Waterdreamer (The Emerald Series Book 2)

by Kimberly James

  I continued to stare while Thomas waited for my response. I didn’t have one yet. Not that this was in any way a problem for me, but it was a shock.

  “Please, sit.” Thomas pulled out one of the extra chairs, and I sank onto the soft upholstery. It seemed to sigh along with me.

  “I didn’t know you were back,” I said, finally finding my voice.

  “I left you a text. When you didn’t respond, well…” He’d lost the deer in the headlights look and now appeared almost relieved. “Thomas and I decided to grab a bite.”

  Grab a bite? This was more than grabbing a bite. This was a date. A declaration of a relationship. One that had been going on for a while.

  “Yeah, I left my phone at home. Guess Noah’s habits are rubbing off on me,” I said, almost absentmindedly. My gaze volleyed between the two of them, and they both just sat there watching me, giving me time to adjust to the idea. Thomas sat with his back against the chair, hands in his lap, patient and relaxed. Compassion nearly bled out of his eyes. For my dad. For me.

  “I don’t understand.” The words came out more harshly than I meant them to, and I took a deep breath to start over. “I mean I’m okay with…this. I’m just a little confused.” A lot confused.

  “I have a call I need to make. Give you a chance to talk.” Thomas rose, placing his napkin on the table. His hand gripped my dad’s shoulder in a show of support before he took his leave.

  “Do you want to wait and talk about this at home?” my dad offered.

  “Not unless you do. I’m not going to cause a scene or anything if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “I don’t expect you to cause a scene.” He leaned forward, his eyes imploring. “And I haven’t meant to keep this from you.”

  “You haven’t told me either. You said you loved my mother. You convinced me you loved her.”

  “I did love her, Caris. Rena was my best friend. The only person in my life at the time that knew me. In some ways, I was still confused then. Somewhat still in denial.”

  “She knew? Were you actually married to her?”

  “Yes, we were married. She needed me and, in an odd way, I needed her. She accepted me.”

  “All those years you never dated, you never brought anyone home. Why?”

  “Caris, I wanted to provide as much stability in your life as I could. Even if I had been straight, I wouldn’t have brought another person into your life unless I thought they were going to be important to me. The circumstance never presented itself.”

  “Until now.“ It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see my dad and Thomas were into each other.

  “Yes, until now. Thomas is an important part of my life. And I hope once you get to know him, you’ll accept us as partners.”

  “Dad, this isn’t about not accepting you. You haven’t been honest with me. And it hurts that you wouldn’t trust me with this.” Somehow it hurt worse than when he’d told me the truth about who I was, what I was. That secret had been about me. This was about him, who he was. And that’s what stung, that he couldn’t share this most basic part of himself with me. Did he honestly think I would reject him over this?

  “Have you ever felt unloved? Uncared for?” he asked, his first show of defensiveness.

  “Of course not. But that’s not the point. You didn’t trust me enough to love you through knowing you were gay.” I clenched my jaw, regaining control of my voice.

  He sat back in his chair, an exasperated sigh escaping his lips. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe deep down I was afraid to tell you. I’m a man, Caris, and though I’ve accepted my sexual orientation, embraced it even, it’s still not something I wanted to admit to my daughter. There is a small amount of shame attached to the admission, not because I’m ashamed, but because there was a chance that you would be. I like the way you look at me, the way you see me. I didn’t want to jeopardize that. I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me. Think less of me.”

  As if that were possible. “Dad, you could be a serial killer and I wouldn’t think less of you.”

  “Well, in that instance I would think less of me,” he said, reaching for his wine.

  “Okay, that was a bad example, but seriously. I wish you would have told me. I’ve been talking you up to Maggie, trying to get her to ask you out.”

  “Maggie is a kind and attractive young woman, and that’s very sweet, but unnecessary.”

  “So, is it serious with Thomas? It looked serious.”

  “I think so. I hope so. We’ve been discussing the best way to tell you, so really this is good. He’s been pushing to meet but doesn’t know your situation, how complicated it’s been for you lately. I didn’t want to add to it just yet.”

