“I’ll stop by before I leave, okay?”
“Sure, we should still be here.” I sure hope so anyway.
Heat spreads across my cheeks from his playful crack. Even worse, I hate that I don’t want him to leave. I only want to be near him. What’s that old saying, ‘Like a moth to a flame?’ What’s wrong with me?
His smile fades a bit. “Enjoy your lunch.”
“Thanks. I plan to.”
He turns to walk down the hall towards his friend’s room, but glances over his shoulder in my direction. “There’s that spunk I’m so crazy about.”
We both laugh as he disappears through the double-doors to the burn-unit.
I don’t know Hunter well enough to be sure, but he still seems a bit off since our age discussion. I must have freaked him out?
Oh, who cares? He just flirted, so that’s all I need to get me through the day.
I walk back into Pap’s room, just as they finish getting the food from the bags.
Twenty minutes later, Dru assumes his position next to Pap, and I go back to my indented corner of the love seat. Maybe I’ll take a nap.
Dhelia leaves with Aunt Morgan to arrange for Ash and Aidan’s trip next week, so Gram moves back to her chair to hold Pap’s hand while Dru reads.
Watching her now, I can see some of the worry she hides so well, appearing on her drawn, listless face. I wish she didn’t always feel the need to maintain such control of her emotions. I can only imagine how painful it must be to watch her husband laying there so helpless—and unaware.
She sits for what seems like an eternity. Rubbing his hand. Smoothing his hair. Adjusting his blankets and pillows. All the while, regarding him as if she’s seeing him for the first time. What a rare love they share.
If only my mother could have had that with my father. My heart clenches at the memory of their less than romantic love affair. I wish she could have known what it feels like to be on the receiving end of something so resplendent—and one-hundred-percent reciprocated.
She glowed that night I saw her, like she had found true happiness. But I can’t help but wonder if she’s with my dad where she is. No. There’s no way she could be. If she is, someone needs to reconsider the rules of the afterlife. There’s no chance she’d be in heaven with the man who killed her. No God could be that cruel.
Somehow, in the midst of admiring my grandparents’ enduring love—and feeling remorse for my mother’s unhappiness when she was alive—I manage to fall into deep slumber.
My surroundings are extrinsic.
I’m frightened—but not for myself. So for whom? And where am I?
I’m desperately searching for someone in a crowded room.
My heart pounds. Palms sweat.
Someone’s hurt. I can feel it in the pit of my stomach.
I need to help them.
From a distance, I hear my name in a faint whisper. “Chloe . . . I need you.”
I force myself to run.
The trepidation builds in my chest, as if my ribs are crushing my lungs.
I press my hand to my heart, but the beating never slows.
Where am I going?
Why does it feel like I’m running in circles?
Darkness moves in around me as a low, rumbling growl gets closer.
“Hurry, Chloe. Where are you?” There’s the voice again. It’s louder this time. And discernably female.
I stop.
I try to figure out where I am, but not a single thing is familiar.
Where the hell am I?
Wait. The people. Where’d they go? Everyone disappeared.
I’m in an endless, shadowy, marble hallway with high ceilings and picture-less walls.
Completely alone, I can still hear the voice calling. “I’m here, Chloe. Over here. Please, hurry.”
The anguish in the voice brings me to my knees. I’m powerless. And unsure.
“I can’t find you!” I call out. “Tell me how to find you!” Tears stream down my face as I lose control of my emotions.
My heart pounds like a bass drum. What’s happening to me?
I press my hands to my aching chest again, as a dim light flickers up ahead. It’s calming somehow.
The pain in my chest begins to dissipate.
Someone’s there in the distance.
There’s a faint silhouette, but not enough to know who it is.
They aren’t moving. They lay on the cold tiles—lifeless.
“Hurry, Chloe. There isn’t much time!” The woman's voice is full of more panic than it had been just moments ago.
I push myself up off the floor and back on my feet. I have to move. I have to help.
I try to run, but my legs are like lead anchors. I force myself to move, but I’m stuck in slow motion.
“Chloe!” the voice cries out. Desperate. Pleading.
“I’m almost there!” I shout. “Hold on!”
As I get closer, the person on the floor starts to disappear, evaporating into thin air.
I don’t understand. Where are they going?
“Chloe, where’d you go?” The voice gets louder. “Chloe. Come on, wake up.”
I’m jolted awake as someone grabs my arm.
I squint, trying to see who it is.
It’s Hunter.
With his chiseled face only inches away, his minty breath grazes my cheek.
“There you are.” He caresses my forearm. “You had me freaked out for a second. I kept calling your name but you wouldn’t wake up.”
Crap. “Sorry about that.”
“Do you always talk in your sleep?” His head tilts to the left, eyes narrowing.
I push myself up to a seated position, realizing everyone else had left the room. I look back to Hunter. “How long have you been here?” And how long was I out?
