by Devon Ashley
I dropped my gaze from meeting his and replied, “Nothing. It’s just weird, you going off to work without me. I guess I just got used to having you around twenty-four-seven.” I glanced around the apartment. Suddenly, it seemed the opposite of warm and comfortable. Not at all like what I would consider home.
I must’ve been an open book, because once again, Nick honed in on exactly what thought was bouncing around inside my head. “Hey,” he said, gently holding the side of my face, his thumb trailing back and forth along my cheek. “This is your home now, and I want you to be comfortable. You’re safe here. And I don’t want to make you feel like a prisoner or anything, but do me a favor and don’t answer the door unless I’m here. Not for anyone.”
I nodded again. You’d never catch me arguing that point. He slowly leaned down and kissed my lips tenderly, then whispered, “I love you, baby.” He kissed me firmly on the forehead, then grabbed his backpack off the counter and headed for the door. “I’ll be back in no time, you’ll see.”
It wasn’t in no time, but I survived my first evening without him. I knew it was silly of me, and that we had to get back to a normal life, but I just liked having him around. I still didn’t like being alone at night, even when I felt a sense of safety securely locked away in Nick’s apartment. I had to turn on all the lights.
And I still felt bad that I wasn’t doing some kind of work, so I spent the better part of the evening cleaning the apartment. But I probably should’ve left some of it alone, so I’d have something to do the rest of the week. Luckily, Nick took me to the library the next day so I could get a card to check out a bunch of books. Some for pleasure, some for studying so I could take my GED. Of course, in order for me to take it, I’d have to clear up this whole Claire Whitaker – Megan Smith thing I had going on. Which incidentally, didn’t take as long as I thought it would.
I fell asleep on the sofa long before Nick came home from work and woke me up. He noticed the excess of lights but didn’t say anything, and instead, moved silently through the rooms turning them off one by one as we settled in the bedroom for the night. After coming back from his second night back at work, he handed me an envelope that had Philippe’s laboratory name on it. “Wow. That was fast.” I tapped the sealed envelope in my hand. “Do you know the result?”
“Nope. I didn’t ask, he didn’t say. I thought it best to let you open it.”
The contents of my stomach were swirling inside. This was it. This thin little envelope was going to determine the rest of my life, would tell me if Nick was truly mine to keep, and if a family would be waiting with open arms for me to come home.
How could one sheet of paper hold so much power?
I am Claire Whitaker. It still felt funny to say that, to even think the thought, as those words seemed foreign, lost in translation. I am Claire Whitaker. I was taken from my family, from a boyfriend who adored me, and had more than my life stripped away from me. Forget the lost memories; part of my soul was cruelly ripped from my body, lost forever in the darkness that entrapped me those six months down in that prison of a basement.
I told Nick I didn’t know how long I had been kept there, but I was sure it hadn’t been that long. After all, I still had enough willpower and strength to fight my way out.
But it was a lie. I knew exactly how long I had been imprisoned, how long I had been used. I knew the exact dates of when my supposed-parents died and when I escaped. Six fucking months.
Well, five months, nineteen days, to be exact.
But I’d never tell him that. Better he thought two, maybe three months tops. The higher the number, the harder it would be on him, and I had already suffered enough for the both of us.
And Nick was lying about completely believing I was Claire. I saw the relief that flashed through his eyes when I read aloud the DNA results, saw the way his face softened, and felt how his mouth was particularly delicate as it explored my body afterwards. I could feel the passion all the way to the tip of my toes.
I think for the first time since I escaped that hellhole, I actually slept through the night, and peacefully at that. Nick faced the chilly air first, jumping out of bed and stepping into his drawstring pants. For the second time, I got a really good look at the sunburst tattoo in actual light. I had noticed once before, but he was on the phone while changing, so we didn’t get a chance to discuss it. Its core was at least two inches in diameter; its wavy, flaming tendrils reaching well beyond that, the color splash of reds, yellows and oranges covering a good part of the right side of his groin, fanning out high enough to peek over his pants.
