by Leah Holt
“And what is it you think I'm trying to do?” The corner of my lip perched high, challenging him and what he thought he could see in my eyes or hear in my voice.
“You're trying to avoid this.” Flicking his finger between us, a bright smile etched its way across his face. “It won't work.”
“You don't know what I'm thinking.” Ticking my head side to side, my brows arched high. “You don't know me.”
“I don't need to know you, I get paid to read people. Trust me, that's exactly what you're trying to do. But you can't deny it.”
“Deny what?”
“That you really love this car.” The corner of his lip twisted into a crooked smile, his lids balanced half open as he explored my face. “You can't avoid what you feel.”
Squinting one eye, I sucked in air through my lips. “What you don't realize is that avoidance is my specialty.”
“And corruption is mine.” Wiggling his head for me to come in, he chuckled. “Maybe it's time for you to walk forward, not backwards.”
A tiny voice inside spoke up, growing and taking shape. Go, you'll be fine. That small voice pushed me forward, it egged me on and gave me the strength to step out of my comfort zone.
Closing my eyes, I hung my head. I can't believe I'm going to do this. Pulling open the door, I climbed inside. “You're sure you don't mind?”
“Not at all. Where are you headed?”
“The Bridge's center.” Keeping my eyes in my lap, I waited to hear a confused gasp or questioning grunt.
He didn't react at all.
“Bridge's center it is.”
Fiddling with my fingers, I braided them together, only to un-braid them and braid them again. I wasn't good at starting conversations. I spent so much time keeping people away, that small talk wasn't a natural thing for me.
I spent all my time alone, my life was boring and that was exactly how I had wanted it. It just didn't make for good topics of discussion. Who wants to hear about how I spent my Saturday night cleaning my oven and organizing the records I had by year? Other than the few elderly customers that came into the bar, no one.
The only conversation I ever really had was with my cat. The rest of the time, I would let the narrator speak and I would just agree. Working at the bar did nothing to help me open up, it only made me more introverted.
The job had failed me. . . No, I failed myself.
Cole cleared his throat, filling the space between us with his husky, deep voice. “So, you volunteer there or something?”
Shaking my head, I smiled. “Not exactly.”
“What's that mean, not exactly?”
“I'm going to visit someone.”
Nodding, he kept his eyes on the road, repeatedly flicking them between the mirrors. “Someone who?”
“Someone I know.”
His hands splayed open on the wheel as he allowed his eyes to drift to mine. “I'm sorry, I'm not trying to pry.”
“I just don't really want to talk about it, okay?”
My reason for going there was hard enough for me to deal with, saying it out loud to someone I hardly knew, that was impossible.
If I told him who, it would only open the door for more questions. I didn't want questions.
Questions would lead to my past, questions would bring me back into a state of panic and fear. I had made the choice to move forward, to move on. I couldn't do that if I had to explain it all over again.
“That's fine, I understand.” Smiling, Cole's eyes draped over my face, searching for the answers without sound. “It's none of my business, I get it.”
The way he stared at me for that one second, the way his eyes licked my body in one quick swoop; it lit something inside me. The tiny flame burned weak, but it was there.
“It's not that, it's just—” Cutting myself off, I turned my face to the window. “It's complicated and I really don't like talking about it.”
His hand swept over mine, linking our fingers together. “Just so you know, I'm a good listener, but I get it. You don't have to tell me anything, it's fine.”
Looking up at him, his lids hooded as he smiled. Nodding, I gripped his hand tighter and smiled back. “Thank you.”
That was the first time I actually wanted to be touched by a man, the first moment that I didn't want to run far away. His touch wasn't poison on my skin, it didn't burn and sting to have his fingers mixed with mine.
The urge to cower and hide to protect myself from harm didn't surge to life and make me grip the handle, ready to jump out of the car.
I wanted it, I ached for it. And I couldn't understand how he did it.
How did this man I had just met, make me feel so much from nothing?
We had coffee. . . That was it.
But it didn't feel like that was it, it felt like so much more.
The way he spoke at the bar made my heart sing a symphony of songs. His small note left me giddy and smiling for an entire day. The way he gently touched me brought out feelings that I thought had shriveled up and turned to dust.
I was beginning to realize that I was wrong. That no matter what you go through, things don't vanish, they only fall asleep until someone else comes in and revives them.
I could never escape my past, that was a burden I had to deal with on my own.
But my future. . . That was still open to the hands of creation.
The sign came into view and Cole turned into the parking lot. “Do you want me to wait? I can give you a ride back when you're ready.”
“No, I can't ask you to do that.” Teasing the metal pull with my fingers, I forced a smile. “Thank you though, I appreciate it.” Popping the door open, the wind whistled through the crack and ruffled my hair.
Reaching out, Cole brushed the loose strands back behind my ear. Goosebumps broke over my skin, riding my spine and making me shiver. “Really, it's not a problem. I don't have anywhere to be, I can wait for you.”
“No, it's alright, I can grab the bus back.”
“Okay, how about this then. . .” Pausing, he stared out the windshield with a light twinkle in his eye. “I'll come in with you and then after, you let me take you out for dinner. How does that sound?”
