She left with her brother and didn’t look back.
Chapter Eighteen
One of the nicest things about Douglas Park was how vast the woods were. Off the beaten train the terrain stretched a good three miles in every direction, giving a lot of homeowners small slices of land on the edge. It also gave Holden a perfect reason to visit without intruding on Aaron’s land.
“I should have figured you for an outdoorsman,” panted Lacey behind him.
Holden grinned back at her. “Why’s that?”
She pulled to a stop, indicating for him to slow down so she could catch her breath. “Because,” she said, “you got those muscles somewhere. And you’re definitely not a people-person, so the gym’s right out.”
Holden retraced his steps a bit to where she stood. “I’m plenty people-friendly,” he said. “I got you to agree to this, didn’t I?”
She laughed and drew her shoulders back. “Guess so. Not bad for a... how old did you say you were, again?”
“Twenty,” he lied. Though he supposed any age aside from 128 was a lie.
“Huh. Could have sworn you were barely eighteen,” she muttered.
He shrugged. “I get that a lot.”
Lacey smiled beatifically. Her teeth were straight, white, and perfect—signs of great care and likely dental work. “I bet you do.”
“Here, this is a good place,” he said suddenly.
“Oh—right.” Lacey tilted her tangle of curls toward him. Today they were adorned with numerous deep blue ribbons, courtesy of Holden before the beginning of their trip. Initially she’d complained, saying they were too childish. But he’d gently insisted that it would make the trip a little more interesting, and in the end she had relented.
Holden untied one of them as he had several times before. Then he looked around until he found a low-hanging branch, and there he tied the ribbon into a firm knot.
Lacey shook her head. “For such a kid, you sure are a romantic.”
“I’m barely two years younger than you,” he exclaimed, placing his hand over his heart as though she’d wounded him.
“Yeah, I’m still suspicious of that,” she said wryly.
“Well, be suspicious all you want,” he teased as he backed away from her and patted the straps of his backpack. “I’ve got the food.”
“Oh, come on!” With a huff she hurried after him, though her smile never left her eyes.
The day was gorgeous; late spring, with the sun out long enough to dissipate the last of the morning dew. Summer was well on its way, though Holden didn’t think the rain would let up too much. The air constantly smelled wet and fresh. It would be a good year for water, he decided.
They stopped several more times for him to tie ribbons on small trunks and low-hanging branches. They had to be placed carefully, he knew, or they would be gone in no time.
And he couldn’t have that. He might need Lacey to come back by herself, and very near in the future.
But for now he focused on his “date.” Holden spread his arms and allowed his voice to boom with grandeur, hoping nobody at the Moreno house would hear. “And this I declare the most romantic spot in Douglas Park. Lacey, meet Monsieur Sequoia.”
Lacey laughed. “Monsieur Sequoia, je suis enchantée de faire votre.” She gave a deep, exaggerated bow before glancing up at Holden. Brown eyes glimmered as she whispered, “How did I do?”
“Awesome,” he said, and he meant it. “You know French.”
“Foreign language studies were required in my high school,” she said, straightening up as Holden removed his backpack. “I remember how to say ‘hello,’ ‘how are you,’ ‘nice to meet you,’ and ‘may I please go use the restroom?’”
Holden knelt to the ground and raised an eyebrow at her. “To use it? Not to ask direction?”
She shrugged. “Classroom setting. We already knew where the bathrooms were.”
“Fair enough.” Holden pulled out two small towels and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, no blankets. Poor working man, you know.” Besides that, Coleen had ruined the few good ones he’d possessed before her death.
Lacey smoothed one out and sat gingerly upon it. “Hey, I’m not judging your accessories. Just your food.”
That he wasn’t worried about. Holden removed heat-protected containers from his bag and set them on the towel spread between them. Then one by one he opened them, revealing a cucumber and radish salad, three baked fish filets, two loaded ham and Swiss cheese sandwiches cut in halves, sliced apples surrounding a small dipping sauce dish full of creamy peanut butter and honey, and a hearty couple helpings of bacon-and-potato salad.
