I skirted past him and this time there was no avoiding the contact. We bumped every ugly known to man and the urge to run my hand over his muscled abdomen as I inched past was almost irresistible.
Annnd then I remembered I was in a closet.
I sat down on the stack of books, and he crouched in front of me.
“Is the claustrophobia an inherited trait?” he asked, his voice gentle.
“No. Yes. I don’t know.” I knew he was just trying to be nice and get my mind off things, but it wasn’t working as well as I’d hoped. I was anxious and stressed and if I started talking, I might forget what I was anxious and stressed about and then I would worry about that until I remembered. It was a vicious cycle.
And I was a psycho.
Mr. Banto chose that moment to rock out a jamming guitar solo by mouth, and Mac chuckled. It was kind of nice to hear him laugh without his humor being aimed at me, and it broke the tension.
I mulled over his earlier question. “I guess my mom doesn’t like tight spaces either,” I said, worrying the edge of a leather-bound book with my thumbnail. “Then again, she’s afraid of a lot of things.”
Mac was quiet for a bit and then shifted into a seated position on the floor. “Like what?”
“Everything. The Council, her powers, anything to do with semis. I don’t get her deal at all sometimes,” I admitted, surprising myself with the admission. I’d thought it a bunch, but I’d never said the words out loud.
“She seems pretty strong to me, dealing with your grandmother and all.” He paused and shifted on the floor some before continuing. “It’s better sometimes, you know. To turn it off like that. Have a normal life.” He sounded older. Tired. But the words sent a spike of fear into my heart.
“Believe me, I’m fully aware of your opinion on the matter. But we had a deal and—”
“And I’m going to honor it.” He sounded offended at the suggestions that he wouldn’t. “I’m not judging you. I’m just saying maybe you shouldn’t judge her for her choice either. You don’t know what she may have been through. Our history is riddled with pain and ignorance and power struggles. Stuff happened, especially back in the day, that would make your blood go cold.” He said it lightly, like he was reading from the back of a cereal box, but I wasn’t buying it. That knowledge was first hand, and the urge to make contact, stroke his hair or touch his arm, was almost overwhelming. “I know she’s made mistakes, there are a million things she should have told you, but when it comes to this, I think it’s safe to say you really have no clue what she’s been through.”
Okay, maybe he was right. I was flying blind when it came to her past and who knew? Maybe she had a most excellent reason for getting out. I vowed to go a little easier on her. And then I revised my vow to add that I would also badger her about what had happened to make her decide on binding, until she broke down and told me. But I would badger her gently.
Baby steps.
Still. “I don’t think I’m ready to give up yet, even if I could. If I wasn’t able control my powers, believe me, I’d be the first one on the binding train once I come of age. But I don’t even know what I can really do yet. What if something amazing happens, something special, that could change the world?” I shrugged, the words to explain how strongly I felt about it eluding me. “I have to at least try. It’s part of me. Of who I am.”
“The Council is watching you,” he reminded me gently. “If you can’t get a hold on this, you won’t have a chance to bind your powers.”
Because they would strip them. A chill swept over me, and I wrapped my arms around myself. “Yeah, well, I’m not going down like that.”
He was quiet for a long time and when he finally spoke, his voice was filled with genuine confusion but barely a hint of judgment. “Explain it to me. If you’re still a danger, but can’t even start the binding process for months until your birthday, then why are you okay with risking people? Is keeping your power more important than human lives? I don’t get it.”
Of course he didn’t. He was Mr. Black-and-white. Mr. Honor. Mr. Play-by-the rules. I considered ending the conversation right there, but something inside me was desperate for his understanding. Maybe even his acceptance.
It took a minute to spit the words out. The words I hated saying more than any other words in the world. “My dad died when I was six.”
The hum of the vacuum cleaner was the only sound as he waited for me to continue.
