The Space Between (The Book of Phoenix) (27 page)

I couldn’t disagree that her body was definitely made for those kinds of moves. Better than any stripper I’d ever seen, even in the highest-class executive clubs. She’d left my head spinning, all of the blood flowing to my dick.

“So why didn’t you do that? Why not audition with other dance companies that aren’t ballet?”

She stared at me for a long moment, a storm churning behind her green eyes, and I waited with anticipation for her to let it out. But then she blinked and squared her shoulders.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” she said, controlled as ever. “That’s a past life.”

“Right. Because you gave up. Which tells me it wasn’t your dream to start with.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Let it go.”

“You were only doing what Mama wanted all along, weren’t you? Not what you wanted at all.”

“I said to let it go!”

But I didn’t. I was onto something. “And what does Mama think about you giving up? Looks like she lost control, didn’t she? A little disappointed, is she? Oh, yeah. She doesn’t even admit you exist!”

Leni’s eyes widened with shock as though I’d hit her. Yeah, I really said that and already regretted it. But she recovered quickly and simply raised a brow.

“I’m done with this conversation.” She crossed her arms over her chest and put on that stupid, sweet smile, teeth showing and all.

I stared at her for a long moment, then shook my head. “I don’t understand you. I just pushed every button I could find on you. And still you’re calm as shit.”

“And I don’t understand you. It’s over. I’m over it all. Why are
you
so riled up?”

“Because I’m pissed,” I admitted, kicking the folding chair and knocking it over. Ghost, the cat who’d been curled in a ball sleeping in the other chair, lifted his head and glared at me before returning to his nap.

“And what does that do for you, being all pissed?” Leni asked. “Punching the air and kicking at chairs? What’s the point?”

“Because I want to! It’s a release and it feels good! Dammit, don’t you ever do anything for you just because it feels good?”

She flinched, and then her face reddened even more than before. I’d hit a new button without realizing it was there. And it was as good as her mother button, if not better. Maybe she’d let herself go now, be the real Leni that I knew lurked under the surface waiting to break out. There was no way she was this laid back for real.

“I said I’m done,” she said, and she stalked off toward the lake.

That was the best I was going to get? Shit, with everything going on, if she didn’t release soon, I would regret being around when she finally did blow. Nobody could keep everything she had to be feeling in check for long.

I watched her stroll down to the shore, wondering if I should follow her but her ass distracted me—I’d never seen anything so perfect. Those dancers could fuck off. What did they know? I’d been with enough models and dancers to know what they felt like—my hands were bigger than their asses, and I was afraid my cock would literally break them in two. But Leni. She had the talent
and
the soft curves. Not too much, but just right.

Dude. Again
.

Shit. What was happening to me?

Anxious energy rushed through my veins, but I didn’t want to go for another run to work it off. To be honest, running wouldn’t have done the trick anyway. The anger that had been building while egging Leni on had already evaporated. The need to go, however, to move went deeper. The same gut feeling that had led me to Leni pulled at me again, wanting to go south now, with Leni at my side. And it had been strongest when I saw Jacey’s drawing of the old Victorian mansion in her journal, and laced with an edge I didn’t like. An edge that made me think the lure was dangerous.

Figuring Leni wanted to be alone, I went inside to retrieve my own journal, bringing Jacey’s with me. I set them on the counter side by side and flipped through the pages of both until I found what I was looking for—nearly identical drawings, although Jacey’s was much better than mine, sketched by an expert hand. Like Jacey and Micah, I’d somehow known when I drew it several months ago it was in the Tampa/St. Pete area. Unlike Jacey and Micah, I had the Internet, but I still hadn’t been able to find the house online. I stared at the two drawings, and as always, the mansion gave me a sinister feeling, as though the house itself might open up and eat us alive.

An hour or so passed as I researched the Internet for Jacey and Micah, but nothing came up on Google or any of the social media sites. No proof they ever existed, which really wasn’t so surprising, was it?

I pushed away from the counter and went back outside. Night had settled in. Leni’s form was silhouetted against the moonlight on the lake as she still stood by the shore. I wished I knew what she was thinking. My muscles jumped with the need to move again, and I reconsidered going for another run. But I couldn’t leave Leni, now that it was dark. When I did last night, the Shadowmen had come. I wasn’t letting her out of my sight in case they returned. Shit. I sounded like Micah.

