- NOW -
Mother Nature made an unwelcome appearance the following day, leaving me feeling unbelievably grouchy. Coupled with a mild hangover from last night with Axel, and I was not a happy bunny.
We’d planned on watching a movie, and maybe having a drink or two with dinner, but we’d ended up finishing a bottle each. I had nothing to distract me from my miserable mood either. Dad was gone, and it was a Saturday so I had no work to occupy myself with.
I hadn’t had any free time for a while, and didn’t quite know what to do with myself. All the unpacking was done. There were some shelves that needed to go up, and some painting left to do, but I couldn’t bring myself to do anything too strenuous.
It was stupid, but I began to feel a little lonely.
Determined to shake myself out of my morose mood, I headed into the back yard. The weather was nice and warm, and I made myself comfortable on the bench swing Dad had put up last week.
I’d forgotten that I’d left my guitar outside, and thanked my lucky stars that it hadn’t rained. I settled the guitar on my lap, and strummed a few notes. Mom had taught me to play years ago, and I liked to bring it out and play every now and then when I needed comfort.
Feeling sentimental, I closed my eyes and played Mom’s favorite song. Singing the lyrics softly, I savored the warmth of the sun on my face and bare arms and legs. Sometimes, my memories of Mom could bring so much pain. Then, there were other moments where I could feel the sting of her loss but still smile at my memories.
I opened my eyes after singing the last line, and jumped when my eyes landed on an intense, grey pair focused right on me. A small shriek left my mouth.
“What are you doing here? You scared the hell out of me!” I glared at him, placing a hand on my chest to calm my racing heart.
“Nice to see you too, ballerina.” Kellan chuckled, leaning casually against the French doors with his arms crossed. He was so annoyingly blasé about everything. For just once, I’d like to see him react to something.
“How’d you get in?” I demanded, crossing my arms over my chest. I was still in the black shorts and tank-top set I’d worn to bed the night before, not having expected any company. For a second, I swore his eyes dropped to my chest. I dismissed that in the next instant. It had to have been a trick of the light.
Had Dad given Kellan a set of house keys? The thought annoyed me beyond belief. Kellan had obviously had a pair of house keys when he’d lived with us, but even after he’d moved out and we’d moved into our old apartment, he’d still pop over unannounced all the time as Dad had given him a spare set of keys for emergencies. He’d had no qualms over letting himself into the apartment whenever he liked. I was not going to put up with it here.
“Your dad let me in.”
That stopped me short. “Dad’s here? Where is he?” I blinked, my indignation fading into surprise. Dad was here. I jumped up, taking my guitar indoors with me. Dad had hardly been around the past few weeks so I was beyond pleased that he was back early. Realizing that Kellan hadn’t answered my question, I turned to him. “Kellan?”
He had an uncharacteristic serious look on his face that had my guard going right up. “He’s... in the shower.”
The shower? He came back from wherever he’d been, days early, and immediately jumped into the shower?
He was hurt.
There had to be blood. That’s what experience told me. Dad always came and greeted me when he got in – even if he’d been gone for a few hours. The fact that he hadn’t should have been my first clue.
I bit my lip. Damn it. He was as stubborn as a mule. He should have listened to me and taken a nice, quiet job in an office somewhere.
I’d been trying to convince him to quit bounty hunting for years. Even now that the hospital bills were almost completely paid, and we’d finally been able to get out of that horrible apartment we’d been living in, he was still risking his life every day. There were plenty of other jobs out there; safer jobs that didn’t require face to face contact with hardened criminals on the run. But Dad was determined to pay off the debt as quickly as he could so that he could also build up a college fund for me.
Despite its shortcomings, bounty hunting paid well. Dad had built up quite the reputation over the past few years. He had a knack for catching the bad guys, and the more fugitives he caught, the more he got paid. Dad always assured me that I had nothing to worry about – that men who were truly dangerous would never have made bail in the first place. But I had a strong imagination, and despite his constant reassurance, I always worried.
“Oh,” I said, exhaling a little shakily. I wanted to ask a million questions. I wanted to run upstairs and demand to know what had happened. But there was no point. Dad and Kellan were notoriously tight-lipped about their work. Assuming that Dad wasn’t in imminent danger as Kellan had left him alone, I asked, “Have you guys eaten? Are you hungry?”
It was kind of satisfying to see Kellan momentarily flummoxed. He blinked, and then seemed relieved that I wasn’t going to push the matter further. “Sure. I never pass up food.”
He took off his jacket and placed it on the back of a chair before he took a seat at the kitchen table. He settled in, crossing one of his legs so that his ankle was resting on the opposite knee.
“Just make yourself at home,” I said sarcastically, beginning to pull ingredients out of the refrigerator.
At least he hadn’t put his foot up on a chair. The black boots he always wore left scuff marks wherever they went. Kellan had a preference for black. Black boots. Black jeans. And his signature black leather jacket. The only color I’d ever seen him wear was on his t-shirts, though today he wore a black one, too.
“What’s on the menu, ballerina?”
“Pancakes,” I told him with a scowl. The old nickname, which had once been so endearing to me, now just annoyed the hell out of me.
“Sounds great,” he said, picking up a newspaper that had been discarded on the kitchen table.
