The Alignment (14 page)

“There’s more than Latin and English in those books downstairs.”

His eyes cling to mine. His lips part. He appears to be on the verge of words, but I’m unable to be patient long enough for him to gather them.

“Welsh?”

His lips seal shut, but his eyes do not leave my face. Just when I think he isn’t going to answer, he does. “Good guess.”

I don’t know if that’s a yes or a no, and I don’t understand why it’s a big secret. Being multilingual must break his tough-guy image. I can see he wants to say more, but he’s holding back. Something tells me if I push him, he’ll shut me out forever. I focus on his wound. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“I don’t think so.”

His breathing has slowed, and I become aware of him studying my face as I work on his lip. I stand to put some ice in a towel, and his eyes follow me the whole time. I sit back down facing him and lift the ice-filled towel to his lip. His expression becomes strange, unfamiliar.

Soft.

I look into his eyes.

He lifts his hand and lightly runs his thumb across my bottom lip. In that moment everything shuts down. There is nothing in the world except his thumb, and my lips.

As if realizing what he’s doing for the first time, his expression hardens, and he pulls his hand away. He takes the ice from me and stands. “Sorry. I don’t know what I was doing.”

“Trey?”

“What.” His voice is gruff.

“I need to know something.”

He doesn’t answer. He’s turned away from me, his eyes focused through the glass of the back door although it only reflects the room back at us.

“I need to know what happened to cause the bruises on my arms.”

He looks at me as if I’ve slapped him. Then he lowers his eyes, shaking his head slowly. When his eyes meet mine, they are cold. Tormented. He doesn’t speak.

“Please. I won’t be mad,” I urge.

“Maybe you should be mad. Maybe you should have me arrested.”

“So it was you?”

“Of course it was me!” He slams his fist down on the countertop, causing the dishes in the sink to jump. “We fought. And I almost lost control. Before we came back here and you blacked out. Don’t you remember? I could have killed you.”

Even though I already knew, it startles me to hear the rest. What could have happened.

“Things were different then,” he continues. “I’m a monster. I know that. I’m usually very undiscriminating. You were no different from anyone else then.”

It takes a few moments for his words to sink in deeply enough to stun me. “And now it’s different?” The innuendo behind my own question throws fuel on the smoldering danger inside me.

Could it be different for him like it’s different for me? My mind replays the last few days to help me understand, but it’s impossible. If anything, in the last few days he’s been more distant, more rude. Except for that night at my house, but I’ve already labeled that as pity. And the move he pulled just now which I haven’t been able to process yet.

“It’s just different. I told you what you wanted, so please drop it.”

Something slams into the back door and I jump a mile.

“It’s only River. She wants her treat.” He pulls a turkey leg out of the freezer and takes it to the back door. Two sets of eyes glow.

“Looks like River has a friend. Wait a second. That’s your dog, isn’t it?”

I can’t be sure. “I told you he’s not my dog. But Nancy said he doesn’t get along with other dogs.”

“River gets along with anyone.”

The simplicity of this exchange seems out of place after everything that just happened, but I yield to it as if caught in the undertow of events moving forward without my input. He goes back to the freezer for another turkey leg and hands them both out the door. The disgust has left his voice, and his movements seem more at ease. I need to keep him talking. It seems to be the only way I’ll be able to process all of this.

“So I guess now I know where you got all those guns downstairs.”

He snorts. “Yeah, a lot of them.”

“And the rest?”

He leans back against the counter, preparing his response. “Some are family heirlooms.” He should be avoiding my line of sight, ignoring my question. But the pointed stare and unmoving stance make him appear open, even anxious for me to respond.

“The books too?”

“So while I was in a coma, you ransacked my house? Do you do that to all your coma patients?”

I think he’s teasing me, but I’m not sure. Although it feels out of character for him, nothing would surprise me tonight.

“Yes. And I went through your underwear drawer too.” My desire to play with him returns in full force.

“You are ruthless. I didn’t sign up for this.” His lips move to the verge of a smile.

Now I’m sure he’s teasing me. Maybe if he had the opportunity to kill someone every day he’d always be in a good mood. The prize of his smile becomes my goal.

“You have no idea what’s in store for you. What I’m capable of.” The possibility of witnessing his smile again eggs me on.

“Oh, there’s more to come?”

“Yes, much more to come. I am your biggest nightmare.” With the last two words, I cross the room toward him and poke him in the chest with my index finger for emphasis.

