“There’s no Room 105. No Abby, no monsters, no people. And I’m not going to die. It’s all in your head.” He scrubbed a hand across his face. “Let it go, baby. Let it go.”
He’d never called me baby before. The endearment sounded sexy. But it troubled me, too. I loved a man who was shaking his head, telling me to let my sister go.
“I can’t abandon Abby. And I can’t worry until next year that you’re going to die. Just help me find the door to Room 105 and make it better.”
“How we can find a door that isn’t there?”
“What if it is there, waiting for us to step through it?”
“If you find it, Vanessa, it’ll be a hallucination. It won’t be a real door. And if you go through it, God knows where it will lead or what it will do to your mind. I can’t participate in that.”
“So you’ll just leave me to my own devices?” I glared at him the same way Abby had glared at me earlier. I wasn’t trying to behave like my sister. Yet I could feel myself becoming more like her, taking on her mannerisms.
“I think you should talk to your doctor, Vanessa. Or maybe check back into The Manor for a while.”
“I can’t go there!” I all but shouted at him. “That’s where Abby is. That’s her home, not mine.”
“You were a patient there,” he reminded me.
“I was, but I’m not now,” I argued.
“Maybe you should be again.”
“Because I’m trying to figure this out? Don’t you see, Duncan? This could be my closure. My healing. If we find the door to 105 and you come there with me, I might get better after it’s all over. The 105 delusions might end.”
“And what if it makes you worse? What if you go there and don’t come back? Please, just drop this, okay?”
“Drop it? And let all of that horrible stuff happen? I promise if I go to 105, I’ll come back. Besides, you’ll be with me when I’m there. You’ll be the warrior.”
“I’ll be there in your head. It’s not the same as me actually being there.”
“You should have heard Abby talking about the way she loves Seven. How can I live with myself if they lose each other?” And how would I survive if I lost Duncan? He was becoming my world, my heart. “Do this for me.”
“I’m so sorry, but I can’t.”
He tried to reach for my hand, but I wouldn’t let him touch me. I didn’t know what hurt worse…that he wouldn’t help, or that I loved him so damned much.
“I’m going to find the door with or without you.” The threat of tears stung my eyes. I’d yet to cry in front of him, but I was always on the verge, it seemed, fighting the feeling. “I’ll go there either way.”
“That’s emotional blackmail.” He stood up and nearly knocked over his chair. Behind him was the wall of his building, splattered with his riotous art: images, words, knife-like streaks of red, bleeding all over the bricks.
I watched him pace the patio, dragging both hands through his hair. He looked like a crazy man. I stifled a painful laugh. Now both of us were nuts.
He finally stopped and turned in my direction. “How about if I go home with you tonight and we talk to Carol about this?”
A dash of paranoia sprinkled over me. “I don’t want to get Carol involved.”
“I’m not going to help you unless you agree to discuss it with her.”
Now who was using emotional blackmail? “You’re not being fair.”
“That’s the best I can do.” He knelt beside my chair, like a knight receiving an honor from the queen or a man proposing to the lady he loved. “Take my offer. Let me go home with you.”
I rested my palm against his cheek. I wasn’t a queen, and I wished I was the lady he loved. But I hadn’t forgotten what Lori said about how he might not be capable of that kind of love.
“Will you stay the whole night?” I asked, wondering what kind of scars his unknown childhood had left behind. My scars were evident. I wasn’t a mystery, the way he was.
“Yes,” he replied. “I’ll stay.”
“In my room. In my bed?” I wanted him to lie naked with me tonight, warm and deep under my covers.
“Yes,” he said again.
I put my arms around him, and he kissed me. He tasted like everything I wanted, everything I needed: my heart, my soul, my salvation. All I could do now was pray that my aunt didn’t spoil it.
***
Repeating Abby’s story to Carol was like déjà vu. She had the same disturbed look on her face that Duncan had had when I’d told him.