That dude and I had way too much in common. Why was that? Why did I feel like I knew him as much as I felt like I knew Leni? He and Jacey couldn’t be my parents. I’d know, wouldn’t I? But could that explain the connection I felt to these strangers? Had I heard their story before? But where? From who?

Our lives had become a big, fat riddle. I’d always hated riddles.

Leni eventually made her way to the campsite, pushed past me and inside. When she didn’t come out after a few minutes, I went in to see what she was up to. She lay huddled on her side on her bed in the darkened end of the Airstream. She’d gone to sleep? Her form trembled. Damn. She was crying. Yeah, I wanted her to release the pressure valve, but I’d been hoping for a fiery burst. Not tears. I didn’t do tears. I didn’t know how.

After locking up the camper, I went back to her and tried to get her to sit up and talk to me, to at least let me apologize, but she grabbed my hand and pulled me down to the bed. I lay next to her, and she curled herself into me, tucking her head into my shoulder and burying her face against my chest. I guessed that meant she forgave me. I wrapped my arms around her and held her close while she cried herself to sleep.

Chapter 20

  My stealthy attempt at disentangling myself from Jeric’s arms without waking him didn’t work. He squeezed me tighter and moaned against my neck. One hand slid down my side and came to a rest on my hip, his fingers pressing into the sensitive area where my panties met my leg. I wondered if he was fully awake and knew whom he lay next to, or if I was just another girl in his sleep-fogged mind.

“Leni,” he murmured right by my ear, and my body froze. He’d spoken! Said my name! And, whoa, did I not love the sound of it, the way it wrapped around my heart. I lay still, hoping he’d say it again, but he didn’t.

The quiet of being with him was sometimes unnerving. Uncle Theo had his hearing aid, but when he didn’t put it in, he’d have the television blaring at its highest volume. With Jeric, there was nothing. A rare groan or grunt, but nothing more. Until now. He must have still been asleep. His rhythmic breathing next to my ear confirmed this.

I let out a sigh. How had this man affected me the way he did? How could I feel what I did for him? Already? Jeric Winters was so not my type. Well, not really. Okay, so there may have been a few bad boys at the club who had intrigued me. Maybe all who walked through the door. But it was only curiosity. Something to fantasize about in my mind, but not to act on. Bad boys equaled broken hearts. Lots of them, strewn around like shattered beer bottles because girls meant nothing more to these guys. If I fell any harder for Jeric, I’d be one of those broken hearts.

But dammit, if I hadn’t already fallen for him, regardless of whether I wanted to or not. What I felt for him went beyond the edgy outer shell that protected the hurt he felt inside, beyond the warm heart I knew he kept hidden, and deep into his soul. My soul greeted his like we were longtime lovers waiting for this reunion. Like we were Twin Flames, separated before, but finally together again.

Goodness, girl. Get ahold of yourself.

We weren’t Jacey and Micah. There were lots of similarities and coincidences, but that didn’t mean we were exactly the same. Nothing had said Jeric and I were Twin Flames. Except the marks. And my soul when it met his. But those were hearsay, as my daddy would say. No hard evidence. Jacey and Micah’s story may be like ours, but it wasn’t ours. Besides, from what I’d found on the Internet, the idea of Twin Flames sounded like a crock of New Age crap. Did I even want to be bound so tightly with Jeric?

Yes
, my heart whispered and my soul echoed.

Ugh. I needed to get up. I struggled against Jeric’s hold again, but he still wouldn’t let me go. He was so stubborn, even in his sleep. He’d been trying hard last night to piss me off, intent on making me explode, and he actually had come close—he had no idea how spot-on he’d been with some of his accusations—but I could be stubborn, too. Mama would have been proud of how well I kept it together. How I hadn’t broken. Except I had. I’d cried.

Jeric was probably right—I did have too many emotions pent up and I should have just let it all out in an angry outburst. Mama said it was better to cry behind closed doors, but I didn’t know anymore. I hadn’t been able to go behind closed doors. No, instead I’d cried myself to sleep in his arms. Now he probably saw me as weak.

But he already did anyway. Saw me as a child who couldn’t do anything on her own. And that was one thing he’d nailed, right into my heart. I’d never realized it before, but he’d been absolutely right. Unlike him, or Jacey or Micah, I hadn’t had a horrible life with all of its lessons. The grown-ups who had raised me weren’t perfect, but they had taken care of me. Had always followed through for me. Even when I was caring for Uncle Theo, he was taking care of me, too. I could always rely on the adults in my life. On the authorities to do their jobs.

