by Fiona Keane
“It’s still coming down,” Judge Kerry commented as he stood and stretched his long arms above his head. “I can’t wait for this to be over.”
I couldn’t help but wonder if he meant the storm or my presence in his sacred space. Jameson sat on the couch, motioning for me to return to him. I gladly complied, scampering across the floor and securing myself at his side.
Once his right arm was wrapped around me, pulling our bodies together, I felt his lips against my hair. That feeling. The security, the promise, the insane butterflies that tossed around in their own hurricane…
“Are you okay?” he whispered. “I know that’s a stupid question.”
I shrugged, refusing to lie to Jameson.
“What were you doing over there?”
“Is there water in here? I’m really thirsty.” I looked up at him.
His hazel eyes were dangerously close to mine. Their glow was haunting, deep, and visceral while they burned into my own. My fingers trembled. He was suspicious and I had no clue how to explain the secret which Elizabeth had shared.
At that moment, I may have known more about Jameson than he did.
CHAPTER SIX
JAMESON
I couldn’t help but wonder if Soph was chugging her bottle of water to avoid talking or if she was truly that thirsty. Her faded blue eyes scanned the room while she swallowed, looking at me then back at Thomas and Elizabeth. It must have felt like everyone’s eyes were on her as though she was a suspected criminal. I guess that’s how Thomas looked at everyone; it was his job.
“Soph,” I whispered, touching the outline of her jaw as she swallowed, causing the intense rate at which she swallowed to stop. “Talk to me.”
I noticed her eyes flicker back to Thomas and Elizabeth before lifting to mine. Her head shook.
“No?” It shook again, forcing a smile to part my lips. Sophia.
The storm must have been right above us at that point. Thunder was threatening to break open the sky and hailing winds were warring against the roof.
My legs uncurled from beneath me, stretching out before me against the floor. I was no longer clinging to Soph, but I longed to. I needed to hold her. I had to perpetually remind myself of what they had made me give up so cruelly, even if it was just for a week.
Just. As if it was easy. That week was torture for both of us. I needed to keep her close so I knew she would be safe and so she would feel…loved.
“Jameson.” Thomas cleared his throat, breaking my distracted, alarming thoughts about Soph. “You need to eat something. It’s been a long night for you too.”
My head barely lifted to acknowledge him while my eyes looked at his stern expression. Everything with Soph over the last day, the last week, was causing my stomach to knot and churn bile whenever Thomas spoke to me. Any respect I had for him dwindled away with each moment he kept me from Soph.
“I’m fine.”
“You should eat,” Soph’s soft voice mumbled from my side.
She cared. I glanced down at the soft face glowing up at me. Her eyes were still faded, facing a new emptiness I was sure I brought on through my torment, but she was perfect. Entirely tattered, worn, perfect, and next to me. I reluctantly climbed from her side and walked to the cabinets lining the wall opposite Thomas and Elizabeth, reaching in to grab some stale granola bars and more water.
“How much longer?” I asked, focusing on the numbing sound of the hurricane.
“I think we just have a few more hours,” Elizabeth sighed, pulling a sweatshirt over her meager frame. “We’ve been at the center for at least six hours now.”
“Don’t they last for days? Shouldn’t we have left a long time ago?” Soph questioned. “Aren’t you supposed to not be anywhere near a hurricane?”
Hearing her voice ring with authority, spinning around us in that room, was a refreshing sound. God. She was beautiful. Her matted hair and tired eyes only made her more endearing and adorable. The fact she was wearing my sweats…well, had we not been in the middle of a hurricane and sharing space with Thomas and Elizabeth, I might have died.
“Sometimes they last for days,” Thomas interjected, finally acknowledging her presence and speaking to Soph. “Sometimes just hours. I can’t get reception in here to confirm. Bets, look at your phone. Is yours working?”
“Yes.” Elizabeth scrolled through the screen on her smartphone, opening a map that projected the storm’s path.
