When I first looked over to see Russell Wallace in all his muscle-bound glory sitting on the couch with his legs tucked under himself as he started to read the Agatha Frost cozy mystery, I nearly commented about his choice of position. I caught myself in time. I doubted he was even aware of how he was sitting. Telling him he was adorable was probably a quick way to make it end.
Regardless, and maybe it made me twisted considering all that had happened just a few hours before, I was happy. Content. And delusional or not, safe.
The only thing that would’ve made it better was if Russell could crisscross those massive legs of his and tuck up into the alcove with me. I wasn’t sure that was physically possible, but if it was, I knew that would be pushing things way too far—even with the protectiveness he’d shown, with the occasional heated glances he tried to disguise as observational, and with the nearly constant thrum of energy between us. I’d made my move, more than I’d intended or planned, more than I even knew I had. Try any more and I’d run the risk of shutting him down. I couldn’t shake the feeling that if I waited long enough, gave him time, he might just make a move of his own.
Not only that, but I managed to not look over when he chuckled softly at some part of the book. I doubted he was aware of it himself, but the sound did unfair things to my heart.
Since Neal, since moving to Lavender Shores, I’d accepted that this was the fulfillment of my dreams—a safe, beautiful place to live. My own bookshop. As much time as I wanted to get swept away in my novels. As much or as little sex as I wanted or needed, but never a relationship again. I hadn’t exactly planned on turning one down if it showed up on my doorstep, but I hadn’t wasted time pining after such an unlikely miracle.
Maybe instead of my doorstep, it had shown up in my bookshop and then temporarily moved into my guest room.
Russell put up his expected protests when it was time to leave, but they seemed more out of obligation than anything heartfelt. He adamantly refused to let me drive, however. “We’re taking my truck. If I happen to see Neal on the side of the road, I’ll accidentally swerve and run him over. On the off chance I get that lucky, I want him to feel it. If we were in your Mini Cooper, he might mistake it for a love tap.”
I climbed up into the passenger seat. “Don’t be hating on the Mini Cooper. It’s small and powerful. Like me.”
He cast a cynical glance at me as he backed the truck up but didn’t offer any commentary.
“And besides, you wouldn’t actually run over Neal if you saw him.”
Russell shifted into Drive, peeled out of the parking lot, then gave me another silent look.
Okay… apparently he would run over Neal.
I started to give a lecture about not returning violence with violence, then felt Neal’s hands on me again as he’d tried to force me into his car.
Maybe I’d just let Russell go with his natural instincts.
The youth center wasn’t in Lavender Shores, so we had a little bit of a drive. The quiet that fell between us was much different from the one that had seemed so comforting as we’d read.
Russell turned on music. It only seemed to make it worse, so to my relief, he turned it off again.
I attempted to play tour guide, pointing out Adrian and Micah’s farm that lay outside the border of the national seashore, and then a couple of good restaurants in the nearby town of Olema. Russell grunted, nodded, and made an assortment of other noises, but didn’t speak. We were nearly to the turnoff of Bear Valley Road, which led to the Sanctuary, when I noticed his knuckles were ghost white and that he was gripping the steering wheel so tightly the veins in his forearms stood out.
It was clear our interaction with Neal had thrown him off. That Neal had been different from what he’d expected, and that made two of us, but Russell almost seemed… afraid. I wouldn’t have pictured that. Angry, maybe, but not afraid. Although, I reminded myself, I didn’t really know the man, which was the understatement of the century. We parked about a block away from the youth center, and Russell was still clinging to the steering wheel as if his life depended on it.
After I unbuckled my seatbelt, I debated what to say or ask, but he finally spoke. “So this youth group place is for gay kids?” He didn’t quit staring at the road.
Was he afraid of the Sanctuary? Like I was going to ask that. “It’s more of a youth center than a youth group. It’s not religious in nature at all. And it’s not just for gay kids, but any who fall on the LGBTQ spectrum. Though straight kids are allowed to attend as well.”
