Heading East (Part 2 of 2) (The True North Series)

by Gray, June

  “I have some work to do,” he said, motioning with his head to the desk in the other apartment. “If it bothers you, I can just work on the kitchen counter here.”

  “No. I have some reading to do anyway. I was hoping I could use that leather armchair by the bookshelves.”

  “You’re more than welcome to it.”

  We went our separate ways. I went into the guest bedroom and dressed in a new top and fitted jeans, going sans underwear since I hadn’t thought to purchase any of those.

  I came out to find Luke at the desk with his laptop. He looked up and said, “You look nice.”

  “Uh, thanks,” I said, tugging on the top, which felt too tight.

  “Are you planning on sleeping in that?”

  “I don’t really have a choice,” I said, looking down at my outfit.

  Without another word he pushed away from the desk and went to the other apartment, coming back a few minutes later with a tee shirt and plaid pajama pants. “Here. These will be a little more comfortable.”

  “You really don’t have to—”

  “Kat,” he said in a voice that brooked no argument that, of course, it made me want to argue. “Stop please. You gave me shelter, food, clothing. I’m happy to return the favor.”

  “I saved your life too,” I said, grudgingly accepting the clothes.

  He grinned. “And I’ll gladly save yours. Many times over.”

  A few minutes later, now wearing Luke’s clothes, I headed to the leather armchair with my books, painfully aware of his eyes following me. I sat down, finding the chair as comfortable as I remembered, and tried to read a few chapters of a history of fashion tome. From the corner of my eye I could see Luke at the desk typing on the computer, pausing intermittently to write in a notebook.

  I tried to focus on my reading, but the man across the room was making it hard to concentrate—especially when he rested his chin on his hand, his finger rubbing along his lower lip while he worked. Here, in the soft recessed lighting of this fancy apartment, I found it hard to summon the anger that I’d held onto for nearly half a year. Here, in his home, wearing his comfortable clothes that smelled like him, I could almost believe I was capable of forgiveness.

  “Will you stop that?” He threw down the pen and ran a palm down his face. “I can’t concentrate with you staring at me, especially when you’re wearing my clothes.”

  “I wasn’t staring.” I turned my attention back to the book, clearly busted.

  The next morning I went across the courtyard to the kitchen and found a key and a note on the counter.

  Here’s the key to the door on your side. The coffee is fresh. Mugs are above the sink.

  I found the mugs—all of them grey or black—and poured a cup from the thermal carafe. I was taking a sip of the still-scalding coffee when Luke came out of his bedroom, buttoning the lapels of his light blue shirt.

  I froze, taking in his tie and navy blue pants. I had never seen anyone look so damn sexy.

  “You look nice,” he said, reaching past me for a mug.

  “Says the guy who looks like a runway model.”

  “A simple ‘thank you’ would have sufficed.” We both leaned against the counter and sipped our coffees, lost in our own thoughts. “How did you sleep?” he asked.

  “Compared to my camping cot, that bed felt like sleeping on clouds.”

  “You’ve been sleeping on a camping cot?” he asked, his dark eyebrows drawing together.

  “I haven’t had the chance to buy a real bed. And honestly, I don’t even know how I’d get it up that narrow stairwell.”

  “Damn, Kat.” He ran his hands through his hair, clearly frustrated. “Well, I’m glad you were comfortable here.”

  “So what are you doing today? Do you always go to work looking so professional?”

  “I have a meeting with the CEO of the company, hence the suit and tie,” he said. “You?”

  “Classes until three. Then I have to see if they’ll let me into my apartment.”

  “Kat, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you need. Consider that other side yours.”

  “Thank you.”

  “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he asked with a grin.

  “What?”

  “Accepting help.” He chuckled when I made a face at him, then he set his cup down in the sink. “I’ve missed mornings with you.”

  I watched as he pulled on his jacket, the material landing neatly across his wide back. I didn’t look away when he caught me looking; instead we stared at each other for a moment, neither one willing to be the first to back down.

  He looked as if he wanted to say something. Thankfully, he just said “Bye,” before heading out.

  I thought about his words long after my coffee was gone. It wasn’t so much that I didn’t like asking for help. I mean, true, I didn’t. But I’d been self-sufficient for so long that actually needing help made me feel like less of a woman, less like myself. I was used to helping Luke, not the other way around. It was disconcerting and not a feeling I liked. At all.

  6

  LUKE

  “You’re unusually chipper this morning,” my mother said as I pulled out a chair for her at the Blue Fin restaurant. “And you’re wearing your favorite suit.”

  “Am I?” I asked, taking the leather seat next to her. “I thought I’d look presentable for our weekly lunch.”

  She studied me with one eyebrow raised. “Okay, what is it? Something’s put that perma-smile on your face.”

  “I’m just having a good day.”

  “Cut the crap, son. Wait—did you get a recording contract?”

  That effectively wiped the smile off my face. “No, I didn’t.”

  “I wish you’d let me call my friend—”

  I held out my palm. “I appreciate it but you know I want to do this on my own.”

