by Aimee Laine
The doors closed again.
Wyatt turned to Stuart. “She was. In that car, I mean.”
“How’d she get out here so fast?”
Wyatt had chased Mira as she flew through the dance hall, hadn’t known she would be so quick. He’d caught a speck of color as she pushed out into the patio where they’d almost fulfilled his ultimate fantasy.
“What happened, man?” Stuart asked.
Wyatt ran a hand through his hair. “I have no idea.”
He’d been happily entwined in her arms, fingers, lips, cheeks—touching and arousing. He’d found a tear on his thumb and worried he’d hurt her in some way—the dance with Julie burning in his gut.
One day. He only had one day left with her, and he’d spent more than a second with someone else.
Stuart slunk to the side. “What do we do?”
Wyatt paced back and forth along the patio, yanking at his hair. The glint of light off the slate brought to mind her eyes. The light had played a trick on them right before she’d called out a quick ‘I love you’ and bolted.
Stuart leaned against the building’s brick. “Wyatt, man. What’cha gonna do?”
He slapped his hands against his thighs. “I’m going to find her.”
“I’ll go with ya.”
“You don’t have to.” Wyatt grabbed his keys from his pants pocket. They jiggled in his hand as he searched for the right one.
“You’re my ride, dude.” Stuart huffed a laughed. “I gotta. Uh … what about Leena?”
“She’s with them.” As Wyatt’s car came into view, Stuart took a right. With two beeps, they opened the doors and slid into their seats. Before he could close his door, the call of his name took his attention.
Julie stood on the red carpet.
“Not now, Julz.” Wyatt gripped the wheel, turned to Stuart. “Ready?”
“I’m with you, man.”
Julie stood at the end of the path, turning her head as Wyatt backed out of the spot.
Where did she go?
“Home?” Stuart said out loud.
“Can you read minds, man?” Wyatt turned a one-eighty to put wheels on the road.
“Nah, just figured, if something were wrong with me, that’s where I’d go.”
“Why’d she call them?” Wyatt pushed the car to sixty-five on roads meant for half.
“Dunno, man.”
What have I done? Tires squealed as Wyatt sped up Turner Point. The headlights did little to light his way beyond the curve. Stuart’s knuckles turned white as he held on to the door. Wyatt’s breath grew ragged.
Left then right, right then left—no care for the possibility of a car in the other direction—he sped.
The house loomed with a few lights.
Wyatt jumped from the car, which shook as Stuart yanked the parking brake in place. Smooth-soled shoes slipped against the concrete before Wyatt ran to the front door.
He rang the bell, pounded his fist. “Mira! Mira, it’s Wyatt!”
Stuart caught up to him as the door opened.
“What happened? Why did she leave? Where is she?” Wyatt tried to walk around Jack, who held his position in the frame, arms folded across his chest.
“She can’t see you right now.”
“Why?” Wyatt’s words burst forth. “Why not?” Fury coated his words.
“She just can’t.” Jack’s voice held an unemotional calm. “And she’ll be gone tomorrow. I’m sorry, man.”
“That’s shit!” Wyatt stormed away and back. “I want to see her now!” Fists at his sides, Wyatt raised himself to his full height and still didn’t reach Jack’s nose.
He didn’t budge, but behind him, Leena peeked out.
“Leena … where is she?” His resolve lost in the face of a friend, he softened and moved toward her.
She snuck out from underneath Jack’s arms—still in her dress, feet bare. A walk to Wyatt, a hug and squeeze undid him. “I’m going with her tomorrow.” Leena pulled back, addressing both of them. “Like me, she just didn’t know how to say goodbye.” She dropped her eyes. “Sometimes …” She nodded and leaned in. “Sometimes things are just best left unsaid.” A red-painted toe dug at the tile.
“But she told me she loved me.” Wyatt’s arms fell as desperation took hold.
“And that makes it all the harder.” Leena drew one hand to his cheek. “She always will, too.” She placed a soft kiss where her hand had lain.