“Oh, only for a few minutes. I ran into your family in the hall and they told me to see if you were awake. I didn’t want to bother you, but you were having a bad dream again.” He clears his throat. “I couldn’t leave you like that.”
I smooth my fingers through my hair, just in case it’s sticking up somewhere.
“Thanks for waking me.” I lean on my elbow, acclimating myself to my surroundings.
My insides shake, recalling my dream with such clarity.
“You okay? You still seem out of it.” With a gentle touch, he strokes my hand. It pulls at my heart like a tug-of-war.
It’s too much. Damn it. I can’t do this.
I need to change the subject—and fast. “Hey, I have a question for you . . . but you have to promise you won’t laugh at me for asking.” It’s time to find fault in this seemingly perfect stranger. That will snap me of this ridiculous infatuation.
“Hmm. I don’t know if I can make a promise like that. You do sort of make it easy to laugh at you, you know.” He smirks.
“Come on. Promise me?” I pretend to pout. Unsuccessfully, I’m sure.
“Okay, okay. Anything to avoid seeing a face like that again. I promise, I won’t laugh.”
“Thank you.” Proud of myself, I sit up straight. “So I was wondering—and maybe I should pre-empt this first by saying—your answer doesn’t mean anything one way or the other. I’m only asking out of curiosity, so there’s no wrong answer.” Guilt creeps through my stomach before I even ask.
“Well, now you have me curious. Just ask already, woman.” He sits on the couch beside me.
I hunker down in my seat, preparing for his reaction. “Do you by chance know any famous poets?”
He leans back, squinting as he parts his lips. What on earth is going through his head?
Great. He must think I’m evil for asking something I know he’s clueless about.
His look of confusion turns into one of tenderness. His eyes widen. Face softens a bit.
What’s that about?
I can’t help but ask, “What? Did I say something wrong?”
He smiles, his right eyebrow rising.
�
�I carry your heart with me.
I carry it in my heart.
I am never without it, anywhere I go you go, my dear.
And whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling I fear.
No fate, for you are my fate, my sweet.
I want no world for beautiful you are my world, my true.
And it's you who are whatever a moon has always meant.
And whatever a sun will always sing is you.
Here is the deepest secret nobody knows.
Here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life, which grows higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide, and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart.
I carry your heart.
I carry it in my heart.”
Hunter gazes into my eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching.
Where the hell did that come from?
My mouth hangs open in veneration.
I have no words. Though what words could I possibly speak anyway?
He seems amused, grinning like the fool who just told a hilarious joke. “Oh, I’m sorry. You asked if I know any famous poets. My bad. I didn’t answer you properly. E. E. Cummings. There. Will that suffice, Miss Chloe?”
I manage to find my voice after the initial shock wears off. “Ah, yeah. That will more than suffice.” My cheeks enflame. “Um, mind if I ask where you picked up poetry?”
“Oh, a little here . . . a little there.” He won’t wipe the stupid grin off his face.
“Okay . . . you can stop gloating anytime now.” I look up, shaking my head. Of course, I would have to look like a fool. Again.
“Hey, it’s not my fault you asked the question. And you were afraid I was going to laugh.” He chuckles. “I happen to know all the greats.”
Oh, really? “Is that so?”
“Sure is. Why? You wanna test me some more? Well, fire away, little lady.” He crosses his arms, puffing his peacock chest out.
I think for a second. “Browning.”
He nods in acceptance of the challenge then begins.
“I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless,
that only men incredulous of despair,
half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air,
beat upward to God's throne in loud access of shrieking
and reproach.
Full desertness, in souls as countries, lithe silent-bare,
under the blanching, vertical eye-glare, of the absolute Heavens.
Deep-hearted man, express grief for thy dead,
in silence like to death,
most like a monumental statue set,
in everlasting watch and moveless woe,
till itself crumble to the dust beneath.
Touch it.
The marble eyelids are not wet,
if it could weep, it could arise and go.”
Hunter bows from his seat before his captive audience.
Hmm. Very interesting. “Impressive, Mr. Payne.” I raise my hands in a golf clap, right fingertips onto left palm.
“Let me guess . . . you thought the big, tough fireman couldn’t possibly know anything about poetry, right?”
Crap, I’m so busted. “I’m really sorry. Most guys don’t know the first thing about poetry. I . . . I shouldn’t have assumed.” Beyond mortified, I lean down, putting my face in the palm of my hands.
“It’s okay.” He snickers. “Just remember what they say about ‘karma’.” He sends me a sideways grin.
“Just so you know . . . if my pap could have heard what you said . . . you would have made him a very happy man.” I glance over towards his bed, then back to Hunter.
“Oh, yeah? Why is that?”
“You know . . . I’ll let him explain it when he wakes up. It’s a long story.”
He turns to Pap, undisturbed in his peaceful slumber. “Sounds like a plan.”
Now aware of Hunter’s close proximity, I get a little antsy. “I should probably stretch my legs.”
He stands, offering his hand to help me to my feet. The smell of clean, crisp cologne invigorates my senses. Without being obvious, I inhale slowly. I could breathe him in all day.
