by S. Poirier
He comes to a stop under the carport next to an old Cadi and kills the engine. “This is where I grew up,” he replies as he looks out over the carport and patio.
I follow his gaze to the backdoor as it opens and a pretty little lady with salt and pepper hair wearing a blue sweater, jeans, cowboy boots, and an apron steps out. She puts her hands on her hips and narrows her eyes. She’s working her jaw the same exact way that Catch does, and it’s kind of intimidating.
“Um, Catch?” I say a little unsure of what he just brought me into.
He reaches over and squeezes my hand. “It’s fine. This is her normal greeting for me.”
“Sage Carmichael!” She yells from the porch.
I suck in a sharp breath, and look at Catch. He gives me a weak smile. “Your given name is Sage?” He nods. “Why did you tell me your name was Catch?”
He ignores my question and I immediately know that it has something to do with his actual job. “Please, don’t call me Catch in front of my mom. She doesn’t know, and I…” I reach over and press my finger to his lips.
“I promise, Sage,” I say with a smile. Why I agreed to do this I really have no clear idea. Maybe it’s because he did help save my life, or the fact that he is still helping to save my life. Or maybe the bigger reason is because I have a soft spot for the guy, something I wasn’t ready to confess. Something I don’t know if I’ll ever confess.
“Thank you. Stay here,” he says as he hops out of the jeep, and then jogs around to the passenger side and opens the door. Since my back is to his mom I give him a puzzled look. He smiles. “She would kick my ass if I didn’t use my manners,” he mumbles.
“Ah, so you do know how to act like a gentleman. I never would have guessed you had it in you. Sage,” I whisper sarcastically.
He closes the door a little harder than needed, and his jaw clenches. “Don’t get used to that name,” he hisses before taking my hand in his, squeezing a little too tightly. I narrow my eyes at him. Catch brings his face down next to mine and rubs his nose along my jaw. When he reaches my ear he whispers, “Smile, Blaze, show me your amazing acting skills.”
When he pulls away I slap on the best fake smile I can muster and allow him to guide me towards his glaring mother.
We walk up the steps and come to a stop in front of her. “Hi, mom,” Catch greets her with a toothy grin. “This is my girlfriend, Max Brady. Max, this is Gracie Carmichael.”
I pry my hand from Catch’s, happy for the separation, and offer it to her. She doesn’t take her hands from her hips, only glances down at my hand and then back up to my face. The time stretches on just long enough to make me start feeling like a shut-down fool. Is she really not going to give me a chance before even getting to know me? And, what the hell, why do I even care if she likes me or not?
Catch places his free hand on the small of my back as I start to lower the hand that is left hanging in the air. Before I can feel the full sting of rejection Gracie throws her arms around me and pulls me tight against her chest.
“You are a brave woman, because God knows dating Sage is no easy task,” she murmurs against my hair in a thick southern accent.
****
Catch
“Hey, I’m standing right here. Now let her go,” I say as I pry my mom off of Max.
Mom turns to finally hug me. “Well, I have to go feed Dakota anyway. Now you two go inside and make yourselves at home,” she says as she brushes past us.
“Dakota?” I ask.
I take her hand and start pulling her towards the door. “My mom’s American Paint. You can meet him later. Come on, I’ll show you around the house.”
It’s exactly the same as I had left it the last time I came home almost six months ago. We walk into a mudroom complete with bench seat, tall cabinets, a sink, and dirty boots. I tug her into the kitchen and dining area that has cream colored walls, worn butcher block counter tops, rusty wrought iron bar stools, old farmhouse appliances, and white lace curtains.
I cross my arms over my chest and watch as she walks around the bar, running her finger tips along the worn countertops. She takes a moment to take it all in before turning and flashing me a teasing smile.
“Not bad,” she shrugs. I furrow my brow at her. The house may not be large, but it’s comfortable and has always been a sanctuary for me. I can tell she likes it, and for some reason that’s really important to me.
“Bullshit,” I reply. I know she’s only trying to get a rise out of me. Her eyes widen but I ignore her and nod towards the living room.
The living room is open with a corner fireplace, deep brown leather furniture, rustic colored curtains, and family pictures on the walls and decorative tables. An old afghan my grandmother made is folded and draped over the arm of the couch. Max runs her fingers across it as she looks at pictures on the end table next to the lamp.
“Is that your dad?” she asks while pointing at a family picture. I nod, but don’t elaborate. He died about five years ago, but that isn’t something I want to talk about. It isn’t something I ever talk about.
I bring her around the rest of the house showing her the office, and the bedrooms and bathroom upstairs. When she notices that only one of the bedrooms is set up as a guestroom she turns and puts her hands on her hips.
I speak before she can start bitching. “We aren’t sleeping in the house. We’ll be sleeping in the barn.”
She furrows her cute brow. “The barn?”
“The area above the stables is a two bedroom guest house,” I reply. She makes a silent ‘O’ with her mouth that makes me think of all kinds of naughty things I want to do with it.
“Hey kids, get down here,” my mom calls from the bottom of the stairs. I reach out and take Max’s hand and lead her back downstairs. Mom’s standing at the bottom smiling up at us.