The three of us were gathered in our backyard. We didn’t have a cityscape or graffiti-marked walls, like on Duncan’s patio. What we had were trees, plants, and lawn furniture. And by now, a quarter-moon appeared in the sky, playing peekaboo behind a cluster of lavender-tinged clouds.
Carol said to me, “Do you really think that searching for a nonexistent door and going to a nonexistent realm is going to help you?”
“I think it’s worth a try.” I tried to sound confident instead of crazy. “I want to get well.” By mostly I wanted Abby and Seven to be able to be together and for Duncan not to die. But I didn’t want to keep pushing those points in front of Carol because they sounded crazy.
She sipped her tea. Earlier, she’d made jasmine tea and we each had a cup in front of us, the highly scented brew wafting in the air. I drank some of mine, too, hoping it would soothe me.
“Do you remember how Room 105 got started?” she asked me.
“Abby came up with it.”
“Yes, but do you know why?”
I shook my head. Obviously there was a backstory I’d forgotten. I glanced at Duncan. He was watching Carol.
He said to her, “There’s something specific behind that number?”
“Very specific.” She looked at me, then at him. “It’s the number of Vanessa’s parents’ burial plot. They were cremated and their remains were placed in the same plot.”
I gulped my next breath. Even if this information was something my subconscious already knew, as far as my conscious mind was concerned I was hearing it for the very first time.
I reached for the sweater that was draped across the back of my chair and put it on. I was getting a terrible chill.
Duncan asked Carol, “How did Vanessa become aware of what number it was? She was just a kid when they died.”
“She was with me when I bought the plot. I tried to leave her with a neighbor, but she cried and screamed and clung to me. I didn’t have a choice but to bring her everywhere I went. She wasn’t paranoid of me then.”
I clutched my sweater closed. I didn’t like that they were talking about me as if I wasn’t there.
“Room 105 symbolizes death,” Duncan said.
“Yes,” Carol replied.
“No,” I interjected, grappling for an explanation that didn’t make me feel sick inside. “Room 105 is world created by human imaginings. It symbolizes life, not death.” If it were death, then it would make Duncan dying and Abby and her people disappearing that much worse.
Duncan said, “That’s good, Vanessa. Creating new lives from the ones you lost is good.”
Was that what I’d done? Replaced my parents with a whole other dimension? “Are you going to help me find Room 105?”
“Yes, I think I should.” He reached for my hand and threaded his fingers through mine. Then he said to Carol, “Is that all right with you?”
She nodded, supporting his decision. “But if it goes too far and you don’t think you can handle it, call her doctor. Or 9-1-1, if that seems necessary.”
“I will. Absolutely, I will.”
Again, they were talking about me as if I wasn’t there, and making me sound like a major basket case. Of all things, they were discussing my doctor and a possible trip to the emergency room. But I didn’t protest. I was willing to take whatever chance was being presented to me.
Because at least the search for Room 105 was going to happen.
Chapter Twelve
; Duncan went for a walk by himself, purposely leaving me alone with Carol. He wanted to give me the opportunity to speak privately with her about my relationship with him.
“Duncan is going to stay the night,” I said, as she and I cleared the teacups and set them in the sink.
“That’s fine. I’ll make up the guest room for him.”
“He’s going to stay with me.”
She went wide-eyed. “In your room?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know about that, honey. You’re going through enough as it is and you don’t need to start something like that, especially now.”
“It’s already been started. I already slept with him. I lied to you on Friday when I told you that I was spending the night at Lori’s house. I went to Duncan’s loft instead.”
She crossed her arms, looking none too pleased. “Was he in on it? Did he help you plan the lie?”
I shook my head. “He had no idea I was going to his place. Lori helped me plan it.” I didn’t delve into the specifics, but my aunt seemed to get the gist of it.
She raised her eyebrows. “You shouldn’t have made yourself vulnerable to him like that.”
