Finding Honor (The Searchers Book 1)

by Ripley Proserpina

  “Miss Leslie! Miss Leslie!” He walked faster, directing Nora toward the chapel fifty yards away. It was private property, not owned by Brownington, and the reporters wouldn’t enter it without permission. He wondered if he should yell, “Sanctuary!” when they walked through the doors.

  “Fifty yards, Nora. We’re almost there.” He kept his eyes on the doors of the chapel, trying to ignore the relentless barrage of questions. They were horrible, invasive and absurd, designed only to intrigue an audience.

  The wooden door opened as they climbed the stone steps, Nora leaning on him. At each volley of queries, her body jerked, as if the questions were arrows finding their mark in her heart, exactly as the reporter intended.

  A small, rotund man held the door open, and stepped into the doorway after they passed through.

  “This is private property. You are not welcome here. Thank you.” He shut the door.

  The reporter shouted out more questions, but the heavy wood dulled the sound. Trembling, Nora pulled away from Matisse. Her hands went to her ears.

  “I’ll get you some water.”

  “Thank you, Father,” Matisse replied.

  “I am Reverend MacDonald. Everyone calls me Pastor Mac. I’ll be right back.” He reached over Matisse and patted Nora’s head, leaving them alone.

  “It’s not true.” She fixed dilated eyes on Matisse. “What the woman said. It wasn’t true. I never did those things.”

  “I know,” he assured her. “The press finds your weak spot and hammers away at it until you crumble.”

  “She was horrible.” Her arms crossed over her chest and she seemed to deflate.

  “It’s going to be okay.”

  She looked raw. He could read every emotion as it passed over her face: embarrassment, sadness, and finally, terror. “My records are supposed to be sealed,” she whispered. “She turned things around.”

  He tried to keep the confusion off his face. A moment ago, she claimed the reporter was lying, and now she was saying she turned things around. She could tell he was perplexed, and she gripped her arms a little tighter, her nails sinking into the material of her sweater.

  “I was taken away because of my mom’s drug use. She had some pretty bad people around her and she didn’t care what they did to me. I went back to her a few times, when she’d get clean, or a new judge was assigned to family court, but I was always pulled out again. When I got older, I made the report terminating her rights, so I never had to go back.”

  She turned in the pew to look at Matisse, her eyes pleading. Rubbing her eyes with a shaking hand, she said, “I never lied.”

  Though she was begging him to believe her, he could see she fully expected him to not. Skimming his hand along her cheek, his fingers tangled in the tight curls of her hair. She didn’t lean into him, but continued to watch him. Her brown eyes traveled over his face, trying to read how he was feeling. But Matisse had practice at locking his emotions down tight. If he didn’t want her to see how he felt, she wouldn’t.

  He let the veil lift minutely, and the effect on Nora was instantaneous. Her shoulders slumped and her head dropped onto his shoulder. He was surprised how small she was against him. Earlier, as they bantered about vampires and discussed the ladies of the fountain, her personality filled the space around them, making her seem taller, grander than she truly was.

  He tucked his other hand beneath the hair at the nape of her neck, thinking only of being close to her.

  “Here you go, Miss.” A hand cut between Matisse and Nora holding a mug of water.

  She blinked, taking the mug and pulling away from him. “Thank you.”

  Pastor Mac sat in front of them, propping his arm on the back of the pew. “I recognize you, Miss Leslie.”

  Her eyes dropped so quickly, she missed the sympathy on the pastor’s face. He reached out to pat her shoulder. “Stay as long as you need. Do you want me to call someone?”

  “No, thank you,” Matisse answered for them.

  “Can I get you anything else? Would you like to talk?” The pastor gestured to a small door behind the sanctuary.

  Shaking her head, Nora answered, “No, I’ll be fine.”

  Matisse took his phone out of his pocket, sending off a quick group text to the guys to let them know what had happened, and that they’d be home soon. The rapid series of vibrations after sending the message didn’t surprise him, but he was surprised Seok responded. He didn’t realize he included Seok in the group.