Lacey’s eyes widened a fraction. “You made all of this?”
“Even the potato salad,” he confirmed, handing her a paper plate and plastic fork. “Have at it.”
For a relatively small girl, Lacey’s appetite was voracious. She easily ate her half of everything, even jokingly trying to snag the extra piece of fish for herself.
“I’m seriously amazed,” she said around a mouthful. “You cook this well at your age and you’re still single? Your ex doesn’t know what she’s missing.”
A pang struck his chest, but Holden managed a smile. “I guess I’m glad you think so.”
She blinked, and then ducked her head. “Sorry. That was insensitive of me again, wasn’t it?”
“Your heart’s in the right place,” he assured her.
“Yeah, just not my mouth.”
“Hey, I’m not perfect. The potato salad wasn’t supposed to have bacon. I just screwed up the recipe and had to save it somehow.”
“O-o-o, what a travesty!”
Holden chuckled along with her. There was absolutely nothing wrong with this day, he silently reflected while Lacey ranted about her roommate’s horrid living habits. The weather was perfect, the company was joyful, and he felt utterly relaxed.
But there was still that hole in his heart where Rachael should have been.
It bothered him immensely. Someone like Lacey should have been able to make him forget about Rachael. Lacey was far more conventionally beautiful, with perfect curves and a sweet face made for photographs. And more than that, she was easy-going, full of laughter, and utterly down-to-earth. Absolutely the perfect woman.
Yet Rachael was the one who could empathize with the loss of his mother. She’d been there for him and believed in him after Aaron exiled him from the pack and he felt completely lost for the first time since his childhood. Her shy demeanor had cloaked something steely and strong deep underneath. Holden liked that she was at her most ferocious when someone she loved was in danger. He liked that she hardly had any friends and was content to be by herself throughout the day, that she enjoyed long hikes and could tell a chipmunk from a squirrel on first glance. It was amazing how few could.
None of those qualities were particularly special, but when they came together to form her they became a beautiful whole. They wove together to form one compassionate, gentle-hearted young woman. Aaron had been right that Rachael had potential, but it wasn’t as a lycan. It was as she was: human.
Holden sighed and then felt a cool touch on his arm. He started and looked over to Lacey. Her eyes flooded with concern.
“You okay, sweetie? You kinda faded there on me.”
It took him a moment to remember that she meant some human slang and not the lycan term. “Sorry,” he said, smiling. “Just got lost in a memory.”
She seemed sympathetic. “You really did like her, didn’t you?”
Holden frowned. “It’s not—”
“It’s okay,” Lacey assured him. “It’s not like this was a date anyway. We’re just hanging out. You’re going through heartbreak and you could use a friend.”
This wasn’t going the way he wanted. Holden let out a frustrated sound and ran a hand through his short hair. “I’m sorry. I know this looks bad.”
She lifted one delicate shoulder in a shrug. “Like I said, I never thought this was a date.”
Holden suspected she was lying. There was a wink of hurt in her tone. But she continued to smile and her body language was fluid. She really was a great actress, he thought. And a good friend, a sweet woman, a lonely woman...
Lacey just might be perfect.
“Well,” said Holden softly, reaching over to untie the last two blue ribbons from her hair. “Maybe we should leave these nearby. That way you can find your way back here if you want. And next time maybe this can be a date.”
She laughed nervously. “Don’t tease me, little boy.”
“I’m serious,” he insisted, catching her eyes. A tiny tell-tale hitch in her breath told him he was on the right track. And he wasn’t using her, Holden reminded himself. He really did like her. It just happened she could also be beneficial.
But unlike Aaron, he was going to get full, glaring, undeniable consent if he infected her.
Lacey diverted her gaze and began to help him pack everything up. “So how far back is it to the car?” she asked with exaggerated composure.
