“Yes, it’s Monday. I understand…your workout routine. That’s okay, but at least wait to say ‘hi’ to your dad. He just got home a few minutes before you pulled in.”
After he’s changed his clothes, Dad comes out and we talk for a few minutes. They thank me for the strawberries before I take my leave, mentioning that I’m already off my schedule. Fortunately, they know me well enough to not push it.
I’m almost out the door when I stop suddenly. It’s seconds after I’ve passed through the front hall, but something has jumped out at me. Something is different. I turn around and move back to where I saw it… and there it is.
A newly framed painting is hanging in the hallway. My throat is inexplicably tight. So tight I can’t swallow.
“What is it?” my dad asks. Kim quickly excuses herself, and I‘m so stunned I can’t tell her goodbye.
“That picture. Where did you get it?”
There’s a long pause. My dad doesn’t say anything. I turn back to study the art. I’m very familiar with it. I produced it when I was fourteen years old. It’s a black line drawing with watercolor wash, a medium I haven’t used in at least four years. It shows an autumn scene in the hills out by the historic town of Julian. They hold an annual apple festival there, and I’d visited the area shortly before painting this.
But I threw it away years ago. There was too much anger and pain associated with it. My fists tighten at my sides as I replay the scene in my mind. I can see every vivid detail and feel every feeling, including the cold anger and the hurt. Returning to my room after having been called into the kitchen to speak on the phone with my mother. Her excuses—there were always excuses—as to why we wouldn’t go out to dinner, as she’d previously planned.
I’d grabbed that picture—intended as a gift for her—and shoved it in the trashcan. I didn’t cry. And I refused every invitation to see her after that.
“Well?” I ask between clenched teeth.
“I have a big folder of your artwork, and I was showing it to Kim. She loved this and wanted to frame it and show it off in our front hallway.”
“But I threw this away,” I say quietly, glancing at him out of the side of my eye.
“Liam,” Dad says.
I turn to him and he’s not looking at my face. That’s good, because I don’t want him to see me like this, and I sure as hell don’t want to look in his eyes while he lies to me.
“I threw this away, Dad. What is it doing on your wall?”
He takes in a deep breath and lets it go. “I saved it from your trash can. It was too beautiful to throw away.”
I blink, confused. Not because he dug it out of the trash, but because I’m not sure how I feel. That hurt and anger are back, fresh as ever, resentment toward a mother who never cared enough. Those feelings are mixed with frustration and also admiration toward a father who cared almost too much.
“Does it bother you?” Dad’s question interrupts my jumbled thoughts. “Kim really loved it. In fact, she loves all of your art.”
My stepmother loves what my mother never saw. Never cared to see. I take a deep breath, and suddenly Dad’s hand is on my shoulder. “Liam.”
I stiffen. “I gotta go. I’m already thirty-eight minutes off my schedule.”
His hand slides off. “Okay, son. Love you.”
This time I don’t recite the words back to him like I usually do. Instead, I say, “Goodbye.”
As I go about my workout routine—putting extra vigor into it to make up for the lost time and as an escape vent for these confusing feelings—I think about the things that have happened today. Specifically, Adam’s words about forgiveness and letting go. Later that night when Dad texts to ask me if I’m okay, I answer that I am and that he should keep the picture hanging on the wall.
Chapter 9
Jenna
Early on Saturday morning, I made it to the cemetery as promised. Alex was kind enough to lend me her car, but because I didn’t want to leave her stranded at home all day, I left at the asscrack of dawn.
I didn’t have money for a professional bouquet, so I’d spent some time on a sunset walk the night before picking wildflowers along the side of the road. As I did so, I indulged in memories I usually preferred to keep buried…our first date, our first kiss. The time he spent all his savings from his part-time job at the pizza shop to take me out on a special date and buy me a necklace for our anniversary. I still had that necklace, though the clasp had broken and I couldn’t wear it anymore.
