by Kristie Cook
The two-bedroom cottage was quiet and usually comforting. It was one of the few places we lived that actually felt like home. Usually, our moves required leaving everything behind except the bare necessities. Since we actually brought our belongings this time, they were at least familiar, if not nostalgic. Mom decorated in browns and beiges, but with leather and wood furniture and chenille and silk throw pillows, the variety of textures kept it from being boring. Rather, it was cozy and calming, like "Mom's place" should be. And I was scared to death to be here alone.
I paced the cottage several times, mentally going through self-defense moves Mom taught me many years ago. They hadn't done me any good against those people last time, but I thought if I was ready for them now….
I whirled on a whispered sound, my heart hammering. It stopped when I did. Then I realized it was only my own feet sliding across the tile floor.
Feeling the emotional tolls of the day, I finally talked myself into going to bed. But while lying in my bedroom, my eyes wouldn't shut and my ears strained, my mind imagining various monstrosities lurking in the rest of the house. Eventually I curled up on the couch with all the lights on, and, somehow, sleep overcame me. I awoke several times, thinking I heard something outside, but when I listened, all was quiet and I fell back to sleep.
Chapter 6
The store felt empty and ominous when I first arrived, but I came early to have a little extra time before opening. Mom kept a small office in the back room and I thought she might be more likely to hide something there than at home, where I might find it. I tugged on all the drawers of her desk and filing cabinet, but, of course, they didn't budge, locked against intruders…and snoopers like me. There were no loose papers on her desk and only one large, flat envelope in her inbox. She was annoyingly organized.
I glanced at the single piece of mail and my eye caught on the corner where the return address should be. Instead of an address, though, there was a strange, yet vaguely familiar symbol and the word "Amadis" embossed into the paper. I picked the envelope up and studied it closer, holding it to the light, but I couldn't read anything inside. I briefly debated whether I could get away with opening it and resealing it, but eventually just dropped it back into the tray. It was probably from a publisher and I had seen the symbol on a book's spine. Or, for all I knew, it was just junk mail, not worth the risk.
Curiosity gripped me all morning. As soon as Owen arrived and relieved me of my duties, I hurried home to search Mom's room. I didn't expect to find anything I hadn't already discovered while unpacking, but there was something right on her nightstand. A lone piece of paper with that strange word "Amadis" printed at the top. The paper contained a list of names with numbers next to them. Some were obviously phone numbers; others had the wrong number of digits and I didn't know what they meant.
Two names stood out: Katerina and Stefan. Katerina because it was my middle name. Does the name on this paper mean anything? The number next to it wasn't a phone number. I wasn't sure why Stefan struck me. The name was familiar, but I couldn't place it.
A sticky note with Mom's handwriting clung to the bottom corner of the page:
Alexis, This is for emergency use only. If Owen can't help, call these people until you reach one. They will know what to do. If this is not an emergency, though, you put us at risk. SO STOP SNOOPING! Love, Mom
I snorted. She knew I'd be prying. I put the paper back and lay on her bed, thinking. What did Amadis mean? Who were the people on the list? Did she actually go to see one of them this weekend? And how would I be putting us at risk? That last question made me anxious. I knew Mom well enough to know she wouldn't joke about this. Is just calling them risky? Or is all of my research? I sighed. Regardless of the answers, my research and snooping only led to more unanswered questions.
I tried to study, but my mind drifted in various directions, eventually toward Tristan. I didn't know when I'd see him again and as the afternoon wore on and evening encroached, I really didn't want to be alone. As if in response to my thoughts, the sound of a motorcycle resonated right outside the cottage. I sprang to the window and my breath caught.
Tristan still sat on the metallic-blue crotch-rocket, looking like a dream. He ran his hand through his wind-blown, sandy-brown hair, slightly taming the wild look. His muscles strained against his just-tight-enough t-shirt, tucked into faded jeans cinched at the waist with a black belt. He slowly pulled the dark sunglasses off and studied the cottage, his eyes sparkling brightly. I almost expected to see cameras—he looked like a model in a photo shoot. Is he really here for me ?