“You sure smell nice. Gotta hot date?” Not that it’s any of my business, but god I hope not.
“Thanks,” he says with a smile. “It’s my day off, remember?” He grabs the collar of his thin, black, V-neck sweater, lifting it to his nose. “If I go to work smelling like anything other than ‘manly’, the guys harass me all night. And yes, I do have a hot date.” He turns his head in the other direction.
A sudden pang of jealousy claws through my belly, even though there’s no rational reason why it should. “That’s nice. Have a good time,” I reply, I bit more snarky than I meant to.
“You aren’t going to ask who my date’s with?” His eyebrows rise.
I lift my chin. “Nope. It’s none of my business.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say that.”
“What does that mean?”
He starts walking out the door then looks back. “Because my ‘hot date’ is stalking you.” Unable to conceal his amusement, he darts out before I can say anything. I notice my shoes on the floor, so I step inside them, reaching down to pull the straps up over my heels.
By the time I make it out of the room, he’s already on the elevator. As the doors close, he shoots me a beaming smile.
What did he mean by that?
The sound of chuckling takes my attention away from the departing antagonist, to my family staring with obvious amusement.
“Red’s a good color on you, Sis.” Dru chuckles, bumping me shoulder to shoulder.
“I’m not wearing red!” I snap. But then it hits me. Duh! “Oh whatever, Dru.” I turn, storming back to the room to avoid more jokes.
They continue laughing it up, which fuels my irritation further. I need to stop letting this guy get to me. And what did he mean by ‘stalking’ me tonight?
I’m not sure if I should be flattered—or frightened. Okay, that’s a bit of an exaggeration.
As I tap my foot like Bugs Bunny on crack, they walk in the room. Why do they always have to be right there to witness firsthand the affect Hunter has on me? It’s so humiliating.
“So, what did you do to embarrass yourself this time, darling sister?” Dhelia’s patronizing eyes make me feel like the biggest idiot possible.
“If you must know, I misjudged him. Then I got jealous for no apparent reason. I’m an amateur. Someone please shoot me and put an end to this vicious cycle.” I pull my feet up Indian style, crossing my arms over my chest as my pity-party commences.
They look at each other, but no one speaks a word. I can’t read their faces either. What’s going on now?
“What?” I ask in a miffed tone. “What did I do this time?”
“You’ll figure it out one of these days, dear.” Gram smiles at the group. They all wear the same knowing expression, but it makes no sense to me.
Whatever. I don’t have time for this. We need to get on with our day. “So where’d you guys take off to anyway?”
“Oh, yeah. We went for coffee. Here you go.” Dru hands me a large Dunkin Donuts iced coffee. “He wasn’t supposed to wake you, just so you know.”
“Well, he wasn’t going to. When he walked in, I was having a nasty vision and talking in my sleep. He said he was concerned, so he woke me up. And I’m glad he did, too. It’s hard to tell what I might have said.”
Dru pauses. “Oh. Well then I guess I can forgive him for that.”
“So what was your vision about, dear?” Gram asks, fidgeting with her beaded necklace.
“Trust me . . . it’s nothing we need to get into now. That’s a story for another day.”
She has that motherly look on her face she gets all too often, lips pursed, eyes narrowing. “Do you promise?”
“Of course, Gram. I promise.” Even though I’m not sure if I can ever share it with h
er. I can’t imagine how much it would freak her out.
“Okay.” Her expression softens. “Any chance you’d be up for some fun tonight?”
I think for a minute. “I guess. What’d you have in mind?”
“It’s your brother’s idea, actually.” Gram turns to Dru. “So I’ll let him explain.”
“Well, I figured tonight would be a good night for you to meet Peyton. Since it’s Friday night, and I’m sure you haven’t been out in a long time, I thought we’d go to a beach party in The Hamptons at my friend’s house. There’s gonna be a great band and tons of food.” He scrunches his eyelids. “What do you think?”
Talk about from left field. “Well what about Gram and Aunt Morgan?” I turn to gage their reactions.
Aunt Morgan jumps in, “It sounds like the perfect night for your Gram and me to catch up on some missed time together. We rather like the idea of having the house to ourselves for an entire evening.”
Gram nods in agreement.
“Oh. Okay. Well, in that case, sure. Sounds like fun. Who knows, maybe I’ll even run into some old friends.” This could actually be fun. Not to mention a great distraction.
“Sweet. I’ll call Peyton and my friends to let them know we’re coming. What time works for you guys?” He looks back and forth between Dhelia and me.
It’s not like I have anything else going on. “I’m open, you guys just tell me.”
“How about we hit the road at seven?” Dhelia answers, a joyful glint in her eyes.
“Seven it is.” Looking quite pleased, Dru pulls out his cell to call his friend. “We’re in, dude. We’ll be there around eight.”
Chapter 8
FIGHT NIGHT
Tethered (A BirthRight Novel #1) Page 12