by Skye Warren
I don’t have an advisory session scheduled with Dr. Stanhope today, but I have to pass by his office after class. Usually I’d head to the commons for lunch, maybe meet up with Avery for a cup of coffee after. Instead I find myself knocking on his door.
“Come in,” he says in that absent way of his, but even that doesn’t bring me comfort today.
He glances up from his work, then gives me a double take. Do I look that bad? The concerned line between his brows says yes. “Sit down, Penny.”
Without waiting for me to respond, he guides me gently to the sofa. His touch is confident, firm, the kind I can rely on, and right now I’m desperate for someone to hold me.
Even if he’s not the man I’m dreaming about.
From my seat on the old plaid couch I study Dr. Stanhope as if for the first time. Soft brown eyes and a strong jaw. He has the kind of hair that’s deep mahogany, that would turn to golden if he spent more time in the sun. It’s cut short, I’m sure because that requires the least amount of thought on his part.
His shirt is a rumpled white, probably one of ten exactly like it hanging in his closet. Black slacks and brown loafers, which don’t quite match but somehow fit this man.
“Something’s wrong,” he says softly, a gentle nudge.
I take a deep breath. “I’m not sure it’s right for me to talk about this with you.”
My professor. My mentor. And what else? The man who wants me. A faint smile touches his lips, as if he’s thinking the same thing. “I can be your friend.”
“I thought you wanted to be something else.”
“Lovers are friends,” he says softly.
Not the way Damon Scott does it. “I’m worried about my dad.”
Brown eyes sharpen, the same as when he’s faced with a new puzzle. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. Maybe nothing.” Each word drags from me, my long-held privacy creating friction on the way out. How can I bare my soul to Dr. Stanhope, to anyone? Then again it’s not my soul that’s being exposed. Only my sordid past. “But he didn’t call me like he usually does. And he’s not answering his phone.”
“Do you have someone else you could call?”
Someone else. Other family. Friends. Isn’t that what normal people have?
I could call Brennan but I haven’t spoken to him for three years. We broke up unceremoniously when I left for Smith College, both of us understanding that I had chosen a life outside Tanglewood—and that it could never include him.
“We don’t know that many people,” I admit slowly. “I called the diner where I used to work. My friend Jessica works there. At least, she used to. I called this morning. She’s gone.”
He frowns. “Gone, as in she quit?”
“As in she didn’t show up for work one morning. Another girl stopped by her apartment a week ago. The door was kicked in. No trace of Jessica or her baby.”
“Damn,” he mutters softly. “A baby? Did they call the police?”
I flush, uncertain how to explain the lawless city I come from, that Jessica may have run from the cops themselves. “It’s complicated, but I’m afraid something is wrong. I have to go home.”
“Do you want me to come with you?”
My mouth falls open. The offer stuns me. I can’t imagine showing Dr. Stanhope the dark streets of Tanglewood, but the prospect of having help steals my breath. “You would do that?”
He smiles a little, self-deprecating. “I must have done a worse job communicating than I thought. I care about you, Penny. Deeply. I would do a lot for you. Probably more than bears mentioning.”
Two men saying they care about me in a twenty-four hour period is more than my heart can take. After a lifetime of wanting only one person to care, two is too many. “We’re in the middle of a semester.”
One eyebrow rises, as if he’s surprised I’m considering it. “That’s the benefit of tenure. I can take an emergency absence.”
“Am I an emergency?” I ask faintly.
“Since the first time you raised your hand in my class.”
My mind shifts through the entry-level class. What did I raise my hand to ask? I’m embarrassed at how naive I must have been, fresh out of Tanglewood and thinking I knew everything. “It must have been ridiculous.”
He shakes his head, not really denying it—more like he’s still stunned by me, three years later. “You had the most perfect explanation of string theory I’ve ever heard. Not only from an undergraduate. From PhDs on the subject. But you didn’t know how to access the syllabus.”
Humiliation burns in my chest. I had barely ever used the Internet. There was a computer lab in my high school, but the roof had leaked, and it had been closed the whole time I went there. Then I had taken my GED to get out early. It had felt too much like a farce to sit down and pretend not to know anything after I had seen the devil himself.
When I got a perfect score on the SATs, Avery and Gabriel pulled some strings so Smith College would look at me. When I scored the ninety-ninth percentile on their admissions test, they let me in.
“I don’t know how you didn’t laugh at me,” I say, cheeks flaming.
“God, Penny. I wish you could see yourself like I do.”
I turn my face away, unable to look at him. Unable to have him look at me. How does he see me? He catches my chin and turns me toward him. My eyelids must weigh a thousand pounds. I can’t raise my gaze to meet his. Not until he lifts me from the couch, pulling me onto his lap.
I’m too stunned to protest. I look at him, shocked and strangely excited. His brown eyes are darker than usual, still soft, but with desire now.
And there’s something hard pressing against my hip.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
“Nothing yet,” he says softly, tucking my hair behind my ear. “You looked like you needed someone to hold you.”
A shudder runs through my body, a visceral reaction to his words. I need someone to hold me, desperately. I need him to hold me. “I’m not who you think I am.”