  And now my situation was even more complicated and it had nothing to do with him. But that hardly mattered to me right now. He mattered. He looked so relieved it kind of broke my heart. It had obviously been weighing on him, and maybe if I hadn’t been so wrapped up in myself, I would have noticed.

  “Well, then I’m happy for you. You deserve someone good in your life.” My smile was tight.

  “I sense a but in there.”

  “I might need time to get used the idea. All these years I thought you were alone because you loved her that much.”

  “I did love Rena. It hurt when she died. I lost a dear friend. If she hadn’t gotten sick, who knows if we would have stayed together, but we all would have had a good life. She gave me a daughter. Something I might not have otherwise had. And as young as I was at the time, I knew what a gift that was.”

  I covered my face with my hands. “Oh my God, you are going to make me cry in this restaurant. Stop it.” I wiped my cheeks and squeezed my eyes shut. We both laughed. It eased the tension but didn’t dispel it completely.

  “You’re welcome to stay and have dinner with us.” He placed his hand over mine, trapping it against the white tablecloth. “Or we can go home. Thomas would understand.”

  I slipped my hand free and let it fall to my lap. “I’m not angry. I’m not freaking out, so don’t take this the wrong way. I might need some time.”

  Thomas retuned, sliding his phone back into the pocket of his pants. I took the opportunity to take a sip of my dad’s water.

  “Everything okay here?” He took his seat, eyes divining between us. “We cool?”

  “Yes. I would say we’re cool.” I nodded.

  “And you’ll stay and have dinner with us?” Thomas offered.

  “Another time. It’s been a long week and I was looking forward to going home.”

  “You’re sure you’re all right? We can pay the check and go home if you want.” My dad took my hand when I stood from my seat. He and Thomas both made to get up.

  “Don’t get up. Really. I’m fine. I’ll see you later.” I bent and gave him a shoulder hug, my eyes meeting Thomas’s across the table. “Patrick here is quite a catch. Don’t screw this up.”

  “I don’t intend to,” Thomas said, returning my smile, though mine felt pasted on. I held it through the restaurant.

  “Have a nice evening,” the woman at the hostess station called on my way out the door.

  “Thank you.” My smile slipped the minute the cool air hit my face. Closing my eyes, I tried to decipher just what it was I was feeling and came up with nothing.

  * * *

  After the torturous bike ride home, I went to my room and put Haim on the record player. Sitting down on the floor between my bed and balcony door with my phone in my lap, I started the arduous process of sorting through the clothes strewn everywhere. I sent Noah a text, which ignited the longest series of messages we’d ever exchanged, complete with emoticons.

  Me: thighs and butt are killing me (angry face)

  Noah: mmm… you need a massage? (tongue)

  Me: my dad’s back no more sleepovers (sad face)

  Noah: yes but do you need a massage? (two tongues)

  Me: I’m cleaning my room (angel face)

  Noah: what’s wrong? (p
urple devil)

  Me: nothing (birthday cake)

  Noah: k. guess I’ll hang with Jeb (beer mugs)

  Me: have fun (cheeseburger, fries)

  Noah: workout in the a.m.? (muscle arm)

  Me: seriously? (crying kitty)

  Noah: we’ll take it easy (turtle)

  Me: you don’t know how (alien)

  Noah: I’ll cook breakfast (shrimp, doughnut)

  A knock sounded on my bedroom door. My head shot up.

  “Caris,” my dad called over the music.

  “Yeah, come on in.” I pushed to my knees and reached over and turned the volume down on the record player.

  He opened the door and stuck his head inside. It took a minute for him to find me on the floor behind my bed, surrounded by the mounds of clothes. “What are you doing on the floor?”

  “Folding my clothes.” I peered over the rumpled sheets and bedspread.

  “You want to talk about it?”

  “Talk about what?” My eyes rounded when I saw the bathing suit top I’d been looking for forever. I snagged it from under the pile and tossed it on top.

