by Ranae Rose
He looked like he was about to say something else, but didn’t. And then his expression changed. “Hey, what do you mean you don’t have any business with me or anyone else? Do you have a secret husband locked away in an attic or something?”
His words hit her like a ton of bricks, and she felt suddenly and absurdly exposed, even though what he’d said was just as ridiculous as he’d obviously meant it to be. “No, of course not. My house is way too small to hold someone prisoner in without getting caught.”
“Right. No attic, and no basement. What’s the deal, then – are you a nun on the lam?”
“Ha, no.” She might as well have been. Her date at the café with Grey, complete with shark cookies, had been the most romance she’d experienced in years.
“Then what is it – you can’t just break my heart, crush my dreams and leave me hanging.”
He was exaggerating, but he was still right. He deserved a clear explanation. She hated – absolutely hated – not being able to give him one. If she maintained her silence or gave him some vague bullshit answer, he’d probably think she was trying to be coy, like a 12 year old girl instead of the 27 year old woman she was.
A tiny, insane part of her wanted to tell him everything. But her tongue was like stone in her mouth and in her mind’s eye, she could see her world crumbling around her if she spoke the words. If she let her past come to life, even in a story, the confession would act as a spell – dark magic – and destroy the appearance of normalcy she was able to maintain.
She had to shut out who she’d been, because that person couldn’t coexist with who she was now. She wasn’t strong enough to face the past. Not yet. She’d made a little progress, but she still had miles to go.
She might make it there someday, if she didn’t screw up along the way, trying to fake a level of normalcy, of happiness, that she wasn’t equipped to deal with.
“I’m not trying to be coy or mysterious,” she forced herself to say. “But I’m not looking to date anyone. Not even someone I really like. It’s just not in the cards for me right now.”
God, she sounded like an idiot.
Even though he would’ve been within his rights to be irritated, she was terrified that he’d be pissed, maybe even walk away. Though she’d just rejected him, she hoped – pathetically, she knew – that he’d still maintain a casual friendliness with her. That she’d still get to see him during group outings, where she could secretly lust after him like a penniless person window-shopping.
For a moment he just sat there examining his water bottle like it was the eighth wonder of the world.
She waited for the explosion of annoyance, the exclamation of disgust.
“No explanation, no dice,” he finally said.
“What?”
“If you won’t tell me why you won’t date me, even though the attraction is mutual, I’m not giving up.”
She sat in stunned silence. Then, a sense of horror dawned on her. She’d pushed herself to say what she had to – to reject him. And he wasn’t buying it. A few defiant words from him, and she already felt her resolve wavering.
“Now you’re just teasing me.” She tried to sound like her heart wasn’t in her throat.
“I’m completely serious. If you think I’m joking, you overestimated me.”
“Overestimated?”
“Yup. You clearly thought I could be a mature adult about this and respect your mysterious reasons why you have to be alone. Well, you don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
Her mouth was dry now. “Don’t I?”
He peeled off his sunglasses and looked her directly in the eye. Even through her own lenses, she felt his gaze, intense and searing. “You’ll have to be on guard from now on if you really want to resist me, because I’m going to charm the hell out of you. Prepare to fall in love.”
She wanted to laugh. And run before she could do something stupid, like melt into a puddle of wishful thinking fantasies. Instead she said: “Oh, come on. Don’t waste your time on me. You could have women falling at your feet if you wanted.”
His grin was brighter than the sun. “Thanks, but the only woman I want falling at my feet is you.”
“Why?”
“You have the best triceps in Riley County. Female ones, anyway. And Liam and Henry have been laughing at me all summer because you keep turning me down. I need to regain my dignity.”
“You know, I was a little worried when you said you were going to charm the hell out of me. But if this is what you meant by that, I feel secure in my ability to resist.”
“I’m lulling you into a false sense of security. When you least expect it, I’m going to unleash the charm.”
She finally let herself laugh. Secretly, she was still worried. Grey was charming in a way she’d never encountered before she’d met him – even when he didn’t mean to be.
That was the danger of being around him, the irresistible appeal: she didn’t think she had it in herself to love anyone, but if things had been different and she was capable, she’d love someone like him.
“Seriously,” he said, “do you need a reason to want to be with someone? I’ve been crazy about you ever since I met you.”
A reason? His words echoed inside her mind and she realized that yes, she needed a reason. Or at least, she had in the past. Part of the reason why this attraction was so frustrating was that she had no experience with being liked by a man just because.
She’d never been anything other than an easy opportunity, and then, eventually, an obligation.
The idea of being wanted simply because someone found her attractive and likeable was almost unreal.
CHAPTER 8
“This is the part where I say something charming and then you invite me in for coffee.” Grey stood on Kerry’s front porch, carrying the tote bag full of beach towels and sunblock he’d taken from her arms.
“I’m inviting you in,” she said, “but it’s because it hasn’t quite been 24 hours since you hit your head. I’m supposed to keep an eye on you for three more hours.”