“It was the hardest thing I’ve ever been through, and that includes this past year.” I tried to keep my voice neutral, but the tremor came through anyway and I wanted to kick myself. I was halfway there though, so I opted to woman up and finish it. “If I let the Council strip my powers, it will be like he never existed. Like a deleted scene in a movie, just lying on the cutting room floor.” My throat ached with unshed tears and when I swallowed, the sound filled the room. “He’s my dad. I can’t do that, Mac. I won’t do that.”
He stayed quiet for so long, I thought maybe he’d fallen asleep somehow. Then he murmured, “I lost my dad, too. When I was nine.”
His words were sad enough because I knew that pain well, but his tone was so bleak I flinched. He’d clearly been devastated by it, and I wished I knew what to say to comfort him. Not the things people had said to me, that was for sure.
“Your dad is in a better place, sweetheart.”
What better place was there than with me?
“He wouldn’t want you to be so sad, Maggie.”
How would you know? I’d wanted to ask. Most of the people that showed up for the funeral were ones I’d never seen before and I never saw again. They dropped off casseroles, did their duty, and went back to their own houses with their alive daddies and thanked God it wasn’t them.
“Sucks,” I murmured softly.
“Fuck yeah it does.” He shifted again, and his knee brushed up against my ankle. I didn’t move away and neither did he. “He, ah…used to take me fishing in the Sacred Grove. There were these cool fish, like largemouth bass, only colorful. We’d catch three of four and when it came time to killing them, I’d always get sad. He’d say, ‘Your ma is waiting for dinner, lad.’”
I could hear the smile in his voice, and it cracked my heart in two.
“And then he’d kneel down so we’d be face to face, and he’d say, ‘But I won’t tell if you won’t.’” The tenderness in his tone left me undone, and all I wanted to do was hug him. Tell him I understood. That I’d been there.
“Then we’d set them all free and go to the fish market in town and buy up half the case.” He paused for a long time, and I pressed my ankle harder against his knee. “She knew, you know?” He laughed a bittersweet laugh. “Like how could she not know? The fish were all wrapped in fucking paper. But she never said a word. She’d just pat us on the back for catching so many big ones.”
Tears burned my eyes, and I bit down on my lip to keep from sobbing, wishing I knew what to say to take a little of the pain away. Knowing exactly how he felt and knowing just as surely that there was nothing I could say that mattered. So I didn’t say anything at all. I just leaned down and ran my fingers through his hair. The space was as silent as a church and then it dawned on me.
The space was as silent as a church.
We’d both gotten quiet, but so had Mr. Banto. Shit.
“Somebody in there?”
The blood rushed to my ears and adrenalin dumped into my bloodstream, leaving a metallic taste coating my tongue. I swiped the tears from my face as Mac rose silently to his feet and grabbed my hand.
“Mrs. Verbiglio, that you?” The janitor’s voice was closer than it had been even a second before, and I strained toward the door to hear better.
Mac pulled me closer until his mouth was a breath from mine. “He’s walking toward us right now. I can hear his shoes on the carpet,” he whispered, the words coming fast and furious. “You need to crouch down behind that stack of boxes and stay quiet. I’m going to open the door and r
un. He’ll follow me. As soon as you hear him leave the room, go. Get out the window.”
His fingers touched mine, and he pressed his keys into my palm. I started to protest—even if I wanted to go, I couldn’t drive—but he beat me to the punch. “Start it, put the heat on, and call Libby or Bink to come get you.”
“Hello?” Mr. Banto called again, this time from what felt like less than ten feet away.
The ringing of a phone that sounded like a harpsichord had Mac freezing in place with a hand on the knob.
“Yeah?” The janitor went quiet for a second then blew out a sigh. “Laundry detergent and what else?” More silence, and I kept my hand on Mac’s arm, urging him to see how this played out. “Babe, I can’t hear you. I got shit reception on the second floor.” Another sigh. “Okay.”
Footsteps shuffled off in the direction of the exit, and my body started shaking uncontrollably. Neither of us spoke for a good thirty seconds until finally he tapped my arm.
