Out of the Blackness (21 page)
My mind wanders back to that look in Noah's eyes back in the restaurant right before his lips touched mine. Those incredible hazel pools had been filled with some intense but unnamable emotion that had caught the breath in my throat. My lips tingle again at the memory and I bring my fingertips to them once more, scarcely able to believe it really happened. The sensation of fingers on my mouth draws me back to that incredible moment at Kaleb’s when Noah's thumb had so gently stroked my lip, the moment I’d gotten my first taste of him. It hadn’t been enough then, despite how bizarre it seems now, and I wonder if the memory of Noah's taste and touch ever will be.
I glance back at him to find his watching me with a lopsided smile. Ignoring the voices in my head, I sit back in my seat and curl up next to him, my head in the crook of his shoulder. I feel his biceps flex as his arm around my shoulders gives me a light squeeze. I hear him whisper, “Thank you,” just before his lips brush my hair. My heart races and my body tingles in response. I allow myself to breathe in that special scent that is all and only Noah and relax against him.
Seconds later, a tap on my forehead startles me awake. My head jerks up from where it rested against Sam. Surprised, I stare into his blue gaze before looking quickly around for Noah, who is conspicuously absent. The house lights rise quickly, bathing us in their harsh glare.
“You missed the whole movie, sleepyhead,” Sam accuses with a smile.
I shrug and fight back a yawn. “Sorry.”
Sam ruffles my hair. “Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to your boyfriend.”
I glare at him sleepily but I know the effect is ruined by the rush of blood to my face. “Shut up. Where’s Noah?”
“He had to go unload that gallon of Pepsi he drank. I figured we’d let you sleep a few more minutes while he waited in line.”
I nod and my jaw cracks with the force of my yawn. I duck my head in embarrassment.
Sam laughs again and I even hear a quiet giggle from Kira, who looks just as sleepy as I feel. Apparently the movie was only good for the two big boys. “C’mon, let’s get you home so you can dream about your boyfriend.”
“Stop that,” I say, embarrassed again, even as my lips tingle with the memory of Noah's kiss.
Sam stands up and looks down at me with a grin. “You’ll be okay, Avery. I really believe that. With or without Noah Yates, you’ll be fine.” Then his grin turns teasing and his eyebrows dance obscenely. “But with him I can tease you mercilessly about all the crazy sexual stuff you two will get up to. I think I’m looking forward to that the most.”
I can only gape at him as a thousand scenes overlap on my mental view screen. Thankfully Kira is there to give Sam’s butt a much needed swat.
***
I look shyly at Kendall through my mess of dark bangs and fit another puzzle piece in place. It’s been two days since Noah kissed me and it’s almost all I can think about. I was an absolute wreck at work yesterday, zoning out in the middle of ringing up customers, forgetting answers to the most basic questions. I’d even caught myself trying to shelve a book about Greek statuary in the relationship improvement section. Thankfully, I hadn’t needed to try to hide my scattered thoughts and emotions from Noah because it was his scheduled day off. Several times I found myself wondering if that was another example of him knowing what I need before I know it myself. Sam was right months ago when he said Noah knows how to handle me. Well, Sam said Noah “gets” me, but I don’t think anyone can truly “get” me. Even Sam has a hard time with that sometimes, and he was right there in the group home with me all those years.
I’ve replayed Noah's kiss in my head so many times in the last forty-some hours that I’m not even sure it’s real now. No, that’s not true. I remember vividly the feel and taste of Noah's lips against mine, but I wonder just how much too much I’m reading into it. Kendall looks back at me expectantly, not even pretending to work the puzzle with me. She just plays with the piece between her fingers, a bemused smile on her face. She’s known throughout the session that something new is on my mind. It’s taken me forty minutes of our fifty minute session to be able to voice it.
Finally I can’t hold it in anymore. I twist my fingers together nervously in my lap. “I have something to tell you, but only if you promise not to ask how it makes me feel.”
Kendall laughs throatily and finally slots her piece into the puzzle. It’ll be beautiful when we finish. It’s a fifty-three inch by thirty-eight inch, four-thousand piece picture of Neuschwanstein Castle. I haven’t missed that the handsome King Ludwig II of Bavaria, the builder of Neuschwanstein, was very eccentric, suspected to be insane, and supposedly gay. Clever, clever Kendall. “Well that’s sort of my function here, Avery, but I’ll try to come up with a more original question.”