I’d tied up the wildflowers with a pretty ribbon and took them with me to Brock’s grave. There, I removed the wilted bouquet that Helena had set there the week before and replaced it with my fresh bundle.
I passed an hour in quiet contemplation before speaking out loud. Sometimes I did this—and not just when I was at his graveside. If anyone ever overheard me, they’d think I was insane for talking to my dead boyfriend. But I liked to think that, wherever he was, he could hear me. That he could still feel our connection the way I felt it. That he’d know that I missed him.
Indulging myself in self-pity, I cursed what a rotten fate it was to find your soulmate at a young age and then have your time together cut tragically short. I lamented having to live an entire lifetime with him only as a memory, and I mourned the fact that the closest I could get to Brock was a plaque in a green lawn where I lay flowers every so often.
My thoughts drifted to last night, when I did a Tarot reading for myself. I’d wanted to confirm that I was making the right decision by leaving to travel with the Faire at the end of June.
I drew the Fool. How appropriate. How me.
Not because I was foolish, but because of what the Fool represented—a wanderer, an adventurer. A person who listened to the wind and did not set down roots in any one place.
The card showed a man with his possessions in a bag over his shoulder, looking up toward the radiant sun. He was stepping precariously near the edge of a cliff, a happy dog clipping at his heels. Ready to start a brand new adventure.
I felt that also and tried to ignore any of the other pangs at the back of my mind—the thought of leaving Alex, my other friends. And for some reason, William and his surprising lips had popped up, too, before I’d forced the memory of our kiss from my mind.
But as I drove home, my mind kept returning to it—the feel of William’s hands in my hair as they pressed against the back of my head, the way my body had heated instantly from the contact. I couldn’t not think about it.
With a sigh of frustration, I turned on one of my favorite mythology podcasts to listen to on the way home.
A few hours later, I sat at the dining room table pouring over my daily calendar, making a to-do list for the week and checking my appointments. Despite my hesitation to get too close to William, I was determined to get that tiara back. Thus, I was figuring out when I could sandwich in more time to help him with his crowd problems. If I’d been highly motivated to get it back before, I was even more determined now that Helena had made a flight to Serbia possible.
Alex sank down in a chair opposite me and plopped a foil container of food in front of my face. The delicious aroma of Lupe’s enchiladas swirled around my nose.
“Lunchtime. Eat up, girlfriend. I invited some of the gang tonight and we’re watchin’ Doctor Who and drinkin’ tequila.”
In spite of the siren’s song—otherwise known as Alex’s mom’s wonderful food—I glanced over my daily agenda again. 7 p.m. – William: visualization & breathing practice.
“I’m supposed to have William over this evening.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Fun. He’ll know everyone. Heath, Kat, Mia and Adam, and some of their work friends are coming over, too.”
I forked a bite straight from the tin—meaty, cheesy goodness exploded on my tongue and my stomach rumbled for more. “So that’s why you were cleaning like a madwoman when I got home. Again. I thought you’d lost your mind.”
Alex grinned and pointed to her forehead. “Loco co
mo un zorro.”
“Crazy like Zorro?”
“Like a fox. And we both know I’m a fox.”
I leered at her, taking in her smooth, bronze skin, her big, dark eyes and high cheekbones. She had a rebel stripe of pink running through her almost-black hair. Her oh-so-traditional mom had chewed her out for it, but I’d talked Alex into standing her ground and keeping it. “You are. If I swung that way, you’d be in trouble.”
She stuck her tongue out at me. “So what’s up with William? Are you dating him now? I bet the girls in the clan are pissed.”
I laughed. “No. No, we’re not dating.” Just trading explosive kisses on the doorstep. My face flushed, remembering the way our tongues tangled. Damn. The dude knew how to kiss. What was it they said about the quiet ones? Still waters run deep…
“Hmm. First you drop in at his house, then a Ducks game last week. Drinking party tonight…”
“I had no idea you were planning that. We’re supposed to work on visualization and breathing tonight.”