Until now.

And Jeric was right again. I hadn’t known what to do.

But I did this morning. The draw I felt to go south had to mean something, and it was time to follow my own instincts. With another tug against his hold, Jeric finally flopped over onto his back, and his arm released me. I slid out of the bed, letting him sleep.

The morning sun hung low in the sky. The clock read 7:06. A little early for me. But it wasn’t jetlag or Jeric or Mama still getting to me. I’d woken up two hours ago with a vague memory persistently nagging at the edge of my mind. The house. The one in Jacey’s journal. I’d seen it before and now I knew where.

After a stop in the bathroom, I pulled my mass of curls into a ponytail, then began searching the camper’s storage spots. The Airstream wasn’t big by any means, but it contained all sorts of secret hiding places. I only wished I could remember which one I’d seen that postcard in. At least my banging around wouldn’t wake Jeric. That had to be a plus side of being deaf.

As I reached up and dug around in a cabinet in the so-called living room, the cubbyhole above the futon Jeric had slept in the first night, my fingers finally closed on a stiff piece of paper. I pulled the postcard out, rocked back on my heels and stared at it for a long moment, then strode over to the kitchen counter. Jacey’s journal lay open at her drawing. Another journal—Jeric’s, I assumed—also lay open to a nearly identical drawing. I set the postcard down between them.

They all depicted the same Victorian mansion.

The nudge to go south grew stronger.

A pair of hands clasped my waist and a shock jolted through my neck. Jeric’s lips pressed against my skin right below my ear, sending a shockwave through my body and making my heart burst into a gallop. He stepped back, a chuckling sound emanating in his throat. The little bit I’d heard of his voice made me ache to hear more. He must have been a fantastic singer. But I’d be happy just to hear my name again.

He stepped to my side, an arm lingering around my waist, and gazed at the pictures on the counter.

“You drew that one?” I asked him, pointing to the second journal. He nodded and picked up the postcard to study it closer. “The postcard’s been in here since Uncle Theo gave me the camper. I remembered seeing it a long time ago. I wasn’t sure if Uncle Theo wanted it, so I’d left it where I’d found it.”

Jeric flipped the card over, and both of our bodies tensed at the words scrawled on the other side:
You will find your answers here.

That was all. No address for either a sender or a recipient. No postmark. No other message or even tiny print captioning the picture on the other side.

Jeric set it down right where I’d placed it before, and we both stared at the three images. More memories danced at the edge of my consciousness, but I couldn’t grasp at them. I felt, however, as though I’d been to that house before. Or, at least, near it. As though I’d seen it in person. I shook my head. It had to be because I’d seen the postcard before. After all, I’d never been to Tampa . . . if that’s where it actually was.

But I felt drawn there now.

“Maybe we should pack up and head down there?” I suggested off-handedly. I wasn’t sure I believed the message on the back of the postcard—at least, I didn’t know if it was meant for us or if it had been for Uncle Theo—but as soon as I signed the words, I knew they were right. We needed to find this house.

But Jeric stiffened next to me. His hand left my waist, and he signed, “I don’t know. It feels wrong to me.”

I peered at him, and his gaze was on his journal. He reached out and flipped through the pages until he settled on one. I stared at a sketch that made my spine go ram-rod straight. That was me, no doubt. He’d sketched me before he ever met me, based on the date scribbled next to the drawing. Which meant . . . had he been to the club? I stepped away, shaking my head but staring at the floor, unsure what to feel or think. He slid his finger under my chin, lifting my face to look at him.

“I dreamt about you before I ever knew you,” he said. “I had to sketch this when I woke up because I didn’t want to forget what you looked like.”

Whoa. Okay. Not what I thought. Whew. For some reason, I didn’t want him knowing about my little stint at the club.

“I told you how I’d been searching for my birth mother? I was wrong. I realize now I’d been searching for you all that time. Something in me was pulling me to you.” He flipped back to the page with the mansion. “I dreamt about this place, too, and had to sketch it.”

I understood what he was saying.

“You feel the pull to go there, too, don’t you?” I asked. He nodded. “Like Jacey and Micah did. And me. What does it mean?”