Cruise

Despite the light Clara has brought into my life these last few weeks, the gray day is fitting for what I have on my mind.

Clara is so fucking amazing, I find myself smiling on the inside just thinking about her despite the weather outside. It’s as if we had to go through hell to find each other. And now that we have, I’m not willing to let her go.

That fucker . . . I blow out a hot breath while clenching my fists. He did this to her. He stole so much from her, her life and her innocence. She’s fighting to be free from the shadow he hid her under.

Despite him, she’s cute, direct, strong, and yet demure. I didn’t get it before, but as she lets me into her world, I see her changing. She’s becoming who she was always meant to be, blossoming right before my eyes. She tests her world, and herself every day, trying to find out what makes her happy, what makes her feel good, what makes her her.

She’s incredible.

As for her fucker of a father, he better be rotting in hell. If not, when I arrive in that purgatory, I’ll make sure he gets what he deserves.

I’m glad she told me. I think she thought I couldn’t handle the news. I’m not scared to take on her demons. I’ll embrace her struggles and pain. If it helps her, I’ll do whatever she needs me to do. She deserves nothing less. She deserves someone who understands what it’s like to live with the boogieman corrupting her past.

I can be that someone for her.

I want to be that someone for her.

I’m used to dealing with indescribable acts of cruelty. My mind used to drifting . . .

Staring into the blackness of the room, my arms are shackled, weighing heavy at my sides. King sits against the far wall. I only know because of the way I hear him shift, the chains dragging along the concrete floor.

It’s been days of being in here, an unknown captor deciding we need to die. “Do you ever regret driving around that block?”

He knows what I mean. The moment he laid eyes on Sara Jane, his heart was lost to her forever. We circled the block just so he could get another look. Despite my protests. She was a girl in a Catholic school uniform. We were used to girls in heels and short skirts.

But I saw it.

Two souls came together on that rainy day.

I tried to stop it. I was going to lose my best friend, the only person who ever gave a shit about me, the real me. I lie still in our cement cell and say, “I’m sorry I gave you a hard time about Sara Jane the day you met.”

A low chuckle fills the space. He’s weakening. Day by day. His voice evidence of the abuse we’ve taken. “You were looking out for me.”

“I was jealous.”

“Why would you be jealous?”

“I took a backseat that day. I saw how you looked at her, but more than that, I saw how she looked at you.”

“Tell me how she looked at me. Remind me of why I need to survive this.”

“You were the scariest person she had ever encountered. Not because you rode a motorcycle or demanded her time.”

“Then what was it? Why was she scared of me?”

“Because she saw her whole life wrapped up in you. Some might call it stars in her eyes. That girl never stood a chance.”

“This is deep.” He chuckles again. “But I think you’re right. She should have kept walking though. She should have dated a frat boy from the college.”

“That’s not how destiny works.”

He knows where my head’s at, where my thoughts lie. “You’re going to live.”

“If I’m given only one more day, I hope to find someone who looks at me the same way.”

“You’ll find her or she’ll find you. You’ll see.”

. . . I believed him back then, just shy of a year ago. I believed I would live and thrive and I would have a full life. I’m not so sure anymore. I’m not sure Clara can save us both.

Reflecting on my own life, I guess I always believed at some level it would always come down to that.

Abandoned.

A baby in basket.

For fuck’s sake, I was hated from the day I was born.

But Clara, she deserves better than what she got. So pure. So sweet to her core. If I can take her pain and replace it with some happiness, I will.

Someone touches my shoulder. I spin, knocking a hand away. My throat grabbed as I take hold of his neck. “What the fuck, Alex?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Don’t sneak up on me.”

Our hands drop at the same time and we both take a step back. “I didn’t. I called your fucking name three times when I walked in. Where’s your fucking head at, man?”

Adrenaline courses through me as I gain control of my pounding heart. I sit on the arm of the couch, and run a hand through my hair. “A million fucking miles away. On everything all at once. Back in that cement room coughing up blood, thinking I’m going to die, to lying next to Clara every morning thinking I lived so I could meet her.” Confusion is written into his squinted eyes, and mouth that wants to ask questions, but doesn’t. I continue, “We’ve gotten serious fast.”

“I’m not surprised, man. She’s a keeper.”

I nod because I know that. I just don’t know if I will get to keep her.