Christ she’s already starting to like Max. I can see it in her eyes. This was probably one of the worst ideas I’ve had so far.
“What do you want for dinner? I need to fix it now, because I have a Pokeno tonight with the girls and I don’t intend to miss it. Maybe if you would have called I could’ve canceled.”
I lean into Max and whisper loud enough for my mom to hear, “Nah, she wouldn’t have canceled. Besides I don’t think they play all that much. She usually comes home three sheets to the wind.”
Mom’s hand fly’s out and slaps the back of my head. “I do not, Sage! I’ll have you know we take our Pokeno very seriously. Now, come visit with me in the kitchen.”
We follow her into the kitchen and sit at the bar while she collects frozen plastic bags from the freezer and starts the process of defrosting the contents. It’s her famous vegetable and beef soup. She knows it’s my favorite, so the fact that she has some on reserve doesn’t surprise me. It’s rare that I call before I come home.
She talks about what’s been going on around town, and updates me on my sister’s college life. When she mentions Sarah, Max reaches over and squeezes my knee. It’s then that I realize I have shared very little about my life with her.
Things get a little awkward when my mom asks about Max’s parents. After explaining that she grew up in foster homes with only revealing few details my mom proceeds to invite her to every holiday on the American calendar. When Max politely accepts I think that maybe it was because she’s being nice and humoring the very intimidating Gracie Carmichael. But as I study her face I get the impression that maybe she really did like the idea of spending the holidays here.
And I have to admit, a small part of me liked that idea too.
After we finish eating Max helps my mom with the dishes. And as I sit back and watch the two of them laughing and cleaning the kitchen I can’t help but notice how well she fits in here. How well she fits in with this place. She’s even wearing one of my mom’s aprons. I suddenly become overwhelmed and I need to get some air.
Max isn’t supposed to fit in anywhere in my life. She isn’t supposed to make me feel the things I haven’t felt si
nce my last serious relationship I had right out of high school. There is something special about her, and God knows she deserves better than me. Better than a killer.
I sit on the swing on the back porch and run my hands down my face. The sooner I get to Snitch and figure all this mess out the better. As if he knows I’m thinking about him my trash cellphone chimes. I had texted him my new number after I picked up the phone before we left Roanoke.
Snitch: I’m going to be longer than expected. Hunker down somewhere safe for another couple of days. I’ll text you when I know more.
“Shit,” I mumble. The last thing I want to do right now is spend more than just one night here. No one knows about this place but me. But with a whole group of assassins on our asses it will only be a matter of time before they find us. And I can’t be here when that happens.
“Is everything okay?” I look up to see Max walking over to me. She doesn’t stop until our knees are touching. I was so caught up in my thoughts that I didn’t hear her come out the backdoor.
I peek around her and my mom standing not too far off on the porch. “Yeah, we’ll talk about it later.”
She nods. “I’m going to go get my bags.”
“Well, meet us at the barn, honey. I’ll show you where you can go up to the guestrooms.” Mom says. “Sage, I want to show you something. Walk with me?” For show, and maybe just because I want to, I stand up and plant a lingering kiss on Max’s forehead. She squeezes my arm and glances up at me through her thick lashes before turning and heading towards the steps.
I follow mom out to the barn and into the stalls. We stop for a moment to say hello to Dakota. He’s a beautiful horse with a white face and a black body that looks like someone splashed white paint all over him. He’s a gentle beast and the only horse mom kept after the accident.
Before she can get to whatever it was she wants to show me I decide to ask her for the car. “I need dad’s car,” I say not bothering to beat around the bush. “And I would like if you could not ask any questions.”
She tilts her head and studies me for a moment. “That car has always been yours, Sage. And I won’t ask any questions because I have a feeling I don’t want to know the answers. I don’t know what you’ve been up to, but I know it has nothing to do with electrical work.” I open my mouth to protest, but she puts her hand up to stop me. “I’m not stupid, honey. I know there are things about you that you keep hidden. For whatever reasons I don’t know. I just hope they haven’t caused you to lose yourself.” She places her hand over my heart, and I put mine over hers. It’s all I can do to keep from losing it. This place, where I grew up, always has a way of making me feel vulnerable.
All I can do is nod and squeeze her hand. I was a fool to think that she wouldn’t see through my lies. For the last twelve years I’ve been distant, for her safety, for Sarah’s. And if I’m being honest I have lost some of myself. With every life I took a piece of me went with them. No matter if they were thugs, drug lords, or members of the mob every time one of them met their maker because of me, they had taken a tiny piece of me with them. I’m becoming an empty shell of a man, and that’s why I have to quit.
“Hey, is this Dakota?” Max asks pulling me from my thoughts. I drop mom’s hand and step away.
“This is my other baby,” mom replies. Max reaches out a hand and strokes Dakota’s soft head, running her fingers through his coarse mane.
“He’s beautiful. It looks like he was splashed with white paint.”
I smile inwardly at the fact that her description of Dakota matches mine.
Max leans in and presses her forehead to Dakota’s, and that’s all I can take.