For a moment, I relive the way Noah's lips brushed over mine once, twice. I see again the hundred different ways he smiled at me that night at dinner, the way he encouraged me to rest against him during movie, and that awkward goodbye after when he hugged Kira, shook Sam’s hand and tousled my hair. If I’m not completely honest with myself, that’s the part that confuses me most: the tousling of the hair. It’s an affectionate gesture, yes, but it’s so brotherly that, coming on the heels of a kiss, I don’t know what to make of it. But if I
am
completely honest with myself, it’s the kiss that totally blows my mind.
“Noah kissed me,” I blurt out, unable to contain it anymore.
Kendall nods, a half-smile playing at her painted lips. “Okay. Would you like to give me more details?”
I blanch. “No!”
Kendall laughs again. “I’m sorry. I should have been clearer. I don’t mean give me details about the kiss, although that’s fine, too. What I’m really asking is that you paint the scene for me: where were you? How’d it happen? Did you enjoy it? Do you want it to happen again?”
I swallow hard and try unsuccessfully not to think about how unfathomable Noah's eyes were so close to mine. I fill Kendall in on the details of the surprise double date, the unsavory server, the follow-the-leader mimicry that led to my first kiss. I can’t stop the smile any more than I could force my fingers from touching my lips for the nine hundredth time since Noah did.
Kendall leans back in her black, high-backed office chair and regards me with a smile. “Congratulations, Avery. Not only is this a big moment in your life, but you seem to be handling it well. Or did I miss the panic attack?”
My eyes grow wide with the realization. “There wasn't one.”
Kendall’s smile grows wider. “You see? Your hard work is paying off. If Noah had tried to kiss you in November, what would you have done?”
I shake my head in wonder, unable to imagine it. I know I would have freaked right the heck out. I probably wouldn’t have left my bedroom closet for weeks.
“So here is the important question: do you want Noah to kiss you again?”
“O
h my god!” I cry, running across the living room to where Sam has just walked in the front door. His left eye is swollen almost closed, colored ugly shades of purple and green. His bottom lip is stitched and I can see he has bled down onto his uniform shirt. Gently, he removes tissues from deep in both nostrils. I pull myself up short. I want to touch him, but I have no idea where else he’s hurt. “Are you okay? What happened?”
Sam smiles tiredly, wincing when the action pulls his stitches in his lip. His tongue and fingers reach the spot at the same time and he shrugs slightly before toeing off his shoes. “I ran into an old friend tonight.”
“Friend?” Clearly one with a different friendship with Sam than I have.
“Yeah.” He pulls off his gun belt—I will always think of it as a utility belt—and stows his weapon in the safe inside the coat closet. “We got called to a brawl at a bar called the Finish Line. It used to be a sports bar, but now it’s mostly a biker bar with assorted losers thrown in.” He eases himself down on the couch, grimacing as he holds obviously sore ribs. “Anyway, when we got there, the first guys on the scene had mostly calmed things down, so I was just doing another walkthrough to make sure we hadn’t missed anything.” He trails off, probably reliving it.
Trembling, I very carefully sit down on the couch next to him. “And?”
“And I was walking down the hall to the bathrooms when our old friend Tommy Blevins came out of the men’s room. I don’t know if he recognized me or just decided to run from the uniform, but he took off back into the bathroom. I ran in after him. That’s when he clocked me the first time.” Sam shakes his head. “I have no idea what happened, but it was like the instant I saw him, all my training went out the window.” He gestures at his face. “This is my own fault. If I’d followed procedure, I wouldn’t look and feel like this. But it was just…,” he pauses, then practically spits the name, “Tommy Blevins.”
The first mention of the name had caused my breath to seize in my lungs, but this time I feel the panic rising. Tommy Blevins. I can see him clearly, even after all this time. It doesn’t take much for my body to remember the feel of his fists and feet on me. I close my eyes as a ripple of fear courses the length of my spine. I look up to see Sam staring back at me with his one good eye.
He puts his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry, champ. He’s not going to hurt you. He’s locked up for assaulting an officer plus various and sundry weapons and drug charges. With his history, he’ll probably get time again.”