“Great. I can work all kinds of magic in three hours.”
Kerry threw the towels in the washer, slowly put away the sun block and generally acted awkward in her own home until she decided that making coffee would actually be a brilliant distraction for a whopping two minutes.
Grey said he’d like some and so she made half a pot and accidentally dumped too much coffee into the machine when she was spooning in the grounds.
It came out strong but good, and as she sat across from Grey at the kitchen table, sipping from a striped and lightly chipped mug, things started to feel surreal again.
Surreal and strikingly ordinary at the same time. Relaxing, almost. Was this what it would feel like to be with Grey – really be with him, in a relationship?
She pushed the thought away, washed it down with too-hot black coffee.
“Guess I need to run this over to my neighbor’s place.” She picked up the newspaper she’d left on the table, mostly just for something to do with her hands.
The rubber band snapped, like it was old, and the paper unfurled against her fingers.
“Oh.” Oh, shit. “I had no idea they were still running stories on this. When are they going to drop it?”
Familiar words stood out bold in the headline, conjuring up images of an equally familiar place. Wisteria Plantation House Set Aflame by Randy Levinson, it read, as if it had happened just yesterday instead of two months ago.
By the time the mansion had been torched, everyone had known who Randy Levinson was. His name in the headline was a much bolder and darker statement than a description like ‘escaped felon’ or ‘convicted murderer’ would’ve been.
A crease formed between Grey’s eyes as he reached for the paper. “It’s bullshit if you ask me. What kind of tourist town keeps reminding people that a psychopath went on a killing spree here?”
He had a point. Still, Kerry’s initial disgust had been purely selfish. Sure, s
he worked at the county’s biggest tourist draw – besides the beaches – but being reminded of the disaster at Wisteria inflicted a deeply personal pain.
She hated remembering that god-awful day, hated thinking about how she’d come so close to losing most if not all of the very few people she really cared about. She dreamed about it, sometimes – failing Sasha in her time of need haunted her nightmares.
“Wait.” Grey picked up the paper, shook its curled pages. “This is an old paper, from back in July.”
“Really? That’s weird.” Kerry’s heart skipped a beat as a sense of wariness rose up inside her.
Over the past few years she’d become the wariest person she knew – paranoid was probably a better word for it. Any little thing that was off made her wonder why, whether it might mean something strange. Something terrible.
Even an old newspaper.
“Jesus,” Grey said, still frowning at the paper, “look at this picture. It’s you.”
Kerry’s heart slammed against her ribs. “What?”
“You and Sasha, and those two gardeners. Her mom too, I think.”
She saw the scene in her mind’s eye, even before he surrendered the paper for her examination. If all those people were together in one picture, it could only mean one thing.
He was right: the picture was like a scene straight out of her nightmares, a moment she’d never be able to forget captured in brutal, indifferent black and white.
“Oh, God.” In the photo, Sasha lay in the grass on the lawn, her chef’s uniform singed and stained. Ernesto and Phil – gardeners at Wisteria – wore expressions of grim sorrow, having just carried her out of the burning basement.
Everyone looked stricken, devastated, because at that point they’d all more than half believed Sasha to be dead.
Tears welled in Kerry’s eyes now just like they had then, encouraged by the acrid smoke billowing out of the house. To her shame, she couldn’t hold them back.
They streaked down her cheeks and ruined the mysterious paper from two months ago.
Grey grabbed the paper, folded its crinkled pages up like sloppy origami and tucked it under his arm. “Don’t look anymore. There’s no point.”
Kerry rubbed a wrist across her cheeks, stopping her tears in their tracks and biting her tongue.
Where the hell had that paper come from? It’d been printed two months ago, and she didn’t subscribe to any newspapers in the first place. She hadn’t even known about the article, or the photo.
“Wait.” She stood when Grey stretched out an arm, about to throw the paper into the kitchen trashcan. “Don’t throw it out.”
“Why?”
“I just… I’ll get rid of it later. Just not yet – not when I don’t know where it came from or how it got on my front porch.”
Grey frowned. “A mix-up with the paper delivery, maybe? An old paper left at the bottom of a bag or bin. Or maybe a dog – a dog that took it when it was first delivered and hoarded it somewhere for a while.”
Kerry’s tears had been the first moisture to touch the paper’s pages – the integrity of the cheap ink had been uncompromised, until she’d gotten a hold of it. No dog slobber, no rain had touched the paper before.
“I don’t know. But I feel like I should wait to get rid of it.”
“Okay.” He stood, put the paper on top of the fridge.
“There – now you still have it, but you won’t be able to reach it to inflict any emotional trauma upon yourself.” The barest hint of a smile played around his mouth.
“Thanks.” With the paper out of sight and the initial shock of seeing it past, her tears had stopped. Now, with dry eyes, she was left to simmer in uncomfortable silence. “For the record though, I’m an expert at climbing chairs and counters to get my hands on things. Practically a ninja.”
