The Alignment (15 page)

“She’s not.”

“Unless you’ve started using vanilla-rose scented conditioner and a pink razor, her stuff is all over your bathroom.”

“No it’s not.” Is it? I should have noticed.

“You are either stupid or in serious denial.”

I hesitate. It’s Christian. He’s the only one I can trust. Besides my mother.

“Dude. She’s a nurse. Do you know how hot that is? If you don’t there’s no hope for you.” He looks toward the living room. “Can I have her?”

“Things have changed, I guess.”

“Oh yeah?” He raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah.”

“Nice. It’s about time. Like riding a bike…”

“And it’s a total surprise to me,” I add, ignoring him. “I wasn’t lying when I called you before.”

His smile falls. “I’m not saying you were. I’m just…I wish I had known. Makes what I came here to tell you a little more complicated.” He rubs his forehead. “A lot more complicated.”

I watch him and wait. He’s got about two seconds.

He stands and goes to the back door. “Shit,” he releases in an exhale, bowing his head. He turns back toward me. “Kate…”

“What about Kate?”

“Kate is alive.”

I’m in his face before I realize it. “Do
not
say that unless you are very, very serious.”

He backs up a step, both hands in the air. “I wouldn’t play with this, Trey.”

I sit back down and put my face in my hands. A million thoughts ricochet inside my head. I take a few long breaths to slow my heart rate.

“How do you know?” I ask without looking at him.

“I saw her.”

My head snaps up and I stare at him, not believing. It’s impossible. She’s been dead for fifteen years.

“She came back,” he says.

“She was dead!” I yell.

“Apparently not.” He takes his seat again at the table. “She wants to see you.”

“And my son?” I choke, trying to contain the landslide of my grief.

Christian looks away, sighs. Looks back at me. “Aaron is with her.”

My forehead slams onto the table. This can’t be happening. I stand, looking for someone to punish. Christian grabs my arms, holding me back. He’s not as strong as me but I don’t fight him.

“Trey, come on. We can make sense of this.”

“How long have you known?”

“She came back Tuesday. I wanted to tell you in person.”

“Where has she been?” Control is here somewhere, I just have to find it.

“You’ll have to ask her.”

“She didn’t explain anything to you?”

“She just said she wanted to protect you.”

“She leaves, and keeps my son away from me for fifteen years, his whole
life
, because she wanted to protect me?!” I grab the table. Christian holds it down.

“It’s not her fault. I think there’s more to this than I—” Confusion crosses his face just before I cut him off.

“She couldn’t have found me? Called me?”

“They wouldn’t let her.”

“They?” I am blinded by my fury. They. They are behind this. I already knew, but hearing it spoken aloud fuels my rage.

Christian puts a second glass of scotch in front of me. I swallow the whole thing in a gulp.

“She still could have called. Fuck them. She owes me that.” My voice is dead.

The room remains silent for a long time. With a shock, I remember Liv, in the other room. I’m at a complete loss. I have no idea what to do. I leave Christian and go downstairs. I pity the heavy bag, but I give it no mercy. I only stop when the bag has split in two, covered in blood from my bare knuckles.

When I climb the stairs, Christian and Liv are on the couch, talking quietly. I take off my shirt, wipe my face with it, and throw it in the laundry room. Something crashes to the floor in the darkness.

One thing keeps running through my head. She should have contacted me. If it were reversed, I would have done that for her.

They both turn to look at me standing in the doorway. Liv’s face is a mask of worry. This badly timed, impossible situation is going to hurt her too. One more day of following my own ground rules would have prevented an added complication to this mess. Chalk it up to another failure on my part. Something finally feels right for once and it couldn’t have been more wrong. I’ve given myself a vulnerability. I’ve put Liv right in their sights. My control slipped but I’ll get it back. It’s all I have. And I can’t give them anything else they can take from me.

“It’s a good thing you stopped. The house was about to fall down.” Christian. Always trying to lighten it up. A fifty-foot tidal wave of fluorosulfuric acid could be rushing toward us and he’d still be spewing jokes.

Sweat’s dripping into my eyes and down my back. I go past them into the bathroom to take a shower.

Does this mean I’m an adulterer?

Does it even matter after fifteen years?

Is Aaron going to remember me?