I nod, not quite believing it, still perched on the precipice of panic, and move cautiously under Sam’s raised arm. I lean against him and try to keep calm. But…
Tommy Blevins. My own special demon.
***
I wake from the nightmare, breathing hard and crying. It wasn't the worst one I’ve ever had and I should be grateful. I’m not screaming my fool head off, but having them back again hurts and fills me with a sense of dread. How long will they be around this time? How bad will they get? Is this the crash Kendall keeps warning me about? And how is it possible that Tommy Blevins has this much power over me still, so much that the mere mention of his name—okay and the evidence of his fists on Sam’s body—can cause these horrific dreams to come back?
Although I feel like I’ve just run a marathon, not tried to sleep, I know I won’t find peace in slumber again tonight. Carelessly, I toss back the covers and climb out of bed. Glancing at the clock, I bite back a sigh. It’s only 3:30, another six hours before I have to be at work. Gritty-eyed, I pull on a t-shirt to compliment my sleep pants and pad barefoot into the kitchen. I look longingly at the cabinet in which the Ambien resides, but knowing I don’t have the full eight hours they require, I pull a cookbook from the cupboard instead. Perhaps I can find something good, but not too complicated for my sleepy state, to make Noah for lunch. I already have his meal for today prepared, but I may as well get started on the rest of the week.
***
“So what’s on tap today?”
My head shoots up toward Noah, who walks through the door without a care in the world. Luckily, I'm on the opposite side of the room, but I still back up against the counter, putting as much space between us as possible. I notice absently that he’s wearing another turtleneck today, but my gaze goes no higher than his neck.
I look at him, but have nothing to say. I still haven’t slept, so even if the specter of Tommy Blevins hadn’t just turned my life upside down last night, my nerves would still be buzzing dangerously.
“Aves?” Noah asks again, gently this time. “What’s the matter?”
“N-nothing,” I whisper, unable to put sound to the air leaving my throat.
Noah's movements slow like a man trying not to spook a wild animal. He moves to a chair farther from the door but not necessarily closer to me. I know he’s giving me the option of escape and I can’t believe the amount of gratitude that fills me at that simple gesture. He sits down quietly and folds his hands together atop the table, keeping his big body strangely still.
The chime of the microwave startles me, but I pull myself together enough to retrieve Noah's food and put it on the table before him. It’s a large steaming bowl of chili with a heap of shredded sharp cheddar cheese melted over a few pickles. Noah glances up at me with a gentle, melancholy smile, but I quickly shift my eyes away. I can’t afford to see the emotion on his face or I’ll completely lose my composure.
I place a sleeve of crackers in front of him and carefully step backwards to warm my own food, not turning my back on him, even though the rational side of my brain reminds me I’m safe with Noah. I watch the bowl go round and round on the plate and think that’s my life. Just when I think I’m breaking free from my past and the reality of who I am, something sends me careening back to it. I’ll always be the same, no matter how much I try or what I do differently.
And just as one day my life will end, so does the microwave cycle. Blinking the tears from my tired, aching eyes, I reach in and rescue the metaphorical me, setting the bowl on the table across from Noah. Normally I would sit around the corner from him so we could be closer, but today I desperately need the distance the table provides.
Noah has prepped his chili with crushed crackers and stirred them in, but he waits until I catch up to take his first taste. “Pickles?” He laughs. “”Little one, you’re a genius. I never would have thought of that, but it’s amazing.”
I smile wanly and mumble my thanks, keeping my attention on my own food. Regardless of what Noah says, I can’t taste anything but fear.
A few moments later, I hear Noah sigh. I cringe, knowing what’s coming. “Is this because of the kiss, Avery?” he asks softly.
My startled gaze immediately jumps to his wounded one. “No!” How could he think that? That kiss was the most amazing moment of my life, wildly beating out that night on Kaleb’s porch. I take a deep breath and focus on the tabletop between us. “I’m sorry, Noah. I-I don’t mean to be weird.”
Noah chuckles softly and stretches his hand toward me on the table. All I have to do is move a few inches and we’ll be touching. I can practically feel the warmth of his skin against mine. “Tell me what’s wrong,” he coaxes gently.