“I’m no judge and I’m definitely not your jury.” My gaze tracks him into the kitchen. He bends down and grabs a bottle from the liquor cabinet along with two shot glasses. “It’s been a long time coming, but I think we should talk about what happened last year and put some of that to rest.”

* * *

We each lie on a couch with a coffee table between that’s littered with a half full bottle of Jack, some crumbs from a polished off Frito bag, and two shot glasses. Alex and I have never gone into great detail about what happened when we were kidnapped. We lived it, so we don’t like to relive it if we can avoid it.

Today, we talk.

He says, “I never knew if you’d be returned to that hellhole alive or dead. I once prayed for your death to end your torture. I’m sorry.”

“I would have done the same for you.”

“We’ve been through a lot together over the years, and your friendship, your loyalty to me has never wavered. Not even once. Not even when you were bleeding from someone aiming to hurt me.”

“You were there for me when no one else was. I owe you my life.”

“No you don’t,” he says. “You’ve given more than you ever should have. I owe you.” He sits up and pours two more shots. Pushing one toward me, he takes his glass in hand. “What can I do for you?”

“Since . . . then, I’ve filled every waking minute doing something else, thinking about anything but my life. It’s catching up with me. I don’t know if I’m burned out or finally admitting that besides Clara, I’m not living a life worth living. I’ve not been good to you or your business in a long time. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I bury myself in work and my wife for a reason. I don’t want to think about what happened, but I’m glad we talked through some of it. Take some time off.”

“I don’t know how long I’ll need.”

“You know you can take as long as you want. Do you have something in mind, a way to spend that time?”

I sit up and take my shot, downing it in one gulp. “I’m going to find my birth parents.”

“Wow, Cruise. You’re stirring up a lot of shit in your life. You sure you want those answers?”

“I’m sure. I need to put some things behind me and starting at the root of the cause is the best way to start moving forward.”

“You lived through my search for answers, so yeah, I’m skeptical these days about digging up old ghosts.”

“You got answers. Now I need some.”

“What do your parents say?”

“The Senator doesn’t know. My mom said she knew it was coming. I guess it’s only natural.”

“I’m surprised the Senator hasn’t figured out how to market this situation, twisting it to his advantage.”

“I’m not currently talking to him. I owe them a lot for taking me when no one else wanted me. I grew up never in need for anything—”

“Except love. Seemed to be lacking in your house until the cameras were on. I presumed dinner didn’t go well. Should I ask about it.”

“Just as I expected. I think my dad’s fucking Celeste.”

“What the fuck?” I shoot him a look and then roll my eyes. He adds, “Damn.”

“She’s history to me, but I feel bad for my mom.”

“Your mom is a strong woman. Anyway, I doubt this is the first time she’s dealt with his infidelity.”

“I know. I just don’t know why she accepts it.”

“Maybe it’s not accepting it, but more wanting to keep her family together.”

“I don’t know. I just hate it for her. The Senator’s an asshole.”

“Changing the subject, what’s with the woman who’s inspired you to figure out your life?”

Clara. My Dove. I won’t share her secrets, but I will share mine. “She’s different.” Dipping my head into my hands, I say, “It’s weird, but I already think about her all the time. It’s like once we met, I wanted to know everything about her. And then I want to . . .” Fuck. I can’t tell him. He’s my best friend, the brother I choose to have, but I can’t tell him this. That would be a betrayal to her, so I stay my course, keeping her past out of it. “I want more time with her. I want to protect her. I want to date her. I want to take her to dinner. I want Paige and Matty, you and Sara Jane to meet her. I want . . . she makes me want so much with her.”

When I look up, he’s smiling. “I know the feeling.” He’s shaking his head and then leans back. “I’ve never seen you attached to anyone. I want to meet her.”

“You will. Soon.”

“It’s funny that of all the women you’ve dated, hooked up with, whatever you want to call it, you never brought them around us.”

“But here I am, wanting to bring Clara over like you’re my parents.”

“I can promise not to interrogate her, but Sara Jane’s protective over you.”

I chuckle, and lean back. “Tell her to go easy on my girl. I like her a lot.”

“Maybe more than a lot?”

“Definitely more than a lot.”

* * *

“This place is amazing.”

I stand at the bar and watch Clara roam around the penthouse in astonishment. She even spun around at one point with her arms out. She said it was just because she could, the place is so spacious.

“Why do you work and live here? I mean, I see why you want to live here, but why do you work here, too? And what do you do again? You’ve explained it, but I’m confused.”