Teasingly, I asked, “You let a dude’s hand get close enough to make that?”
“No. I let a woman do it.” He winked playfully and added, “A really hot one.”
I gasped dramatically, pretending to be offended. Throwing the covers off, I began the search for my own clothes. That instant chill pierced deep enough to make me tingle inside, goosebumps sprouting up all across my flesh.
“Don’t even go there. You don’t remember, but you went all googley-eye for the guy that did yours.”
He watched as I pulled my tank over my head, hunger firing up behind those rich green eyes. Guess the goosebumps weren’t the only thing showing how cold I was. “Is that why you found a hot girl to do yours? To get back at me?”
Now that I had my boy shorts on too, his visual was lost, and he was quick to extend his arm and point at me as he headed for the bathroom. “Hey. I had them first. Seeing mine is what made you want to get one too.”
Following him, I stopped at the edge of the doorway. I watched his reflection throw water into his hair and comb his fingers through it. “Do you always tease your girlfriend this way?” I asked, faking offense, pouting my lips for dramatic effect.
“Oh, is that what you’re calling yourself these days?”
My nose wrinkled. “I believe I’ve filled out all the necessary paperwork for the position.”
“Well, in that case, application approved.” He kissed me quickly on the lips. “Now get away from me before we end up in bed again.”
Alright, we had been a little attached to the bed since we moved here. Enough we might as well have been categorized with the newlyweds, because we couldn’t get enough of each other. I may have only been a few months shy of turning twenty, but I felt thirty, like I’d been waiting forever for something this wonderful to come along. And now that I had him, I didn’t want to let go. And if that meant spending a lot of time playing doctor under the sheets, then so be it.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
Chuckling, he tied his shoes while he replied, “Not at all. But I have to be at work in a few hours and I’ve got to get a workout in. I did nothing while we were in Myrtle Creek and I feel like shit.”
“I thought sex was exercise.” He pressed his lips tight and shook his head, refusing to take the bait, so I asked, “Did I ever exercise?”
“Sometimes you ran, but you spent most of your free time writing and investigating.”
“Huh?”
“You worked on the school paper. You were going to go to college here and get English and Journalism degrees so you could work for a magazine or paper somewhere.”
“Really?” Shrugging, I thought on it, saying, “I suppose Journalism could be cool. But what if college isn’t right for me anymore?”
“Megan, you keep worrying about things you don’t need to worry about. You don’t have to figure out everything right now. Just get your GED and then decide the next step. I don’t want you to rush into something because you liked it as Claire. I want you to do what Megan wants.”
He literally ran off after that, leaving me to ponder my future alone.
Today was the day. Sunday. Time to meet the parents. Funny, I’d always thought that phrase was meant for meeting your significant other’s parents, not your own. I’d tossed and turned all night, my nerves shot to hell and back with worry. I still had no idea who these people were to me. No
t a single memory about my family had come back to me, even though I’d spent hours this past week memorizing every photo in that album, trying desperately to associate a sound, a smell, anything, that would remind me of the moment it was taken. But I had nothing. Truthfully, I haven’t had memories involving Nick resurface either, and he was the one I spent the majority of my time with this past month.
What if I never got any of them back? Then my whole childhood would be lost, leaving me with nothing more than memories that were falsely implanted in my mind. I still shivered when I thought of what those handlers must’ve done to achieve that.
I took a deep breath and held my stomach, trying to calm the nausea within. I had already tried on three of the shirts and was debating on a fourth. Turned out I was right about being ten pounds heavier as Claire, because now the clothes in my closet were looser than they should’ve been.
Why did I even care? These people were my family. I was pretty sure I could show up in a potato sack and they wouldn’t care less. Blowing off the closet, I grabbed a pair of sneakers and called it good.
Portland to Seattle was a three hour drive and my nerves continued to eat away at me. Maybe I should’ve brought that study guide. At least I could’ve tricked my mind into concentrating on something else.
