth. Julian stood there, warming my hands while looking into my eyes, and I got that feeling in my belly I could trust him with my life.

  “Are you picking up young girls again?” a voice said from behind him.

  Julian let go of my hand and turned with a frown toward the look-a-like from the aisle whom I thought was his brother. And as fast as our one-minute connection had begun, it ended even more quickly.