by Shelly Crane
I turned to find a bachelor pad in full swing. And there were drawings littering the place. I felt him as he automatically felt apprehension, wishing he had put those away before he had brought me over, but then he took a deep breath and tried to be okay with it. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see, it was the opposite. He wanted me to see, he wanted me to love them. He was afraid that I wouldn’t, he was afraid that I would judge him or let my dislike of the situation and his family carry over to that part of things.
I tried not to look at them, really. He was so sensitive about them. But there were so many of them, like he spent all his free time doing it. The bar that separated the kitchen and den had stacks of papers and drawings on it. I sucked on my lip a little as I tried to casually glance at them. The one on top was an old man with a suit and cane, his leg kicked out, his dog by his side as they sat on a bench.
“I drew him at the firehouse one day,” I heard next to my ear. I turned to find him so close that his nose brushed my cheek. I inhaled sharply, but didn’t move away. Neither did he. “He sat on the bench outside of the firehouse. He comes and walks his dog every day and wears a three piece suit. No idea why. But it’s fascinating.”
I picked them up and started to leaf through slowly, but then I reached one of—you guessed it—Harper. My heart actually hurt as I looked at that picture. It didn’t matter how many others I had passed. Other girls. He drew anything and everything that interested him; literally, art was art to him. He didn’t discriminate. But finding Harper drawn so beautifully in the mix hurt me. He had drawn other women the same way. Older woman, younger woman. His mother was one of them, I assumed. Cooking, sitting on porches, fishing. He loved to draw people. That was apparently his thing.
Harper was driving. And she was beautiful.
He sighed. “Harper is beautiful,” I closed my eyes, “but she’s just a person,” he said and took the picture from me, turning it over on top of the stack so all the pictures were hidden from me. “You’re making out like the fact that I drew her makes her more important to me somehow or more…more. She’s not. Just like that guy with the suit and the dog. Art is art. I drew her just like I draw anyone. I’ll draw you someday, too.”
I heard a funny tone to his voice and looked at him, but he looked away and even shut his mind to me. I didn’t know what that was about.
The bachelor pad was made complete with a street sign over the kitchen bar that said “Easy Street”. I looked at him with a raised brow.
He shrugged and said, “The firemen think I have it easy because I don’t have a family to take care of and can go out whenever I want, date whoever I want.” He gave a wry grin. “Little do they know.”
The rest was pretty simple, but it was clean. Like he said, he was barely there. I guess he was right. His couch faced the TV. There were no pictures on the walls except a couple of drawings, both black and white. One of the firehouse and one of the river downtown, the old buildings in the background. There were beautiful and unsigned. I wondered who did them.
He also had a couple awards, but they weren’t displayed proudly on the wall. They were laid on the top of the mantle of the fireplace so haphazardly and I almost missed them.
“Bravery Award? Tot Finder Award?” I read aloud. His face was next to mine over my shoulder. I didn’t look at him, just looked at the picture of him in his formal fireman’s attire as he shook hands with someone higher in rank than him and accepted his award. “You don’t look very happy to be receiving this,” I mused.
One of his hands leaned on the mantle next to me.
“My captain made me accept it. I didn’t want to. People died in that fire and I—” Another wall was slammed shut between us. I was barely able to read him as it was and he was continuing to push me out. I took a deep breath and heard him do the same. “I don’t let anyone in there. It’s not just you.” His sigh was harsh. “I was hurt in that fire and so were others...”
“Is that where you got that scar on your chin?” I asked, treading softly.
“No,” he tensed and replied harder, letting me know that scar on his chin wasn’t up for discussion.
“Sorry,” I whispered.
He sighed again and I felt bad for bringing it up. “All right, we can delve into this another time, if that’s okay.” He pulled away and leaned on the arm of the couch. He looked so uncomfortable. “We can go ahead and delve headfirst into that other subject I’m so happy to get started on.”