Holden stood and wandered back a few feet, just behind the sequoia. Here stood an old fir that had a branch growing almost completely vertical toward the ground. He tied the first ribbon there, confident Aaron and his pack couldn’t find it unless they were specifically looking for it.
Besides, even if they smelled a hint of his scent, they would have a hard time discerning it from Lacey’s overpowering conditioner and hairspray.
“Not far,” he said, shooting her a sideways grin. “Maybe four miles.”
“Oh, geez.”
He found another spot about ten feet further back, and with the final knot his work was done. Holden returned to help her, and once they were done it looked as though they’d never been there.
But before they left Lacey put her hands on her convex hips, tilting her head toward the canopy above. She flashed the heavens a broad smile. “You know,” she said cheerfully, “I think I really like it here.”
Yes, thought Holden. He did as well.
And so did Rachael, which was precisely what he was counting on.
Chapter Nineteen
Rachael expected to be led upstairs to Jackson’s room, so she was surprised when her brother shook his head and pointed to the flight heading down.
“I thought I was rooming with you,” she said as they descended their way toward darkness.
Jackson shot her an exasperated look. “I love you and all, RayRay, but I’m a man. Not a kid.” He must have realized how that sounded, because he added hurriedly, “Besides, I mentioned the soundproof room might be safer. Aaron agreed.”
Of course he did. Rachael let out a slow breath and nodded as Jackson opened the door. When he made his way to the center of the room and tugged on the overhead lamp cord she expected to see the same sight as before: desks, bookshelves, and boxes all neatly stacked against one side of the room. She was instead met with a twin-sized bed, with pastel blue sheets and a downy white comforter held up by a simple snow-colored frame. A matching dresser with brass handles stood next to it, as well as an old wooden desk. She also had a nightstand and an alarm clock to go with it.
Jackson smiled. “It’s not a bunch of fancy stuff, but I figured you’d like that.”
Rachael set her bags down on the bed, turning to survey the room. “You picked all this out?”
“Well, and Ana Sofia. She insisted on the bed.” Jackson rolled his eyes. “I think she secretly has her eye on it for when you go back home, though.”
The circumstances that brought her here were far from light, but Rachael found her ability to laugh. “She’s really the little opportunist, isn’t she?”
“You have no idea,” said Jackson gravely.
“Thank you, Jackie,” she said. Then, on impulse, she hugged him and kissed his cheek.
Though he’d shown similar affection at their father’s house, now Jackson appeared embarrassed. He coughed and stepped away as politely as a young man in his position could. “Anyway, I’ll drive you to school in the morning. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Not at all,” she said. “In the Mustang?”
He wrinkled his nose. “No way. Didn’t I tell you? The oil leaked like crazy when I started her up the other day. I still haven’t figured out where it’s coming from.”
“Oh.” Rachael was a little disappointed. The Maserati was a comfortable ride and all, but she also kind of enjoyed the rough, throaty rumble of Jackson’s car. “That sucks.”
“Tell me about it. I gotta get back to work on the poor girl.” Jackson waved and headed for the door. “I’ll be in the garage if you need me.”
“Okay.”
Then she was alone, and it felt even stranger than it normally would have. Rachael cleared her throat a couple times, even tried shouting just to see what would happen. Nobody came—though if they had she would have been unbearably humiliated. But every sound she made was swallowed up by the sound-proofing, making her feel as though she constantly wore cotton balls in her ears.
It was going to take some getting used to. At the same time she was immensely grateful for the privacy.
Rachael unpacked what little she had into the dresser before she sat down at her new-used desk and pulled out her homework again. She had an English paper due in two days and three chapters to finish reading.
Even the scratch of pen on paper hardly registered as sound. It was so eerie, and yet she took an unusual comfort in it. Rachael actually lost herself into her work for the first time in months, blissfully free of distraction.
When she was satisfied with her paper, Rachael settled on her new bed to read her assigned chapters of 1984. The dystopian future was even creepier than her own life. At least some authors thought up worse things than she lived, she thought with mild amusement.