“Huh. I always wondered how you short people got things out of cupboards.”
He was over six feet tall and probably had to worry more about bumping his head on high-up things than not being able to reach them.
She stood up, conscious of the immense difference in size between them – the way his body seemed to exert a presence she couldn’t help but nearly be overwhelmed by, one that dwarfed hers. It wasn’t just his physical size that made it feel that way. It was his presence of personality, too.
She felt like she knew him, and she liked what she knew. And she couldn’t fathom why he liked her so much when she was so comparatively closed off.
Of course, if she showed him her true colors, she’d probably scare him off for good.
“I don’t know about you,” he said, “but I’m starving. Wanna order a pizza or something?”
“Actually,” she stood up and made a beeline for the fridge, infused with sudden purpose, “how about I cook something? I try not to eat fast food or takeout too often.”
“Don’t feel like you have to cook for me. You’ve already been so good to me over the past 24 hours, I’d be glad to pick up the tab for dinner.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She was already pulling salmon filets out of the fridge. She’d put them in marinade the day before and had been planning to make them to take to work for lunch, but they’d do just fine as dinner now. “I’m not a pro like Sasha, but I do like to cook.”
Really, she couldn’t bear the thought of sitting around with idle hands for the next half hour, waiting for dinner to arrive. Cooking would give her something to do, a welcome respite from sitting around her house trying and failing to relax.
Grey offered to help her make dinner, but she refused on the grounds that he was supposed to be resting.
“You know I’m fine, right?” he said, but sat down at the table with a cup of coffee.
The scent of soy sauce sweetened with brown sugar rose from the skillet as she cooked the marinated salmon, simultaneously preparing a salad on the counter beside the stove. She had a stash of microwaveable sweet potatoes, and popped two into the microwave while she worked.
It was a meal she’d made dozens of times before, and still, there was something deeply satisfying about making it. Back in Kentucky, she’d done all the cooking in her house, but she’d considered it drudgery then. The same casseroles and meatloaves, cheap meats and overdone potatoes: she hadn’t dared to stray from the limited menu of his favorites.
Their home had been a dictatorship, and everything she’d done had been subject to his militant scrutiny.
Issues like variety, health and nutrition hadn’t even crossed her mind. The freedom to cook and eat what she wanted had been one of the first changes in her new life, when she’d finally left Kentucky and her past behind. The novelty still hadn’t worn off. Food was something she could control, a tangible example of the changes she’d made in her life, a manifestation of the direction she’d finally chosen for herself.
She caught sight of her own reflection in the kitchen window and couldn’t help but study it, contrasting it with the mental image of her old self. She was slimmer now, her facial features more defined, having been mined from the ten or so extra pounds she’d carried across state lines, all the way from Eastern Kentucky to the country’s east coast. Her hair was longer too, and healthier. Her eyes looked different, somehow, though she couldn’t say exactly why.
She finished making dinner in a haze of bitter nostalgia and mild wonder, and when she lowered two plates onto the table, it dawned on her how much things really had changed, for the better.
She wasn’t the kind of person she’d wanted to be by now, but she wasn’t the same person who’d left Kentucky in an $800 car with a cooler packed full of water and peanut butter sandwiches, either. The realization felt like a victory – a silver lining that shone bright and precious around the edges of all her insecurities and shortcomings.
* * * * *
“It’s been a great 24 hours.” Grey stood on his front porch, facing Kerry as the September evening darkened around them.
She’d driven him to her jiu-jitsu place, where he’d picked u
p his car. Afterward, she’d insisted on following him home to make sure he made it there safely.
He’d spent the ten minute drive from the jiu-jitsu building to his house wondering whether he should fake a splitting headache so he wouldn’t have to part ways with Kerry.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
Of course, he told the disappointing truth. “Just fine. Thanks a lot for hanging out with me.”
“It was no problem.”
She said that, but her face told a different story. She wore the tiniest of frowns as he stood at the top of the porch stairs.
“You can count on me to return the favor if you ever need it. Just give me a call if anyone assaults you with their foot and you need a knight in shining armor to keep an eye on you.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Evening was quickly turning to night; the tail end of summer was fading away, and the days were already shorter. He had work in the morning, needed to go home and get some rest.
“Do me a favor,” he said.
“What?”
“Don’t tell Liam and Henry about all this. They’ll never let me live it down.”
No way did he want them to find out he’d finally gotten a 24 hour block of alone time with Kerry and it had led to her rejecting him.
“My lips are sealed. Guess I’ll see you this weekend?”
He nodded. “I still get to walk you down the aisle, right – you’re not gonna kick me to the curb for Liam’s brother?”
“No, he’s been paired with Alicia’s cousin. I wouldn’t dream of rearranging the wedding party.”
“Good. Although if you had ditched me, I could’ve slipped Alicia’s cousin a twenty to casually mention to you how great it was to walk down the aisle with me.”
“Guess I’ll just have to judge that for myself.” She flashed him a quick smile.