"I'm trying to," Adam said earnestly, grabbing my arm as I attempted to rise from the sofa. "Lilly," he wrapped his arm back around my waist before brushing my hair from my eyes. "They're a cool bunch of people, I don't get it."
I snorted. "You wouldn't," I muttered. "On the outside I'm sure everything looks peachy. But unless you grew up in a large family you can't understand it. Nothing was ever enough to please my father. Joe was always watching me, judging me. Mom and Dad are team, Joe stands alone, Matt and Chuck are practically twins they spend so much time together, and Vi was the perfect, darling little after-thought that completed my parents' happiness. I was just Lilly: awkward, dumpy, not quite clever enough Lilly. Never noticed except when I failed to live up to someone's expectations."
Adam was silent for a moment while he considered me. "You know, growing up I would have killed for a big family, a family like yours filled with love and craziness. It was just me and Kat when we were kids. My parents were divorced and we were shunted back and forth between the two of them for years.
"Then one weekend Dad didn't show up to take us for a visit and we never saw him again. Mom didn't care and when I was in high school she got remarried. That was the summer both Kat and I moved away from home. She went to Montreal; I went wherever I could get work until I left for France. I haven't spoken to my Mother in a decade and I don't even know where my Dad is.
"So yeah, your family might be a little wacky and they might drive you crazy, but at least they love you and it shows. You might not want to admit it, but at least you have them to fall back on. Why do you fight it?"
I don't know when the tears started or who they were for: me and my lonely childhood in a house filled with people, or Adam and his lonely childhood in a cold, broken family.
"Oh Lil," Adam crooned as he brushed a few tears from my cheek. "It's okay. Please don't cry."
I couldn't stop though as all my frazzled nerves, fears, and frustrations from the past few days bubbled to the surface. I was weary and overwhelmed and Adam held me tightly until the tears subsided.
"Better now?" he asked softly.
I nodded into the warm, comforting wall of his bare chest. "Thank you," I mumbled, tasting the salt of my tears on his skin.
"Any time," Adam teased. He tilted my chin up gently and kissed me, just a little. It wasn't enough.
I think my aggression as I deepened the kiss surprised Adam because he tried to push me away, but I followed until he was backed against the sofa with nowhere to go.
"Lilly...," he ground out when I emerged for air. "What the hell are you doing?"
"I would think that's fairly obvious," I said with a giggle, running my hands up into Adam's short, dark hair. "I'm kissing you."
"I thought I wasn't supposed to 'jump' you," Adam laughed.
"You're not," I purred against his lips. "But that doesn't mean we can't kiss."
Adam closed his eyes and I could hear his throat working frantically. "I'm not so sure about that Lilly," he gasped.
"Come on, Mr. Adam Reginald Brooks, are you trying to tell me you can't just kiss a girl?" I taunted, pressing myself against him. "Where's your self-control? Your discipline?"
"Brat," Adam growled. "You're really testing my patience."
I chuckled softly, feeling the solid weight of Adam's erection pressed against my abdomen. "Kiss me?" I asked in a whisper.
Adam obliged with a ferocity which forced the air from my lungs with a dizzy gasp. He shifted, pulling me to the stretch atop the length of his torso; the blankets slid to the floor forgotten.
Before Adam I'd always thought kissing was a pleasant distraction but rarely something worth crossing the proverbial street for. With Adam however, it was different; exhilarating, infinitely exciting, and subtly different one moment to the next. If I kissed him all day, every day, for the next fifty years I'd never grow bored of it. Beneath my pajamas I was practically a puddle.
The deep rumble of satisfaction Adam made in his chest pleased me to no end and I echoed it with one of my own. Adam's hands strayed down to cup my ass while I ground impatiently against him. I knew I couldn't have more, not in my parents' house with them sleeping upstairs, but that didn't stop me from wanting it nonetheless.
"Get your fucking hands off my sister," Joe snarled from the doorway. Adam and I broke apart with a guilty start. Joe stormed towards up and yanked me cruelly to my feet. "Just what the hell are the two of you doing?"
"What does it look like?" I spat out, surprised at my defiant tone. "And anyway, it's not any of your business."
"No?" Joe sneered down at me. "I'm your big brother, Lilly. If I say it's my business, it's my fucking business."
Behind me Adam had come to his feet as I shook off Joe's rough grip. "I'm not a teenager any more, Joe. I am capable of making my own decisions."
"Then why the hell are you choosing him?" Joe snapped, towering over me. "He looks like a criminal for Chrissake."
"You don't know anything about him," I countered automatically. It was the first time I'd ever stood up to Joe and I had to admit to myself it felt good.
"Neither do you," Joe said with a grunt. "This afternoon you barely knew his name."
I opened my mouth to argue but no sound came out. Damn, I hated when Joe was right.
"That's not the point," I replied in an angry whisper. It wasn't a clever response but it was all I had under the circumstances.
"Lilly, come one. You can do better than him," Joe said callously.