Soph was my storm. Her path tore right through me and I would never be the same again. She was a beautiful storm. She was my beautiful storm.
“Please don’t look at me like that,” Soph whispered to me.
I hadn’t realized I was standing in front of Soph now, my mind blurred by the mere thought of her. She tried to hide behind her hair while leaning against the arm of the couch, failing in her efforts to avoid me.
“The weather service projects it will travel northeast toward Lakeland, probably impacting them in a few hours. We’re nearing the eye wall, Thomas.”
“I still don’t understand how we can just sit here and pretend we’re safe.” Soph looked at me again, hoping I could answer.
“I haven’t been in a hurricane,” I sighed, plagued with guilt for not being able to entirely comfort her. “I’ve just been in two tropical storms. The eye wall is the most dangerous part, but once that’s done, we’ll be in the clear.”
She looked up at me with urgency and fear painted along her delicate features.
“Soph.” I pulled her against me. “I will protect you.”
Her body was stiff beneath my hold and I worried my attention might not be helping her anxiety. I released my right arm from her shoulders and squirmed off the couch to squat in front of her shaking knees.
“How often did you and your mom make crepes?” I asked her, placing my hands over her knees to lessen the tremble. “Was it just for special occasions or just whenever she felt like it?”
“Whe-whenever.”
“And you liked chocolate, right? You’ll have to make one for me someday. Maybe you could show me how and I could make one for you.”
“M-maybe. I liked h-honey the most, though.”
“Yeah?” I couldn’t help but smile at her. “Honey it is, then…Honey.”
Her cheeks reddened with the small grin that teased the corner of her mouth. “Shut up.”
“Is it over?” My smile still pressed as I questioned her attack, pleased when she nodded and buried her face against my chest.
I wrapped my arms around Soph, exhaling deeply at the calm of her body. Her knees were still and her body lay nearly limp in my hold. I gently pushed her back so I could study her face. Her eyes were still faded, but the lines around them were more prominent. She was smiling.
“I’m so tired,” she whispered, her eyes studying my face.
Soph’s long fingers lifted toward my hair, running along my scalp. Jesus. That felt amazing. My heart pounded while Soph’s hand cupped my right cheek and I naturally nuzzled my face into it. I had almost forgotten we were locked in a cement chamber with Thomas and Elizabeth, riding out a natural disaster as a family.
I glanced behind me, noticing Elizabeth was sitting on the couch with her legs curled on top of Thomas’s lap while he mindlessly stroked her shoulder. I felt Soph’s hand drop to my shoulder and my head spun back around.
“Are you okay?” Her whisper was my release.
“I’m pissed as hell at them,” I admitted.
Soph’s hands rested against my chest, calling to every fiber of my heart as it beat for her. “I am too, Jameson. But they were just doing what they thought would be best to protect you.”
“I can’t believe you agree with them.”
“I’m not. I’m trying to tell you that they were trying to protect you. You, of all people, understand that.”
Soph. Of all the moments I felt we connected, the moments I knew she understood exactly what I felt…I couldn’t fight the urge coursing through my blood and I pulled h
er face against mine, crashing my lips against hers in a kiss I had waited an agonizingly long week to taste.
CHAPTER SEVEN
SOPHIA
I woke again, startled by the eerie silence screaming around us. My head tilted toward Jameson, thankful he wasn’t asleep this time.
“We’re in the center of the eye,” he whispered to me, motioning for me to come to his side.
It was like he had told me a secret, warning me that if I didn’t keep quiet someone would find us. Ironic. That was my life now. As long as I was with Jameson. I comfortably found myself cradled against his side, protected by his right arm as it wrapped along my body and held my knees.
“Creepy, isn’t it?”
His question was a quiet hum against my hair and I only nodded, silently observing the room. The power had long since gone out, our only source of light coming from a single flood lamp attached to the small generator in the corner. My nerves were beginning to fizzle and snap in anticipation of the final half of the storm. We were waiting in silence, entirely mute, as the eye of the hurricane passed over us. We were held hostage, possibly even preparing for the end.