  His message was ambiguous, but Matisse couldn’t spend time deciphering it. Too bad. Stay safe.

  Cai and Ryan asked if they needed a ride, but Apollo’s message was less a request than an announcement of his intentions. He would arrive in a few minutes; he’d been on his way to the gym.

  When Matisse finished, the pastor stood. “Stay as long as you need,” he said, walking past the pulpit and through the sanctuary door, closing it behind him.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m asked that a lot lately,” she replied, blushing. “I’m sorry you have to deal with this.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean…” She tapped her fingers on the back of the pew before biting her nail again. “You had nothing to do with the school shooting, and all of you have been caught up in the fall-out. Ryan’s helping with my defense, Apollo had to step in at the grocery store, and just now, you had to jump between the reporter and me.”

  He understood what she was talking about, but there was a huge flaw in her logic. “Nora.” When he had her full attention, he continued, “You had nothing to do with the shooting, either.”

  She opened her mouth quickly.

  “Did you?” He knew she didn’t, but wondered what argument she would make.

  “No,” she whispered.

  “The shooter was your foster brother, who you haven’t seen in years.” At the back of his mind were the questions the reporter shouted at Nora, and the file he made for Seok containing all the info he was able to find about her.

  Social worker write-ups, her report cards, bank statements, he found it all. Her life was none of their business, and he’d actively dug into her past, blindly passing on everything to Seok. He had a feeling that if he asked, and with a little time, she’d confide in him everything her file contained.

  Reaching for her hand, he linked her fingers with his. He put his arm around her shoulders and slid her across the pew until her thigh pressed against his. He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. Her skin was soft, and she held onto him tightly, taking whatever comfort he gave.

  He rested his head against hers, cushioning his cheek on her bouncy curls. He curled around her like a parentheses, closing his eyes and relaxing. Behind him, the door to the chapel suddenly flung open.

  “Are you okay?” Apollo was out of breath, dressed in his workout clothes. His glance lingered a second longer than necessary on their posture before he focused on Nora. “Hey.”

  He reached the pew and put one hand on his shoulder while he stretched for Nora.

  She stood, still holding onto Matisse who was forced to stand as well. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

  “Anytime.” He cupped her cheek in his hand, and bent at the knees to study her face.

  The affection in his face caused Matisse to drop her hand. His friend never noticed. He led them out of the chapel, holding tightly to Nora and glaring around him, daring someone to approach. The only people around were those hurrying to their next class. His car idled at the curb, the door still open.

  “You’re bigger,” Nora said to Matisse. “You can sit in front.”

  “I’m fine,” he replied, feeling a smile tug at his lips while he reached for the back door.

  She shook her head, putting her hand on his. “No. Short legs sit in back.”

  “Only if he’ll hold my hand,” Apollo gamely replied, letting them argue while he walked around to the driver’s side door.

  Giving Matisse a little push, she said, “Go on
. Let’s go home.”

  He turned around, looking at Apollo. Matisse wasn’t sure, but he thought the same dopey grin was probably on his face as well.

  fourteen

  Apollo’s Distraction

  Matisse and Apollo stayed close even after getting home. Apollo never went back to the gym, though she told him she was fine. He and Matisse exchanged a loaded glance, but Nora didn’t feel comfortable prying.

  You felt comfortable enough to kiss him, her inner monologue snarked, but she quickly clapped her mental hand over her mental mouth.

  The three of them passed the time in the living room. Matisse worked on his laptop, and Apollo took out his books and made himself a workstation. Every so often he would stand and stretch.

  At one point, he disappeared behind her. She thought he was getting the kinks out of his neck, but after hearing a grunt, she turned around and saw him doing push-ups. He caught her open-mouthed stare and blushed. He stood quickly, adjusting his glasses.

  “Will you please go back to the gym?” she pleaded, feeling guilty. “I’m fine. I promise. I don’t want you to change your entire day for me.”