Eventually she finished her work and stole quick glance at the clock. Rachael packed her supplies back into her bag so she could grab it and be out the door without fuss tomorrow. It would be a longer trip to school from here, so she would have to get up at least half an hour earlier. She hoped the walls wouldn’t swallow the sound of her alarm.
Walking back into normal outside noise was unbelievably odd after a time the basement. Rachael smelled something delicious cooking. She eagerly hurried to the kitchen only to meet unspeakable horror.
It was a disaster. Egg shells dripping with clear goo scattered haphazardly across the counter, as well as meat wrapping paper, an opened half-used stick of butter, and an assortment of spices that looked like a line of toy soldiers and half of them had been blown away. And that was nothing compared to the soiled pans piled high in the sink, several dishes, and the sight of Ana Sofia quietly picking up shattered pieces of what must have once been a drinking glass.
“Ana Sofia, no!” Rachael hurried forward, grabbing the girl by her arms and pulling them up. “Don’t touch. Sweep!” Ana Sofia stared at her quizzically.
“Sorry, Miss Rachael,” piped Nathan from the stove. “I asked her to.”
And there he was, the little chef himself, standing on the tips of his toes as he scrutinized a pan of what looked like admittedly tasty hash browns and crumbled bacon. On the dining table behind them there were plates of all kinds of eggs—scrambled, over-medium, and sunny-side up—sausage, waffles, buttered toast, and what must have been two pounds of Applewood smoked bacon.
Rachael went beneath the sink and retrieved a dustpan, helping Ana Sofia clean up the glass. As she worked she asked, “Nathan, what is all this?”
The boy looked over his shoulder at her, one golden eyebrow raised in naked incredulity. “Breakfast for dinner.”
She sighed and dumped the glass shards into the trash, making a mental note to ensure somebody not Ana Sofia took it out tonight. “No, I see that; I mean, why?”
Nathan beamed and turned to face her, wielding a dirty spatula. Rachael cringed as he waved it. Grease flicked over the counter and floor. “Because you’re here, so now everyone’s happy!”
“But... Nathan, h
ow often do you cook?”
“Never,” said Aaron dryly as he entered from the dining area. “For this precise reason.”
Nathan pointed the spatula at his older brother, circling it as though it were a lance. “Hey, I only broke one glass.”
Aaron looked around, blunt consternation coloring his features. “That was never the point. You make a terrible mess and have a bad habit of ‘forgetting’ to clean it up.”
“But today’s special,” protested Nathan.
Aaron glared at him. “Today is no different from any other,” he said sharply. “And if we want Ms. Adair to remain safe, it would do us all well to behave as such.”
Ouch. Rachael tried not to let the hurt show on her face. Quickly she opened the refrigerator to look for orange juice.
Behind her, Nathan said loudly, “Now you went and hurt her feelings!”
She blushed. They also needed milk, she decided in forced distraction. Unfortunately, no matter how hard she looked, it didn’t appear. Who ran out of milk? Even her father kept up on that in his worst state.
Suddenly the fridge door moved from her grasp. Rachael glanced up at Aaron, who watched her without any discernible expression.
“Please do not leave the door open,” he said quietly.
Rachael stammered for a moment. “I... you’re, uh, out of milk.”
“Duly noted,” he said dryly as he grabbed the orange juice. “I will put it on the list.” With a jerky nod she turned and started to help Nathan clean up, but Aaron’s sharp voice stopped her. “No. That is going to be his job. Top to bottom, Nathan. I want it sterilized.”
Nathan sighed.
While Rachael tried to figure out what to do, Ana Sofia approached her and looked up with critical dark eyes. “You saw bed?” she asked.
“Oh—yeah.” Rachael smiled. “It’s really pretty. Jackson said you picked it.”
Ana Sofia nodded and then pointed at herself. “Mine. When you leave.”
Call of the Lycan (Secrets of the Sequoia Book 3) Page 15