All that grief—that love—I’ve harbored for Kate these fifteen years vanishes to leave a staggering void in my mind that quickly fills with dross. She has done this, she’s a part of it just as much as they are. If she loved me like I loved her, she would’ve found a way. She wouldn’t have let me go this long thinking she and Aaron were dead. I know what she’s capable of, but even she couldn’t have been so cruel. Now she’s managed to surpass my expectations.

I should have known, but I’ve been the fool all along. I’ve been played. And she only wants to see me to prove it worked. To extract the power.

When I step out of the shower onto the cold tile, it dawns on me. If Aaron is alive, and has been alive the whole time, then the prophecy is wrong. I am not under the effect and never was.

Chapter 18

Liv

I
’m not going
to get any useful information out of Christian who’s chatting me up like nothing happened in the kitchen. Like he didn’t hear the violence in the basement. He couldn’t be more different than Trey if they had been born into families on opposite sides of the world.

When Trey returns to the room and drops heavily into the chair without meeting my eyes, I realize I won’t be getting any answers from him either. Whatever set him off isn’t going to be brought up again tonight. I rise from the couch and get the bandages and ointment from the bathroom. He doesn’t object to my examination of his hands. The skin on every knuckle has been peeled away.

“Ever hear of gloves, man?” Christian says.

I get to work. I don’t know how he’s survived this long without a live-in nurse. They start talking about sports and I tune out. By the time I’m done, he’s got a bandage on each knuckle, two per finger, except for his thumbs. It looks ridiculous. In a break in their conversation, I say, “Please at least keep them on overnight.”

He agrees with the slightest nod. He still won’t look at me.

I clean up the mess and retire to the bedroom. Curiosity is killing me, no matter what I try to do to occupy myself or how many times I tell myself it’s none of my business. A strong need to do something constructive pecks me to pieces, but no ideas materialize to satisfy it. I try some stretching on the bed but can’t relax into it so I collapse on my back. When I’ve memorized every square inch of the ceiling, I decide to call it a night. On my way to the bathroom, I can’t help but overhear.

“I can always tell her you’ve moved on.”

“No. Don’t tell her anything. She can be in the dark just like I was.”

Although I don’t know who they’re talking about, it’s an easy assumption that things are about to change yet again. I’ve been on a roller coaster for two weeks. This ride just ended and I’m standing in line to board again. They’re silent when I return to the bedroom. I flip off the light and lie in bed, staring at the ceiling in the dark, longing for him to join me, but he never does.

*

It’s about fifty degrees in the house in the morning. I wake up too early, but can’t fall back to sleep. After taking a shower and getting dressed, I creep past Christian on the couch and Trey on the floor, both sound asleep. I start coffee and breakfast for three. Christian joins me, yawning, his blond hair flat on one side. “Scrubs. Hot.”

As if he didn’t flirt with me enough yesterday. I set a cup of coffee in front of him.

He reaches for it through the blanket wrapped around his bare shoulders. “Is Trey trying to be green or something? I know he likes to torture himself but his guests might appreciate some heat.”

“It was warm outside. He must have turned the furnace back off. I didn’t think to check it before I went to bed.”

Obviously reading my expression, he says, “He’ll be okay. He just needs time.”

I nod, not sure what to say. He probably thinks I know a lot more about his cousin than I actually do. The few things I do know about Trey would’ve made a normal person flee the state and hire a bodyguard a long time ago.

Christian continues, more to himself than me, “He has the worst temper.” He looks at me. “Sometimes you don’t even see it coming. He seems fine, and with no warning, bam. You’re dead.”

I’m all too familiar with that. Feeling strangely exposed and on the spot, I look away without answering him, but his attention remains on me as I make breakfast. I wonder if Trey told him about anything that happened between us. Specifically, the narrowly avoided assault. And the sex. It’s silly of me to feel uncomfortable for Trey’s own bad behavior. I know I can’t be judged for that. I can be judged for not calling the police. And for sleeping with him, a violent murderer who almost attacked me not long ago.

I steal a glance at Christian and catch him in a wide yawn.

His eyes squint as his yawn turns into a sheepish smile. “Sorry. I’d help, but I’m pretty useless in the kitchen.”

Maybe I shouldn’t be so paranoid. If he’s disgusted by anything Trey or I did, he must be very good at hiding it.