He swung his leg over the bike. I beat him to the door.
"Guess I can't sneak up on you," he said, smiling.
"I seem to be specially tuned to the sound of motorcycles."
He chuckled. I hoped he understood my innuendo.
"So, I have these exams to study for and I thought it wouldn't suck so bad if I was sitting on the beach," he said, then added with a smile, "and if you were there, too."
My stomach fluttered. "Just give me a sec, okay?"
I hurried inside, threw my books into my bag and grabbed a beach blanket. Tristan took my bag from me and we walked again, but not in silence this time. We talked about how boring the day had been for each of us so far and how we'd both been procrastinating on studying.
Once on the beach, we spread the blanket out on the sand and then spread our women's studies books out on the blanket. We read in silence, stopping now and then to ask each other a question or make a comment. More than once we discussed the differences in how each gender thinks. He didn't act superior at all and seemed genuinely interested in learning the thought patterns of females…well, at least mine.
"Of course, I'm not exactly your typical girl, so take it for what it's worth," I said. I packed up my books and stretched out on my back, staring at the white wisps overhead. My brain couldn't take another minute of studying and the sun was low in the sky anyway, hovering just over the horizon, like a timid swimmer not quite ready to make the plunge.
Tristan packed his things, too, and tossed his backpack to a corner of the blanket. He lay on his side, facing me.
"I think it's worth a lot," he said. "And I'm glad you're not the typical girl."
He picked up my hand and turned it over, then traced the lines on my palm with his finger. I continued staring at the sky, the cloud wisps turning peachy-gold against a deepening blue background, wondering what he would think when he found out just how atypical I was. It was just a matter of time—one small cut on the finger was usually all it took. Of course, I reminded myself, he already knew more than he should, seemingly more than I even knew. Because I knew so little.
"What are you thinking?" he asked quietly. I turned my head to look at him. He watched his fingers on my hand, now moving them along my wrist and inner arm, light as a feather. I fought the urge to pull back from the tickle.
"About how you know more about me than I do about you," I said honestly.
"Ah. But you're wrong. I know so little about you. You don't share much. I can't even tell how you're feeling most of the time."
Good. I'm doing my job then. But I frowned because I could hear sadness and frustration in his voice.
"I think there's a reason for that shell you have around you," he said. "You have experienced betrayal and have a difficult time trusting people."
Bam! Hit the nail on the head! So, although I was good at hiding my feelings and thoughts, I was, at the same time, transparent. I sat up and pulled my knees to my chest, wrapping myself into a protective ball. I stared out at the water, avoiding his eyes.
"Ah. I think I'm onto something." He sat up, too, and wrapped his arms around my shoulders, pulling me against him. "You've been hurt, I can tell, and I accept that as part of you."
I blinked back the tears pooling in my eyes, refusing to let them fall. I dropped my head to my knees and whispered, "You don't have to."
"But I want to, Alexis. I hope one day I'll be the
chink that cracks your shell and I'll know all of you. I won't push you, though. It's up to you. It just pains me to think of someone else getting in there."
"And if you don't like what's in here?" I could hear the edge in my tone.
"Is that what you're afraid of? That I won't like you?"
I didn't answer, didn't even acknowledge the question.
"Ah, I see." He leaned his head down, his lips against my ear, and whispered, "It's a little too late for that."
I turned to look at him and he shrugged.
"I already know the kind of person you are and that's all that matters to me. I have my own issues and yours can't be any worse. Trust me. Unless…" He pulled back and lifted an eyebrow. "You're not really a guy in there, are you?"
I smiled. "Not the last time I checked."
"Because that would cross my line. Anything else…" He shrugged again. "I can handle."
He must have seen the doubt in my eyes.
"The last thing I want to do is hurt you, Lex. Please trust me."