Sarcasm. I loved sarcasm. But right now, it was a defense mechanism and I wondered why he was so hell bent on trying to deflect. My faith seemed to be plummeting by the minute that this was ever going to work out, truly.
I turned fully and leaned against the cool wall with my back, biting my lip. The walls were painted white, like he hadn’t touched anything when he moved in, just stuck his stuff here. I wondered if his family helped him move. I wondered if they had big dinners. Had Christmas. I wondered how they treated him as a kid. If they tucked him in at night.
If our idea of love would ever be the same.
I finally let my gaze fall on him, knowing I was the one stalling this time.
The way he watched me, his face full of awe and a sense of protection that hit him in the gut, reminded me of the way I'd watched my family be with each other.
He tilted his head a little, the side of his lip raising. “You do this thing with your…never mind,” he said and turned away, but not before I saw the insane smile on his face. He was pressing my buttons on purpose.
I felt the sigh bubbling up in my gut, but couldn’t stop it. “Don’t be coy, Seth,” I spouted and crossed my arms. “What were you saying? I do something with my what?”
His smile told me I’d fallen precisely into his trap. Trying to avoid conversation with him was like a Driver’s Ed student trying to avoid an orange cone on the first day. Always failed.
He approached slowly, like he knew I knew this was a mistake now. He licked his lips slowly and then smiled, the stubble on his jaw so enticing as he looked down at me. He was only inches from me. I could smell him again, feel his warmth. My body begged me reach out and touch him, grab his skin and let his comfort and touch course through my veins like it was destined to.
I held perfectly still except the heaving of my chest, which I couldn’t stop for anything.
“I said,” he almost whispered he spoke so low, “you do this thing with your lip that’s so adorable, it takes all I have not to reach out and…” His eyes searched my face.
“What thing?” I asked, so enraptured with what he was saying. “What thing do I do?”
“You nibble on the side of the bottom of your lip when you’re thinking. Or nervous. I’m not exactly sure, but I’m going to find out. One day I’m going to know all those little things about you, Ava. All those little things that make you you, makes you tick, makes you gorgeous and beautiful and aggravating as all get out. I’m going to know everything there is.”
I was about to bawl my eyes out. I dug my fingernails into my palm to keep it in. “You could just read it from my mind—”
“No. I’m not going to take it from you. I want you to give me those things because you want me to have them, Ava.”
“Seth,” I pleaded, but it was nothing but breath.
He plowed on, leaning down into my space. I turned my face away and his nose brushed my temple. We both sighed at the small rush of calm it provided since we hadn’t touched in so long.
“My last name may be Watson, but I’m not the monster you think I am.”
Sweet, agonizing guilt built in my gut. Was it unfounded? I didn’t know. I just knew that this whole situation sucked. Why couldn’t I have my fairy tale, the one I always dreamed about? The one I was promised?
I felt one awful, betraying tear slip from my eye as I looked even further away from him. I heard his breath catch as he saw and reached up to brush it away with his thumb.
“Ava,” he breathed and I felt his guilt with every second
that went by. His thumb continued to swipe my cheek, for his comfort or for mine, it didn’t matter. I sighed and closed my eyes. “I’m…sorry. I’m not the victim here and I’m sorry I—”
“But you are,” I squeaked and opened my eyes. “And so am I. You don’t feel cheated?” His eyes widened a little at that, but he stayed right where he was. Another swipe of that thumb almost rendered me speechless. Almost. “You don’t feel like everything in the universe wants us to hate each other?”
He visibly relaxed, sighing so hard that it blew the hair at my neck. I realized that he thought “cheated” meant that I was cheated by getting him and not someone else.
“Didn’t I promise I would fix this for us?” he said low and held my gaze.
I felt it in my very being that he had, that those words had left those lips, but I couldn’t remember him actually saying them. I bit my lip and squinted up at him. He smiled and brought his thumb down to tug against my lip instead to free it from my teeth. I flushed, but smiled slightly. He was right. I did that a lot.