  Apollo bounced on his feet and shook out his hands. “I don’t feel right leaving you here.”

  Clearing his throat, Matisse interrupted, “I’m not going anywhere until Cai gets home, and Seok’s in the basement. She’s safe here, Apollo.”

  “Will you please go do what you need to?” she asked. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  “When does Cai get back?” Apollo asked Matisse. It seemed to Nora he entirely discounted Seok’s presence.

  “Around ten. It’s an eight-hour shift today. Friday is overnight.”

  Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and released it slowly. “You’ll be here? The whole time?”

  Matisse smiled devilishly. “The whole time.”

  It seemed good enough for him. “Will you come with me for a sec, Nora?”

  She glanced quickly at Matisse, who waved his hand at her. She followed Apollo out of the house and to his car. He turned around when they got there, and took her hand. When he traced the back of her hand with his thumb, it reminded her of Matisse’s similar gesture, and a little shiver ran along her spine.

  Holding onto her hand, Apollo wrapped his arm around her body. He tugged her forward, pressing her against him, and then slowly lowered his head to hers. She watched his lips approach hers, her eyes darting between his eyes and his lips. He smiled, a quick flash of dimples and white teeth, and then his lips were on hers. She couldn’t help the groan that escaped her, and she pressed forward, wanting to mold her body to his.

  He answered her groan with one of his own, and let go of her hand in order to trace the length of her spine. His hand came to rest on the nape of her neck.

  Nora wanted to touch him everywhere. She ran her hands along his arms, feeling the way his muscles bunched and released under her hands as he moved along her body.

  His warm tongue dipped into her mouth, and like he did before, he drew his tongue along hers before tracing the roof of her mouth. She stood on her tip toes, her hands going to his shoulders and curling, like she could lift herself.

  Apollo groaned again, putting his hands beneath her butt and lifting to sit her on the hood of the car. She gave a little yelp of surprise, and he pulled away, his face concerned.

  “I'm fine,” she gasped. “I'm fine.” She drew his head back to hers, looping her legs behind his without even thinking about it. He pressed into her, and she could feel him through the material of his shorts.

  A warmth began to build, starting in her stomach and wrapping around her waist. It dipped low into her spine before winding its way to her fingers and toes. Letting her hands explore his body, her fingers teased the edge of his t-shirt before pulling it out of the way. His skin was hot and smooth, and she loved the way his lower back flared out where it turned into his butt. She had to stop herself from diving beneath his shorts.

  Apollo returned her gestures in kind. His hands crawled beneath her shirt until he could rest his palms on her shoulder blades and push her forward. But his kisses slowed and he pulled away. Nora bit her lip to keep from going back for more.

  “Now I really need to work out,” he whispered, kissing her again.

  Keeping her eyes closed, she leaned her forehead on his chest. She felt his chin land on her head and scrape back and forth.

  “Why?” she asked.

  He took a deep breath and moved back from her. Keeping his eyes on hers, he slowly thrust his hips into the cradle of her legs.

  “Oh,” she breathed, unable to stop her hips from pushing back into his. She loved the way he felt, the way he made her feel like she was burning up, her edges curling from the flames until she'd disappear in a puff of smoke and crumble into ash.

  “Can I say goodnight when I get home?”

  Her face flushed, but she nodded. He kissed her again, sweet and gentle, before reaching behind him and unhooking her legs. He helped her off the hood of the car, but her knees felt like jelly. He caught her elbow, chuckling when she tripped.

  “That’s good,” he said quietly, his hand on her back. “Right?”

  “I think so,” she replied stepping away from him. She couldn't stop smiling. “But maybe...” She paused as he got in the car and waited for her to finish. “Maybe you could kiss me later and we could see if I have the same reaction. Test reliability or something.”

  Throwing his head back, he laughed. He pulled off his glasses and wiped his eyes. “You got it.”

  She closed the door and he rolled down the window. “See you later.”

  “Bye.”