“He’s gone. Let’s move.”
My feet felt glued to the floor as Mac turned the knob and peered out both ways before waving me on. I wasn’t about to be the downfall of this whole operation, and I forced myself to move. We walked quickly but quietly to the window, and he yanked it open.
I knew the drill this time and barely even gasped when his splayed hands closed over my waist. My arms were already in preparation for pulling myself through the window and this time we were skin to skin. The touch sent a flash of heat through me, blazing along my skin, and then…I don’t know what happened. Some weird form of spontaneous combustion maybe, but the usual crackle between us became a snap, and the shit hit the fan. The fire alarm blared so loudly, I almost screamed.
“Go, go, go!” he whispered furiously, all but throwing me out the window.
This time I didn’t argue and went, went, went, my pulse motoring like a freight train. I’d just managed to get to my feet on the grass when he came crawling out behind me. He slammed the window shut, and we tore ass to the car like the hounds of hell were on our heels.
I didn’t dare look back, but by the time we ran through the trees and reached the car, it became clear that there was no one chasing us, or if they were, they were far behind. We piled in, both gasping for breath.
“Right, then. Everything is fine.” He turned to face me, his face lit with relief. “You good?”
“I guess so. Yeah.” I ran a hand over my face and started to laugh. “Holy crap, that was terrifying. I’m so sorry about the fire alarm—”
“Ha! Because it was all going so smoothly until then.” A smile tugged at his lips as he turned the key in the ignition, then put the car in drive.
Maybe smoothly wasn’t the word, but I’d definitely added to the urgency of the situation. My cheeks flamed, and I cleared my throat. “Still, I’m sorry. I was using the alarm casing as a foothold and I must have—”
“Nope. You need to pull a fire alarm to engage it. I think your nervous energy must have messed with the electricity. It worked out, though. No harm, no foul.”
Easy for him to say. He wasn’t the one who’d gotten so hot and bothered from a simple touch that he’d almost gotten us busted.
We drove the rest of the way in silence, which was fine with me. I was too mortified to talk anyway. I hated that I didn’t know what his powers were. It left me at a huge disadvantage because what if he was some sort of telepath or could, I don’t know, sense how I was feeling about him? The idea was totally humiliating.
He pulled up into my driveway a few minutes later and, under the glare of my front porch light, the intimacy of all we’d been through in the past four hours got too heavy for me. I couldn’t wait to get out of there before it got any tenser.
“I appreciate you helping me out,” he said, twisting in his seat to face me.
I toyed with the door handle, wanting to bolt before I said something stupid. “No problem.”
“So tomorrow, same thing?” My expression must have been one of horror because he cracked out a laugh, which killed the tension. “No, not breaking and entering. I meant for training.”
“Yeah, okay,” I said. I shouldered the door open and stepped out of the car. I’d been worried that things would be awkward between us after the talk we’d have, and all the close contact moments and dirty thoughts, but clearly it was totally one-sided and he was chill with everything. Great, I could be chill, too.
Not disappointing at all.
It was a relief. For sure. At least he didn’t know how I was feeling. We could both just pretend like nothing had happened and everything would be fine.
I was just about to close the car door when he called out after me. “And Mags?”
I paused, bending to peer in at him, and his lips spread into a shit-eating grin.
“Sweet dreams.”
Chapter Twelve
When I walked in the door, the whole house was quiet, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully that meant Mom had gone to bed early. It was the second day in a row that I’d missed dinner and gotten home past eight without calling. No doubt a lecture would be all cued up and ready to go the second she saw me.
I toed off my shoes and set them by the door, making sure not to step on the squeaky board in front of the stairs. I was hungry enough to eat my way out of a pit of bacon cheeseburgers, but even the lure of greasy meat wasn’t strong enough to risk clattering around in the kitchen for pans and waking up my mother.
“Nice of you to drop in.”
