Unbreakable (31 page)

“She’s upset because I yelled at her about leaving her pen caps off again,” Georgia said. “She got red marker all over my damn chair.”

“I said I was sorry,” Callie said in a small voice. “They’re washable. Says so on the box.”

I looked to Georgia who threw up her hands. “Oh fine. I’m a monster. I’m a monster and I’m late. I’ll be back when I get back.”

She went out, slamming the door after her. I put my hands on Callie’s shoulders. “She’s kind of in a hurry tonight, huh?”

She nodded. “She’s always in a hurry. She yells a lot.”

“A lot?”

Callie nodded again.

“Do you know where she went?” It felt sort of ugly, asking Callie, but I had a nagging feeling about Georgia that I couldn’t ignore.

“Probably to the computer store. She goes there all the time and it’s sooooo boring.”

“Computer store?”

“Yeah, she goes on the internet. To chatmail.”

“What’s chatmail, honey?”

Callie rubbed her nose. “It’s what Mommy says she does on the computer. She chats and emails.” She brightened. “I call it chatmailing!”

I nearly asked who Georgia was ‘chatmailing’ but that would be going too far. It was enough to know she wasn’t up to something worse. Still, the nagging unease remained. I forced a smile. “Dinner? Have you eaten?”

“No. Can I have mac n’cheese?”

“Of course.”

“I love you, Daddy,” Callie said suddenly, and threw her arms around my neck.

“Thanks, honey.” I held her tightly. “I had a rough day. This is just what I needed.”

“Me too,” she sniffed. “Rough day.”

#

I dreamt in flashes and shards, images sprayed over broken glass and covered in blood. Alex screamed but I couldn’t find her and then Frankie nudged my shoulder with the butt of his gun, laughing like a loon. “You’re too late. She’s already dead.”

I jerked awake, blinking, disoriented. Then Georgia’s spare, yet neat apartment resolved around me: lots of potted plants and rattan furniture. She stood over me, nudging my shoulder.

I sat up. “What time is it?”

“Late. Sorry.”

I glanced at my watch. “Fuck, Georgia, it’s after midnight.”

She planted her hands on her slender waist. “You got somewhere to be?”

“I’ve got the inspection tomorrow morning at eight a.m.,” I said, searching her face. She wasn’t drunk or stoned. Her green eyes were clear and hard. Her clothing wasn’t rumpled or disheveled in any way. She looked the same as when she’d left.
Just ‘chatmailing’? For six hours?
“Are you okay? You’ve been all over the place lately.”

She sniffed and crossed her arms. “Like you would know.” Then her demeanor softened and she flounced onto the couch beside me. Patchouli and mint wafted over me. “It is late,” she said, her fingers lightly stroking the hair at my temple, running her finger along the scar on my right eyebrow—a souvenir from old Frankie. “You want to stay? It’s been a long time.” She moved closer, ran her hand up my thigh, breathed hotly in my ear. “A real long time. Too long…”

“No, Georgia.” I disentangled myself from her and stood up. “
No.
”

“Oh, what?” she huffed. “Don’t get all
coy
and
precious
on me.”

“We can’t do that anymore.”

“Why? Because of
her
? Are you fucking her?” She snorted a laugh. “Why do I ask? Of course you are.”

“It’s none of your business.”

“The hell it isn’t! I have a right to know if you’re bringing some woman into my daughter’s life. Callie will be living in her house. I don’t know what she’s like. I don’t know if she’s trustworthy.”

“She’s fine. She’s trustworthy. And Callie won’t be living with her, anyway...”
Won’t she? What if I tell Alex...and she feels the same…?

I shook my head. “Where were
you
tonight, Georgia?”

She flinched, dropped her arms. “None of your business.”

“Yeah, exactly. I gotta go.” I grabbed my jacket. “And take it easy on Callie, would you? She seemed pretty upset.”

Georgia bit her thumbnail and raised her eyebrows. “So speaketh the weekend father.”

I cursed and threw open the door.

Georgia hurried to me before I could leave. “Wait, I’m…uh. Thanks. Thanks, for coming. Short notice and all.”

