If I Could Stay

Home > Other > If I Could Stay > Page 11
If I Could Stay Page 11

by Annette K. Larsen


  When I did pull myself onto shore, I had stood there, looking back at the black ocean for several interminable minutes, shocked that I had made it. Terrified of the unknown. Desperate to keep putting distance between him and me. But more than anything, proud that I had succeeded.

  “Hey.” I jumped at the sound of Jack’s voice and frantically clicked on the button to close out the window. Luckily I had been in the middle of the article so the headline hadn’t been visible.

  I tried to still my trembling hands and had to clear my throat before I could speak. “Hi,” I said, looking over my shoulder, but not quite enough to look at him. “Sorry. I must have lost track of time.” I raked my fingers through my dyed-dark hair, pulling it into a ponytail and then letting it go when I realized I had no hairband and no reason to put my hair up.

  He moved into the room, leaning his hip against the desk beside me before speaking up. “What’s wrong?”

  I gathered all my self-control and painted on a curious but bland expression before turning to him. “Nothing.” I stood. “Are you ready to endure my movie selection?” I smiled in an attempt to tease him, but his eyes continued to study me, intent and unwavering.

  “I can tell something is wrong. If you would just tell me what it is, I could help.”

  The way he said it, blunt and honest, no pretense, put me even more on edge. I moved toward the door, trying to skirt around him. “Sorry, Officer Trent, but not everything—”

  “This has nothing to do with me being a cop,” he said as he blocked my way, and I could tell he was upset by my implication.

  I didn’t know if I should feel bad about that or not. “Are you sure about that?” He might have different motives, but surely his professional curiosity came into play. How could it not?

  “Oh, I’m sure. If this were police work, I would be going about things a whole lot differently.”

  “So then what’s it about?”

  He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head down just a little. “Did it never occur to you that I might actually care?”

  I bit my lip and looked at the carpet. Of course I wanted him to care. Every once in a while I even thought he did. But every time he started asking questions, I was reminded of the two cops who’d shown up with my father when he told me my mother was dead. I was reminded of Silas, his crisp uniform and willingness to do anything my father asked. I was reminded of Russo’s men masquerading as FBI agents and how Sam had led me right to them.

  “What are you thinking right now?” he asked.

  I had to pull myself out of the mire of corrupt cops I’d been slogging through to focus again on his face. “Nothing. Why?”

  “You had that look again.” His words came out sounding so dejected and concerned that I had to wonder what kind of emotions I’d been letting slip onto my face without realizing it. “You get this look in your eyes once in a while, the same look that I saw just now when you were reading whatever was on that computer. And every time I see that look, I want to know who is responsible for putting it there. And,” he cut me off when I opened my mouth to speak, “it’s not because I’m looking for another case or another arrest. It’s because you matter.”

  I swallowed, not knowing what to say to that.

  “Is it your father? Is he the person all of this goes back to?”

  I folded my arms and lifted one shoulder. The answer was yes, but talking about it wasn’t something I was willing to do right now.

  He sighed and stepped forward, carefully wrapping his arms around my shoulders and resting his chin on my head. I kept my arms folded but leaned into him, into his comforting scent.

  After a minute of silence I relaxed my arms and threaded them under his coat and around his waist, feeling the heat of his back seep into my hands. He tightened his embrace just a little in response. “You deserve better,” he murmured into my hair.

  I let out a shuddering breath. “Thanks,” I said before making myself pull back. I glanced at him but couldn’t hold his gaze, so I tipped my head toward the office door. “We have an appointment with a movie.”

  He gave a firm nod. “So we do.” He wrapped his hand around mine and pulled me from the room then helped me with my coat before giving Adeline a jaunty wave and leading me out of the house.

  “I could have walked by myself, you know.” I said it with a smile so he would know I wasn’t being critical.

  “I do know that. But I have a younger sister, and I would hope that any guy she dated would be polite enough to pick her up.”

  “Just one sister?”

  “No. Two. My older sister is married. Her husband is very good at opening doors.”

  “So how is it that you don’t already have a girl who you politely open doors for and pick up for dates?”

  He gave me a sidelong glance. “Like a girlfriend?”

  “Yeah,” I said, trying to sound casual, like I wasn’t checking to make sure he was free and clear for me to daydream about. “What’s wrong with girls around here? You’re a cop, a local hero. Shouldn’t they be flocking?”

  He let out a little guffaw. “I should have you write my online dating profile.”

  I smirked. “Don’t tempt me.”

  He cleared his throat. “There were a couple girls that…flocked. When I first moved here three years ago after graduating from the academy. But that didn’t last long. I was too in love with my career to pay enough attention to a girl.”

  We stepped up onto his porch and he opened his door for me as I thought about the implications of him not having time for a girl before, but being able to spend time with me now.

  The movie was fun. Having Jack reach for my hand in the middle of the movie made me all fluttery and warm. I felt a little ridiculous having such a teenager reaction, but my experience with new love—or old love, or any kind of love—was stunted at best. The feel of his fingers running over my palm and weaving between my own fingers made my hormones jump up and stand at attention. I was twenty-one; this shouldn’t be new to me, but it felt blessedly, wonderfully new.

