Strains of Silence

by Strains of Silence (retail) (epub)

  “As in, he helped run it?”

  “Eventually. People knew not to mess with him either. He was one bad dude.”

  “I can see vestiges of the scary,” Kasia said.

  A.J. nodded with a smile. “But then Aunt Dahlia got his attention.”

  “You’ve never mentioned her.”

  “She passed away the year before I moved down here, but her last request was that Frankie quit anything that could be interpreted as crime. So he did.”

  “Wow.”

  “I’m real proud of him.” A.J. offered Kasia a piece of gum. “He could make loads more money in a better part of town, but he didn’t want to walk away from all his connections. He’s strictly legal now, but those rich thugs pay him well when they want something legit.”

  “Do you think he misses his old life?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “When did you move in with him?” Kasia glanced over in time to see A.J.’s shoulders tense up. She’d crossed into forbidden territory.

  “The summer after eleventh grade. Tell me more about Peru.”

  ~*~

  Conversation buzzed around Zan, bounced off the walls of the locker room as if it had nowhere better to go. Zan ignored it and instead checked his phone. He needed some news about Bailey.

  He towel dried his hair and tugged on his clean shirt. Practice hadn’t provided enough distraction today.

  Markman caught his eye as he hiked his foot onto the bench and tied his shoes.

  The man waved him into his office. “You’re as unfocused as I’ve ever seen you, Zan.”

  “I’m sorry.” Zan closed the door behind him. “Bailey’s still in a coma, and Mom’s radio silent—or there’s nothing worth hearing. I’ve got a court date soon—to testify against Mike.”

  “When?”

  “Two weeks from now. Just for a couple days. My testimony’s at the end of the trial. Do I need to have it recorded or something?”

  “Sit down a minute.”

  Zan sat, immediately as uncomfortable as he’d been in his former coach’s office.

  “Let me level with you, Zan. I understand a lot’s weighing on you here, but you need to find an outlet for it. Or let baseball be your outlet. When you step between the lines, you’ve got to be one-hundred percent, or the guys who do give it everything will play right over you. Competition is high, and I need to field the best team I can. I pulled quite a few strings to get you here, and both our reputations are on the line. Can you give me one-hundred percent on the field?”

  “Yes, sir. Everything I’ve got left.”

  Coach nodded. “Since it’s fall and we alternate days on the field with days in the gym, I can let you go for three days—but no more. If you think they’ll need you longer, you’ll need to make arrangements for your testimony. And when you’re here, I want you completely here. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir. And…thanks.”

  “Any time. And my offer still stands. Or you can call me on my cell.” He scrawled a number on an index card and handed it to Zan.

  Zan stepped out into the rowdy locker room and shouldered his duffel. He needed to take his time back to the dorm. Clear his head for real.

  He pulled out his phone as he left.

  A new post from Kasia. Back home and missing Peru already.

  Home. Awesome.

  ~*~

  A.J. said goodbye to Kasia as she entered the art building. She needed some studio time to finish a project, and then she had plans with Jayce. Kasia had about twenty minutes to occupy until Kyle showed up. The campus seemed deserted but peaceful. Next week, it would be a different world.

  Kasia wandered toward the lake, took in the sights and sounds. Everything was so alive. Birds dive-bombed the lake for food. A woodpecker drilled for insects somewhere nearby.

  She paused to breathe in some fresh perspective, closed her eyes. Thank You, Lord, for this moment of solit—

  “Peru treated you well.” The familiar voice was a claw against slate. Blake.

  She refused to look in his direction.

  “Listen,” he murmured. “The last couple months have been good for me too. I had a lot of time to think—away from you. You were right. We needed that.”

  She eyed her watch and started walking, headed in the direction of Westing Hall, where the public-safety department was located, just in case.

  He reached for her. “Wait!” He grasped her elbow. “Please?” he added softly. “I…I need to say I’m sorry. I never meant to scare you before. I was hurt. I just didn’t understand.”