  She grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “I know. But there’s no harm in getting a little help now and then.”

  I nodded. Hadn’t I just essentially said the same thing to Kat this morning? But somehow this was different. There was a distinction between real help and a handout.

  My mother continued her interrogation, which continued long after we’d received our plates of food.

  “Why are you so curious?” I asked, lifting a piece of salmon sashimi to my mouth.

  “Because you are my flesh and blood. It is a mother’s prerogative to know that her son has fallen in love.”

  I kept chewing calmly as she eyed me, no doubt trying to see if she’d hit the mark.

  “Aha! So this is about a girl,” she said with a triumphant laugh.

  I couldn’t help the smile from taking over my face. “Perhaps.”

  “Does that mean you’re through pining for that girl in Alaska?”

  “She is that girl from Alaska.” I told her the story about the day I’d found Kat in the subway. “Her apartment burned down so I’ve asked her to stay with me until she can get back on her feet.”

  Mom’s face was lit with glee. You’d think the woman had never seen me like this before. “I must meet her!” she declared in that voice that said she was issuing a decree.

  “We’re not together, Mom. I can’t just introduce her to you, not when she’s already skittish enough.”

  Mom ate her food in silence and looked at me with her perceptive grey eyes. I’d seen that look before, as if she’s trying to use her motherly ESP to read my mind. “But you still love her.”

  Her words took me by surprise; I almost choked on my spider roll. I nodded in place of a real answer, gulping down water.

  “You never stopped,” she said, setting her napkin down and leaning back in her seat with a smug smile on her face.

  “No. I never did.”

  I left work right at five, much to Lisa’s delight. She had never gone home on time two days in a row. “My husband says thank you!” she sang on the way out the door as she swung her purse in time with her hips.

  I rushed ho
me as quickly as I could, given the train timetables, eager to see Kat, needing proof that I hadn’t just imagined the entire situation.

  I ran into the woman in question at the lobby elevator. “Where are you headed?” I asked as she stepped out.

  “To my apartment to see if anything survived.” She shrugged and just looked at me with a carefully blank expression.

  “Do you want me to come with you?”

  “If you really want to.”

  “Come on then, let’s get my car.”

  “No.” Her gaze collided with mine and, for that one moment, she let me see. “I need… I need the extra time.”

  She said nothing during the train ride and only gave monosyllabic replies to my questions about her day. No matter what I tried, I couldn’t distract her from the gloom that had settled over her. So I simply sat beside her and, at the first chance, took her hand in mine.

  She looked down at our hands with a disgruntled look. “I don’t need your pity,” she said, attempting to pull away.

  I held tight. “I don’t pity you,” I said and leaned close enough to be able to see the freckles dotting her nose. “There’s a difference between pity and support.”

  Her eyes flashed and she refused to lean away. In that moment I saw the spark of the old Kat, the one who challenged me at every turn. It was good to see her again. “What the hell are you smiling about?” she asked.

  I shrugged, then looked up as the train pulled into the station. “Here’s our stop,” I said and pulled her up.

  “This can’t be happening,” Kat said as we walked inside her darkened apartment.

  I stepped into the horrifying scene, sure that my mouth was agape. The walls were black and crumbling and the floor was covered in debris and soggy pieces of insulation that had fallen through the scorched ceiling. The only recognizable thing in the entire place was the pile of metal rods that had once been her bed and a metal folding chair which, surprisingly, was only singed on one leg.

  “No, not my stuff!” Kat ran to the other side of the room and crouched over something that appeared to have been very important to her. She dug through the pile of burned fabric and lifted out the charred remains of a wire-ringed book. She covered her mouth with a hand and let out a shuddering breath.

  I walked over and touched her shoulder, at a loss for anything comforting to say. What do you tell a person who had just lost everything?

  She turned to me, her eyes wide, her lips parted as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. When she got back to her feet, I grabbed her shoulders and pulled her in for a hug, but she fought me, trying to twist out of my arms.

  “Just accept the damn hug, will you?” I asked, expending considerable energy to keep her in place. “I’m trying to console you.”

  “Let go of me,” she said, pushing against my chest. “A fucking hug isn’t going to magically make this all better.”

  I ran a hand through my hair in irritation. “Well, tell me what I can do to make it better.”

  “Nothing.” She shook her head as she turned in a circle, eyeing the devastation around her. Her gaze once more landed at the corner, at the pile of burned material and paper. “It’s gone. Everything that means anything is gone.”

  For a moment I saw the tears welling in her eyes, but she blinked them away and, with a tight jaw, said, “Let’s go. There’s nothing left here.”

  Kat was quiet on the way back home, affecting that tough persona once more, as if losing everything was nothing more than a blip on her radar. Even when we stopped for a quick dinner at the pizza place down the street she said nothing—but when she didn’t think I was looking I spied the desolation there in the way her lower lip jutted out the tiniest bit, the way her shoulders sagged when I had my head turned away. I felt so powerless in her grief, at a loss for what to do.