“You’re safe.” His frighteningly observant method of mind reading distracted my negative thoughts. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
I tried listening to Jameson’s words and let my heart consider their significance, but their weight mixing with the last twenty-four hours spun my heart into an unforgiving mess. I felt angry. I know I was confused. And Simon? I still don’t understand why I was part of his file. I couldn’t ask Jameson about it in front of Thomas because I knew Thomas despised me, although I didn’t know why. As I exhaled an entire lung’s worth of emotional exhaustion, I felt Jameson’s grasp tighten against my knees.
“Soph,” he cooed above my head in a dangerously low whisper.
I shook my head, nuzzling against his shoulder, and closed my eyes again. My fingers were crossed, invisibly of course, hoping that I could wait out the storm and pretend to sleep through whatever emotional hurricane was soon to follow. I remained mute, comfortably held in a secure bubble where nothing would hurt me until the storm was over. The artificial peace that blanketed my restless mind was interrupted by a low, monotone metallic sound. I felt Jameson’s weight shift as the floor creaked from across the room. Reluctantly, I opened my eyes.
“What’s that noise?” Thomas stood from the couch, pulling throw pillows and blankets up as he searched the furniture. Elizabeth met his posture and continued to investigate for the beeping intruder.
“What?” Jameson questioned, releasing his grasp that bound our bodies.
His long fingers ran through his hair as he stood to meet Thomas and Elizabeth across the room. Jameson looked young and exhausted, snuggled into sweatpants and a sweatshirt, with his messy hair raked into a deadly mix of wildly gorgeous and matted from lying around for hours.
As I woke to join their frantic investigation, I heard the sound coming from my side of the room. I leaned over the arm of the couch, sorting through the pile of clothes and personal items Jameson had carried into the room earlier. The hard case of my dying phone was buried in the pile and I pulled it out, amazed it had any life left in it at all. I guess I could say that about everything right now.
“It’s just my phone,” I apologized. “It’s dying. I’m sorry.”
“Your phone?” Thomas’s head shook. “That thing shouldn’t be functioning after you were in the water, Sophia.”
I held it out to him, encouraging him to inspect it. “It’s fine. Here.”
Avoiding eye contact with me, Thomas took the phone from my hands and pulled off the white case to access the battery.
“What are you doing?” Jameson questioned, squeezing my hand and pulling me closer while Thomas broke my phone into pieces along the hardwood of the safe room.
“Thomas!” Jameson shouted, grabbing his arm. “What are you doing?”
Thomas’s heel stomped against my phone, continuing to grind the plastic into mere particles against his floor. His slick hair fell over his forehead, which now grew furiously crimson, as his face lifted to glare at us. Elizabeth placed a hand on his shoulder, but he quickly swung it away.
“This…” Thomas bent down to take something from the disintegrated phone. “…this is exactly what I feared, Jameson.”
Thomas lifted a small black chip, smaller than my pinky nail, and held it toward Jameson’s face.
“What is it?” I questioned, glancing between the Kerrys and Jameson, all of whom ignored my question and avoided eye contact with me.
“Who gave you this phone, Sophia?” Thomas turned to me. Ah! He speaks!
“Simon and Jules.” I noticed Jameson’s face contort as he and Thomas stared at each other.
“That’s a tracker,” Elizabeth sighed, her face full of regret and sadness as her eyes burned into mine. “Someone’s been following you. Someone’s following us.”
“It’s just a phone.” My head shook, entirely confused and already fatigued with this much conversation. “It was a gift from Simon and Jules.”
I felt Jameson’s eyes shift to me; he noticed my body shivering with nerves.
“What did I do?”
“You didn’t do anything,” Jameson reassured me, pulling me against him and kissing my hair. “Thomas?”