“I will fix this for us,” he repeated. “I promise you. I will find a way to make this right. For us,” he said again and I recognized he was telling me that he meant for me and him, not right for his family. I appreciated that.
“Okay,” I agreed. “I just want to get everything out in the open. I have questions. I’m sure you do, too. Let’s just…”
“Yeah,” he granted and leaned away. “Ladies pick of the palace.” He waved his arm at the room for me to pick a seat. I saw his wrist tattoo when he did it. It was just a small black lightning rod with nothing else.
My phone dinged. It had been dinging all morning and I knew it was Mom again. I opened it to find several all caps texts from Mom. I texted her that I was with Seth and I was fine. She said she figured that he had found me because he had been by the house and was sure he had followed my heartbeat but I was getting a very stern talking to when I got home. If I didn’t walk through the door in two hours, she was coming after me. I rolled my eyes, but understood. Leaving the house the way I did was pretty not cool of me after what happened last night.
I took my now lukewarm coffee and went to the end of the cracked brown leather couch. The club chair was my first choice, but I didn’t want him to think I was purposely not sitting near him if he chose to. Plus, I was interested to see where he was going to sit, see how far he was planning to push me.
He came toward me, took my coffee cup from my fingers, and warmed it in the microwave for a minute before bringing it back. He walked over and plugged, what I assumed, was his phone into a stereo system before music began to play. Baddest Man Alive by The Black Keyes began to play, but he chuckled and cleared his throat, muttering something under his breath about “the irony”.
“Uh, I’ll just, uh...” He changed it quickly to Work It Out by Knox Hamilton. It subtly floated to us as he settled himself on the opposite far end of the couch. I kicked off my blue Chucks and turned to face him, putting my knees up. He seemed amused by the move, but said nothing.
“Your tattoo,” I began and nodded my chin toward it. “I’ve never seen a clan tattoo like that.”
He was already shaking his head. “When your mom took their power, their tattoos disappeared.” I felt my eyebrows lift. That was surprising. We hadn’t known that. “So, during our training, we all get the tattoo, but it’s always the same one. They don’t do the significant’s name around the edge anymore. I’ve heard about those.” He rubbed his mark a little roughly, almost as if…he wanted to remove it. “And I saw your parents’ wrist last night. That was the first ones I’ve seen that were real, that came from…God, or whatever or whoever gives us our significants.” He smiled. “It was neat how God just put their names on their wrists like that.”
I showed him mine. “It’s just the family crest.” He kept on smiling as he tentatively touched it. That magical For now sitting there between us so heavy.
But then his smile morphed into a frown as he realized that playtime was over and he drew his hand back.
“After we left your house last night, I went back to Uncle Gaston’s house with them to find out what was going on.”
My fist tightened automatically.
He went on, though his eyes flicked from my face to my fist and then back before settling on the ceiling as he leaned his head back on the couch, as if defeated already.
“They knew about us, obviously. I went and told them as soon as it happened. But they weren’t as happy as I thought they’d be.” I kept watching him and knew he hated this. He was learning me so well, so I studied him, too. His fingers played with the ragged string on his pant leg. “I thought they’d look past it, the history, all the bull and the things that shouldn’t matter anymore. I don’t see the family as much as I used to. I’m so busy with work and all.” His eyes cut over for a split second and I heard the shaky lie there. He had been avoiding them. “But the first thing out of Gaston’s mouth was that this was our chance, our shot at finally getting back at the Jacobsons.” He shook his head before looking over fully.
I rubbed my chin on my knee. “And what did you say to that?”
“That I wasn’t a pawn in their game anymore. That the game had changed completely. How could he even think that when you were my significant?” He scoffed. “He said he had it all worked out, that I didn’t need to worry about that, that he could fix everything for me.”