  “You only clean your room when you’re upset. Is it me?” He stood by the door and appeared to be braced for the worst.

  “I’m not upset.” I looked heavenward. “You’d know if I was upset.”

  His face tuned pensive at the reference to my ability. He’d been home long enough he’d put on a t-shirt and sweatpants, and he came in and sat down on the end of the bed. “You spent some time with Athen.”

  “Yes.” I was determined not to feel guilty about it either and that was proving more difficult than I imagined. I enjoyed our time together. I needed it.

  “He was able to help you?”

  “Yes.” I paused and gave him my full attention. “He isn’t a bad person.”

  “I’m sure on some level that’s true, though pardon me if I don’t see it.” He looked toward my balcony door. It was open, always open. “He was out there the night you were born doing his thing. I was afraid he’d find a way to take you away from us. I guess I’m still afraid.”

  “He won’t. He’s not trying to.” Though I doubted my dad would believe that when I told him about Flores and what he was demanding.

  “He’s an imposing man,” he said, looking down at his fingers steepled in his lap. “I can see the appeal he holds for a young woman like you. There’s a cool factor there I can’t compete with. Don’t think I don’t know that.”

  I studied his face for a few seconds, his unguarded expression, knowing how he reacted to the Soulfast was dependent upon me. He’d revealed something personal tonight, a part of himself he’d kept guarded for years. I needed to remain sensitive to that.

  “This isn’t a contest for my affection. Yes, there’s a connection. But we share something Athen and I never will, something deeper. A history. Eighteen years of skinned knees and birthday parties. And that time you crawled into the tunnel at that McDonalds when my shoestring got caught. You took me to get ice cream the day I started my period even though it was thirty degrees and snowing. The list is endless. Those things are what’s important.”

  “The ice cream was for me. I wanted to pretend for a while longer you were still a little girl. You’ll get moments like that with him. If you’ve spent any time with him at all, you already have them. Eventually, you’ll have a history too.”

  “But he’s the extra. You’ve been the dad and the mom. And that’s way cooler than being able to make it thunder, and a hell of a lot more practical.”

  “Practical.” He tried to laugh, the creases around his eyes strained. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that. And now I turn out to be gay,” he added, as if that pushed him outside the realm of ever being cool.

  All this time I believed his animosity towards Athen stemmed from the way he hurt my mother. It didn’t occur to me some of it stemmed from the fear I might like Athen better. How was I to reassure him that wasn’t the case? Especially now when he was obviously feeling so vulnerable and unsure.

  “We’ll make this work, Dad. You and your hottie boyfriend and me and my…” I waved the shorts I had in my hand in an all encompassing gesture.

  “Tribe of supernatural beings,” he supplied, his eyes dull, his voice flat.

  “Yeah, and we’re all going to live happily ever after. I insist upon it.”

  He held out his hand palm up. “I’d like to think we are.”

  “We are.” I slapped his hand and his fingers closed around mine. There was a desperation in the squeeze of his fingers, the way his eyes implored me.

  “Caris, I need you to be honest with me. Are you really okay with this? Thomas has a brother that will barely speak to him. Families can sometimes be the hardest to deal with. I have other friends with similar stories. I want you to feel like you can talk about it, if you need to.”

  “See,” I said. “Practical for the win. You didn’t raise me to be the kind of person to turn their back on family over something like this. Yes, I meant it. But if I were honest, I’d say, though it doesn’t make a difference, it does feel different. If that makes any sense.”

  “It feels different for me too. I’m sorry I blindsided you. Trust me, that’s not how I wanted you to find out. Thank you for handling it like a mature adult.” He released my hand and I thought he looked a little more sure of himself. More sure of me.

  “I am a mature adult,” I said in a flat tone, well aware I was sitting in a pile of clothes on my floor.

  He arched an eyebrow and cast his eyes around my room. Along with an exorbitant amount of dirty clothes, there were empty cups and bowls smeared with dried up chocolate ice cream on the nightstand.