She perked up with a sly smile. “Heavy breathing?”
I rolled my eyes. “Calm your libido, please.”
She looked at me skeptically. “You don’t think he’s cute? Especially since he’s been working out so much…”
“No, I don’t think he’s cute,” I replied, keeping the rest of my thoughts to myself. William wasn’t merely “cute,” he was hot.
And he kissed like Eros himself. Those hands…the way they’d sifted through my hair. I swallowed and looked away.
He wasn’t right for me. Or more accurately, I wasn’t right for him.
I couldn’t be right for him. I was leaving in just three months, and my intuition told me that, if I allowed it, my involvement with William would last longer than that.
We were merely working toward a common cause. We couldn’t muddle it with anything else…fantastic kisses or not.
“You know what that tiara means to me.” I kept my voice low to keep it from shaking with emotion. “He has to win the duel so he can get it back, and I need to help him.”
“But kissing should be involved.” She nodded enthusiastically and my face burned even hotter. I faked coughing into my hand, as if the food was too spicy for me. As it turned out, Alex wasn’t paying that close of attention. “I’d date him if he was into me.”
“So would half of the RMRA—the female half, anyway.”
“True. But he’s into someone else.” She smirked at me.
I scoffed at her. “We’re just friends.”
“Friends can have benefits. You’ve done friends with benefits before.”
I shrugged. “I’m leaving in a few months.”
Her face darkened. “Yeah, I know. Time for you to move on like your gypsy ancestors.”
I cursed myself. This was a sore subject with Alex.
“Roma ancestors. They don’t like being called gypsies. And I have no idea if I actually have any Roma blood in me.”
She shrugged and didn’t meet my gaze. Now she was picking at her enchiladas. I ate a few more bites, watching her carefully.
“You okay?” I finally said in response to her silence.
She shrugged again. “I ran into Dr. Zweitberger the other day when I was in the science building.”
I raised my brows. “You were in the science building? Doesn’t that make you break out in a rash?”
She smiled. “There are some cute science nerds over there. Sometimes I hang out. Anyway, your professor recognized me. He asked me when you’re coming back to the program.”
Finished with my food, I busied myself with cleaning up while avoiding her searching gaze. “Probably not for a while…if ever.”
Alex’s face fell. “Seriously? You have like, what? Two semesters left?”
“Four classes. It’s okay. What the hell was I going to do with a physics degree, anyway?”
“Teach, like you said you wanted to.”
I laughed. “I said that on a whim.”
She speared me with her gaze. “You’re amazing with the kids at the refugee center, and you’d be a wonderful science teacher. I know it’s your dream to get more girls to study science.”
I shrugged. “It would have been nice, but I’ve moved on from that.”
Her lips thinned. “Yeah, that’s your specialty, isn’t it?”
I took a deep breath in, willing myself not to be irritated with her. Alex wore her heart on her sleeve and always spoke her mind. It was one of the things I loved about her.
She shook her head. “Jenna…”
“Alejandra,” I mimicked.
She blinked. Oh shit. I could tell she was seconds away from tears.
“Why do you do this to yourself? Why do you punish yourself like this?”
I shook my head, folding the foil over the container to ready the leftovers for the fridge.
“It’s survivor’s guilt, you know.” Her voice trembled. “You’re always like this after you’ve gone to the cemetery. Are you afraid other people you love will die, too? So you move on?”
I dropped back into my seat again, letting out air like a tire that had been punctured. I reached up and rubbed my forehead.
Survivor’s guilt. That wasn’t the first time I’d heard that.
“Let’s not fight, Alex.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to, either. But I just have to say that I hate what you’re doing. You’re sabotaging yourself, you know.”
“I’m moving on to experience life…to experience new things. That’s not a punishment!”
“But what about everyone who cares about you here? Me, Mia, everyone else? All your friends. What about Helena?”
“I’ve moved on from Helena’s house, and we’re still close. It will be like that with you and me, too.”