“You could set the table,” I suggest.

He drops his head in a loud, weary groan, and I can’t help but laugh.

“Never mind. You’re the guest, right?”

“You’re not?” He raises his eyebrows with overdone innocence. It’s an obvious taunt. He knows something, and he’s playing with me.

I hold his eye for a moment before I answer. “I’m a useful guest,” I say, deadpan.

He laughs and looks away. “Well if you’re
useful
to him, I’m
definitely
useless, in the kitchen, and every other room in the house.” Before I can think of a comeback, he adds, “Unless you have a sister. I could be very useful then.” He takes a sip of his coffee, leaving me the floor and daring me to reply.

I’d feel the urge to slap him if he wasn’t so charming. I return to my cooking before he can see me smile. He’s much better at this game than I am. My underlying worry for Trey won’t let me put much effort into it anyway.

Just as I hand Christian a plate of eggs and toast, Trey joins us, but I can’t read his expression. I make Trey a plate and set it in front of him.

Christian says, “I’m heading out after this. I think I’ve done enough damage.”

Trey just nods and we eat in silence. I clean up our dishes, and they remain at the table with their coffee. As I’m leaving the room, I hear Trey say, “Don’t you want a shower first? You look like hell. And you didn’t even have to sleep on the fucking floor.”

His sardonic tone floods me with relief. To kill some time before work, I make my bed and tidy up. I hear Christian get in and out of the shower. Their voices sound a little more congenial through the walls. Finally Christian calls my name from the front door.

“It was nice to meet you. Don’t let this brute give you any trouble.” He takes my hand and kisses it lightly.

Good looks must run in the family, but Christian got all the good manners. “It was good to meet you, too.”

Christian slaps Trey hard on the back. “Call me when you’re coming.”

“Now why the fuck would I want to do that? You certainly couldn’t manage a phone call before you came.” Trey grabs the back of Christian’s neck playfully and walks him out to his car.

I pack two lunches, leave one on the counter, and collect my bag. I collide with Trey coming in as I’m going out, his face weighted with so many emotions I can’t separate them all. He looks back at me but he’s far away.

“Please take care of your hands today,” is all I can think of to say to him.

He looks down at his hands as if he forgot all about them. “I will.”

A killer cold front has moved in. I turn the heater on in the car and aim it at my hands. I never thought I would need gloves at this time of year. The clinic is quiet when I enter, and I can already tell it’s going to be a slow day. Decades will pass before I can see Trey again. At least I’ll have him back to myself.

After my shift, I find Shawn leaning against my car. He gives me a big hug. “Want to go out?”

God, he’s warm. It’s hard to be mad he’s causing a delay. “It’s not a good night.”

“It can be. If you go out with me.” His smile reminds me of what he said last time.
Next time I’m kissing you
. He must remember too. Nothing could compare to Trey’s lips, and the thought of accepting a substitute—even from someone as likeable as Shawn—leaves me cold.

“I’ve just got to get home.”

“On a Friday night?”

I get in my car. He closes my door and waves. Life would be blissfully simple with Shawn, and impossible to settle for after what I have with Trey.

I’m not sure why I end up at my house, or why I go inside. Everything is too quiet and too still, my footsteps sounding like they’re about to set off some screeching alarm. Being here is asking to be killed.

The jeans I wore on my first day in this town are at the bottom of the hamper, the note still in the pocket. I pull it out and read it one last time.

I can’t stay in this house alone anymore. I’m moving to a town in Montana called Black River. I’ll come back if you do. Please call me.

I’d written my new address at the bottom. He doesn’t deserve to have my new address. He doesn’t deserve the note at all. Had I left it, he could’ve shown up here anytime. With that expectation every day I’d be a slave to a fantasy and never be able to live.

I take the jeans and the note and a box of matches outside and set it all on fire in the driveway. It burns wild as if fanned by a strong wind, but the air is calm. A thin column of smoke rises high above the trees. I have a sudden urge to call him just to tell him something so stupid and pointless.
Remember those jeans? I just burned them. That’s all. Good-bye.
Everything we’d gone through and that’s all I have to say to him. I can’t forget the hundreds of calls I made to him after he left and how every one went to voicemail.