I sighed. “Sure, Georgia. No problem.”

#

It was nearly one a.m. by the time I made it back to California Avenue, and I hung my head over the note on the counter, written on the same paper as mine.

I tried to wait up. Long day. Talk tomorrow?

~A

I crumpled the paper and threw it in the trash. I had half a mind to go and wake her up but if she was able to get some rest without being plagued by nightmares, I wasn’t going to wreck it for her.

“Tomorrow, then,” I muttered. Alex had some sort of lunch date every Monday and I had the inspection but I’d be damned before I let either stand in the way.

I flopped onto the couch and flung my arm over my eyes, hoping against hope that sleep would come and sweep me under to someplace dark and deep, where there were no dreams. Instead, the minutes ticked by and I was about to give in and turn on the TV when a blood-curdling scream came from Alex’s room.

This time, I didn’t wait for a second cry. I sprinted to her, my heart aching for the terror in her voice. I found her tangled in the sheets, her face drawn in a mask of terror.

“No! No, no,
Cory, no!”

“Shhh, I’m here, Alex, I’m here.”

I took her by the shoulders to stop her thrashing, and in the dimness, I saw her eyes—wide and staring—taking me in, disbelieving. She held my face in her hands, studying my eyes.

“Cory…?” Recognition dawned, and she slumped, the tightly coiled tension dropping away. I pulled her to me. “Oh god, it was unreal.”

“Tell me,” I said, stroking her hair.

“No, it’s too terrible—”

“
Tell
me. Get it out.”

She heaved a tremulous breath. “Do you remember when Amita…Patel? Do you remember when Amita Patel was being released? And Connor, that soulless monster in the Dracula mask…he put the gun to your head? And…he said those horrible words…”

Look at him one more time and you’ll take a shower in his brains.

That moment came to me often in my own nightmares. I’d been so close to death, my thoughts had been full of Callie, of saying goodbye to her, and then the pressure of the gun was lifted from my brow, like a sunrise on a new day.

“Only this time, he pulled the trigger,” Alex said. “Over and over again, like a movie replaying endlessly, relentlessly, and each time I couldn’t move, couldn’t stop him. I just sat there watching, unable to even lift my arms…” She shuddered against me.

“I’m here now,” I said, resting my chin on her forehead. “I’m here.”

And what will you do now, Alex? What do I do? Do I let you go? Or do I tell you…?
But she was slipping back into sleep. I could feel her melt against me. And now was not the time, not when her nightmare was still howling in her mind.

I adjusted myself against the pillows and pulled her to me, held her, stroked her hair, and wondered if this was to be the last time.

Alex

Secure in Cory’s arms, I felt sleep reach up to drag me down faster than I’d thought possible. Given the nightmare, I had doubted I’d ever sleep again—or would want to. But as usual, Cory’s presence soothed me. He chased away the demons that played in my mind, like a warrior or a hero, and I slept.

It was dark when I next awoke. Dawn had not yet come. I surmised I’d only been asleep for an hour or so, but my mind was peaceful. The nightmare seemed far away, and I was tucked safely in Cory’s embrace.

I craned my neck to see him. He was awake, sitting against the bedframe, looking at nothing in particular. But his dark eyes—those beautifully rich brown eyes—were full of thoughts. He must’ve felt my attention, as he turned those eyes on me, a ghost of a smile touching his lips.

“Hey,” he whispered.

“Hey.”

I don’t know who moved first. Like the hospital kiss, it just happened, a drawing together of inexorable forces, both of us helpless to stop it.

He slid down to lay next to me, his eyes roaming my face, drinking me in. I felt the space between us disappear, the room fell away. All I could see and feel and know was him.

And I waited. I didn’t move or speak or even reach for him, though I wanted to. I waited, as he regarded me intently, saying so much without words. Saying everything.

His hand stroked my cheek, his fingertips traced my eyebrows. His thumb ran along the contours of my lower lip and I held my breath as he leaned down. But his lips touched my forehead first, my eyelids—closing them softly—down to my chin, and then up, finally, to my lips, which parted readily for him.