His eyes delved into mine, searching deep for something buried under layers of betrayal and pain. As I looked back into his beautiful eyes, I knew I didn't want to push him away. But what he asked for…I didn't know if I had it to give.
"The problem with trust," I said slowly, deliberately, "is you don't know it's broken until it is, when it's too late."
"But you can't know you can trust me until you try," he countered.
"Everyone I've ever trusted has betrayed me in a very big way, except Sophia."
"And when will you realize I'm not everyone else?"
I already knew, at least to some extent. But just because he was different than most people didn't mean he could accept my differences.
"I don't know. I don't even really know you. You don't know me."
His eyes sparkled a little brighter as he nodded. "That's something we can change."
My heart balanced on a fulcrum, teetering one way and then the other…. Which was better? Not sharing the real, whole me with him and enjoying this charade of a relationship, which would eventually end anyway because it was based on lies—his, mine and my mom's? Or giving my whole self to him and taking the chance he'd run from the freak show? And what if he did stay? Is that what I really wanted?
"I'm not asking for your deepest, darkest secrets. Just a little at a time, Lex. My goal will be to build your trust in me, one little piece at a time." He lifted my chin with his thumb. "Will you let me do that?"
I looked into his eyes and my heart stopped teetering and tumbled over. I hadn't realized it before, but I knew now. He'd already cracked my shell and eventually he'd make the whole thing crumble, leaving every bit of me exposed for his scrutiny. And I would let him and just have to deal with the consequences. I wanted to take the risk that came with trusting him, even knowing if he turned out to be like all the others, it would be the worst pain I'd ever experienced. He'd already settled too deeply into my heart. He'd snapped himself into place with each of those little clicks I'd felt over the past two months.
It went against everything I knew was for my own good, but I could feel a tugging deep down that I needed to do this. That it was right. We needed to dispose of the lies. If he was willing to do one piece at a time, I could handle that.
"Baby steps?" I whispered.
"That's what I'm talking about," he said with a warm smile. "So, you start. What do you want to know?"
A hundred-and-one questions flew through my mind. The most guarded answers, I was sure, had to do with the conversation between him and my mom, what he knew, how he knew, who he really was…. But those weren't baby steps and if I expected baby steps, I would give them, too.
"What do you do? I mean, when you're not with me or at school. Do you have a job?"
"Hmm…no, not really a job, but I have plenty to do. I do some, uh…consulting…and use that money to play the stock market. I've built up a decent portfolio that allows me to buy toys." He grinned. "It's all stuff I do at home, mostly. And I indulge in Aikido."
"Eye—what?"
"Aikido. It's a form of martial arts. I use it to practice self-control."
"Really?" I thought of the other day, when he threatened the wife-beater in the park. "You have control issues? Never would have thought…."
"Ha ha," he replied, matching my sarcasm. Then he kind of frowned. "Actually, I had quite a bit of control the other day. I was angry, but I was fully aware of what I was doing. Otherwise, I might've just killed the lowlife."
A chill ran up my spine. I knew he wouldn't have— couldn't have—killed the creep…I didn't think he had that in him. But, with his muscular build, he was fully capable of doing some serious damage.
"Your Aikido must be working, then. That's the only time I've seen you come close to being anything but calm and cool."
"Hmm. Ironic. Because when I'm around you is when I need more control than ever…I really want to lose it with you." The tone was heavy but a smile played on his lips. I didn't know what to make of it.
"But if it's practicing self-control, how is that an indulgence?"
"Because I spar and that's fun ." He grinned.
"Spar, as in fighting?" I asked, my stomach tightening.
"Yeah. You want to watch sometime?"
"Ugh. No, thanks, I'll pass."
"So…," he lowered his voice to its most irresistible, "…do I get to ask a question?"
I cringed. He lifted an eyebrow. I took a deep breath, let it out slowly and nodded.
"What do you do, besides school? You don't work at the store, so either you're mooching off Sophia or you're doing something else."