There’s a rustling in the woods that’s coming at me fast. I gauge the distance to the house and to the car but the car keys are in the house so I have to get there first. Then I see a brown and white shape leap from the woods. River.

I take a deep breath and shake out my arms and legs. Yeah, it’s stupid to be here alone but there’s no point in getting all panicky. She slows her pace to circle the yard with her nose to the ground. She sniffs my car. The garage. The porch. Then she comes back and eyes the fire and then me. I look up at the smoke still rising into the sky. He must have seen it at his house and sent his scout.

“You snitch,” I say.

She opens her mouth to pant, that tongue flopping out like she knows how cute it is. I pat my leg. She comes close and I rub her ears. She’s as trained to want to help him as I am.

“There’s something wrong with us, you know that?”

She licks my hand and bolts back into the woods. I look at what’s left of the fire and feel a sharp tug in my stomach. Regret. I can’t fathom why. If the dirtbag ever returns to our home in Chicago he’ll be confronted with an empty house and no explanation just like I was. It’s what he earned. I stomp out the fire, feeling sick and wrong and missing him more than anyone should ever miss a person who abandoned them.

I lock up the house and drive straight to Trey’s. He’s waiting for me in the driveway.

“We need to talk,” he says.

I nod. For some reason now I can’t look at him.

“First you have to promise me something. I’ve decided to tell you everything. Promise that at any point, if it becomes too much, or if you just want out, you’ll leave. No explanation necessary.”

It’s such a harsh shift from my past to my present that I don’t know what to say.

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“And also know that if you do decide to leave, you’ll have very little time to get away from here. They will find you, and they will kill you. That’s not a threat, it’s just the truth. If you want away from me, I won’t force you to stay. But I can’t protect you unless you’re with me.”

I don’t remember hearing him say so much at once. His intensity takes me captive all over again. I wonder if he’d let me kiss him.

He goes into the house and I follow. He starts building a fire, so I sit on the couch. When the fire roars, he sits next to me and looks into my eyes.

“What provoked this?” I have to ask, although I think I already know.

“Christian. And a day to realize I want you to know everything. Because I want you with me. And join me in what I have to do.”

His words awake a thrill in me. “You just made that decision today?”

“Yes. Why?” He furrows his brow.

I watch his face. “Most people don’t make decisions like that…” I trail off when I realize I don’t know how to finish.

“My instincts are usually pretty good.”

I wonder if he will let me kiss him now. I need my present to quell my past.

“I’ll start by telling you what I knew before Christian came. His news makes things complicated.”

I grab a pillow and hold it in my lap. He looks away from me for a moment, takes a deep breath like he’s clearing his head, and returns to me.

“I stopped aging when I turned thirty. By now, I should be forty-five.”

He watches my face as I digest this. He doesn’t look a day past thirty. With his physical fitness, he could easily pass for twenty-five. I pick up one of his hands to look at his knuckles—the wounds he created yesterday look like they’re a week old. The image of his back, after healing so quickly when he was in the coma, flashes in my mind. “This must be why you heal so fast.”

He squints, watching me like he wants to say something but he’s hoping I’ll say it first.

“It’s hard not to notice,” I explain. “Especially after…”

He nods and shifts his weight, laying his arm across the back of the couch. “After I should have died. But there’s a catch. Once I have a child, I begin to age again. And I did have a child. But he and his mother, my wife, died fifteen years ago. So I stopped aging.”

He pauses again. I do remember him telling me he had a child. It was the night we fought.

“Why?” I ask. “Is there a purpose to this?”

“Yes. This is the part that’s hard to explain. You’ll think it’s crazy.”

“And what you just told me isn’t?”

“True.”

I wait for him to continue, my mind open. It’s apparent he’s not used to explaining himself. He’s probably not used to talking this much to anyone, about anything.

“I’m part of an ancient family. We’ve been around a long time, and we’ve kept practices alive that no one knows about. Like the ability to manipulate our environment, use certain things in unconventional ways.”

He allows time for me to respond. I wait for him to continue.

“Magic.”

My eyes widen uncontrollably.

“My people have certain beliefs. Prophecies. They’re a bunch of religious zealots. Only, more times than I’d like to admit, their prophecies come true. One of them involves me.” He pauses. “Should I open the door for you?”

“It can’t be that bad.”