  By the end of the movie, Jack and I were leaning shoulder to shoulder as Jack’s fingertips ran down my wrist, over my palm, and back up again.

  Movie night was my new favorite thing.

  When the credits rolled, I reluctantly stood and helped Jack tidy up. We worked in tandem, and several times he put a hand on my hip or my back as he passed me. They were familiar and comfortable gestures, but they also sent zings up my spine every time.

  As we pulled on our coats and scarves in preparation for confronting the frosty night, there was almost a tangible electricity between us. Time to breathe some bracing fresh air and clear my head.

  We headed out and it took only one house length before my teeth started to chatter. Jack laughed out loud. “You really are a cold-weather lightweight,” he said before wrapping his arm around my shoulders.

  “I’m just out of practice, that’s all,” I defended as my arms wrapped themselves around his waist of their own accord.

  We walked the rest of the way in our clumsy arms-wrapped-around-each-other gait, but I didn’t care. Having Jack’s arms around me, no matter how casually, filled one of the desperately lonely holes that had been carved in my heart.

  We went up Adeline’s walk and he rubbed his hand up and down my arm. “We’ve arrived. Go inside where it’s warm.”

  “Thanks, Jack.”

  I pulled away and let myself in with the key Adeline had given me before giving him a final wave and stepping inside. He smiled as I closed the door on him.

  I turned the lock and lifted my hand to my mouth, trying to cover the grin that wouldn’t go away. Jack was…real. And that was extraordinarily appealing to me right now. Despite all the cop baggage, despite the constant gnawing fear, I couldn’t help but appreciate what he was and how he treated me.

  I turned from the door, the ridiculous grin still on my face right until I glanced into the dining room on my left and saw the figure sitting in the chai
r.

  The scream that ripped from my throat was involuntary, and I fell back against the door before flipping around and clawing at the deadbolt. Just as I managed to turn it, the door was pushed open from the outside and Jack burst in, his gun drawn. He pushed me behind him and I cowered at his back as he swung his weapon from side to side, looking for the danger.

  I lunged for the light switch, bathing the scene in a yellow glow.

  A life-size doll sat at Adeline’s table, blonde curls stiff, pink dress covered in so much lace I wanted to set it on fire. My back hit the doorframe as I fell back in relief and pressed my hand into my chest. Some of Adeline’s grandkids must have been over tonight and decided to move the thing.

  Jack’s arms dropped to his sides and he let his head fall back as he blew out a breath.

  It was then that the heat crawled up my neck and into my face. Officer Trent had come charging in, gun drawn, because I had screamed at the sight of a doll. A doll. I covered my face with my hands and shook my head, muttering, “I’m sorry.”

  He let out a sigh. “Trust me, you are not the first person to get the crap scared out of them by one of Adeline’s dolls. Nor will you be the last.”

  I dropped my hands so I could see him. “You’re just saying that.” No way had anyone else mistaken a doll for an armed intruder.

  “I’m really not. Ask any of her kids. They’ll tell you.” He lifted up the back of his jacket and put his gun in what I had to assume was a holster at his lower back.

  “Have you had that on you all night?” I asked, unsure how I felt about it.

  “No, but when I leave the house, it comes with me.” His brow furrowed in concern as he studied me. “Does that bother you?”

  It should. Shouldn’t it? I shook my head. “It’s fine.” I wrapped one hand around my upper arm and realized I was shaking.

  Jack pulled me into a hug and I latched onto his solid chest and allowed him to maneuver us out of the doorway so he could shut out the cold. Then he just held onto me, running his hand up and down my back. I let him, mostly because my heart was still in my throat and I was having a tough time coming down from the scare, but also because it was him. Somehow Jack had wormed his way past my defenses, and I was terrifyingly okay with that.

  “You’re still shaking,” he pointed out.

  “Sorry.”

  “I wasn’t looking for an apology. I’m worried about you.”

  My hands dropped from around him and I stepped back, tucking my hair behind my ears and trying to shake off my embarrassment. “I’m really okay, it’s just…” How could I explain it?

  “You live in constant fear?” he asked, his tone dry.

  “I guess so.” Way to underplay it, Leila. I’m sure he’ll believe you.

  “I just wish you could feel safe, that you’d let me in.”

  “Believe it or not, I’m trying.” It was really important to me in that moment that he understand—that he know that despite my inborn compulsion to not trust anyone, I at least knew he deserved my trust. “It’s just that my focus has been on running for so long that stepping back from that, even a little bit is…uncomfortable.” Terrifying.

  “I know you’re running, but you don’t have to run from me. You can just”—he gave a little shrug—“be you.”

  What would that be like? Staying? He made it so tempting. “Thanks. I’m trying.”

  “You shouldn’t have to try,” he muttered.

  “Maybe not, but I’ve spent the last four years pretending to be anyone but myself, so—”

  “I know. I just meant that it’s unfair that you have to try at all.” He wrapped his arms around me again in a brief hug. “Get some sleep.”

  I locked the door behind him then checked it and all the other doors and windows twice before finally going up to bed.