Arching a brow, I couldn't stop the smile from exploding across my face. “Dinner? You want to take me out to dinner?”
“Yeah, that's what I'd like to do.”
“And you want to come in with me?”
“Sure, why not.”
“Cole, I appreciate the offer, I do, but you coming in—”
Holding up his hand, he silenced me. “I really don't have any place to be right now, let me come with you. I won't ask questions, I promise. And, well, I like you, Locke.”
There was something about his sincerity that made me run the idea through my head. Maybe it could help, maybe him coming in with me would be a nice little change that could make a difference.
All my visits were usually spent with me talking and her sitting like a mute, staring out the window. Bringing Cole might get a reaction from her, it might throw a ripple in the stagnant water and help her to come alive. . .
Even a glimmer in her eyes would be progress.
And at this point, I'd take anything to know she was still someplace inside.
Chapter Eight
Cole
There was no way I was letting her out of my sight. Locke was a target. To who? I didn't have a fucking clue.
But not having my eyes on her wasn't an option, not anymore. I was going to do anything I could to stay with her, to have her with me so she would be safe.
Whatever it took, I was going to do it.
The bright lights on the ceiling made my head spin and my eyes fuzzy. White walls, white floor, white everything surrounded me.
I hated places like this.
My shoes squeaked across the glossy tiles as I followed Locke through the hall and to the elevator. Her hair bounced and swayed against her back, her ass jiggled and shook with each step.
Fuck
this girl was sexy. She had traded her pin straight frame for hour glass curves. Her short stumpy legs had lengthened into long lean stalks that carried her with grace. My mind kept wandering, it kept drifting between keeping her safe and grabbing her by the waist and shoving her into the bathroom to have my way with her.
The innocent child from my youth had morphed into the goddess of my dreams. But that wasn't why I had found her again. I didn't find her just to fuck her and toss her away.
As much as I tried to understand what the fuck was happening, I couldn't shake the feeling that she had come back into my life for a reason.
I was just still trying to figure out why.
Locke played with the handle of her purse, arching her feet awkwardly on the sides. “Are you sure you want to do this? Because you don't have to.” Her big doe eyes lulled, they searched my face, growing wide and deep.
“I know I don't have to. I want to.”
I need to. I need you to know I'm one of the good guys.
I wasn't sure if the thought was more for her or for me. I'm not a bad guy, but I've done horrible things. Things that I'm not proud of, things that I knew were wrong.
These things could have helped her if I had just come clean, if I had told someone else about what we were doing when shit seemed to get out of control. I just didn't know how far it was going to go.
The doors opened to the fifth floor, Locke smiled at the group of nurses behind the front desk. One woman nodded and went back to the computer she was staring at, barely registering me behind her.
“When we go in, just hang behind me at first. I'll introduce you, but give me a minute before you say anything, okay?”
“Yeah, sure, no problem.” Tucking my hands into my pockets, I dipped my head into my chest and peered at the floor.
The smell was turning my stomach, making me want to throw up. It was that toxic mix of bleach and rubber, highlighted with a harsh stench of ammonia.
That scent, it stuck with me for years after everything happened. Two months of my childhood were spent in a hospital like this, watching him being evaluated and observed for some explanation as to why he was the way he was.
Every weekend, my parents and I would drive up to see him, we'd spend all day awkwardly reminiscing about the 'good' times.
Good times. . . Fuck they had no clue.
He never smiled or laughed, he never looked at us with remorse or regret for what he chose to do. Because that's exactly what happened.
There was no other rationale behind it, there was no diagnosis to explain the sick, twisted brain that filled his skull. He chose to destroy the world of others, he decided to take when he didn't hold the right to have.
He was a demented boy then and he was probably still a sick fuck now. I didn't know for sure, I wrote him off years ago.
Fuck him. He deserved to get way more than he did.
I wished I had said something back then, but I kept my mouth shut like a loyal little brother. I stayed silent when I should have screamed.
There was so much blame I put on myself, knowing something wasn't right, knowing the things we had done before that night, and never saying a word about it. Knowing what came after and seeing the hand-drawn sketch of his face, and I still stayed silent.
I had to live with that and I hated it.
Locke gently knocked on the door and pushed it open. “Hey,” she said quietly as she stepped inside and held the door for me to follow her in. “How are you feeling today?”
Walking behind her, I let the door swing shut, but I didn't look up. All of this was hitting me harder than I expected.
I felt like that sixteen year old boy again, uncomfortably forced to reconcile with a person he didn't even know anymore.
“The sun feels good on your face, huh?” Locke's feet tapped against the floor as she walked to the chair facing the window. “I brought you something, it's one of your favorites.”
Tugging out a small bag of cow tails, she dangled the bag between her fingertips. The thin white wrapper swayed back and forth as she pressed deeper into the room. Dropping it onto a small table, Locke bent down and kissed the top of a woman's head.
Dragging her fingers over the other unopened bags on the table, she spoke softly. “You haven't touched any of these. Maybe one day soon.” Smiling with thin lips, she brushed her hand down the woman's hair.