There’s the smile. And I am its captive. The world shifts. I watch in slow motion as his face morphs into a version yet unseen by me, eyes intense, smile gone, and then his arms reach around me pulling me toward him. His head bows, and his lips settle on mine. As our bodies make contact, my arms circle his neck and draw me upward, our kiss becoming untamed, ravenous. His hands drop lower to pick me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist. He spins, setting me on the countertop. I cannot get close enough. I need him on me. I’m a wilted, fallen husk baked into the earth. And he is the rain.

Something in my mind has become frantic. Screaming, out of breath, demanding that I think about what I’m doing. Stop! And this voice sends its power to my arms and pushes me away.

“Are we going to regret this?” I can’t seem to catch my breath.

“Yes,” he says, tugging me back to him.

My arms latch around his neck, my hands find his hair, and I feel myself being lifted and carried, but it’s impossible to pay attention to anything but my hunger for him. He rests me on the bed and I impatiently reach my arms up for him. He pulls his shirt over his head, and pulls mine up over my head, then he’s back with me, his lips on mine, the warmth of his body quenching my skin.

Chapter 17

Trey

I
’m not sure
what makes me more livid: the fact that I let it happen, or the fact that now, the morning after, I have no remorse. That I would do it all over again. I turn and wrap myself around her, savoring her scent, her softness. I have gone too far, and I don’t care.

The most significant knowledge I have gained is that I’m powerless to be away from her now. We’re going to have to make this work together, which means I’ll have to get her comfortable around a gun. I don’t know how much I can risk telling her.

She turns toward me in my arms and opens her eyes. They are endlessly blue, like a beam of light in space going on and on. I lift her arm and kiss the inside of her elbow. Just as I expected, the bruises are completely gone.

“You’re good,” she says.

“Likewise,” I return.

I unwrap my arms from around her and sit up. My jeans are on the floor, so I slide into them and stand, watching her as she snuggles into the bed with her eyes closed and a contented smile on her lips. From the hall, I notice her bag on the floor near the front door. I go for the inner pocket and touch the amulet I put there the other night. It gives me a little peace of mind knowing it’s still there.

I take a shower and get dressed next to the now empty bed, still covered in a tangle of twisted sheets that looks so out of place in my bedroom. This bed has only known one occupant at a time as long as I’ve had it. Last night must have been a shock. Strangely, it’s not a shock to me. It felt more natural than my hunger for breakfast. I rub the remaining water out of my hair on my way to the kitchen. She’s standing in my flannel robe at the stove scrambling eggs. After throwing the towel in the laundry room, I sit to tie my boots.

She comes to the table with two plates of eggs, hash browns, and sliced strawberries. I get up and pour us each a coffee. She pauses, a forkful of food aimed at her mouth, and gives me a radiant smile. I can’t control my smile back.

I also can’t help myself. “Want to go again?”

“I didn’t hear that.” She smiles into her plate.

“What time are you going to be home tonight?”

She laughs and raises her scolding eyes to me.

“We’re starting gun training. Tonight. What time will you be home?”

“A little after five. But I’m not getting anywhere near a gun.”

“I’ll try to be home at five.”

I get up and open the window above the sink so we can hear the sounds outside. The sun is back, illuminating the tiny particles in the air just outside the window. My garden will be in desperate need of work. I unfold yesterday’s paper and skim it, and she finishes her breakfast and cleans up. As she walks by me, she runs her finger up my arm and across the back of my neck. It takes all my willpower to remain seated. A few minutes after the shower stops, she returns to the kitchen while I’m packing a lunch.

“My bruises are totally gone.” She holds her wrists out straight for me to see. From her expression, I can tell she thinks I’ll be surprised.

“Yep.”

“What do you mean ‘yep’?”

“To be expected. A little added bonus from being with me. You’re welcome.” I look away from her. My self-preservation voices a violent complaint in my mind, but I don’t have it in me to keep this from her. Not after last night.

“What are you talking about?”

I turn around and face her. “I know you can’t believe it, but it’s true. Trust me.”

She thinks I’m joking with her. She’ll just have to believe it. It’s really the tip of the iceberg where me and believable are concerned.

She doesn’t speak. She continues staring at me, her lips slightly parted, eyes narrowed, head cocked to the side.

“I’m not messing with you. Did you look at your leg? It should be healed, too.”

She lifts up her pant leg and examines her leg. Sure enough—cuts fully healed, bruises gone. I knew it wouldn’t take much. They were old bruises.

“Can I bring you to work with me?” She drops her pant leg and straightens up.