  Back at the apartment she bypassed my front door and went one more door down. “Well, goodnight,” she called down the hall as she put the key in the lock.

  To see her so far away made my chest tight. She was only fifteen steps away and yet she was in a place I couldn’t reach. “If you need anything, just come by. The patio door’s always unlocked,” I said.

  She frowned. “That’s not safe.”

  “I only have to worry about the crazy lady across the way anyway,” I said, hoping to tease her out of her mood. “Though if you were to sneak into my apartment and have your way with me, I can’t say I’d work too hard to fight you off.”

  I thought I spied the tiniest lift to one side of her mouth but she turned away before I could be sure.

  I tried to busy myself for the next hour, checking my email and flipping through television channels to take my mind off the woman across the brick courtyard. From my vantage point on the couch I could see straight through to her side, to the large desk where she was hunched over, staring at an open sketchbook.

  I set aside my laptop and stood in front of the sliding doors, crossing my arms over my chest, making no effort to conceal the fact that I was watching her. I stood there for nearly five minutes until she finally realized I was there.

  She stood up and mimicked my stance, staring at me from her side with a quizzical look on her face. After long moments she shook her head and walked away, spurring me to action. I slid open the glass door and strode into her apartment.

  “Don’t you knock?” she asked, looking up from her sketches.

  “Nope.” I walked over and stood behind her, looking over her shoulder at the page where she had drawn different designs but crossed them out. Each and every sketch had been scribbled over.

  She slammed a hand on top of the page. “You’re so nosy.”

  “I am.” I leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll draw you a bath,” I whispered into her hair before pushing away from the table.

  She was right at my heels as I walked through the bedroom and into the guest bathroom, finding some epsom salts and lavender bath liquid in the cabinet under the sink. She watched as the bath filled with water, the bubbles multiplying.

  “It’s to help you relax,” I said to her unasked question. “To help you think.”

  We stared at each other for a moment and each second that passed I fought the urge to move closer. It didn’t seem appropriate to be aroused, but I had about as much control over my attraction to Kat as I did over the woman herself.

  I swallowed down my base needs and stepped back. “I’ll leave you to it then,” I said and closed the door behind me. I walked over to the leather chair and sat down, picking up the book on the side table about the history of fashion.

  A few minutes later I heard my name being called and I crossed the room with long strides. I knocked on the bathroom door before opening it a crack. “Did you call me?”

  “Luke, I need you,” came the soft, husky voice.

  My heart stalled. Was the most stubbornly independent woman in the world admitting she needed me?

  I stepped inside and found Kat in the tub, her arms curled around her bent legs. She looked up at me with red-ringed eyes. “I’ll take that hug now.”

  7

  KAT

  I don’t know why I said that or what it all meant. All I knew in that moment was that I didn’t want to be alone. I didn’t even know what I was asking for, but when Luke started to take his clothes off, not one part of me wanted to stop him.

  I lifted my chin and held his gaze as he stood naked before me, his body as solid and singularly male as I remember. I scooted forward in the tub and hoped that he’d understand what I was asking for.

  He slipped in the water behind me, his long legs sliding around mine. I looked over my shoulder in time to see him bending down to place a kiss on my back.

  Not going to lie, that one touch lit up my entire body. With that one chaste kiss the memories of our time together came flooding back, raising goose bumps all over my skin. My happiest times had been with this man, when I’d found pleasure and freedom, when he’d shown me a side o
f myself I hadn’t known existed.

  With my skin tingling I uncurled my body and leaned into him. He folded his arms around me as if he’d been waiting all along. I turned my head to the side and pressed my cheek against his chest, enjoying the tickle of hair on my nose. This, being in his arms, was the very thing I didn’t know I needed.

  Without saying a word he took my wrist and lifted my hand out of the water, then gently ran a soapy loofah down my arm, across my chest, and up the other arm, stopping long enough to press a kiss to the scar on the inside of my wrist. He handled me so tenderly that it brought a tear to my eye. Right then I didn’t feel like a little girl who was on the verge of breaking apart; instead I felt like a treasured woman.

  “Did you get a tattoo?” I asked when I caught a glimpse of something on his right wrist.

  “Yeah. In January.” He held out his arm and showed me the faint brown compass tattoo inside his wrist. Of the points, only the N was present on top of a fleur-de-lis aimed at the palm of his hand.

  I traced a finger along the design’s elegant lines. “Does it mean anything?”

  His voice came out gritty and low. “It’s a guide should I ever lose my way again.”

  I twisted around on my knees and faced him, my breath coming out in ragged gasps as I took in his handsome face, his words in Alaska rattling around in my head.

  I was wandering through life without aim, and then you found me and it was as if everything slid into place. In a tiny house in Alaska, I found my true north.

  I realized then that maybe I hadn’t lost everything in that fire, that maybe something more important remained untouched by the flames.

  So I reached out and kissed him to be sure. With both hands he cradled my head and kissed me back, opening up to deepen our connection. In that moment the grievances between us dissolved in the hot water, and all that was left were two people who had once learned every curve and ridge of each other’s bodies.