  So she’d been right. She turned to face him. “But you understand now, right? I’m not—”

  His nostrils flared, and she bit her tongue. But instead of losing it, Blake drew in a measured breath, and so she wavered. Maybe she should hear him out.

  “I do understand, now. It overwhelmed you, didn’t it?”

  She nodded.

  “If we slowed down, if we spent time together, really got to know each other again. I mean, I know you’ve changed. I have too—”

  “No.”

  He blinked, his face an expressionless mask.

  “While I agree I was overwhelmed, I’m not interested in starting over. I’m in a different place now. Very different.”

  A scowl marred his face. “What is that supposed to mean? You’re better than me?”

  She wiped his spit off her cheek. “That’s not what I’m saying—”

  He swore, and she spun away. His fingers, like talons in her elbow, held her in place.

  “I’m sick of your mouth,” he hissed. “Sick of you putting me off. You’re so full of yourself!” He jerked her to face him, but she would not give him the satisfaction.

  She turned her head away.

  And saw Forearms walking past Addison Science Complex.

  He might not even recognize her—but he was her only option. “Zan! There you are!”

  His brow creased in confusion, and he stopped.

  Blake pressed his face against her ear and filled it with vulgarity and humiliation. The fight left her, and she hung her head. He shoved her away.

  “I’m glad you caught me.” Zan’s words were gentle, but his voice sounded tense to her. He closed the distance between them, draped an arm around her shoulders, pulled her into a strong hug.

  Blake stalked off.

  The arms around her were all warmth and safety. She remained there, her cheek against Zan’s firm shoulder, and the tension ebbed from her body.

  25

  Zan stood, rooted to the ground, Kasia pressed against him. When her hands fisted in the fabric of his T-shirt, he sucked in a breath. She smelled like fresh apples, and dark copper curls hung over his hands. He resisted the urge to see how soft they were. Instead, he prayed for wisdom.

  God, if You’re seriously there, now would be a good time to help.

  It had only taken a second for the desperation in her eyes to hit home before he’d rushed over, but in the time it took to get to her side, the loser had whispered something that had made her face crumple in pain. Zan’s heart swelled with rage.

  When the guy had the audacity to shove her away like so much trash, Zan almost spun him around and knocked his teeth out. No one should be treated like that.

  And this wasn’t just anyone. This was Kasia.

  She was the important one right now. His arms tightened protectively, and she trembled. He ached to find a way to make her smile again. This was not how he saw their first reunion going down.

  She cleared her throat softly, released her grip on his shirt. He let her go. As she stepped back, she tucked a long wavy strand of hair behind her ear.

  Zan didn’t think it’d be wise to speak first. He was angry, and he wanted to tread carefully, to be what she needed in that moment.

  She wet her lips. “Thanks,” she finally said. She avoided his eyes.

  That wouldn’t do at all. He bent his knees and ducked his head to eye level.

  Her gaze lifted to
meet his, so he spoke. “You all right?”

  She checked her watch. “I need to head toward the bagel place.”

  “Perfect. I’ll walk you.” He didn’t want to push her too much, but he had to know she was all right. He matched her pace, and they strolled back toward the center of campus. “Are you honestly all right?”

  She shrugged.

  “Was that the guy who hammered a nail in your tire?”

  She blew out a sigh. This was clearly not a favorite topic. “He’s so unpredictable, you know?”

  Zan scratched his chin. He could certainly guess.

  “We dated—were engaged, actually.”

  Whoa. Not what he expected to hear. It explained a lot though. The guy knew her well enough to wound her where it hurt the most.

  “With Blake, I was…a different person. Somebody I didn’t like. So, I broke it off last spring. Right after you and I met.” She shoved her hands in her pockets. “I don’t trust him. But I don’t think he’s really dangerous.”

  Debatable. “I don’t trust him either.”

  She huffed a laugh, endeared herself to him even further. “I get that a lot.”

  He jogged a few steps ahead and opened the door to the bagel place. She stepped in.