I grab her arm. “I’ll show you upstairs,” I say as I lead her away from the horse. My mom gives me a puzzling look as Max glares at me. Ignoring them both I pull her over to the stairs. “Up the stairs and through that door are the guest quarters. I’ll be up in a little bit.” I snap out. Then I turn and leave her standing there with a dumbfounded look on her face.
“I don’t know what that was about, Sage, but you be nice to her. She’s a sweet girl, and most importantly I like her,” mom fusses as I walk back over to her.
I change the subject, because I’m not going to talk about Max with her. “So what did you want to show me?”
10
Max
I walk halfway up the stairs and suddenly I feel very overwhelmed, so I sit down on one of the wooden planks. I don’t know what the hell Catch’s problem is. We were having a good afternoon, and then something causes him to snap. This place is wonderful, Ms. Gracie is wonderful. And I have to admit when she insisted I come for all the holidays I allowed myself to pretend that might really happen. I had no idea what it was like spending that special time with family.
I shake my head and think, stop it, Max, these people are not your family.
While I’m sitting here trying to get ahold of myself I can’t help but eavesdrop on Catch and Gracie’s conversation.
I hear him take in a sharp breath before saying, “Are you thinking about breeding again?”
“I don’t know yet,” she replies. There is a pregnant pause and I can see Catch in my mind standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, leg’s spread shoulder length apart while he waits for her to continue. “I was called because the filly was seized. They knew I had the room, and when I went to see her I just fell in love. I don’t know if I’ll ever breed her. I said I wouldn’t do anymore breeding after your dad died.”
Catch’s dad died. An icy pain shoots through my chest, but I’m not sure if it’s because of the fact that he lost his dad, or the fact that I know so little about him. It’s probably a combination of both.
“Mom, I think it’s great that you’re thinking about it again. It’s been five years, and I think it’s time we all move on.” I can hear the strain in his voice, and now I feel like an ass for listening to such a private conversation.
With that I tip-toe up the stairs and quietly let myself into the guest house. The living room and kitchen are all one big room. There is an older couch and loveseat set, a coffee table, and a flat screen TV hanging on the wall. The kitchen is small with a fridge, stove and little counter space. Off the living room is a hallway with three doorways. I assumed they are the bedrooms and a bathroom.
I peek into the both bedrooms and pick the one that has a view facing the pasture. I roll my suitcase into the room and gather the things I need for a shower. Thankfully the bathroom was equipped with shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. I had to leave all of my other things back at Cash’s warehouse when we bailed.
By the time I’m done showering and changing into the grey T-shirt he gave me the night before in the hotel, Catch still hasn’t come up. So, I flop down on the couch and turn the TV on. I find an old eighties movie to watch while I wait. Tonight Catch is going to answer some of my questions.
****
About an hour into Footloose Catch walks through the door. His dark hair is standing on end and he has his bag slung over his shoulder. I jump off the couch and watch as he, without a word, walks through the room and into the bedroom that I had chosen for myself. A few seconds later he walks back out and scowls at me.
“That’s my room,” he growls.
I cross my arms over my chest. “Well you didn’t specify when you dismissed me, so I was left to pick my own room. Get. Over. It.”
A growl deep in his chest sounds as he stalks across the hall into the other room. He slams the door, but then throws it back open only a few minutes later. Again without a word he stalks into the bathroom and then slams that door.
I sink back down onto the couch and try my absolute best to concentrate on the movie, but my mind keeps going back to Catch. I can’t understand his sudden mood swing. We were having a nice time, and when his mood changed he acted like it was something I did. I try thinking back at what I could have possibly done to deserve to be treated the way he treated me, but there isn’t anything I’m able pick out
of the events or conversations that took place.
Finally when I hear the bathroom door open I scramble up off the couch. Catch is wearing only a pair of cotton pants that hang distractingly low on his hips. His chest is bare, slightly damp, and I can see the little trail of dark hair under his navel.
It’s the first time I’ve seen him shirtless. And, holy wow. Every muscle is lean, cut, and tanned. Tattoos decorate both sides of ribs cage. Broad shoulders, perfect pecs, ripped abs, and that delicious “V” makes tearing my eyes away from him almost impossible. Every bit of moisture drains from my mouth and heads south. Brining my hand up I twist a piece of my hair, and try my best to school my expression.
I know I’m failing miserably. No woman in her right mind would be able to keep a straight face with a shirtless Catch standing in front of her.
I watch as he gives me a once over. His eyes traveled from my bare feet, up my bare legs, lingering a moment on my braless breasts and then finally locking his steely gray eyes with mine. Although I’m mostly covered I can’t help but feel naked.
A few seconds tick by before he tears his gaze from mine and turns to head to his room.
“Oh no! You are not going to treat me the way you did and then just leave me to stew,” I yell. He keeps walking, so I round the couch and go after him. “Catch, stop, or so help me God.”
He whirls around and approaches me. “So help you God what?” he growls.
I clench my teeth and flex my neck. It’s something I often do before I deck someone in the jaw. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
“Bullshit! I was petting a horse and you freak out on me. I think I deserve to know what the hell is going on inside of your head.”
He takes a step closer, closing the small space between us. My body goes ridged standing its ground. I refuse to be intimidated by him.