“What?” he snapped, causing me to flinch beneath Jameson’s security. I watched Thomas’s face grow into an explosive rage that he struggled to stifle while he turned to glower at me. I wanted to vomit.
“This is exactly what I warned you about, Jameson,” he repeated, as though whatever this meant was entirely Jameson’s fault. “This…you’ve been tracked. Someone has been following you and that someone has known about you for longer than you thought.”
“That’s impossible,” I scoffed, suddenly aware I had disregarded Thomas’s authority and buried my face into Jameson’s chest.
Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. What is happening? Is this storm over? I need to vomit. I want my mom. I’m eighteen and all I want is to be tucked against my mom like I was four years old, entirely innocent and naïve to whatever the heck was happening around us.
“Sophia.” Elizabeth clenched my free shoulder. “Sweetheart.”
“Nice job,” Jameson snarled at Thomas. “I told you she has panic attacks, you asshole. The next time you’re going to accuse my girlfriend of being part of some intricate web of lies, do it in a less invasive way so you don’t traumatize her with your interrogation.”
“Sophia,” Elizabeth continued. I could feel her tug at me beneath Jameson’s hold, but he refused to let go.
I couldn’t imagine why he was still holding on to me. I had brought something to him, or someone to him, who wanted to hurt him or hurt me. I don’t even know. Wait. Girlfriend?
I was hunched against the front of the couch, holding my thighs against my chest. I didn’t know when it started, but I was rocking back and forth in this tight ball, frozen solid with fear. I pretended my mom was there, listening to her sing in French. I could faintly smell her crepes. That didn’t work to calm my nerves. I was shaking even harder. I felt a hand against my face. Two hands. They lifted my face.
“One, two,” Jameson whispered, inches from my ear while our cheeks touched. “Three, four…”
By the time he reached ten, his right cheek was glued to mine and my breathing had calmed.
“Your uncle’s a prick.”
His soft chuckle tickled my ear. “And for that, I’m thankful he’s not really my uncle.”
“My chest hurts.”
“It’s the panic,” he reminded me, slowly pulling his face away from me in the dark. “Can you stand?”
My head shook and I couldn’t straighten my legs from the hold of my arms. Jameson’s hands pulled from my face and I felt his body at my side before his arm hung around my shoulders.
“Then we’ll sit,” he softly whispered.
I welcomed the pressure of his head again
st mine as he continued to calm me with merely his existence. I could hear Thomas and Elizabeth in the background, disturbing the deceptive serenity of my moment inside Jameson’s hold. I could barely see him in the shadow of the floodlight, but I looked up at him and tried to study his muted features.
“You called me your girlfriend.”
“I did.”
“I thought…”
“That was before,” his whisper was quiet. “Soph, I thought I explained what happened and why they made me leave you…”
The memory flooded over me, reminding my heart of the agony with which his absence enveloped me.
“That’s what you’ve been to me since that first night in your bedroom.” His whisper continued above my ear. “I thought I couldn’t date anyone because of my secret, but in reality, I couldn’t date anyone until I met you.”
My gaze was locked on Jameson, mesmerized and intimidated by his words.
“I was waiting for you, Soph.”
The howling winds were returning, blowing their whirling cyclones around the house.
“Kids,” Elizabeth shouted from across the room, “this is the wall. You need to take cover. Go in the crawlspace!”
My body lifted against my will before I could even process her words, and I was pulled into the crawlspace.
“We didn’t hide during the first half,” I mumbled, hiding against the safe Elizabeth had previously opened.
“The back wall’s worse,” Jameson clarified, “or so they say. Front, back, or eye…I’m here with you. Come over here.”
I jumped with the cracks of thunder and violent rain that unforgivingly pelted the house. My eyes remained open, afraid if they closed I would miss the roof blowing away and not be able to hold Jameson. My fingers were numb, holding myself around his thin waist for the entirety of the storm as we cowered in the crawlspace.
My overwhelmed and saturated mind stopped processing anything except the gentle tickle of his fingertips along my back. That was all I remembered.