He cast a glance at me, but it was quick and nervous. “And they do what? Therapy? You’re leading a group tonight, so you’re a part-time therapist?”
“No, I’m not a therapist at all, though I do lead tonight’s group, but there are therapists available through the Sanctuary.” I glanced at the clock on the dash. “And it starts in about five minutes. I really should get in there.
“Okay.” Russell turned off the ignition, the clock disappeared. “I want to check out the room before I leave you alone with the group. See if there’s any back entrance or anything I need to watch out for. I doubt Neal would burst into the middle of the youth group, but from what you and Harrison said, he’s a lot different from what you remember. And from what I saw last night, the man’s crazy, so I’m going to assume he’ll not be predictable.”
“That’s fine. In fact, you can be in the meeting. You simply agree to keep it anonymous and private. But it’s kind of like an open twelve-step meeting. Anyone is welcome. The point is simply having a place to share your story and where you are at the moment with people who understand and won’t judge.”
Russell turned those wide brown eyes on me. “Be in the meeting? Like while the kids are talking?” He licked his lips.
That confirmed it. He wasn’t afraid of Neal; he was afraid of the group, of the kids. “It’s not a big deal. You’ve already met Xander.” I adjusted my tone, trying to soothe him. “Believe me, a lot of what’s done at the Sanctuary isn’t overly structured or serious. Mostly it’s just a safe place, an information center, a building where kids can hang out and get help. It’s Regina’s baby.” I couldn’t hold back a laugh at the skepticism on his face. “There’s a lot more to Regina than just drunken book clubs. And while Lavender Shores is a safe haven for anybody, the same isn’t as true for lots of little towns around us. Or at least several of the families. That’s why the only real rule about tonight’s group is anonymity. Which obviously won’t be an issue for you anyway.”
He sighed and finally took off his seat belt, and nodded at something in his own head.
“Russell, you don’t have to be in the group. Though there’s no reason to be afraid of it.”
He flinched and shot me an angry glare.
Shit. I hadn’t meant to say that, hadn’t even realized what I’d said until it had come out. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that like it sounded. Lots of people are uncomfortable with feelings being shared in a group setting. You’re hardly the first. I’m just saying you don’t have to be in there.”
“I can handle it.” With that, he opened the door and got out of the truck.
I wasn’t sure if he’d said those words to convince me or himself.
From the look of Russell Wallace, there wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle, but the slight defiance in his tone let me know that I might’ve just discovered something he in fact was going to have a hard time dealing with.
“I got a voicemail from my mom the other day.” Xander kept his gaze trained on the floor as he spoke. “She started off crying, telling me how she missed me, how she wanted me to come home, that they loved and accepted me exactly how I am.”
The room stayed silent as Xander gathered his thoughts. The other kids were used to his shares and how his pauses often took more time than his words. Over the months with me and his time at the bookshop, he’d begun to lighten up—making jokes, speaking freely and easily, but that wasn’t his normal, especially when speaking of his family.
>
The toe of his shoe traced one of the swirls in the rug. “By the time the message ended, Dad was yelling in the background and Mom was cursing at me for leaving them, for getting emancipated and making the government stick its nose in our family. Yelling that she was embarrassed to have a faggot like me for a son.”
Silence fell once more. In a room filled with ten teenagers, the level of respect should have been a miracle. It was commonplace in the group. Though they waited patiently for Xander to finish, there were no looks of horror or surprise. It was just everyday life for them. Nothing shocking about it. Though more extreme than my own childhood, it wasn’t all that shocking to me either.
A quick glance at Russell revealed he was not having such a nonreactive response to it. He sat rigid in the tiny folding chair, fists clenched, shoulders straining, eyes drilling holes into the floor. And that, the kids were starting to respond to. Many of them had either come from, or were still in, abusive homes, and a clearly rage-filled giant in the room was something to be wary of.