I couldn't see the woman's face. She was turned away, head set straight on the large bay window that overlooked the valley below.
Drawing up her hand, Locke continued to stroke the woman's hair with her fingers and smile. “You look good today.” Her lips stayed in a soft smile as her eyes squinted with care. Rubbing her shoulder, she glanced at me and nodded for me to move closer. “I brought someone with me today, I'd like you to meet him.”
Taking long steps, I walked up beside the chair. Forcing my eyes to leave the safety of the freshly waxed tiles, I lifted them to the woman.
She was old and frail. Her arms were barely skin and bone, her legs mimicked the width of her wrists. Strained lines crinkled across her forehead as she fiddled anxiously with her fingers in her lap.
There were deep scars stripping both of her wrists. The skin around the old wounds was thick and purple, bubbling out of the surface from not healing right. I felt sorry for this woman, for whatever drove her into a place like this.
“Mom, this is Cole.” Standing, Locke wrapped her fingers around my hand and pulled me beside her. “Cole, this is my mom, Barbara.”
Sucking in a sharp gasp of air, my eyes expanded wide as saucers. “Hello.” Speaking soft and delicate, I tried to hold in the emotions that flooded my system.
The last time I saw her mother, the last moment I remembered with her, she was crying. Barbara was sobbing uncontrollably into a tattered tissue she clutched between her fingers.
Her nose was raw and bright red, her eyes puffy and swollen. She looked broken, shredded apart from the inside out.
And now, now she was just a shell. This woman was no longer living like you and I. She had been destroyed, torn apart and spit back out, left to walk the earth without a soul. She had aged thirty years in a decade, erasing who I could see in my mind.
She didn't look at me when I spoke. The woman just kept staring straight ahead, blankly focused on the scene behind the glass.
“Mom, can you look at Cole and smile? It would mean a lot to me if you did.”
Nothing.
Her fingers wrangled themselves, choking each other as they twisted endlessly.
Locke turned to me, her lips falling into a frown. “I'm sorry, she's not much of a talker anymore. But I'm sure she's happy to meet you.”
“It's alright, sometimes the silence is all anybody needs.” Pressing my hand into the small of her back, I finally knew what I had to do.
Lock needed safety, her mother needed me to protect her daughter. Even without words, I knew that's what she'd want.
There was only one way for me to make sure she was completely out of harm's way. I had to do something she wouldn't like, I had to cross back over and take a page from my past.
Drawing her lips back, Locke smiled and leaned into my hand. “Yeah, the silence can be more peaceful than most realize. I can't say I'm not guilty of holding onto it myself.”
“We're all guilty of that in some way or another.” Sliding my thumb up and down over her spine, I drew small circles on the fabric of her shirt. “I lost words before when I should have spoken up. I guess your mom and I aren't that different.”
Barbra's hands stopped moving as her eyes flicked towards me. She didn't move her head, she didn't fumble with her lips or wriggle her brows. She screamed.
Her mouth gaped open, vocal chords vibrating like a banshee trying to suck the life from the room.
I had only heard a scream like that once before, and it was in my head, in my dreams, and it was Locke.
Locke shot forward, screaming for the nurses. “Help! Someone help!” Rubbing her mother's should
ers, she pressed her cheek to her head and hushed her to try and calm her down.
Taking a long step back, Barbra's eyes followed me, never wavering. I knew why she was screaming, I knew what was running through her head; she was afraid of me.
The room suddenly became a storm of bodies, nurses and doctors all rushed in, shoving me against the back wall. Their voices scattered, talking to everyone and no one.
“What's wrong? Why is she screaming like that?” Locke was guided away, shunned by the people who were trying to figure out those same questions.
I know how to fix this.
Following the wall, I stepped out into the hallway and gripped my skull. I had never expected to be here, seeing that woman in such a weak and brittle state. Leaning against the wall, I tucked my hands into my pockets and waited.
Barbra's voice died down the instant I was gone. That was what she wanted, she wanted me out, she wanted me far away. I was the reason for her gut-wrenching scream.
A parade of nurses exited the room, all whispering to each other. Standing up straight, I waited for Locke. Several minutes passed before the door opened again and her worried face emerged.
“Is she alright?” I asked, reaching out and cupping her elbow.
“Yeah, she's alright. They gave her a sedative and she's sleeping now.” Exhaling a heavy sigh, her hand came up and laid over mine. “I'm sorry about that. She hasn't said a word in years, but that, I don't know where that came from.”
Taking her hand in mine, I twined our fingers together. “Are you okay?”
Her eyes darted to mine, the surface glassy and wet. “I. . . I don't know. I've never seen her like that.”
Stroking the back of her palm with my thumb, I pulled her in and hugged her. “Things will work out, they always do.”
My body began to tingle, the charge worked its way across my chest and down my arms. The feeling kept spreading, stretching its long arms through my ribs and clutching my lungs, holding me in place.
Being this close, it created a surge of emotions that speared my heart and made it hurt. Barbra didn't deserve this, Locke didn't deserve this, their lives had been ruined and I couldn't help but feel like I wanted to fix it all.