“The penthouse was purchased as a base while we did research on a project we were working on at the time. My family cut the money strings and our friend needed a job and a place to live. So Chad and I lived here, while King—Alex—would come and work at night. It really just made sense to serve the two purposes with one place.” It’s still hurts to think about Chad, much less mention him so casually. But I don’t want to bury his memory, so I say his name whenever I get the chance.

Walking to the wall of windows, she looks out. “Your other friend moved out so you have this huge place all to yourself?”

Chad.

How do I explain what happened to him without scaring her?

I was tortured.

Chad is dead.

God, this sounds like a fucking movie. Just lay it out like she did. “He died.”

“Oh.” She looks over her shoulder at me. “I’m sorry. Do you mind if I ask how?”

“Chad was killed.”

“My father was killed.” It’s as if she catches herself, and corrects some transgression she’s committed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to infer they are same. Your friend was nothing like that monster. I shouldn’t have said—”

Striding across the room, I cup her face. “Hey. You don’t have to apologize all the time. I know what you meant.” Taking her in my arms, I inhale her sweet scent—a light floral fragrance. “When you’re with me, I want you to feel comfortable. I want you to speak freely and say what’s on your mind. Always, Dove. Don’t hold back.”

“I don’t want to upset you.”

“Don’t worry about that. If I’m upset, I’ll tell you. We’re not going to hide behind passive-aggressive bullshit. Let’s just be open and honest with each other.”

Leaning against the window, she looks up at me. “This is surreal. You’re surreal, as if you’ll disappear like a daydream.”

“I won’t.” Placing her hand on my chest, I cover it with mine. “I’m here. I’m real. That’s my heart you feel beating. It beats faster around you. I can feel it when we’re together, as if it was dormant and you brought it back to life.”

A smile surfaces that’s so delicate it could become a memory before I have enough time to truly admire it. I ask, “How do you feel?”

“Like I’m not worthy of your kindness.”

My heart clenches. “Fuck that, Dove. You’re more worthy than any of us. You didn’t ask for hell to pay, but you paid the price anyway.”

Her body eases and her smile becomes a part of her as she pokes me playfully in the abs. “You talk about me like I’m amazing. Trust me, Cruise. I’m not. If I were, none of the bad would have happened.”

“You were a kid—”

“Can we not talk about this?” Coming forward, she embraces my middle, but rests her chin on my chest looking up at me.

“I don’t know when we can talk about things or when you’d rather not.”

“I feel terrible when you ask and I don’t want to talk. I opened the wound, so I know I’m to blame, but sometimes I just want to be in the now, and to be happy. I’m conflicted, because I want you to know. I want you to feel free to ask questions. I want that same right with you.”

“I understand. How about we use a code word if we don’t want to talk about things? If the word is said, then we stop talking about it and talk about something else instead.”

Her interest is piqued, a small smile playing on her lips. “What’s the word?”

Staring out the window, the sun is beginning to set and the last of the day remains in the reflection of the skyscrapers.

“It has to be something unassuming.”

“A non-trigger word . . . like frosting or flour.”

“Flower like a rose or flour for cooking?”

“Either.” Joy. That’s what I see in her eyes when she suggests, “What about donut?”

“What happens when we want donuts?”

She laughs. “We go get donuts, silly.”

We’ve discussed life-altering tragedies but I don’t even know if she likes donuts. I’m determined to find out. I lean my hand on the glass over her shoulder. “What’s your favorite kind of donut? Let me guess . . . chocolate? Glazed? Sprinkles?” Being this close to her, so close to her lips, I get turned on so easily. Kissing the shell of her ear, I whisper, “Cream-filled?”

“God, yes.” Her breathing deepens, her voice husky, revealing her lust. “That.” When I start kissing her neck, she moans, “Donuts. Yes, donuts.”

I can’t stop from laughing. “So, donut is our stop word?”

Sighing seductively, she grabs my shirt, and pulls me around. “It’s always going to be about the baked goods for us, isn’t it?”

“I’m pretty sure it is.” Sweeping her off her feet, I flip her over my shoulder. “Have I shown you my bedroom?”

“I’ve been waiting for that tour since I arrived.” Just inside the doorway of the bedroom, I set her down on her feet again. When I kiss her, she giggles while wrapping her arms around my neck, and then asks, “Where have you been all my life?”

“It’s not about where we’ve been, Dove. It’s about where we’re going.” And wherever that is, I hope it’s with you.