Maybe because he’d already met Russell, Xander didn’t seem to notice. “There’re times I wonder if she’s right, that I betrayed my family, that I abandoned them when I went to live with Heather Kelly.” His green eyes flashed up at me. “By having a job in Lavender Shores, and making friends and laughing, when they’re stuck there, all so miserable. But I couldn’t stay there. I wouldn’t have survived. I’m happy now. At least I think so.” He cleared his throat, glanced around the group, and sank a little further into his chair. “Thanks.”
The rest of the kids mumbled thanks as well, and the room fell silent as we waited for whoever felt led to speak next.
When I’d first started helping out with the groups, long silences were nearly more than I could bear. But over time, they became a strange sort of comfort. Sometimes words weren’t needed. Everyone had their own experience, things that made them individual and special, but on the flipside, we were all the same. All with similar hurts and fears. Different ingredients but it ended up producing the same result. In the silence, it was enough to simply be in one another’s presence.
The Sanctuary had been designed as if it was going to fit into Lavender Shores. Everything was high quality, rich in texture and tone, and lovely. A retreat and safe harbor from the rest of the world. Even in moments like these, as the kids spoke of their feelings, drama with their families, of abuse, the space made it a little more bearable, insulated somehow. Given its new construction and that no expense had been spared, I was surprised when Russell found a squeaky board in the hardwood underneath the rug. His foot had begun to tap, and his legs shake, though he seemed completely unaware. He’d repositioned his fists so his fingers were intertwined, and he was squeezing so tightly I almost expected to hear his bones snap.
Just as I was about to suggest we take a break, Alex spoke up from beside Xander. “Dad searched the history on my computer last night, found that I was looking for grants to pay for transitions and hormone meds for teenagers.” She pinned a short lock of black hair behind her ear with a delicate finger, the nail painted yellow. “Mom called the police after he hit me. She’s promising he’ll never come home again, that she won’t take him back.” Alex laughed and shook her head. “She always says that.” She laughed again as a tear fell, and she cast a glance at Xander. “I’m thinking about doing the emancipation thing too. Dad said if I tried to transition, he’d kill me. Said that if I wasn’t going to be his son, that I sure as hell wasn’t going to be his daughter. So the only chance at starting hormone therapy before the testosterone really kicks in is to get out of the house.”
I made a note to check with the counselor on duty, ask them to contact child services to follow up on Alex’s claim that the police had been contacted.
“I think he’d do it. I think he might actually kill me.” Alex sniffed and again swiped at the lock of hair, though it hadn’t slipped free. “I kinda wish he would. I’m tired of feeling like a freak all the time.” She made an encompassing gesture with her hands. “Of being stuck in the wrong body.” Another tear fell. “Mom hates when I say that. Says that God wouldn’t make a mistake, that he doesn’t make mistakes. That my body is right. That I’m just going through a phase and I have to tough it out. It’d be nice to just have it all over. Besides, even if I did get to transition, I can’t imagine what Dad would do then. If I presented as I really am, if I looked like a girl. I know he’d rather me be dead than be how I’m supposed to be.”
“Then fuck him.”
Russell’s growl was so vicious that everyone in group, me included, jumped in surprise.
He leaned forward in his chair, looking like he was ready to attack. “I’m serious, Alex. Fuck that guy. It doesn’t matter if he’s your dad or not. It’s your life. It’s your body. It doesn’t matter if you think you’re boy or girl or… whatever.” He waffled his hands, obviously unsure of the correct terms. “Your life is precious, and you get to live it. You deserve to live it. Don’t you dare let that fucker make you think otherwise. If he makes his own child feel like that, then he’s the one that shouldn’t exist.”
“Russell.” My voice was so quiet even I barely heard. The ferocity seeping from Russell had swept away his handsome features and quiet charm. He looked like a man close to homicide. Almost how Neal had looked the night before. I tried again. “Russell.”