Yikes. Getting personal already . Of all the things he could have asked, this was probably the safest—not about my past, my mom or any big secrets—but it was still uncomfortable. It was one thing for him to know I wanted to be an author. It was a whole different thing to admit I was actually doing it when it would likely be an epic failure.
But I had to play fair, so I forced myself to say it. "Actually, both. I'm writing a novel. Sophia thinks it'll get published and she's paying my way so I can write and still go to college."
"Wow. A novel, huh? That's impressive."
"Yeah, well, don't get too impressed. It's not even done yet."
"Can I read it?" he asked eagerly.
I thought of the childhood game, Mother May I, and felt like he asked to take one giant leap forward when he was only allowed baby steps. If I gave him my writing, I may as well give him my whole soul. I didn't let anyone read most of my writing, not even my mom. Her assertion of my talent was based on essays and short stories I'd written for school. Sharing the outline with her had been difficult. Letting go of the actual book would be a huge leap. I knew I'd have to take it eventually, but not yet.
"Hmm…baby steps, okay?" I answered.
He squeezed my hand. "Of course."
We both fell silent as the sun began its descent behind the water. Tristan wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me between his legs, my back against him. I drew my knees up and he curled his body around mine, his chin resting on my shoulder, his face right next to mine. His tangy-sweet breath made my head buzz pleasantly. He draped his arms around my shoulders and held my hands in each of his, entwining our fingers. That strange electric current flowed around and between us as we gazed out over the water, completely silent except for our hearts. I could feel both racing. I was grateful the beach had nearly emptied by then.
"Lovely," he breathed in my ear.
"Yes, it is," I whispered, afraid anything louder would blow the moment away.
"I didn't mean the sunset," he murmured, his lips close enough to tickle my cheek.
He let go of my left hand and slid the back of his fingers along my jaw from my chin to my ear. I turned toward him. The emerald green of his eyes shone brightly and the gold flecks danced in the reflection of the setting sun. His lips pulled into a small but tantalizing smile. And I knew then what was coming. My
heart flipped erratically.
His hand cupped around my face and he gently pulled it up closer to his. He hesitated, still gazing intently into my eyes, his face less than an inch from mine, our noses nearly touching. The rest of the world disappeared as his eyes held mine. The sounds of the waves and the seagulls faded out, so all I heard was my heart pounding and his thumb lightly brushing against my cheek. He must have heard my heart whirring like a hummingbird's wings. He smiled and his fingers brushed my neck as he held his other hand to my chest as if to quiet my heart. It sped even faster.
He leaned in and his lips barely touched mine.
A spark jumped between us and we both flinched.
Then we quickly moved into each other and he pressed his lips against mine, soft and full, moving tenderly but longingly. I opened my mouth slightly and tasted his delicious scent and breath on my tongue. The electricity charged through my body and warmed places that had never been so warm before. My heart stopped and I forgot how to breathe. We both finally pulled back.
"Can you tell what I'm feeling now?" I whispered breathlessly.
"I'm not sure." He smiled and his eyes sparkled brightly. "Let me try again."
He held the back of my head gently in his hand and I placed my hands on the sides of his face and closed my eyes as he kissed me a second time. The world faded out again. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else even existed but Tristan and me. My fingers slid into his hair and I pulled him into me, desire rising in my chest as the tip of his tongue lightly traced my bottom lip. Our mouths crushed against each other, our tongues tasting the other as if they'd been longing for this moment. I pressed into him, nearly giving in to the sudden and ridiculous urge to climb up and attack him. Losing control! I forgot to breathe again and finally had to pull away.
I looked into his eyes and froze.
Chapter 7
The gold sparks in Tristan's eyes had turned to flames and for just an instant—not even a second—he actually looked more than just dangerous but… murderous . Then the flames disappeared and his eyes filled with pain. In one swift motion, he closed them and turned his head away from me. There was something wrong—I hadn't imagined it—something going on in his head. But the frightening look in his eyes was gone so quickly, I didn't know exactly what I saw, except for the sadness that followed.