  “I can see that,” he observed. “What do you have going on tomorrow?”

  “Ally got voted to Homecoming Court, so we’re going to look for a dress. And there’s some party tomorrow night her and Erin want me to go to.”

  Actually, Ally begged us to go with her. The party was at Derrick’s house. We’d groaned and complained that we didn’t really like Derrick, but his parents were out of town, and she’d argued that we didn’t have to like him to enjoy his party because his were always the best and there would be so many people there we probably wouldn’t even see him. Erin made some comment like, ”I’ll go if Caris goes,” putting it all on me. Who was I deny the future Homecoming Queen?

  “Can you squeeze in time for dinner?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Good. I’ll let you get to back to your cleaning. It was never my intention to raise a slob.”

  “Nobody’s perfect.”

  After he left, I continued to riffle through the pile of clothes then thought, screw it. I didn’t want to be mature if it meant having a clean room. I liked my clothes on the floor. If they were put away, I’d never be able to find anything.

  I turned the music back up and laid across my bed, wincing as I pushed off the floor. I stared at the ceiling. I understood his fear in telling me about being gay. I’d done the same thing, refusing to acknowledge my own abilities. There was nothing worse than disappointing someone you loved. I hated knowing he was destined to be disappointed further, and that’s why I kept my mouth shut on the subject of Flores and his demands. No way was I going to pile on by telling him, “Oh, yeah, the man you’re so concerned about taking me away from you? He’s about to brand me with his pearl.”

  He wasn’t going to like it.

  * * *

  When I walked into Noah’s kitchen the next morning, I wasn’t fully prepared for what greeted me. I stopped short and my mouth fell open. My heart stopped, and when it started again, it beat so hard I felt it clear to my toes.

  “What?” His arm stilled. The one that had been shaking his morning protein drink. Creasing his brow, he looked down at himself as though he expected his fly to be open, or worse.

  It was just him. Just seeing him. He’d let his hair grow a tad longer, where it fell over the curve of his deltoids. The way he stood th
ere with his arms akimbo holding his protein bottle accentuated every ripple of every sculpted muscle. But it was the blue jeans riding just right on his lean hips that sent my heart rate into the atmosphere. I’d never seen him wearing anything but board shorts or gym shorts or no shorts.

  “You’re scaring me. Say something.”

  “I… I can’t.” I took a step toward him. He belonged on a billboard. In a magazine spread. On every Pinterest board labeled “hot.” I was convinced Noah was totally unaware of how gorgeous he really was. Which made him all the more enticing. I couldn’t have stopped myself from kissing him if my life depended on it. And when I did, electricity sparked at the place our lips touched. When our tongues collided, I thought I’d never get used to the way his mouth could coax so many sensations from my body so fast. I sank into him on a sigh. Mine. He was all mine.

  I was distantly aware of him discarding his drink so he could wrap me in his arms, of floating off the floor. He set me on the counter, the granite cool on the backs of my legs where the skirt of my dress rode up, contrasting to his warm hands, the heat of his mouth. My knees parted, and Noah accepted the invitation, stepping in to fill the space between my thighs. We kissed like that for what might have been minutes. It might have been hours. It didn’t really matter. I could do this forever.

  “Ahem.” A soft, feminine cough pulled me from my fog of lust.

  I recognized the smell of one of Maggie’s custom lotions on Mrs. Jacobs’s skin. A mixture of melon and cucumber with a hint of ginger. I was pretty sure I’d helped mix that batch together. I pried my fingers from Noah’s shoulders as he lifted his head. A sly smile played on his lips, still wet from my kisses.

  “Good morning.” Mrs. Jacobs’s voice came from somewhere beyond the protective barrier of Noah’s body. He still hadn’t stepped away from me. I nudged him with a hand on his chest, and he let his hands slide to the counter on either side of me, but he still didn’t move.

  “Give me a second.” His breath strained across my cheek. They ignited with a new surge of heat. I bit my bottom lip to keep from laughing.