  “So, I’ve got to ask. Are you a coffee drinker? I hope you’re just not a fan of sweet tea. It’s too humbling to think you might be stonewalling me.”

  She smiled and walked toward a table. “I don’t need anything.”

  “Water, maybe?”

  “Do they have hot tea in the summer?”

  “Serious?”

  Her expression said “utterly.”

  “I’ll ask.”

  ~*~

  Kasia took off her messenger bag, hung it over the back of her chair, and sat down. Deep breath. She needed to get off the emotional roller coaster.

  Joy. Her day had been going perfectly. And then…

  Frustration.

  Fear.

  Embarrassment.

  Relief.

  Swoon. What?

  A little. Not really.

  She would not be fooled by a sweet accent and a charming smile. She’d been down that road before. Besides, if she could pick the one person she least wanted to have to rely on, it would be Alexander Maddox. He was entirely too full of himself.

  She flicked a crumb off the table. And that other crumb.

  Today was supposed to be so uneventful.

  Blake always interfered. And she was furious with her gullibility—again. Had she really thought he was capable of sincerely apologizing, changing? Really almost considered his hoard of lies?

  She turned toward the counter and inspected Zan a little more closely. A backpack slung over one shoulder, he leaned on the arm closest to her, placing his order. At least five sinewy muscles ran the length of his arm. She spun her head and focused on whatever was outside the window. A bush.

  Very green.

  “Hot tea in August. And they didn’t even ask for credentials.”

  She forced her gaze to his face and was met with a smile like sunshine.

  “They had fresh-baked muffins today too, so I got one of those. If you don’t want it, I’ll—”

  “What kind?”

  “Apple cinnamon.”

  She plucked the bag from his hand and opened it, inhaled the sweet aroma, and pulled a muffin out. “They’re still hot.”

  “Taken out of the oven about five minutes ago.”

  “Yum.” She broke a little of the crusty top off and popped it into her mouth. It melted into sweetness. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.” He took another out of the bag and peeled off the paper cup, wiped the stray crumbs off the table, and dropped them in the bag.

  Mamusia would appreciate that. “Listen, if you need to be somewhere, I’m fine here.”

  “Nah, I just finished ball practice, so I’m done for the night. I can stay awhile.” He stuck his fingers in his hair, made it all disheveled. “Are you meeting someone?”

  “Yes. We’ve got an appointment with the director of a multi-housing complex. I’m starting an after-school club over at the Mill. Had to do something to get my mind off myself, you know?”

  “I understand needing distractions.” Something about him had changed. He’d never seemed this easy to talk to.

  The door opened, and Kyle strode in. His smile faded as soon as he saw she wasn’t alone.

  Forearms stood up and extended a hand. “I’m Zan.”

  “Kyle.” He grabbed a chair from another table and scraped it across the tile so it faced Zan. Right beside her.

  Kyle stretched his arm across the back of her chair, not around her, but close enough. “Baseball player, right? We saw you at the store last spring. Did you have a good summer?”

  “It was all right.” Zan sat back down.

  Kasia scooted her seat a few inches away from Kyle, toward the window, turned it slightly so she could see both guys—and not be claimed by either.

  Kyle reached into his pocket and set his keys on the table. He leaned toward her. “Are you about ready to leave?” he asked softly. “I thought maybe we could have dinner afterwards.”

  Before she could answer, Zan stood. “I’ll see y’all later.” He picked up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. “Have a good meeting.”

  Kasia bit the inside of her cheek. This wasn’t how she saw the conversation ending. Yes, they had to leave, but she hadn’t needed Kyle to waltz in and wrap up for her.

  “It was nice to talk to you, Kasia. I’ll see you around.”

  “You too. I’m sorry—”

  He smiled kindly and turned to go.

  She stood and reached for her messenger bag. Oh, Kyle is holding it out. How chivalrous. She took it from him and slipped it across her shoulder. Every single thing Kyle had just done irked her.

  She felt like the rope in a tug-of-war match.

  Except Zan wasn’t pulling.

