His Light in the Dark

by L. A. Fiore

  His voice was so soft I almost didn’t hear him. “You really aren’t going to give up on me are you?”

  “Never.”

  “Thanks.”

  Inside my chest, my heart swelled. Finally.

  Sitting in Dad’s office at the garage, I was supposed to be reading through the information packs from the few area universities I was contemplating attending, but instead my focus was on Cole in one of the bays in Dad’s garage, under the hood of a Honda. It’d been almost a year since he had started working here and still I stared because we had gotten Cole back and not just in body, he wanted to be here and still there was no denying he was different now. I wasn’t so naïve that I couldn’t appreciate all that Cole had been through. The fact that he could still engage and form connections after the hell he’d been through was nothing short of remarkable, but I missed his easy smiles—it had taken nearly six months, when we were kids, of him feeling safe in our home before how he felt on the inside started showing on the outside.

  When we last spent any real time together, he had been fifteen and me ten. It felt strange looking at the boy I knew and seeing the man he had become. And he was a man, over six feet and as muscled as my dad. He had also gotten tats on his shoulders that ran down his biceps on both arms, tribal, but what they meant I didn’t know.

  A loud clatter pulled me from my study of Cole to Dylan who was holding his hand, but it was the wince of pain on his face that had me jumping up and grabbing the first-aid kit. By the time I reached him, Dad and Cole were already there.

  “It could have been worse.” Dad muttered as he inspected the cut across Dylan’s palm.

  “I’ve got the first-aid kit.”

  Cole reached for the kit, opening it on Dyl’s workbench, before he poured disinfectant on a cotton ball and handed it to Dad.

  “I don’t think you need stitches.”

  “I wouldn’t get them anyway.” Dylan sounded belligerent, which meant he was fine just embarrassed.

  “It’s almost lunch time, what do you guys want?”

  “You pick, Mia. Surprise us.” Dad said as he caught me out of the corner of his eye.

  “Okay. Spinach salad for everyone it is. Kidding, I’m getting everyone sardine sandwiches.”

  Cole, who now leaned up against the car Dylan had been working on, chuckled. So simple a response and yet coming from him, it could be called epic.

  Returning to the office, I ordered sandwiches, and not the sardine variety, and then forced myself to concentrate on the information in front of me. I had only been at it about ten minutes when I heard the scream. Looking up, my heart dropped. Dyl had the car up on one of the lifts, but it looked as if he didn’t lock it. Cole moved like lightning, grabbing Dylan and yanking him out before the lift and the car crashed down on him.

  “Jesus Christ, Dyl, what the hell is going on with you? It’s not like you to make such careless mistakes.”

  Had to agree with Dad on that point and then I saw Cole, blood running down his arm. Dad saw it at the same time I did. We reached Cole together.

  “Lift got me, it’s nothing.”

  Was he nuts? “Nothing? You’re bleeding enough to attract every zombie within a three mile radius.”

  His smile was quick but spectacular.

  “Cole’s right. It looks worse than it is. Go with Mia, let her clean it up.”

  “Yeah, listen to my dad and come with me so I can clean you up before we find ourselves in the midst of a herd.”

  “I think you need to stop watching Shaun of the Dead.”

  “So I should go back to princesses?”

  “No, zombies are good.”

  We reached the office and I pulled out the kit.

  “It’s really not necessary, Mia. It’s only a scratch.”

  “Just hush and let me at least disinfect it.”

  As soon as my fingers touched his arm to hold it steady, I felt an electric jolt that burned from my fingertips up my arm to sizzle down my spine. My heart pounded and my breathing grew erratic. Instead of tending to his cut, I stood immobile staring at my hand that held his arm struggling to understand what was happening.

  “Mia?” His gruff voice seemed to question my odd behavior.

  “Sorry.” Forcing myself to focus on my task, I soaked the cotton ball with peroxide, déjà vu had my eyes lifting to Cole’s and again I felt that burn that seared me even as my body flushed with embarrassment. And it was while I stood there, the cotton ball suspended a few inches over Cole’s cut, that I realized the wickedly strong feelings causing my body to go haywire were feelings I had no business feeling.