“Then who you are?” he asks, his expression tender.
I’m the girl who’s saying goodbye. “Where I grew up, it’s not like here. It’s dangerous. Daddy is mixed up in something bad. And it might be my fault.”
“Is it?” His voice is thoughtful. “Or do you want it to be?”
The question rings in my ears long after I leave his office.
Chapter Six
“Tell me to stay,” I ask Avery, almost desperate for her to convince me. “Tell me to stay at Smith College, to ignore what’s going on at home, to do whatever I have to do to finish here.”
“Is that what you want to do?” she asks quietly.
We’re in her penthouse suite, curled up on the antique sofa with a plush throw blanket and a bucket of popcorn. I’ve already put in my formal request to take a leave of absence and booked the flight for tomorrow. Which makes this goodbye.
“I don’t have a choice,” I say, though we both know that isn’t true.
A haunted expression crosses her pretty face. She always looks so put together. Even in class her nails are perfectly shaped and her lip gloss in place. Her makeup is never overdone, but it’s definitely polished. Only when she’s in her suite does she let her guard down.
“Look, I want to support you. Especially with how hard this must be. But I feel like I should say… you can stay. You should stay. Your father is your past. This is your future.”
“Is that what you would do?”
“No,” she admits ruefully. “I would have done anything for my father. And I guess I did. I can’t say that I really regret it, but it also was misguided. I was blind to his faults. So desperate to hold on to my last piece of family.”
Acid burns my throat. “I know what that’s like.”
“The women in Tanglewood don’t fare too well,” she says softly.
I know the sad story of her mother, how even with all her money and education she hadn’t managed to escape the dark s
ide of the city. It would be even harder without those resources. Impossible. It had been pure luck that had let me leave the first time.
That luck won’t find me again.
“I don’t think I can stay here, knowing he might be in trouble. But I don’t want to leave. It’s been too good here,” I say in a whisper, a little rueful. To know what it’s like, life without struggling for my next meal, for the next five dollars that may never come.
“You can come back,” Avery says.
She’s a wonderful friend, but she doesn’t know what it’s like to be hungry for years. And I wouldn’t wish that on her. “Maybe.”
“You can,” she insists. “You can visit home, make sure your dad is okay, and then fly back. If you need money, I can help.”
“Please,” I say, my cheeks turning warm. “You’ve done enough for me.”
She frowns. “It’s not charity, Penny. You’re my friend.”
“And you’re my friend. That’s why I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
This is an argument we’ve had before. I can see the old arguments in the air of her apartment, how she wants to help me, how she doesn’t need the money. It feels too good to have a friend, though. One I don’t owe. One who doesn’t owe me.
“It’s not only that,” I admit. “I’m a little afraid to go home. To see him.”
She doesn’t ask who I mean. Damon Scott. The man who saved me. The man who pushed me away. And the only person who will know where Daddy is.
“Do you think he’ll give you a hard time?” she says, sounding worried, as if she thinks he’ll give me a hard time. “I can ask Gabriel to talk to him. He’s out of the country at the moment, but—”
“No, it’s not that. It’s more about my reaction to him.”
“Oh,” she says knowingly.
“I think I was silly before. Thinking there was anything between us. He’s probably forgotten all about me.” This is what I convinced myself. It was the only way I could actually leave Tanglewood. After the phone call I’m not so sure.
But even if he cared about me back then, I was a little girl. How could he have cared about me? How could he have known me? I barely even knew myself. The young woman sitting on this couch with Avery James is someone else entirely.
“Or maybe he’s been pining after you.”
My throat gets tight, filled with words I don’t dare say. “No. I was only a teenager when I saw him last. He kissed me, but I think… I’m afraid it was only out of pity.”
She looks dubious. “I don’t think Damon Scott kisses people out of pity.”
“Maybe not. But it’s been three years. He could have kissed every girl in the city by now.”
“He could have kissed none of them.”
Only when my heart beats faster do I realize that’s what I’ve been wishing for. How stupid of me. How presumptuous. And yet I can’t deny the possibility. He had kissed me. And it hadn’t felt like pity, the faint tremor in his strong body, the gentle way his lips touched mine.
“Has Gabriel said anything about him lately?”
Avery’s hazel eyes grow troubled. “No, but I’m not sure if he would tell me. They’ve been arguing. And he’s been gone so much for work. So much traveling.”
There’s more than travel bothering her. I feel her unease as surely as my own, dark and sinewy, climbing our ankles like vines. “Have you told him you’re worried about him?”
Her nose scrunches. “I shouldn’t be surprised you can see right through me. You always were crazy smart.”
“With numbers,” I remind her. “Not people.”
“They’re not so different, I think. Both of them are puzzles.”
I put her hand in mine. “I can tell you’re worried because I care about you.”
It still feels strange to touch anyone.
I didn’t get hugged much as a child. My mother left early, first in spirit, losing herself in drugs and men. Then in body. Daddy did his best for me, but he was never much of a hugger. Maybe that’s why it meant so much for Damon Scott to hold me. He was really the first person who did.