  And that disappointed her more than she cared to admit.

  ~*~

  Zan tossed his pack onto his bed.

  “Hey, man.” Jayce spun on his stool. “Tough practice?”

  “You could say that.”

  “Your ma called.”

  Zan’s heart raced. “She say anything?”

  “Just to give her a call when you get in.”

  Zan pulled a water from the mini-fridge and picked up his cell. Should he go outside? He didn’t want to have this conversation with an audience. Jayce must’ve read his mind, because as Zan turned around, his roommate stood at the door, helmet in hand.

  “I’m out, all right? The road’s callin’.”

  “Yeah, cool. See you later.”

  “A.J. and I are gonna go see a movie with some friends around nine. You game?”

  “Maybe. Ask me at eight.”

  Jayce gave him a nod and shut the door on his way out. Zan speed-dialed his mom.

  She answered, breathless. “Zan?”

  “Mom? Is she awake?”

  “Yeah, sugar. And she asked for you.”

  Tears brimmed as Zan slumped onto the bed. “She can talk?”

  “Well…” His mom sniffled. “She uses a lot of body language to get it across. Her jaw is wired closed for a few more weeks, but she’s real good at notes.”

  Zan chuckled through his tears. “Tell her I love her.”

  “Zan loves you, baby,” his mom said away from the phone. He heard some shuffling. “She says she knows. She saw you fight for her.”

  Zan’s heart swelled about halfway, until his conscience reminded him that if he’d stayed with her, he wouldn’t have had to protect her. “Mom? Can you hold the phone to her ear for a second?”

  “Sure. One sec.” More shuffling. “Zan, sugar?” she called. “She’s there.”

  “Bay?”

  It was quiet. Then she cleared her throat.

  “Listen, I just—I want to tell you I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let you go outside alone. I should�
��ve—”

  “M-mn.” Was that a no? More emphatic now, she said, “Hm-nn.” Three hundred miles away, jaw wired shut, his sister was telling him to shut up. Part of him wanted to laugh. The other part still cried.

  His mom called out that Bailey was writing. Then she said, close to the phone, “She says thank you for saving her life, and all you’re allowed to say back is ‘You’re welcome.’”

  It took him a minute, but he made himself say it. For her. “Hey, I went to church on Sunday.”

  A high-pitched squeal of either disbelief or delight sounded through the phone.

  “I won’t say I believed it all, but I went. And I’m asking some of my questions up here, since you won’t be able to chat for a while. I hope that’s cool.”

  “M-hm.”

  Once he was off the phone, he left a note on Jayce’s desk with his cell number. For the first time in a while, Zan had a raging appetite. He grabbed his sketchpad and pencils and threw them in his pack. He’d go to the greasy joint Jayce took him to the first night. He could sit there for hours, and no one would bother him.

  Which was what he needed. Food, anonymity, and a blank canvas.

  ~*~

  As the side door opened, Kasia inhaled the spicy aroma of bigos—a Polish favorite made with mostly kiełbasa and cabbage. Her stomach growled as she watched her mom set a loaf of fresh-baked bread on the table.

  “Perfect timing. It’s still warm,” Mama said.

  What were the odds of fresh-from-the-oven treats twice in one day? Kasia smiled, at least as much at the memory of the warm muffin as at her mom. She kissed Mama on the cheek and made her way down the hall to set down her bag. Her mind swelled with unbidden images of Zan coming to her rescue—he’d searched her eyes, delivered her hot tea, asked questions—all sincerity.

  Those eyes. Like the blue of Peruvian dusk. She felt like if she hung around for a while, she might get to see the stars again.

  She wanted to.

  Voices converged in the kitchen. She needed to get back in there. Kasia jogged down the long hallway and joined her family for dinner.

  “And how was your day?” Mama set fresh butter on the table.

  “Busy, busy. But good. Signed the contract. We can move in after ten. Met A.J.’s Uncle Frankie, had my appointment with Mrs. Anderson at the Mill, toured the center. Kyle went with me.”