“But I love her!” Wyatt’s anger fired rocket-like as he punched the air. “And I have this.” He pulled a small box from within his coat, held it out to Leena. “Will you—”
“Keep it, Wyatt.” Leena pulled herself up to his shoulders. “And listen to me very carefully, okay?”
He nodded, shocked at her abrupt change in temperament, her eyes seething hurt and fury.
“Now is not the time.” She poked him in the chest with her index finger. “You will never see Mira again. But do not—and I repeat this—do not give this to anyone else. Ever.” She dropped her head. “Unless you are more than a hundred percent sure she is the right one. Got that?” her glare added to the pain her finger offered while she dug into his chest.
He nodded. How would I know? It didn’t matter. He’d toss the box in a drawer and forget about it. Wyatt nodded at her with more conviction than ran through him.
Leena pursed her lips. “Good then. Take care, Wyatt.” She squeezed his shoulders and walked to Stuart, offering him a simple hug before she slipped in behind Jack and left them in silence.
Wyatt considered a gang attack, but he didn’t think he and Stuart would fare well against the monster at the door. He dropped his head, turned on his heel and started his walk back to the car.
He kicked small pebbles that ground into his shoes. They rattled against his car when they hit. He didn’t care. The dents would help ease the pain in his chest.
“Fuck.” Wyatt slammed his fists into the hood.
• • •
Vest undone, jacket over his arm, Wyatt trudged into his house. One o’clock in the morning would roll through in seconds. He entered to silence and the smell of bread baked not long before.
“Wyatt?” His mom asked from the top of the stairs. “That you?”
“Yeah, Mom.”
“No Stuart?”
“Nah.”
“Someone dropped something off for you, honey. It’s in the kitchen.”
“Thanks, Mom. I’ll get it tomorrow.”
“They asked me to tell you to open it tonight. That’s why I stayed up. I’m going on to bed now, okay?”
“Yeah, Mom.”
In the dark, he followed the well-worn path from foyer to kitchen. The walk took far less time than in Mira’s house. On the island where he’d had pancakes and waffles, lunch and dinner, and had completed and forgotten his homework, lay a package wrapped in brown paper. Light from the moon—the same one he’d wanted to stand under as he gave her his second gift—streamed through the bay window, bouncing shadow and light against reflective surfaces.
That’s what the light had done to her eyes, he thought. Those damn balls! I shouldn’t have let go! With his Mom upstairs, Wyatt couldn’t let loose. The scream he held in burned the back of his throat.
He crossed to the countertop, eased the package to its side.
To: Wyatt, written in her script.
So it was dropped off and not shipped. Consolation prize? He’d dump it in the trash. But I’ll look first.
Wyatt pulled pieces of tape off one at a time and stuck them back onto the paper. As the back revealed itself, he found a card attached.
Happy Birthday, without signature. The handwriting he recognized well.
He ripped the rest of the paper in one violent strip and turned what he knew would be art in his direction. Silhouettes of two bodies twisted around each other like a strand of DNA. Obscure, no distinct features were visible, just the idea of form.
He knew.
One body laid back, the ot
her pressed forward, arms of whispery white connected the two.
He and Mira had been in that position hours before.
Wyatt’s heart pounded; his chest constricted. His eye caught a spot of white, lighter than the rest against the black of the canvas.
Tucked into the lower corner, it read: For Wyatt. Love, Charley.
8
Sixteen years later
The communicator crackled in Charley’s ear as she walked through the hallway she’d avoided with each previous invitation. Cement blocks painted a simple off-white, spotted tiled floors, metal doors and fluorescent lights adorned the school. They no longer held the romance she’d experienced so long ago.
Charley sped up at the footsteps behind her but froze—her hand at her ear. She closed her eyes, concentrating on a voice only she could hear, and balanced a brown cardboard box in one hand. “You want me to do what, James? Are you fucking crazy?”
Four pairs of innocent eyes stared up at her.