I was shaking with anger although I don't know what pissed me off more, Joe talking about Adam like he wasn't there or Adam saying nothing to defend himself.
"I am not having this conversation with you," I hissed at my big brother in a half-whisper. "I will not be preached to by someone who is casually fucking Charlene McMillan!"
Joe's eyes widened and he scowled menacingly. I don't think he'd been expecting me to stand up for myself. It certainly came as a surprise to me, but for once I knew Joe was wrong. I didn't want anything better than Adam; I couldn't imagine such a thing existed.
"I can take care of myself Joe. I'm a big girl now," I said softly. I rested me hand against Joe's broad forearm. "I don't always need to be protected."
Joe's scrutiny was relentless but I refused to flinch under his hard gaze. "Fine," he grumbled. "That's just fine, Lilly. Have it your way. But don't expect me to come to your rescue when he breaks your heart. And you know he will."
Behind me Adam put his hand on the small of my back.
"I never asked you to rescue me, Joe. I never wanted you to," I said.
Joe grunted and turned to skulk out of the room. My sigh of relief was loud in the darkness.
"Well," Adam said with a gust of outward breath. "That was interesting."
"Were you going to stick up for yourself at any point?" I asked, whirling about on one foot to face Adam.
"The last thing I need Lil, is to get into a boxing match with your very big, very protective brother in your parents' living room at two in the morning." He reached out and smoothed his hands down my arms reassuringly. I didn't even realize I was shaking until he stilled me. "Thanks for sticking up for me though."
I sighed, feeling confused. "Didn't it bother you? Hearing him talk like that?"
Adam shrugged. "People say shit like that about me all the time. They don't know me Lilly, so no, it doesn't particularly bother me. I'm sorry it upset you though."
I shook my head. "You're so weird," I admitted with chagrin. "You're not like other guy I've ever met."
"No, I'm not," Adam admitted. "Hope that doesn't bother you."
I laughed quietly. "No, I wouldn't have you any other way." I reached up to smooth the worry lines between Adam's dark brows. "Don't let Joe scare you, he's all bluster and no fight. I think perhaps I should head back to bed. Dealing with Joe was one thing, but I'd hate to think what would happen if Dad found me down here."
"Good night, Lil," Ad
am laughed and kissed the top of my head lightly before dropping a lingering kiss on my lips. I wanted more, but knew I'd have to wait.
Silently I slipped back up the stairs to Vi's room under the sloping eaves feeling lonelier and lonelier with every step.
********
We made a smooth escape the next morning after breakfast and our drive back to the city was uneventful. Adam left me on my doorstep with a passionate kiss, his phone number scribbled on a scrap of paper from his pocket, and a promise for dinner the following night. I stumbled wearily up the stairs to my apartment, fed the cat, checked my many messages from Rhiannon and Adele, and fell fully clothed into bed. I slept like the dead.
Going back to work Monday morning was strange. I felt like a completely different person from the girl who'd left her desk Friday afternoon. Everything had changed so much it didn't seem possible that those changes weren't visible to my co-workers, but it was the usual combination of routine and rushing to meet deadlines that journalism always is so my swirling mind mustn't have shown on my face.
I'd finished writing an article I'd started the week before and edited a few pieces for others around the office before my boss emerged from his office looking grim. I tried a pleasant smile on Sterling Hudson and got no response.
"What do you know about the Canadian Penal System, Lilly?" he asked without preamble as he perched himself on the edge of my desk.
I stared up at Sterling for a moment, trying to catch my bearings. Sterling Hudson had to be at least sixty, bald and portly, with the bushiest mustache I'd ever seen. He looked like he should be jolly, but anyone in the newsroom could tell you the opposite was true.
"Not much," I admitted with a shrug. "Never had any personal experience with it anyway. Why?"
Sterling never asked a question without an ulterior motive. "Did you know that a large number of paroled inmates from surrounding provinces end up settling here on the Island?" He tossed a dog-eared file folder on my desk. "Thirty-seven in the past year alone. I want you to find out who they are and what they're doing."
I considered the file folder carefully. "Why Sterling? They've been paroled, they've done their time. Don't you think they're entitled to their privacy and a fresh start?"
Sterling glared down at me and the effect was not pleasant. "No. They're criminals, Lilly. Rapists, thieves, and murderers. And the government helps them move here and get jobs. In our city. They could be living next door to you. Don't you think the public deserves to know who they are?"
I wasn't so certain the public did deserve to know, but the look on Sterling's face didn't broker argument. "So this is my new assignment? Find these parolees and expose them?"
"You make it sound so ruthless," Sterling chuckled, cracking what could almost be considered a smile. "This is investigative journalism, Lilly. No need to sugar-coat it." He laughed boisterously at his bad joke. "I want to see something by the end of the next week."
He walked away before I could come up with another argument and I stared at the file folder for a time, unsure of how to proceed. A casual flick open revealed several pages of names on a government letterhead. I snapped the folder shut. Where the hell had Sterling gotten this? The Freedom of Information Act was one thing, but these were official documents from the Ministry of Correctional Services and it was starting to feel like my boss was asking me to skirt the law a little myself.