I froze with one foot on the stairs and bit back a groan. “Hey, I’m glad you’re up,” I said, turning to face her. It took me a second to find her because she was sitting on my father’s old, worn leather chair in the corner of the living room. In the dark. Like a crazy person. WTF was up with that?
Suddenly, I knew that this wasn’t even going to be your garden variety, you-can’t-be-out-gallivanting-at-all-hours-during-the-school-week kind of lecture. This was serious business.
The dread that seemed to be my newest BFF crawled up my spine to settle at the base of my neck. Had something happened to Gram? Before that fear could take root, common sense took over. Mom would have called me. Plus, now that I was paying attention, I could hear my grandmother’s snores echoing from her bedroom on the main floor. It used to be our dining room, but we’d converted it a couple years back when walking up the stairs had gotten too hard for her.
I gave one last longing look up said stairs, then backed off the step and crossed the hallway into the living room.
She still hadn’t said a word by the time I’d sat crisscross-applesauce on the couch across from her, and she was really starting to freak me out.
“Can I turn on the light or something?” I asked, unnerved by her intent stare. For someone who didn’t seem to feel all that chatty, she certainly was doing a lot of judging just with the eye contact alone. She might have missed her calling. She’d have been a top-notch interrogator for the FBI or something.
I shifted, tucking my still-numb-from-the-cold feet under my butt and waited. It had been a while, but this weird thing she was doing wasn’t exactly new. The last time we’d gone through this was when she’d told me about who and what I was. She’d had the same face on then. The “shit’s about to get real” face and that got me even more nervous.
“I need you to tell me what you’re doing and who you’re doing it with.”
Soooo, no lights, I guess? I knew better than to say that out loud though. All righty, discussion in the relative dark like some sort of mafia confessional it is!
I shrugged and wet my lips. It was bound to happen. I’d expected to get a little more time before I had to tell her at least part of it, but hey, the way I looked at it was, at least I wasn’t out doing drugs or something, right?
“I’ve been with Mac. We’re—”
“You’re what?” she asked in a furious whisper.
“Hanging out. That’s all.”
She expelled a breath. “Okay, so this isn’t someth
ing I need to be concerned about, then?”
I jerked back and shook my head furiously. “Oh no, definitely not. He’s not, like, my boyfriend.” Or really friend, even, if I was being honest. He’d made sure to tell me that more than once.
She ran a hand through her already mussed blond hair and nodded, as if to herself. “That’s good. I can live with that. Are you being careful?”
“Mom! We’re not having sex. I just told you, it’s not like that.”
“I’m not talking about sex, Maggie. I’m talking about…you.” Her tight, pursed lips and raised brows spoke a thousand words. Me. She was worried about me doing something bad to him. It was written all over her face.
My eyes stung, but I managed to keep it together. Stuff’s pretty crappy if your mom is afraid for you to go on a date in case you bring him back dead.
“I’m doing fine.” Now it was my turn to be cold. How could she think I would have spent any time with this guy, or any guy, if I had concerns over whether or not I would injure him? She’d seen what I’d gone through after everything with Eric and how I’d basically become a frigging nun since then. If that wasn’t enough to convince her, then I don’t know what would be.
“I know that you’d never hurt someone on purpose, but you have very little control and—”
“No thanks to you. It would have been nice to give me a little warning. Or how about some advice?” Now I was mad. Seething, and the vow I’d made to myself an hour ago in the closet with Mac sizzled to a crisp under the heat of my anger. She had a lot of nerve coming down on me when I’d asked her dozens—no, hundreds of times for advice and how to handle my ever-strengthening powers, and her answer had always been the same. Fight it. Fight it and eventually it will go away.
No amount of begging had changed her mind, and while I definitely wanted to get a handle on my powers enough that they didn’t affect my every waking thought, I didn’t want them to go away. After saying it out loud to Mac earlier, I knew it with total clarity.
Chaos (Kardia Chronicles) (Entangled Teen) Page 16