  Shaken, I took a step away from Cole. “Can you manage?”

  I didn’t wait for an answer, pressed the cotton in his hand and then fled from the office. It was Cole; I could not have feelings for him. It was wrong; he was like a son to Dad. And even as I tried to rationalize away my feelings, I knew it was a pointless battle because if I was being truthful, these feelings were nothing new.

  In the year that followed my feelings for Cole only grew stronger. What was even more disturbing, not only did I no longer find the concept of us together wrong, I tortured myself with wishing for it even knowing that he was too old for me. My brain waged a war with itself, my super-ego saying: no, no, no and my id saying: you’re eighteen next year. Perhaps I had the morals of a trollop, but I was rooting for my id.

  In an attempt to pull myself back from the dark side, I had started dating boys my own age. And honestly they were about as stimulating as a houseplant and none of them filled out their t-shirts like Cole did. And even as my super-ego tsked me, Id and I sat in my dad’s office unable to pull our eyes from the sight of Cole leaning over the hood of the car he worked on. When did he get so many muscles? The way they hugged his tee, bulging the cotton in such a fabulous way, had my mouth going dry. And his face, lately I wanted nothing more than to lick his lips, sucking them into my mouth for a taste. It was wrong and yet it didn’t feel wrong.

  When I was near him, my body reacted in ways it never had before. Alarming, this change for a guy I had known since I was seven. I had no control over it though, my body had a mind of its own and just the sight of Cole made my stomach all jittery and my hands damp. Even my skin felt like it was on fire and I was embarrassed to admit I had started to get an ache where I had no business getting an ache. If my dad ever found out about my hardcore crush on Cole, twenty-two-year-old Cole, he’d send me to a convent.

  And lunches had turned into my own personal hell. Cole and I still shared our meals, but I didn’t want the half of his sandwich he hadn’t touched, I wanted the half he was eating; wanted my lips where his had been. I was losing it, but there was no stopping the insanity. It wasn’t love, I was smart enough to appreciate that, but I didn’t think it’d take very much to turn my feelings into love. I’d known Cole a long time, liked him as long, and now I wanted him in a way that was all consuming.

  He didn’t bring girlfriends around, in fact I didn’t even know if he had one, ever had one, though a man like that only stayed single if he wanted to be single. I was glad for that because seeing him firsthand with another woman would be too much for my young heart to take.

  So distracted by my lustful thoughts I didn’t realize that Cole had come into the office. “Mia.”

  Leaning against the doorjamb, the muscles of his arms so appealing I wanted to run my hands over them, my mouth too. What would they feel like?

  “Mia.”

  Jerking my eyes from his arms, I looked into his face. Mistake. Too freaking beautiful to be real.

  “You ready for lunch?”

  Oh hell yeah if that lunch is you.

  “Earth to Mia.”

  Snap out of it, Mia! “Yes. I’m ready for lunch. Let’s get a slice of cannoli cake too. We can share…” with one fork. My body started to throb.

  “Okay.” He moved toward the phone, his focus still on me. “You okay? You look a little flushed.”

  I want to
wrap you around me like a blanket, want to feel your arms around me, want you to kiss me, my first real kiss. My voice had turned a bit hoarse when I replied, “I’m good, a little warm. It’s a bit warm in here, don’t you think?”

  He was reaching for the phone but stopped midway, his eyes slicing to me. Oh shit, he knew. “It’s actually kind of chilly in here. Maybe you’re coming down with something.”

  Not something, you. “I’m fine, don’t worry about me Cole.”

  Worry about me Cole, take me home and nurse me back to health preferably while wearing only those faded jeans that sit on your hips so deliciously.

  He said nothing else and placed our lunch order. “Meet you out back in a half an hour.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  He studied me for another minute before a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth and he walked back to the car he'd been working on.