She squeezes my hand, looking grateful. “I didn’t want to tell anyone. Not even him. As if saying the words would make it more real. I can’t help but think one of these days he’s going to go away and not come back.”
My blood runs cold. That’s the dream I had since I was a child. One by one, everyone I love disappearing. Like a terrible fable, one that ends with me alone.
I struggle to keep my voice even. “You should tell him how you feel.”
“No, he would just worry about me. Maybe even stay here more when he really needs to be visiting to make these deals. I know I should feel better that he’s had this rift with Damon Scott. He’s mostly a criminal. Definitely dangerous. That leaves Gabriel with more time to focus on his legitimate business.”
Definitely dangerous. The words echo in my head. “But?”
“But it was good to know someone had his back. At least they trust each other. Or they did. Now it seems like everyone has some secret agenda. And Gabriel is operating by himself.”
“He probably has a good sense of who to trust. That’s how he got so far.”
“You’re right,” she says, smiling a little. It’s troubled, though. She’s not convinced. And the truth is, neither am I. It bothers me more than I want to admit to hear that Gabriel Miller and Damon Scott have had a falling out. What could it be about?
“Things will seem better in the morning,” I say, not because I believe it but because I want it to be true.
Worry draws a crease between her eyebrows. “Will you sleep over?”
“Oh.” I glance at the large California king, covered in plush white 1000-thread count linens. It’s definitely big enough for the both of us, but still weird to be where Gabriel would sleep.
“Come on,” she says, her voice teasing. “You’re way too drunk on popcorn and Perrier to walk back to your room.” Her tone grows serious. “And I’m actually kind of scared to be alone.”
That decides me. “Of course I’ll stay. And tomorrow you’ll call Gabriel and tell him what you’re really feeling. He deserves to know, and you deserve to have him help you through it.”
“Yes, ma’am,” she says, relief in her voice.
I feel relieved too, to not sleep alone for one night out of a thousand, to have a break from the dreams that plague me. But the nightmares come again, worse than ever. I’m in a crowd of glittering diamonds and gold, so sparkling I can’t even see anyone’s faces. And then one by one the lights go out. The people disappear. Until I’m left standing alone in a ballroom.
And then the ballroom turns into an empty pool, its green tiles cracked, dark roots breaking it apart from underneath. It’s filling with water, blackness rising, until I can’t see anything at all.
Chapter Seven
I wake up startled, as if I had been falling in my dream, arms jerking back to catch my fall. The bed where I land is warm and soft—and very, very big. It’s not clear for two minutes, three, that I’m alone in it. The piles of pillows don’t hold anyone but me.
Sheets cling to my damp skin as I sit up in bed, blinking at the wide empty space. My room is the size of an ordinary dorm room, and I like that about it. It’s small. And it’s mine.
This room belongs to Avery James, who is basically modern-day royalty. Antique furniture and artwork tastefully decorate the large space. On the far coffee table I see the half-empty popcorn bowl we left and a couple of green glass water bottles. The teal scales on my phone case glitter in the morning light. Pushing away the heavy down comforter, I get out of bed and stumble across the room.
The phone blinks low battery at me, having sat here all night without charging.
The time is ten o’clock, way later than I usually wake up. I got used to rising early working at the diner back home. Sleeping until eight when I get up for class still feels like a luxury.
“Avery?” I ask out loud. My voice seems to echo b
ack at me.
I glance at the bathroom, where the door sits half-open, the claw-foot bathtub dark and dry. Maybe she went downstairs to talk to the staff for some reason. She does own the hotel, even if she doesn’t usually get involved in operations.
Or maybe Gabriel came home early and surprised her.
Then why didn’t I wake up and hear him? And where did they go? It would be just like Avery to not want to wake me. They could have found an empty hotel room on a lower floor and left me to sleep.
The more I think about it, that must be what happened. I certainly hope that’s what happened. Because Avery has been so worried about him. I can’t imagine her relief to have him safely home.
Something buzzes faintly in the room, and I turn back toward the bed. It’s coming from the mountain of white sheets and blankets. I pull aside pillows, letting them fall to the floor like I’m excavating something. And the results of my dig are a phone, this one with a pink and black Kate Spade phone case that I recognize as being Avery’s. Why would she leave her suite without her phone?
On the screen I can see Gabriel Miller, his stern expression and golden eyes startling.
For a brief moment relief lightens my chest. I can imagine how it played out—a middle-of-the-night text from Gabriel, Avery taking the elevator down to meet him, both of them so giddy to be together they found the first empty room to be alone.
And then in the morning, wondering where her phone went. Gabriel calling it to see if it rings in their temporary room. It makes perfect sense in my head, so sweet it makes me smile.
That’s how I answer the phone—smiling.
“This is Avery’s phone speaking.”
Static bounces back at me. “Hello? Avery?”
I recognize Gabriel Miller’s growl of a voice even with the bad connection. And his concern comes through loud and clear. My skin prickles. Someone walking on your grave. That’s what Mama would say. But I’m more concerned with Avery than me. “Gabriel? This is Penny.”