With a smirk, Nick turned and asked, “You wanting chocolate yet?”
“What?” That question was so left field.
“You always craved chocolate when you were stressing.”
Huh. I hadn’t really ever noticed that before, but then again I was close to broke, so chocolate wasn’t something I indulged in often. But now that he mentioned it, chocolate sounded pretty damn good right about now.
“Check the glove box.”
With curious eyes, I pulled on the lever. Amongst the basic car crap you’d expect to see, ie. maps, pens, extra napkins and a tire gauge, were two packages of plain M&Ms. “Awesome.” I offered him a bag but he shot me down.
“You’re probably going to need both bags by the end of the day.”
“It’s not fair,” I whined grumpily, ripping into the bag so I could pop a few of the hard-shelled morsels into my mouth.
“What’s not?”
“You know me so well. You know all my quirks. When I’m lying.” Raising one eyebrow, I added, “My sexual hot spots.” Yeah, that got his lips to curl a little too wickedly. “I’ve got nothing on you anymore.”
His chuckle was just evil. “I was wondering when that was going to occur to you.”
“So will you tell me those things about you now?”
“Nope.” He was so blunt my jaw actually dropped. “You figured them out once, you’ll figure them out again.” I groaned dramatically when he had the nerve to follow that up with a wink. That just made me pop a fistful of chocolate.
“So here’s the game plan. We’re going to stop off at my Mom’s first. I figure she’ll be a good warm-up since you’re still nervous about your own family.”
I kind of just stared at him, completely taken aback. “But you don’t talk about your family. Ever.”
Nick’s face soured, his lips taking on a wrinkled curve. “It’s not that,” he said solemnly. “I know you tried asking that first night we met, but you had just told me that those people who pretended to be your parents died on you, and you were genuinely upset about it. And I’m sorry, but it just pissed me off. You had a loving family that bled tears over your disappearance, praying every damn day for your safe return. You were so brainwashed you actually mourned for those assholes. So yeah, I really didn’t want to discuss families with you,” he finished, perhaps just a little too bitterly.
Damn that made me feel like shit. Suddenly, the M&Ms were having the opposite effect on me. Grimacing, I tossed the bag back into the glove compartment. “I’m sorry,” I said quietly. I didn’t even have the courage to look at him when I apologized. “God, I must be the worst girlfriend ever.”
Sighing, he replied, “No, you’re not.”
“No, seriously. I’ve been so self-absorbed in my own problems that it hasn’t even occurred to me that you may have some too. I’m such a bitch.”
“Baby,” he cooed, grabbing my hand and squeezing it over the center console, “you’ve had every right to be self-absorbed. Normally I wouldn’t say that, but you have some fairly significant issues to deal with right now. I’m not mad at you for that. Shit, I’m not mad period. We’ve found you, we’ve proven you’re a Whitaker and today you’ll reunite with your family. I promise, beginning tomorrow, most of this nightmare will be behind us and it’ll get easier.”
“Just one more day?”
“Just one more day,” he parroted. He tried to give me a meaningful look, but couldn’t hold it long enough, as he needed to focus on the road before us.
Determined to stop being a completely craptastic girlfriend, I encouraged, “So tell me about your family. Did your dad really pass away?”
Eyes fixated on the road, he solemnly replied, “Yes. When I was sixteen. Brain cancer.”
“I’m so sorry.” I pulled my hand free and used it to gently scratch the back of his head, for which he immediately acknowledged with a soft moan of approval. I was only fourteen then, so I knew he hadn’t met me as Claire when that happened. “I wish I could’ve been there for you.”
“Me too. Because it came out of nowhere and took him fast. And I didn’t deal with it as well as I should have.”
“Nick, there’s no right way to deal with that. We just do it the way that comes naturally, and that’s however our bodies require us to react to get through it.” He simply nodded his head. I didn’t want to push him anymore on the subject while he was driving, so I moved on to something easier. “So is it just you and your mom? No siblings?”