  “I’m an idiot.” Lowering my head to the desk, I pressed my forehead on my open book.

  “Interesting way to study.”

  My dad. Lifting my head, I rested it on my hand. “Learning through osmosis, I’m seeing if that urban myth is true.”

  He chuckled before finding the order he needed and started from his office. “Let me know how that works out for you.”

  “Will do.”

  I seriously needed to get a grip, needed to be cool, to stop the crushing. I could do it, could totally do it, and yet when a half an hour was up, I practically ran from the office, leaping in joy at the idea of lunch with Cole. I was pathetic.

  Denial dating, that’s what I had termed my attempts to move away from my inappropriate feelings for Cole with dating boys my own age. I had even gone from dating to a steady boyfriend, but the relationship didn’t last long. Lance had officially ended it, but considering I hadn’t really shown up in the first place—attempting to move away from my feelings for Cole and actually doing it were apparently not the same thing—I felt the break up was a mutual decision. The trouble was Lance had started teasing me and it was becoming unbearable. Virgin, lily-white, and nun…these were a few of the taunts he and his goon squad snickered about me behind my back. He was an asshole but I couldn’t lie, the teasing hurt a lot.

  “Mia.” The gentle knock at the door was so not my dad. Normally he just plowed into my room, but we’d talked about personal space when I became a teenager and as much as it grated on him, he gave it to me.

  “You can come in, Dad.”

  As soon as he saw me, he got that look. The one that meant he was going to murder someone. I loved that look, particularly since it was Lance he’d be murdering. The creep had it coming.

  “What happened?”

  “Lance broke up with me.”

  He didn’t say anything, but I knew Dad well enough to know he was not unhappy with that news. He confirmed my suspicion when he said, “He wasn’t good enough for you.”

  “No one is good enough for me, according to you.”

  “Fucking straight.”

  Frustrated, I dropped back down on my bed and covered my eyes with my arm. “If you had your way, I’d be an old spinster with sixteen cats.”

  “No, I wouldn’t wish sixteen cats on you.” He settled on the edge of my bed. “Can I ask what happened?”

  Turning on my side, I met my dad’s even stare. “He wanted me to…”

  “To what?” Dad’s voice took on that edge of anger.

  “He wanted me to touch him, down there. I didn’t want to so he broke up with me. I don’t really care that he broke up with me, but he and some of his friends have started teasing me.”

  “What the fuck are they saying?”

  “Just that I’m a child because I wouldn’t…you know.”

  “You’re only seventeen. You’re too fucking young.”

  And yet my dad had had sex even before seventeen because here I was, the seventeen-year-old daughter of a thirty-four-year-old man. I decided not to point that out to him. “Dad, I’m seventeen not twelve.”

  Pulling a hand through his dark hair, an action that as I grew older had increased, he worked to control his temper. “I think you aren’t old enough to understand all that’s involved in a sexual relationship. That being said, you are eventually going to have sex and when you’re ready, you talk to me so you’re prepared, safe. And when you’re ready, you never do anything that makes you uncomfortable. I don’t care how old you are, if you’re uncomfortable, you say no. Do you understand?”

  I rolled my eyes because I was used to my dad overreacting.

  “Mia, what are the words I need to hear from you?”

  “I promise dad, geez.” But I loved that he cared so much, loved that he didn’t hide the fact that he did.

  “So what’s Lance’s last name?” A simple question, but also a very telling one. How well my dad knew me. He hadn’t been worried about my relationship with Lance, had picked up on my ennui, because he hadn’t even asked for the boy’s last name. Had it been someone I was dreamy over, he’d have every stat there was on the kid, including his blood type and if he was an organ donor.

  “Dad!”

  “Just need a last name, Mia.”

  I gave my dad his last name, though I didn’t know what he intended to do with it.

  That night Dad and I were heading to Vincent’s to meet up with Aunt Dee and Dylan for dinner, but we stopped at the garage on the way. Dad was in his office while I stood outside.