I’m caught off guard by the change in subject. “Why?”

“You’d make my job a whole lot easier. I could sit around and do crosswords all day.”

She doesn’t exactly look convinced, but at least she has a sense of humor about it.

“You want me to sleep with all your patients? That’s a lot of work.”

“Have you considered charging people for your services? You could make a killing at this.”

“I don’t think that’s legal in this state.”

“Well you wouldn’t be charging for sex. Just for the healing.”

I laugh. “Are you trying to pimp me out?”

Her eyes dart to the side, and she places an index finger against her lips. “Yes, I think I am. I want twenty-five percent. No, fifty.”

“Fifty percent. You’re out of your mind.”

She studies me for a long moment. The original idea is starting to settle in her mind, I can tell. If she doesn’t accept this, she’ll never accept any of the other things I’ll eventually have to tell her. Although I should know better than to get my hopes up, I feel encouraged. It looks like there’s a chance she’ll understand some of it, and this burden of secrets may be lighter the next time we’re together. It’s impossible to imagine.

“I’ve got to get to work!” I hear the front door close. The amulet should keep her safe until she’s back here with me.

The house feels dead without her, so I load up my truck and head to the jobsite. The weather has completely cleared up, mocking me with a cloudless blue sky that reminds me of her eyes. The cool air clings to me, fighting the sun that heats my skin through my clothes. Perfect weather to be stuck on a roof all day.

I’m early, so I get started, hoping to get a few rows done before the other guys show up. Maybe we can all leave a little early today. I feel renewed, like I’ve just awakened from hibernation. Fifteen years of celibacy. She has no idea what kind of commitment I broke, and what is at stake now. It won’t be easy news to give her—that I should be fifteen years older even though I’m physically the same age I was fifteen years ago. And that’s the least of it.

The anger I felt at myself this morning is only a memory now. It disappeared as soon as I looked into her eyes. It almost seems worth it in a way, breaking my commitment for her. All my dedication at remaining single, at keeping my distance, has now been for nothing. But it was easy until I knew her. I never had any reason to give in, and I never had something so strong working against me.

The situation borne from last night is all my fault, a product of my carelessness, a lapse in my own judgment and self-control. I knew the power of what we were up against, and I let it defeat me. Although the consequences may have bothered me in theory, in action they take on a whole new meaning. I know I’m gloating, but I have no shame. Impulsive sex does wonders for the mood. But it’s not just that. My strategy has shifted from lazy defense to hard-nosed, ambitious offense. It feels amazing to finally stare real danger in the face.

Everything has changed, pushing me beyond the point of no return. I never would have believed that I’d welcome it. I’ve raised two middle fingers and walked into their crosshairs for her, and if given a chance to go back, I’d do it again. I just need to make sure she understands everything. So she knows what she’s getting into. It would be unfair to her otherwise.

“Hey man, snap out of it.” One of the guys slaps me on the back.

My eyes focus on the mortar lines in the brick chimney jutting from the roof. I didn’t realize I’d stopped working. I need to finish up so I can go home. The nail gun pops to life in my hand, and I move along the row of shingles while blocking all thoughts but the task in front of me.

The day seems painfully longer than it should be to a person who has learned to ignore the passing of time. We make good progress and I stay until half the crew has left. I then say goodbye to the remaining guys and head for my truck. After loading my gear in the bed, I pour a bottle of water over my head and let it run down my face. There’s no need to think about it anymore. I’ve already made up my mind. I wipe my face on the bottom of my shirt, shake out my hair, and drive home.

I spot the unusual car parked next to Liv’s before I’m up to the house. The seat belt and truck door impede me in my haste. I can’t get out of the truck fast enough. A few long strides take me to the front door, and as I throw it open I hear voices. Her voice, and a man’s voice. Laughing. I storm into the kitchen. Instant relief floods me, followed by a contaminant that burns hot. If he’s told her
anything
—

“Trey! Slow down bro, no need for an assault, I come in peace!”

“Christian.”

Our handshake turns into a hug.

“You look good,” I say. It seems like forever since I’ve seen him. Has it been a whole year? Two years?

“And as always, you look great. Very young for your age, how do you do it?” His smile is reserved for me alone.

I give him a warning with my eyes. He’ll see my suspicion. I doubt he wants to die today.

He laughs. “What’s got you all riled up?”

“Didn’t recognize the car. Don’t fuck with me. You could’ve called first.” I punch him hard in the arm. Hopefully that will leave a bruise.