Before long the batter was made, and the first pancake was sizzling on the pan. I’d pretty much been living on takeout this past week. Now that everything was finally in its place, I intended to start cooking more. I usually made it a point to have something home-cooked for him whenever he was home. Unfortunately for him, he’d been eating more takeout than ever since I’d been so busy with the move.
“You know, you could clean up a little while I’m making these?” I said, gesturing to the flour, eggs, and other supplies littering the kitchen counter top. He was still on the same damn page of the newspaper. There was nothing in there that would take him that long to read. I was sure that he was purposely trying to make himself look busy.
“No thanks,” he said, finally turning a page in the newspaper.
“‘No thanks?’” I repeated, gaping at him for a moment. “I’m making these for you!”
“You offered to make them, ballerina,” he said, shrugging casually. “Besides, I’m sure you’ll be eating them too.”
“It’s common courtesy to pitch in, you lazy ass,” I said, flipping a pancake over as I glowered at him. I was suddenly remembering what a nightmare he used to be to live with.
Mom and Dad had thought that Kellan could do no wrong. And he had been polite and helpful, his attitude almost reverent towards them. He’d put them both on a pedestal, whereas me? I think he’d gotten a kick out of annoying the hell out of me. My crush had made a brief return after he’d first moved in with us, but it had been quickly squelched after a month of living with him.
“C’mon, ballerina, I’ve been up since the butt crack of dawn,” he said, looking worn out. Putting the newspaper down, he crossed his arms against his chest. I felt a flash of sympathy go through me, but then he raised an eyebrow, and said, “Besides, what have you been doing all day?” His eyes were sardonic as he eyed my pajamas.
Okay, maybe I had just gotten out of bed. But he didn’t know that for sure. For all he knew, I could have been up at the butt crack of dawn, too.
I opened my mouth to deliver a cutting retort, but the smell of burning batter distracted me. “Shit!”
I’d left the last pancake on the pan for too long. It was completely burned on one side. I scraped it into the trash, glaring at Kellan.
Dad walked into the kitchen then, whistling cheerfully. I turned resolutely back to the pancakes while Kellan nonchalantly picked up his newspaper.
“Hi, Dad.”
“It’s good to see you, sweetheart,” Dad said, coming over to me.
I turned to give him a quick hug, and noticed that he kept his distance as he gave me a one armed squeeze – a world away from his usual big, bear hugs. He was six foot two and I barely came up to his shoulder. I usually felt completely engulfed by his hugs.
He looked paler than usual too, despite his forced cheer. I knew – just knew – that he was hurt somewhere around his midsection. I opened my mouth, and perhaps realizing I was about to question him, he tried to distract me. “We’ve only been back about fifteen minutes, and you two are already bickering?” He shook his head in exasperation.
I glowered at Kellan, and poured some more batter onto the pan. “He started it.”
It was a juvenile response, and I could see Kellan’s lips quirk even as his eyes stayed on the newspaper. I think a part of him enjoyed sparring with me. While I could get all worked-up, he often remained amused.
My mood lightened considerably as we all dug into the pancakes. It was nice having Dad there, with no rush for either of us to hurry off to work. I didn’t even mind Kellan being there, I was feeling so magnanimous.
After our impromptu brunch, I gathered the dishes and waved Dad, and even Kellan, off when they got up to help. Now that I’d eaten, I was feeling a bit bad about almost biting Kellan’s head off earlier.
After I finished the dishes, I grabbed some aspirin and a glass of water before heading to Dad’s study.
It was the only room in the house that Dad hadn’t allowed me to sort out. There were still boxes littered around the place, and a few half-empty filing cabinets in various places across the room. Dad’s safe, which was concealed behind a painting on the wall, was wide open, his guns visible within it. I shivered. I’d always been uneasy around guns.
Kellan and Dad were in the middle of a conversation when I walked in. They both shut up as soon as they saw me, and Dad casually placed an envelope into his desk drawer and shut it.
That wasn’t at all conspicuous.
I rolled my eyes, coming to a stop at Dad’s desk. I handed him the glass and the painkillers, and he smiled guiltily, his piercing green eyes turning sheepish. His eyes were an exact mirror of my own, and were possibly the only thing we shared in appearance. Everything else was all Mom. My height. My hair. Even my face. Sometimes, I wondered if it ever hurt him to look at me. But he’d never once given me that impression.
“Can’t hide anything from you. Can I, sweetheart?” he said, taking the aspirin.
“What happened?” I asked him, feeling my brows furrow.
“It was nothing. My own fault. I’m not as young as I used to be. I need to start remembering that.” He shook his head, his answer not really an answer at all.
“Where are you hurt? Maybe you should go to–“
“I’m fine, April. Really.” Dad stood and gave me a quick kiss on the forehead. “Kellan and I just need to go through this list of phone records before the morning.” He nodded towards the sheets on his desk.
I understood I was being dismissed. “Well, I’m going to go get dressed then,” I said, unable to hide the fact that I was a bit miffed.
I walked out of the office, and when I glanced back, it was to see that they’d resumed their conversation as though they’d never been interrupted. Even though Dad was home, he was still holed up in his study working with Kellan.