Dammit! Yet another reason Lily should have done this. Charley mouthed ‘I’m sorry’ to the group of kids who loitered in the hall and quick-stepped away.
Why did I not see them? She shook her head. It’s an elementary school, for god’s sake.
Too preoccupied with James’s request, she’d walked without thought, and he’d caught her off guard. If it hadn’t been for Chase, dropped at their doorstep eight years before, she’d never have agreed to play delivery girl.
An alarm blasted as she reached for the door. Those bells are louder than I remember.
Her earpiece rattled as hundreds of children streamed through doors, scrambling one over the other with laughter and cheer. The echoes brought intense memories and sliced through her heart.
The moment passed when she spotted her target no more than ten feet from where she stood. “Chase.”
One well-spoken word, called over the rush of feet, stopped him.
His tomato red shirt and curly, strawberry hair stood out among the rest. His shoulders drooped as he ambled his way over.
Charley held the container out to him. “Take it.”
He reached with two skinny arms for a box no bigger than his hands. His baby blues looked up at her as one last, ‘I’m sorry,’ passed through his lips. His head tilted from side to side as he kicked specks of dirt on the tile.
Charley rolled her eyes as her earpiece vibrated with suggestions and alternatives she wouldn’t consider—again. “Will you please shut up for a minute?”
“Is that James?” Chase rose on his toes. “Hey, James!” Chase would know his only hope lay with his big brother.
“He’s not going to help you, Chasey. Your chances are up. Pass that mouse to the next in line.” She pointed to the box as she spoke, ignoring her earpiece.
Chase’s head dipped down. “But—”
“And Chase?” She waited for him to return the glance.
His gaze met hers through long lashes, anticipation and possibility alighting his eyes. “Yeah?”
So beautiful. Still so young and innocent. If she didn’t press, she’d give in—like the rest of them did, every time. Like she did, too, except for once, and not for Chase, but Wyatt. Her heart ached even after so long.
This is why I don’t go into schools. She took a deep breath. Steadied herself. “No sneaking him back home. I’ll know.” She tapped her temple. “Hey …” Her voice softened at his frown. “You’ll be hanging with Sophie for a little while. The crew will be gone for a couple days.”
Sophie—an addition Charley welcomed not long after Chase’s arrival. She’d become his nanny, or super-nanny in Charley’s mind, and keeper of all Charley’s secrets.
“Cool! Where ya goin’?” Chase’s infectious smile and his fascination with her job made it that much harder to walk away each time—and for James, Lily and Cael to go with her.
She ruffled his hair. “Can’t tell ya this time.” Perhaps one day, he’ll be a part of it.
His lips squished into a clear ewww as he backed away in one swift move.
“But we’ll come back with stories … and presents.” She added a noncommittal shrug.
His face lit up. None of the four of them would come home empty handed.
“Oh!” She checked her watch. “You’ll be late in exactly … fifteen seconds.”
He raced down the hall and slipped through the door as the bell vibrated again. One quick wave back at her forced another memory to take shape: of a boy who raced to class with Charley’s hand in his. Pain erupted in her heart as if it had happened minutes before.
She blew a kiss Chase would not see, returned to James’s voice with an even more firm resolve. “I’m on my way.” She stomped back to the exit, paying little attention to the curious hallway stragglers watching her converse with herself. “No, we won’t talk about this when I arrive because there is nothing to discuss. I just won’t do it.”
• • •
Charley blew through the metal doors, her only barrier to the outside, and launched herself into the afternoon sunshine.
James knew better than to send her off to a school, alone, in the middle of the day with a mouse and to throw a crazy-ass assignment her way. She’d already labeled it a trifecta of terrible. Adding the need to rid herself of memories, yet again, burned more and hadn’t helped improve her mood.
Why did he ask me to do this?
Out in the open, away from the sounds and stimulation of her past, she let her thoughts wander. Clean-shaven, nearly-black hair, crisp green eyes, and soft lips floated through her mind.
Wyatt.