I felt a stab in my gut. “Why are you telling me all this?” I dropped my eyes to stare at the scratched leather of his couch, because I wasn’t sure I could stand to see his eyes when he answered. “I know you still have loyalty to your family, that you’re confused, that you don’t know who to trust. I know that you don’t fully trust me and my family, even though you want my trust. It’s got to be hard for you to spill your guts like this about your family trying to sabotage us.”
He scooted closer, the couch dipping under his weight, and though I knew it was coming, I still hissed with pleasure through my parted lips when his calloused fingers lifted my chin. “That’s just it. You’re my family, too. The tug of war is getting easier, even from yesterday.” He sighed deep and let his hand fall from my face to my hand. He took it and brought it to his knee, as if that casual act wasn’t a statement. “I told them that I wanted no part in any of their schemes. When I was a teenager, I did anything to fit in.” His eyes took on a longing look. I’d seen it at the centers before in the kids. The ones who came after school because they needed somewhere to go, someone to look after them.
His eyes met mine. “I was always made aware that they weren’t my birth family, but…they still treated me like I should be with them. I did everything I could to try to prove I could be one of them. So when they said it was my destiny to be the one to bring down the Jacobsons one day, I accepted the challenge with gusto.” He shook his head. “I was only eight when they started “training” me.” He made air quotes with his fingers when he said “training”. “Which was essentially them all just sitting around talking about how much they hated the Jacobsons.”
“Who raised you?”
“My parents,” he said sarcastically. I rolled my eyes and he gave me a sideways grin. “Linda and Marvin Watson. They are pretty mellow. Gaston is the one who took over once I…peaked, I guess you could say. He and his family lived next door to us.”
I saw her again, just a flash but it was enough. “Harper. Harper lived next door to you?”
“All my young life,” he said carefully. “Our families used to do everything together. Training, dinners, Christmas. We went to school together. She would even come and sneak in my window when her parents were fighting sometimes.”
I swallowed down my jealousy, fought to just listen and take it all in, no matter how much the thought of her crawling in his bedroom window made me hurt. “Her parents fought?” I asked and finally met his eyes again. He was watching me intently. He let my reaction go and answered me.
“Yeah. A lot.”
&
nbsp; “That’s strange. Were they not imprinted?”
“No, they were.”
I squinted. “Bonded couples wouldn’t fight all the time like that.”
He chuckled. “Uh, maybe the Jacobsons are happy-go-lucky people, but the Watsons fight like it’s the last day on earth and arguing is the only thing that will save them.”
Maybe I should have given him a courtesy laugh, but I was wound so tightly. “No, Seth. It’s not just the Jacobsons. All the clans are that way. It’s not just a clan, it’s us, our people, our kind, our…our bodies wouldn’t let us act that way to each other.”
“What are you talking about?” He leaned back, taking his hand with him. “You’re saying that your family never fights? That if I wanted to fight with you, I couldn’t? I know that’s not true because you’ve fought me tooth and nail since you met me. You ran out on me not two minutes after meeting me.” He was angry, the angriest I’d ever seen him with the exception of when his uncle came to kidnap me. I went to speak and he went on, speaking over me. “Just because people fight doesn’t mean they don’t love each other. It looks like we’re doing a pretty good job of fighting right now, little bird, now doesn’t it? And that doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean that I don’t want you. It doesn’t mean that you don’t belong to me.”
I took a deep breath and looked at him, waiting, seeing if he was done. When he just stared back, I went on, surprised by how husky my voice was.
“That’s not what I meant.” He seemed surprised by how husky my voice was, too. He sighed through his nose and closed his eyes. Hearing him say I belonged to him was like all icing and no cake—the best part.
Little bird…little bird. That sounded so familiar…
“Ava,” he rumbled and when I looked up to meet his eyes he once again looked on the verge of a strange happiness that I couldn’t grasp. “Something on your mind?”
“No, I just feel déjà vu or something.” He swallowed loudly and I watched his throat. He watched me watch him. Ah, it was unnerving and…way too much sexy for this small apartment and my sworn enemy who was so pissed at me all of a sudden.