  When Cole stepped up next to me, my body went haywire again. With effort, I pulled myself together and attempted casual when I asked, “Don’t you ever go home?”

  He leaned up against the wall next to me before pushing his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. If I leaned just slightly, my whole right side would be pressed up against his left side. I really wanted to lean.

  “Wanted to finish with the car.”

  “We’re going to Vincent’s for dinner, you should come.” Please come, so I can stare at you and dream.

  He glanced down at his oil-stained clothes. “Not like this.”

  “Go home and change.”

  “Not tonight.” He eyed me from head to toe, maybe the first time he ever did, as tingles swept my entire body. “You clean up real nice, Mia.”

  Get the defibrillator because I was going down. He was calling me pretty again. I should just kiss him. Dad joined us. Or not. “Come with us, Cole.”

  “Can’t, but thanks.”

  As Dad and I headed off to Vincent's, disappointment filled me because I hated that Cole still held back. Hated that even though he wanted more, he wouldn’t allow himself to have it. And I hated it even more that I hadn’t just kissed him.

  A week later, the teasing at school stopped. In fact, Lance went out of his way to avoid me. I didn’t know what Dad had done but somehow I knew, whatever he’d done, Cole had been a party to it.

  It was late when the banging started. At first I thought it was in my dream, but the hall light went on, so clearly Dad heard the banging too. Climbing from bed, I moved down the hall and peered around the corner just as he yanked open the door.

  “Do you know what the fuck time it is?”

  In the next beat, a woman pushed her way into the house. I had never met her, had only seen a few pictures, but I knew who she was. My mother: Cynthia.

  “You have to help me.”

  “Keep your voice down, Mia’s sleeping.”

  “Tammy hasn’t been home in three days. She never stays gone that long without a call, I’m worried.”

  “And you’re telling me this why?”

  “I didn’t know where else to go.”

  “This shit is not my problem, you are not my problem.”

  “We have a child together, you’re the closest to family I have.”

  “Family? Bitch, spreading your legs and taking my cock doesn’t make you family. You walked out, didn’t even wait to see if your daughter was healthy. I’m not your family and neither is she. You made sure of that when you left us to start y
our new career of spreading your legs for money.”

  My mother was a prostitute? Holy shit, that’s information I wish I didn’t have. No wonder Dad hated her so much, to walk out on us only to sell her body for money.

  “We’re not having this discussion again. I’m not cut out to be a mother and you know it. I did you and Mia a favor by stepping away.”

  “Yeah, feels real good to know the mother of my child prefers fucking strangers than being with her kid.”

  “I’ve always wanted to get out from the poverty I grew up in, you knew that. We had plans and then I find out I’m pregnant and that’s all you can think about. Instead of leaving the neighborhood, you fucking started a business in it. If anyone changed, it was you not me.”

  My dad pulling a hand through his hair was a good indication he was beyond frustrated. “Tammy’s been gone for three days?”

  “Yeah, with no call. She always calls.”

  “Have you gone to the cops?”

  “And say what? My prostitute roommate hasn’t been home in three days. They’d laugh me out of the building.”

  “Do you know who she was seeing when she went missing?”

  “No, but it was a new guy. She seemed reluctant to tell me much about him, but she was excited. Sounded like he had money and wasn’t afraid to spend it.”

  Dad’s laugh held no humor, just disgust. “Seriously, you can hate on me with Dee later, but please could you ask around?”

  “Fine.”

  “Thank you.”

  Slipping back into my room, I just stared at the ceiling unable to believe what I had just heard.

  “You hear all of that?” My dad’s voice startled me nearly out of the bed. The light switched on before he settled on the edge of my bed.

  “My birth mother is a prostitute?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Was she when—”

  “No.”

  “So that’s why you hate her, she chose that lifestyle over you.”

  “I hate her because she chose that lifestyle over you.” He studied me in that way he had a tendency of doing, gauging how I had taken the news. “You okay?”