Behind the cover of dark shades, tears pricked the back of her eyes as pictures flooded her mind. There’d never, ever, been a possibility they’d be erased.
He probably still hated her. It’s been sixteen years, Charley. Get a grip! She tucked her thoughts back into their recesses, instead, turned her attention back to James’s most recent assignment request.
“I’m not going to do it,” she said into the mouthpiece.
He chuckled.
She held in the scream, figuring to let it out in the middle of a school parking lot might give her more attention than she deserved.
“You’re needed, Charley.” Notwithstanding his confidence in her, she would refuse on principle.
She’d trained to be, acted as, or worked as a physician, electrical engineer, molecular biologist, neuroscientist, and attorney, among countless others. She held advanced graduate degrees from Harvard, Duke, Texas A&M, Berkeley and one or two more. The new assignment made no sense.
“Dammit, James! The President himself couldn’t convince me to take this one.” Charley hissed into the sky, relieving a moment of tension. “I choose the assignments. Me. Remember?”
James laughed in her ear, further ruining her attempts at relaxation. The oversized black sedan sent fury through Charley.
Her body shivered despite the warmth under the sun. “You didn’t tell me I’d have company.”
Wheels rolled, gravel crunched. It stopped behind her vehicle, blocking her in.
“Sorry. That’s why you were sent with Pops,” James said.
Such an affectionate name for a completely icky creature.
Two black suits in dark sunglasses emerged, positioned at each side of the car, their hands clasped at their crotches.
“Seriously? Why do they wear shades when the windows are completely tinted? And, hands at their boy parts?”
“It looks really cool. Great way to meet the ladies.” James’s come-on voice, infused with sultry indifference, incited a small laugh from Charley.
She imagined he wiggled his eyebrows, too. “That’s totally lame, you know?” Meandering, she slowed her pace until she stopped.
“Keep moving, Charley.”
How does he know I stopped? “James! C’mon!” She stomped a foot on the ground. “This one is not for me. You don’t need a brain!”
“Yes, we do. It’s a short project. Get in, get done. Your body will work very nic
ely.”
Her thick hair warmed under the sun’s rays. She kept it long out of habit, had left it black since the day she’d given Wyatt up. A redhead when she met James, blonde with Lily, wild when she connected with Cael, and gold in the period she considered her previous life—with Wyatt.
Her breath hitched. Ten feet away, she planted her feet. “I’m not going with you.”
They stayed fixed at the car, waiting in a stance she knew they’d learned early in the academy.
“Sorry, Charley.” Cael cleared his throat with an audible cough. “Your presence has been, well, requested.” His lips, the only part of his body which registered movement, raised in a slight smirk. She didn’t even see the motion of his chest with his intake of breath.
Charley grimaced at Cael in work mode. Of course they’d send him to get her. That doesn’t mean I have to accept it.
“Go with ’em Charley,” James said. “We’ll meet you there.”
When she’d been sent to Russia, the project had been marked urgent. Her trip to Brazil: life or death. Texas, Africa and China came to her with the same deep need.
One hand on her hip, she tilted her sunglasses down her nose. “By whose definition are we calling this one a necessity?” The government didn’t know when to quit.
“Can’t say,” Cael said.
Charley shook her head, let her hair fall across her face. “Of course you can’t. James couldn’t. No one can tell me who’s calling the shots, yet they want me.” She waved her hands in the air. “Never mind.” She cut herself short and finished the distance to the car.
• • •
Cael held the door wide. As she slipped into the back seat, she clung to the frame. “This doesn’t mean I agree, just that I’ll let you drive me. Then we can waste time fighting about it.”
“Of course.” Cael nodded.
Two door slams later, the engine purred, and the car exited the school’s lot. On the highway, tires rolled to a smooth cadence. Lulled, Charley let herself fall into a memory from so long ago, she with her three friends in the back of a limo—fun the only rule.
Rarely did they have a driver. Cael as a passenger meant whoever called for her held power and authority.