Her lips curled. “Yeah, sure.” She stood up and snatched the container off the table then scurried into the kitchen. I grabbed our dishes and followed her.
“Can I help you get ready for the party?”
She answered quickly. “No, I’m fine. People aren’t coming over ‘til about eight or nine. I figure we could binge-watch reruns or do a drinking game or whatever. Just hang out.” Alex hesitated before adding, “You’re going to join us, right?”
I shrugged. “If I’m done with William by then. We’ll see. You know I’m not a huge fan of this new Doctor. He’s dark and moody.”
“Hmmm. I love him. It must be the eyebrows!”
I laughed at her, relieved that the mood between us was a bit lighter. “You’re a weirdo.”
A couple hours later, William knocked at the apartment door at exactly seven. I raced to answer it, but Alex was quicker. “William! Hey, dude. How are you?”
He nodded. “Hi, Alex. I’m fine. How are you?” Again, he had that weird tone to his voice, as if reciting memorized lines.
“Just grand. Hope you are up for some drinking later because we are watching Doctor Who!”
He frowned. “Reruns? I’ve already seen every episode twice on Blu-ray.”
“Not like this, you haven’t. We are drinking and watching with beer goggles on!”
He looked at Alex as if she’d said everything in Spanish.
“Never mind that. Wil is here to work.” I motioned to him to follow me back to my bedroom. “Come on, Alex is going to be noisy and disruptive out here.”
“Wil?” said Alex quietly as I walked by her. I shushed her and led William to my room.
“Sorry, there’s not a ton of furniture in here. I don’t rent as nice a place as you do. Do you want the chair or the bed?”
“I own it,” he answered in a quiet voice as he settled his large frame on the foot of my bed. Probably a good thing, because the wicker chair didn’t look sturdy enough to support him. I concluded he had judged wisely to take the bed.
“I’m sorry—what?”
“My house. I own it. I paid off the mortgage last year.”
“Oh…oh, that’s awesome. It’s a nice house. A ve
ry nice house, actually. I didn’t know they paid artists so well at Draco.”
As he stared at the cheap print on the wall, I took the opportunity to stare at him. He was wearing jeans tonight and a dark blue t-shirt almost the exact same color. It was a lot of blue, and typically he didn’t match his clothes well, but it was more subdued tonight because pretty much anything matched jeans. Still, he filled those jeans well with his long, muscular legs. And his t-shirt looked damn fine, too, stretched over a solid chest and bulging biceps as he leaned back to continue solemnly studying that poster. I almost sighed and certainly could not stop my eyes from traveling over the thick column of his neck and across his broad shoulders.
Then my eyes shot to his mouth with memories of the taste of his lips. That’s not a goodnight kiss, he’d said. And he was right. Heat invaded my body from my cheeks down my spine, settling in my gut.
I swallowed and forced my eyes away before he caught me ogling like a fool. Like Echo ogling the gorgeous Narcissus until it had become an obsession.
The poster he was currently fascinated with was a print I’d picked up at a flea market. It showed a young woman in a garden at nighttime, her brow crowned with flowers. She was bent over, surveying the party of fairies and other wee folk surrounding her, amidst glowing balls of colorful light. I loved it for its whimsical feel.
“It is the industry standard,” he answered, and it took me a few seconds to realize he was responding to my comment about his artist’s salary. “I wasn’t always paid in money, though. At the start, when there wasn’t a lot of money, Adam paid me with stock in the company.”
My brows shot up. “Holy crap…for real? That must be worth a fortune now.”
He was still staring at the print. I couldn’t tell whether he liked it or was horrified by it. “It changes depending on the day and the value of the stock. I don’t pay much attention to it. The last I heard from my accountant, my portfolio was worth a little more than fifty-six million dollars,” he said as if he were talking hockey scores.
I almost fell off the chair. I knew his cousin had gone from millionaire to billionaire, having started the company on his own, but I had no idea that William himself was a millionaire.
For The One (Gaming The System Book 5) Page 11