  Backing away to the house, she waved at him until he gave a quick beep of the horn.

  When she went back inside, Matisse wasn't in the living room so she sat on the couch by herself, curling her feet beneath her. This room was another place Seok managed to turn into a wonder. In one corner was a fireplace, and she imagined curling up and staring into the inviting flames while the winter snow fell.

  Above it was a wide wooden mantel holding a number of hand-carved bowls and spindly candlesticks. She wondered if Seok refurbished the mantel, and made all of the pieces decorating it. She wished she could ask him, but her presence only seemed to annoy him.

  She cocked her head, trying to listen for him. If he was in the basement, she'd hear him working, but right now it was silent. She let her head fall onto the arm of the couch. The day's events suddenly overwhelmed her. Remembering the reporter's questions, she silently groaned, hiding her face in the cushion.

  Somehow her state records from the Department of Children and Families were unsealed. She wouldn't be surprised if Detective Vance personally found them and then handed them to the papers.

  She couldn't imagine what Matisse thought of her. The questions had made her brain misfire, and she was unable to respond coherently. Who knew what her mother implied?

  Nora shifted again, her side starting to ache, a dull, throbbing pain in time with her heartbeat. She should get her pain meds, but right now, she wanted to feel everything. If she concentrated hard enough on the physical hurt, it would distract her from her memories, and the things she tried so hard to forget.

  Fifteen

  Seok’s Deadline

  Seok heard the front door slam. Since Nora and her entourage arrived, he’d been listening to their footsteps across the ceiling. He could hear the deep bass of Apollo’s voice, and the lyrical flow of Matisse’s. He listened for Nora as well, and finally identified her voice as the absence of sound; the silence between Matisse and Apollo. He knew Apollo was expected at his gym, but the hour crept by, and still he remained. Apparently, he was so completely wrapped around Nora’s finger, he ignored all his responsibilities to babysit her.

  Each of his friends was hyper-focused on Nora and anything remotely related to her. One by one, they’d fallen: Ryan, Apollo, Matisse. Cai was on the edge; he only needed a little nudge to become a satellite around Planet Nora
.

  He was pissed. Ever since getting Matisse’s text telling them he was holed-up in a church with Nora after being confronted by a reporter, he’d been anxious and distracted.

  Which made him even angrier. He was in the middle of a project and had things to do: deadlines to meet. He rubbed his fingertips together, brushing his hands against the denim of his jeans. Longingly, he glanced at the project he made such great progress on earlier. Noticing the glue dripping down the sides of the wood, he grabbed a rag, wiping away the mess before it could dry. He did not like being preoccupied by Nora and whatever drama it was following her. She was not supposed to be his responsibility.

  Sighing, he dropped the rag on the workshop counter. He gripped the edge with his hands and bowed his head.

  He was lying to himself.

  She hadn’t done anything wrong, and each time he snapped at her, he felt worse and worse. She tried to stay out of his way, to make herself small and inconspicuous. At no time had she asked anything of him. At no time had she been anything but polite. He made her life harder by being an asshole. His friends were right to call him out this morning.

  Grabbing the rag, Seok threw it across his workshop where it landed with an unsatisfying slap against the concrete. His conscious ate at him, and he wondered if he was being an ass, just to be an ass.

  His father’s voice suddenly echoed in his head, “The nail that sticks up gets hammered down.”

  He hadn’t thought of it in years. Everything about this girl got under his skin. He was doing fine: working hard and paying off his debts. Now, he was stuck in the basement, thinking about his father.

  And the old adage about nails—it had been his father’s favorite way of getting him in line.

  Seok ran his hand through his hair, pulling it away from his forehead to stare at it. He liked the blue, he decided. He was sixteen the first time he dyed it, bleaching it white and dressing in pink pants to greet his father and his father’s business partners at the airport. His father greeted him stiffly, waiting until they were alone to remind him he needed to show humility. He looked like a spoiled rich boy intent on embarrassing him. He had no respect for his elders.