“I did it so I wouldn’t be vulnerable to him. I did it to feel strong and free.”
She sighed. “Then I suppose there isn’t anything I can do to change it. What’s done is done. But be careful with your feelings. Girls tend to get attached and boys don’t. Not that Duncan isn’t attached to you. I’m sure that he is. Or else he wouldn’t be helping you the way he is. But sex is a whole other animal.”
“I know it’s different for them.” I wasn’t about to tell her that I’d already fallen in love with him. Or how many other girls he’d been with. “But I’ll be fine, Carol.”
“Oh, honey. That’s all I want for you. To be fine. To be well. To be happy.”
“Being with Duncan makes me happy.”
“I can see that it does. And I’m glad he’s there for you. I couldn’t have a picked a better boyfriend for you, but I still want you to be careful.”
Being careful wasn’t possible, not when I was already in love with him. But I said, “Okay.”
After a stream of silence, she said, “I’m going to get ready for bed now. I’m exhausted.”
“I’m tired, too. We’ve all been through a lot today.”
Carol nodded, and our conversation ended. She went to her room, and I went to mine.
I changed into a baby doll nightgown and got into bed, leaving the door ajar for Duncan. A short while later, he returned to the house and entered my room, his backpack slung over one shoulder.
“Have the logistics been worked out?” he asked.
“Yes. I told Carol this where you were going to sleep.”
He put his backpack on the nightstand and smiled. “You’re all cuddled up, snug as a caterpillar in a cocoon.”
I returned his smile. I liked that he’d made a butterfly reference.
He stripped down to his boxer-briefs, and I teased him. “Look who’s wearing underwear.”
“I wear it sometimes.” He climbed into bed with me. “Are you wearing panties?”
“I always do.” I sucked in my breath when he reached under my girlish nightgown to check.
He slipped his fingers past the waistband, going right for what he wanted. The hot-blooded side of him had kicked in. The guy who loved sex, who seemed to live and breathe for it.
As he rubbed the most intimate part of me, I shifted onto my side to kiss him. I worked my hand into his underwear, too.
Delicious foreplay: tongues dancing, hearts beating, the sweet pressure of his fingers inside me, the heat of my hand wrapped around the length of him.
He worked his fingers in a warm, wet rhythm. My stomach quivered. My limbs went taut.
“I think I like sex as much you do,” I whispered, my voice quickening in raspy pants.
“Innocent Vanessa.” His tone was rough, sandpapering the air and grazing my skin. “There’s more to come.”
More. To. Come.
We tumbled over the bed and went passionately mad, kissing and caressing and creating sparks of fevered energy.
This was how crazy should be.
Once we were naked, we kissed and caressed some more, bunching the pillows and scattering the covers.
Hungry for what he needed, for what we both wanted, he removed a condom from his backpack.
Riiip.
He tore into it and showed me how to put the latex on him. It wasn’t something I’d learned in a sex education class like some teenagers. My homeschooling didn’t include that sort of thing.
Innocent Vanessa.
I reached over and turned off the lamp, making the room dark except for wall-socket nightlights shining in decorative shapes: a seashell, a snowflake, a star. The effect was magical.
But so was being with Duncan.
He entered me. There was no pain, not like last time. I sighed in relief. He pushed deeper, filling me all the way. He looked dangerously primal. Twisted pieces of his hair fell across his face, like strands of licorice. I captured one in my mouth and sucked on it. He sucked on my hair, too.
Then he changed tactics. Clutching my waist, he rolled over, seating me on top of him. There I was, sprawled across his lap. He lifted me up and down, teaching me how to ride him. I smiled like a siren, enjoying the lesson. The friction felt wonderfully wicked. My tiny breasts bounced, my nipples perfectly pebbled.
He used his fingers between my thighs, rubbing and playing, teasing me while I moved in a snakelike motion.