I look at Liv, searching her face for clues of how much damage he’s done already. She smiles back at me, the same radiant smile from this morning. My mind flashes the image of her last night, leaning in for more, her lips already swollen from being kissed so hard. Me pulling her toward me. The feel of her hands on my back, drawing me in. Her legs wrapping around and holding me tight. Deep. Inside. If Christian wasn’t here…

“So no need to introduce us, your lovely housemate and I have already met. We’ve been talking about you.”

I love Christian like a brother, but sometimes he really needs to be punched in the mouth. I stifle the need. “I’ll be right back. Talk about the weather or something, for god’s sake.”

I change my clothes faster than I’ve ever changed my clothes in my life. I return to the kitchen as Liv is pouring three glasses of iced tea. I’m going to need something stronger. I help myself to the pizza on the counter. Christian’s contribution, no doubt. I down the entire glass of iced tea, pour a scotch, and join them at the table.

Liv breaks the silence. “You didn’t tell me you have a brother.”

“That’s because I don’t. Don’t listen to anything this guy tells you. He’s full of shit, pretty much all of the time.”

“You ass, we’re brothers and you know it.” Christian shakes his head at Liv, like they have some shared understanding.

“We’re cousins, Liv. We grew up together,” I clarify for her. And it’s good to paint him as a liar, just to save myself if he’s told her other things.

“That makes more sense. You two look nothing alike.”

And she’s right. Christian is a blond-haired, blue-eyed pretty boy. Overdressed for every occasion and soaking up the attention.

“Sorry I haven’t made it out here in so long. It’s been…weird.” He unbuttons his cuffs and starts to roll up his sleeves.

I shrug. I don’t need him for anything. “Did you drive?” It’s quite a long drive considering I’m going to have to kick him out tonight.

“No, I flew into Missoula. Only decent flight I could get. That’s a rental out there.”

“A Crown Vic? Did your balls fall off?”

“There aren’t a lot of options in this hick state. Next time move somewhere with culture and you won’t have to worry about my balls. You have your own to worry about anyway.” He ignores the look I give him and takes a sip of his tea. “Your mother sends her love.”

My mother. A different kind of guilt twists inside me. I change the subject. “You know there’s nowhere for me to put you tonight.”

Before Christian can answer, Liv speaks up. “We can figure something out. I’ll take the couch.”

Christian’s laugh fills the room. “I’m not sharing a bed with this dirty bastard. I’ll take the couch. You two share the bed.” He cannot hide his devious expression.

Here’s where it gets tricky. I’m not sure I can trust Christian to know Liv and I would willingly share a bed. I trust him with everything else, and he obviously can tell we aren’t at each other’s throats right now. I wasn’t purposely vague with him on the phone; I just thought I didn’t need to explain much back when everything was simple. I was putting up with her temporarily so she wouldn’t have to die. She meant nothing to me. I was just trying to save an innocent life, and save them some trouble. That’s all I thought I needed to tell him.

Liv doesn’t answer. She must know to leave this up to me.

Christian speaks without waiting for my answer. “Hey, I’m just trying to get you laid, man. I know it’s been a while.”

Liv lowers her eyes, smiling to herself.

“You’re already starting to piss me off. You’re lucky I don’t kick you out right now.” I shoot him another warning look.

He knows me well enough to know when I’ve been pushed enough. He throws his hands up in the air in a gesture of surrender. Good. Now he’ll behave.

We eat the pizza, and he fills me in on family drama without giving away too much. Liv takes our plates to the sink. “I’m sure you both have a lot of catching up to do, so I’ll leave you to it.”

I hear her move through the living room and into the bedroom. The door shuts audibly, like she wants us to know she’s not listening. I look long and hard at Christian.

“What?” he says. It’s more of a laugh than a word. “God, chill out. I’m not going to say anything.”

“You came close enough.”

“I always forget you have no sense of humor anymore.” He rolls his eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? You know how dangerous that is.”

“Maybe you should answer your phone. And if it had been a test of your little fort, it failed. Not only did I make it to the house alive, she let me in eagerly. And you didn’t tell me she’s hot! How the fuck could you leave that out?”

I make no attempt to cover the rage on my face. “What did you tell her?”

“Nothing! I swear to god nothing. Come on, it’s me. You know you can trust me.” He goes for his sleeve again like he forgot he already rolled it. Picks up his glass instead. “Anyway, you said she was nothing to you. That they are misunderstanding. But I sense something different going on.” He takes a drink, studying me hard over the rim of his glass. “You didn’t tell me she’s living here.”