  10

  I WOKE UP early the next morning and snuck down to Adeline’s office to use her computer before she woke up. I spent an hour reading every recent mention of my father. The auction house in L.A. was doing well, but there didn’t seem to be the same indications of illegal smuggling or black market deals as there were with the Manhattan auction house. Probably because he didn’t have as many law enforcement personnel in his pocket in L.A. I tried to find any hint that he had visited Louisiana or Missouri lately, but I found nothing. Not surprising. He wouldn’t be looking for me himself anyway. His girlfriend still hadn’t been found. No body, no nothing. It didn’t sit well with me. Maybe Silas had gotten to her. He always worked under the radar. That’s why he was valuable.

  I gave up and cleared my search history then ran upstairs to take a shower. When the home health nurse arrived to get Adeline up and ready for the day, I left to go to the store. It would be a good two hours before Adeline was ready to get started on her projects. Maybe I could convince her to move the doll that was sitting in the dining room before it ended up giving someone a heart attack.

  As I was walking by Jack’s house, the door opened and he came jogging down the steps. “Hey, Angel. Wait up.”

  I smiled despite myself. “It’s Celeste.”

  “No, it’s not. Listen. Where are you headed right now?”

  His refusal to use my made-up name had somehow become endearing, and I let it be. “Just to the market to grab a few things.”

  “If I drive you, will you get coffee with me first?” He gave me a cheesy, winning smile.

  “Sure.” I turned toward his truck and he pulled the door open for me before climbing in himself. “It’s the least I can do after you protected me from that intruder last night.”

  “Ah yes, the lacy bandit.”

  I snorted a laugh.

  “I’ll have to get a mugshot of her to put up in the station.”

  I smiled as I looked out the windshield, marking every person I saw, though they were few. Once in a while it crossed my mind that I had developed an interesting set of skills. I probably would have been a fairly good spy. Too bad I had no desire whatsoever to be in that line of work.

  “Have you ever thought of doing the whole government agent thing?” I asked before I could think better of it. And really, I should have known better.

  He didn’t respond and I refused to look at him. All of the reasons why that had been a stupid thing to ask skipped through my head. It would remind him of investigations, criminals, mysteriously burned cars, the urge to share intel with other agencies…

  “Sure,” he finally answered in a voice that was way too casual. “Career moves like that are always rattling around at the back of my brain.” There was a pause that was just a little too long before he asked, “What about you?”

  “What about me?” I asked, trying not to sound as defensive as I felt.

  “What career would you choose?”

  It was the unspoken if you weren’t running from your father that broke my heart. He knew I couldn’t just pursue a career. But he also wasn’t hounding me about my situation. That had to be killing him.

  “Well…I wouldn’t be an agent.” I said it with a teasing smile, but the truth was that I had no idea what I would be. I was twenty-one. I should still be in school. I should be arguing with professors and writing papers about my views and opinions. Or maybe I would have dropped out after discovering it wasn’t for me. Maybe I would have gotten into acting. Acting came naturally to me, a consequence of having to pretend all the time. Of course if I hadn’t been running, I wouldn’t have developed that ability, so it would never have crossed my mind. Maybe I would have continued my violin lessons, played with a symphony one day. That was the one thing I had regretted having to leave behind. “Maybe I’d be a professional organizer. I seem to have a knack for that.”

  We pulled up to Dino’s Diner and went inside. We sat at a round corner booth and I was grateful to have a good vantage point and a wall at my back. It was midmorning, so there weren’t many customers. Just enough to put me on edge.

  We ordered coffee. I wanted to get a croissant too, but I didn’t exactl
y have money to burn. I was sure that Jack would pay for my coffee, and I didn’t want him paying for any more.

  As the server walked away, I couldn’t help myself. “I’m a little disappointed that you didn’t get a donut, Mr. Po-lice Officer,” I said with a smirk.

  “I love donuts,” he responded without missing a beat.

  “Oh good; you’ve restored my faith in cop clichés.”

  “Glad to be of service.” He put both hands behind his head and stretched, pushing his chest forward and making the fabric of his t-shirt strain. He was doing that on purpose, mocking me with his ability to eat donuts and still look like that.

  “Seriously, though,” he continued. “My mom makes these homemade donuts that are absolutely amazing. I’m always trying to convince her that she could make several dozen to send home with me, but she insists that if I want the donut goodness, I have to be sitting at her table.”

  “She sounds like a good mom,” I said, mostly to myself.

  “She is.” He ran the tips of his fingers over the back of my hand where it lay crumpling a napkin on the table. I went still, liking the gesture just as much as I had liked it last night when he’d put his arm around me to keep me warm.

  “Hey, Trent!”

  Our hands were jostled apart as the table was shaken by the arrival of two men.

  Two men in uniform.

  Crap.

  One slid in beside Jack and the other beside me. I was literally surrounded by cops. Trapped. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

  Completely exposed.

  I folded in on myself, slinking down in my seat, bowing my head, wrapping my arms around myself.

  “Hey, Maxwell. Heinz,” Jack returned their greetings as he rested what I assume was supposed to be a comforting hand on my knee. In reality it just made me feel tied down, even more trapped than before.

 

‹ Prev