He looked over at me, and I flinched backward at the anger in his eyes.
“We don’t respond in this group. We just listen. This is a safe place that everyone can talk without fear of any judgment or advice. It guarantees that everyone can feel safe enough to say anything and everything on their mind or in their heart.” He flinched at my reprimand, and I felt a moment of guilt. Though his tone had been harsh, almost scary, clearly it came from a place of protection for Alex. “I know you meant well. But remember that this is Alex’s dad you’re talking about.” It was still a hard lesson for me to learn, even after all the months I’d been helping out at the Sanctuary. How despite all the hurt and fear and shame inflicted by the kids’ families, more often than not there was no one they loved more than the very people who were hurting them the most. I still couldn’t quite understand it. My father hadn’t been anywhere close to as abusive as most of these kids’ families, and I had cut him off without a second glance back. Of course, I’d just traded him for a different kind of monster, one much, much worse.
Russell glared at me, fury lighting behind his brown eyes. “You’re fucking serious? We’re supposed to just sit here and listen to how Alex’s dad treats him—” He shook his head and cast an apologetic glance toward Alex. “—her? We’re supposed to let her go home tonight? What if her dad gets out of jail and Mom takes him back like she’s done before? What if tonight is the night he hurts Alex?”
“Russell! Stop,” I barked at him, not even thinking. Pure reaction at his words.
I wasn’t sure if it’d been my reprimand, the array of gasps, soft curses, or the tangible increase of tension that filled the room. Whatever had done it caused Russell to look abashed, though still angry. After a few moments where he seemed to be considering, he stood, muttered an apology, and gestured toward the hallway. “I’ll stand outside the front doors. Don’t step one foot outside of this building.” As he stomped away, he managed to find a couple more loose floorboards, and several moments later the front door slammed shut.
All eyes were staring at me, wide and startled.
“Sorry, guys. He means well. Give me one second.” I pulled out my cell, turned it on, and texted Donovan Carlisle, one of the therapists who volunteered his time at the Sanctuary. We still had half an hour in the group. Maybe he could come over to do damage control.
He answered instantly, letting me know he was on his way.
“Mr. Wallace has a point.”
I followed the sound of Xander’s voice, thinking he was speaking to me, but he’d taken Alex’s hand into his. “If your mom lets your dad back in tonight, call me. Okay? I know
Heather would help.”
Ten
Russell
The ride back to Lavender Shores was filled with even more silence than the first trip. I’d chalked up the awkwardness on our way to the youth center as a result of the tension between Jasper and me, the attraction and desire that needed to remain unspoken and unacted upon. At least from that point forward.
Oh, yeah, not to mention the fact that I was scared shitless to go into a youth center. Scared, pissed, and trying to figure out what the fuck I was supposed to do so I could keep watch over Jasper while not losing my fucking mind. That had a little to do with the silence as well.
Awkward silence or not, I never figured out a good solution. Jasper was right, chances were low that Neal would try anything in the middle of a room full of kids, but the fucker was crazy. I wasn’t going to put anything past him. Not again.
As we passed the farm that indicated we were getting close to returning to the Point Reyes National Seashore to get to Lavender Shores, I decided it would have been worth the risk to have simply stayed outside like I had for the last part of the meeting. Even that thought made me angrier. Realizing I’d put my client at risk just to avoid an uncomfortable situation wasn’t pretty. That I’d put Jasper at risk.
That had been my logic. The deciding factor. Jasper. I’d nearly lost him a few short hours before. Nearly lost my client. If only I could pretend that was all it had been. Though that would have been enough. But it wasn’t. The horror of failing on my job would be multiplied exponentially if Jasper was hurt. There’d been many things in my life I wasn’t sure I’d recover from, many things I probably hadn’t, but I knew I’d never come close to being able to function if something happened to Jasper while he was under my care.
The Alcove (Lavender Shores Book 7) Page 12