But Sterling knows me better than I like to admit and curiosity eventually got the better of me. The little burning need to know the truth flared in my brain. Who were these people? And why did they choose to come here? For a fresh start away from the media hungry cities typically found in this country? For the crisp sea air? Did they really live next door to me?
Inspiration came in a flash. Sterling had asked me to find the parolees and expose where they lived and what they were doing, but perhaps it was possible that they were now good people living productive, reformed lives. I'd find them and write a story not about the terrible things they'd once done, but about the endless possibilities which lay before them. I'd write an article embracing them, welcoming them to our city and our province. It most likely wasn't what Sterling was looking for, but he'd neglected to be specific.
Renewed, I opened the file folder again, skimming the list of names.
And there at the bottom of the first page my heart stopped.
Adam Reginald Brooks. Assault with a deadly weapon. 9 years: Toronto West Detention Centre.
Chapter Six
"Life's like that though, isn't it?" Adele stated as she, Rhiannon, and I convened for an emergency lunch date. "Just when you think things are going along just swimmingly, BOOM! The bottom falls out of it."
"I still say he's way too cute," Rhi offered with a casual wave of her long fingers. "Who cares if he's on parole? That's in the past."
I sat in numbed silence, staring unseeingly into my iced tea.
"He's good in bed, isn't he?" Rhi asked.
I nodded automatically in response.
"So then what's the problem? You like him, he's a good fuck, and he's hot. Give the man a chance, Lil."
"You did take him home to meet your family, didn't you? And you said that all worked out fine, everyone liked him, even your Dad. And don't go telling me that was just a freak chance thing, bringing him home. We both know there are no co-incidences in life. It was meant to happen. I think it's very unlikely that he's a bad person. People make mistakes, Lilly," Adele said. She reached across the table and patted my hand. "Have you called him yet?"
My head shot up and I couldn't hide the disgust on my face. "How's that supposed to go, Adele? 'Hey Adam, thanks for the great weekend and the amazing sex. I think we really connected and you're the nicest guy I've ever met. Oh, and by the way... how was prison?' Yeah, I can see it now!"
Adele looked hurt, Rhiannon amused. Neither expression sweetened my mood. Uncomfortable silence descended heavily on us. I squirmed in my seat, unsure of what to say, of what I needed to hear from my best friends. I'd called them in a panic and like always they'd responded. I just wasn't sure how they could help.
"You know," Adele said with a soft sigh. "It's so funny how one tiny thing can change your relationship. It's such a delicate balance, what you have with another person, the tenuous threads that bind you together. All you have to do is have a little ripple in the balance and everything can come crashing down. Nothing can ever be the same after something like that happens. The strong move on, tighten their grip; and the weak..." her eyes met mine and her smile was so sad that my own tears mirrored hers. "The weak get thrashed against the rocks."
She snapped her fingers, the sound echoed loudly in the dead silence which lay between us all. "Relationship shipwreck. Most of us never see it coming."
I let my exhaustion pool into weary tears which I couldn't stem. Rhiannon sat in awkward silence, Adele in comforting sympathy.
"Don't mourn what never was," Rhiannon offered after a time. "Don't play the 'what-if' game with yourself. If you can't handle this - move on." There was a sharp edge to her voice which years of experience taught me she didn't intend. Emotional conversations just weren't Rhi's thing. Dear God, how I loved her for it, because at that moment I felt emotional enough for the three of us.
"Call him," Adele prompted gently. "He's a nice guy; he deserves a chance to explain."
"Explain what? Assault with a deadly weapon, Adele! What is there to explain?" My hands trembled against the cold, hard surface of the table. "He beat a guy up badly enough to go to jail for it! What the hell sort of person do you have to be to do that?"
"You like him, don't you?" Rhi interrupted before Adele could speak. "He made you happy, didn't he? If you think he's worth the fight, the grief, then call him. If you don't care enough to let him explain it to you, then now's the time to cut your losses and move on."
Everything seemed so blunt in Rhiannon's terms. My own brain didn't allow for such black and white explanations of th
ings, but I had to admit her idea had merit. It wouldn't hurt me much more to hear his side of the story. He'd put up with a lot from me and my family over the past weekend, I could grudgingly admit that perhaps I owed him the opportunity to be honest.
********
The doorman at La Langoustine Fâchée was all smiles, although it was difficult for me to tell whether that was because he worked at the most exclusive restaurant on the Island or because of what I was wearing.
Rhiannon had dressed me, and everything from my lace bustier and matching garters to my ridiculously low-cut gown and killer stilettos were jet black. Manicured, pedicured, waxed, and stylishly coiffed, I'd never had so many aestheticians fuss over me in my life, never mind at one time. It took more than three hours of preparation before Rhi declared me suitably outfitted for my fateful date.
Just His Type (Part One) Page 8