“Just me.”
Teasingly, I asked, “Had you and quit, huh? You must’ve been a real terror growing up.”
“Or just so damn cute they only had down to go,” he countered with a grin.
I chuckled, and the release felt good, and by the smile lighting up Nick’s face, the mood was definitely mutual. He spent the rest of the trip telling me about his life pre-Claire: from playing baseball all his life, from the arm he broke when he was twelve because he just had to jump off a massive boulder with his skateboard and ended up tripping as he landed, falling awkwardly on his upper body.
Time flew by and suddenly, we were letting ourselves in through Nick’s childhood one-story home. He closed the door behind us and called for his mom. I heard a cheerful voice shout, “Coming!” right before she appeared around the corner. Her face lit up and a cheerful grin greeted us. Guess I now knew where Nick got those vivid green eyes and woodsy brown hair color from. “Hi!” she called excitedly, wrapping her son up in a hug and kissing his cheek. She was about my height, so Nick’s six-foot-three height towered over her a bit, too.
Then she turned to me and her features softened. I had the feeling she was dialing down her overzealous nature a notch for my benefit. “So I guess we’re doing this like the first time, right?” She gently shook my hand. “Hi, Megan. I’m Sam. It’s nice to meet you. Again.”
Call it instinct, maybe even an unearthed memory scratching its way to the surface, but I really liked this woman. She was clearly making fun of me, but at the same time, not a drop of sarcasm tainted her voice, and a smile naturally lifted my cheeks. “Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Ellis.”
Fake abhorrence smothered her features. “Oh, no, honey. No, no. When someone your age calls me that, I feel ancient. Now I know you don’t remember this, but you used to call me Mom. But if that’s too weird for you, just call me Sam.”
Nick’s hand reached around to snag my hip and pull me against him. I loved the feel of his fingers splayed against my body, and the pressure as he pulled firmly. “Okay,” I replied. “Then we’ll start with Sam and go from there.”
“Perfect!” she exclaimed, eyes wide as she clapped her hands together before her. If this was her normal behavior, where in
the hell did she get all that energy?
“Mom?” Nick asked cautiously. “Are you cooking?”
Whoops. There went her ecstatic mood, her smile beginning to wilt as her forehead furrowed. With a slight tone, she retorted, “Yes, Nickolas. I do occasionally cook food in this house, but if you’d like to go inspect it to make sure I’m not going to give myself E. coli, knock yourself out.”
The way he pinched his lips, I could tell he was really trying to stay put, but whatever the thoughts were shouting off in his head, they won out. Once he was gone, a quiet chuckle escaped Sam’s mouth. Then she winked and beckoned me with a silent nod to follow her through the dining room and into the kitchen.
Nick was standing over the stock pot simmering away on the island, sniffing and tasting what smelled like stew. “Well, it tastes alright, but it could use a sprig of rosemary.”
Sam’s face seemed to squish, turning her pressed smile my way. “A sprig. Did you hear that? A sprig.” Turning her attention back to Nick, she said, “If you’re not going to be calling the health department on me, could you back away from the pot and let me finish then?”
I tried not to laugh, I really did. Nick’s hands went up in surrender and he stepped off to the side. Sam took over at her work station, continuing to chop carrots and skinned potatoes. “Hey. Since you’re here, could you work your magic with the guest room toilet again?”
Groaning, he cried, “Again?”
“Always.”
After rolling his eyes, he asked me, “Will you be alright for a few minutes?”
Before I could even form words, Sam swatted his chest. “Of course she’ll be okay! What do you think I’m going to do to the girl? Feed her my cooking?”
Deadpanned, he replied, “Please don’t. She’s been through enough already.”
I laughed as Sam shoved her son a little harder, pushing him into motion. “Go on. Get out of my kitchen and get to work.”
“Alright!” Obviously trying to comfort me in case I was nervous, he added, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”