At that free-flowing moment, I wanted to get a tattoo with the sexuality symbol on it, wrapped around my navel. But I wanted butterflies on my stomach, too. I imagined a design with both shapes delicately entwined, defining me and my feelings for Duncan.
The fantasy swirled inside my head.
Swirled, spun, turned…
I rocked faster on his lap. He was still pushing me toward an orgasm, using his fingers as the catalyst.
Snakes, butterflies…
Heat, moisture…
I shattered into a million erotic pieces, coming for the man I loved. He came, too, just moments after I did, arching toward me and growling into my ear.
I collapsed on top of him and neither of us moved for a while. Then, finally, he trailed a languid hand down my spine and rested it against my butt.
He said, “I’ve got to get this condom off before it comes loose on its own and gets messy.”
I didn’t care about the messiness, but I let him dispose of the protection and come back to bed.
When he returned, I cuddled in his arms and said, “I could stay like this forever.”
“There’s no such thing as forever.”
I frowned at his response. He’d told me that once before. “Can’t we just pretend?”
“There’s already going to be enough pretending going on.”
My frown intensified. He was referring to him agreeing to be the warrior. “Are you backpedaling?”
“No. But I just wish it didn’t have to be that way.”
“Then you shouldn’t be dating a girl like me.” Feeling hurt and flustered, I moved away from him.
He reined me back into his arms. “Don’t talk about us not being together.”
I liked that he’d gotten possessive. I liked it so much I nibbled roughly on his shoulder, staking my claim.
He groaned. “Keep that up and I’m going to want you again.”
“Go ahead and want me.”
“Don’t think I won’t.”
“I’m not stopping you.” I wanted it to happen again.
And it did. By God, it did.
The foreplay exploded. We kissed and clawed and tore into each other with breathless fury. He grappled for another condom, and I ripped it open, eager to sheath him.
He thrust so hard and deep, I thought he was trying to fuck the insanity out of me. But in the morning when the sun blasted into the room, nothing had changed.
<
br /> I was still as schizophrenic as ever.
***
I tackled breakfast, fixing a batch of blueberry pancakes while fantasizing about a future with Duncan. This was the type of attachment Carol had warned me about. I doubted that Duncan had even the slightest thought of settling down with me or anyone else. For now, he was sticking a spoon into the batter and stealing tastes, much in the way he’d been stealing pieces of my heart.
Carol poured the juice, and we all sat down together. She and I took small bites, but Duncan ate with vigor, dousing his pancakes with syrup and topping them with freshly made whipped cream.
My meds were on the table, as usual. I hadn’t taken them yet. But I would as soon as I ate enough to coat my stomach and help digest them.
My cell phone rang. I could hear it blaring from my room. “I better get that.”
“Get what?” Duncan asked.
I hopped up. “My phone.”
“I don’t hear anything,” he said.
“Neither do I,” said Carol.
Were they deaf? It was as clear as a church bell and nearly as loud. I dashed into my room to answer it. I didn’t even check to see whose name or number was on the screen.
“Vanessa?” A familiar voice came on the line.
Oh, my Lord. I sank into my desk chair, my legs wobbling. It was Abby.
“They’re gone,” she said. “My people are gone. Seven was supposed to come to my room last night, but he never showed up. He’s never done that before. He always visits me when he says he’s going to.”
I white-knuckled the phone. “Duncan agreed to help me search for Room 105.”
“Then you need to do it right away. Today, if possible.”
“I’ll talk to him. And don’t worry.” I did my best to assure her. “We’ll get your people back.”
“Thank you.” She sounded on the verge of tears.
I was on the edge of them, too. Now I had to go back into the kitchen and tell Duncan and Carol what was going on.
Abby and I said goodbye, and I brought the phone with me in case she called back.
I resumed my seat, my pulse skittering. “It was Abby. Her people are gone. They got stuck in 105 last night.”
Beautiful Confusion (New Adult Romance) Room 105 Page 14