But his mouth only brushed mine at first, a feather-light touch, as he cupped my cheek in his hand. Our lips met, came apart—a hesitation, a heartbeat—and then his mouth was on mine giving me the deepest, sweetest kiss I’d ever known. A kiss I felt in every part of me, and tears stung my eyes for its silent tenderness.

The kiss was followed by another, and another, each one a more intimate act than anything we’d done the night before—as naked and uninhibited and ravenous as we’d been. He held my face in his hands, braced on his elbows, his body over mine, kissing me until I felt drunk with him.

Finally, he broke away, trailing his lips over my chin, down my neck, gently sucking and licking and nipping. Each touch sent shivers dancing down my back, to the tips of my breasts, down, between my legs, making gasp.

He moved lower, and my back arched, pressing my body against his, offering it to him completely. His hands slipped down to the hem of my shirt and lifted. The cooler air hardened my nipples, at once. His mouth was at my navel, slowly working his way up. I clutched his wrists and pushed his hands down, to my breasts, and slipped out of my clothing with a sigh.

Cory was moving his mouth up now, and then left, swirling his tongue along my skin until he reached the nipple. I gasped again and let out a little cry, as he sucked and bit the hard nub, while his thumb moved in circles over its twin.

“Oh god,” I breathed, and tangled my fingers in his hair as he unhurriedly worshipped one breast, then the other, taking his time, while my hips rose and fell beneath him, undulating with the currents of pleasure he was sending along all parts of my body.

Finally, I couldn’t stand the feel of his shirt against my skin any longer. I pushed him back and sat up, to lift his t-shirt off and toss it aside and drink in the magnificence of his body.

“You’re so beautiful,” I whispered, my hands trailing down hard muscle sheathed in soft skin.

He shook his head, his eyes full of me, and kissed me as we knelt on the bed. We wrapped our arms around each other, our hands sliding up and down naked backs, reveling in the warmth of flesh on flesh. No mindless lust this time, no desperate need to slake. The urgency I’d striven for last night was gone. I wanted only to be touched like this and to touch him in return, to cherish him, to kiss him the way he wanted to be kissed—the way he
deserved
to be kissed.

Like there was no one else.

The rest of our clothing melted away and I lay back on the pillows, drawing him down with me. My eyes found his in the dimness and I looked nowhere else as I reached between us and guided him inside me, one smooth, perfect joining that stole my breath away.

He closed his eyes for a moment, sinking into me, his hands holding my face, and then he rolled his hips for the first time, so achingly tender and gentle, I thought my heart would break.

“God, Alex…” he cried and began to move, to give me everything he had, in body and soul, until there was nothing left to give. The pleasure came, not on any howling crescendo, but with swells, one after the other, that rolled and crashed until finally receding to leave us to lying like castaways who’d found dry land, gasping for air and depleted completely.

After, he held me, my back to his chest, his arm draped over me, our fingers entwined. I could feel the soft warmth of his breath on my neck and feel the pounding of his heart subside to a steady rhythm.

He slept quickly and heavily, content and at peace, while I remained awake, watching as dawn infiltrated our perfect sanctuary, bit by bit, with its hard yellow light. I squeezed my eyes shut and nestled more tightly against him, to shut out the oncoming day.

#

The clock on the nightstand read seven-fifteen when I extricated myself from Cory’s arms. It was like leaving a warm, safe place to venture out into the cold. More than anything I wanted to stay there, with him, and the thought whispered that I could if I was just willing to take a sledgehammer to my old life in order to forge a new. I shivered, not knowing if I had the courage, not wanting to find out what would happen if I did.

I have time,
I thought.
A few more days yet. Please, just let me have a few more days.

That was selfish, I knew. Selfish and cowardly, but the future that had always been so crystal clear to me was now a murky haze, and I was scared beyond all reason to see what lay beyond.

I dressed quickly while Cory still slept. He lay on his stomach, his face half-buried in a pillow. My pillow on my bed. He’d broken his vow.

“He stayed,” I murmured, watching the morning light fall over the muscles of his back, bathing his tanned skin in golden hues. The colors in his tattoos were ablaze and I longed to run my hands along that warm, smooth skin, to plant kisses between his shoulder blades, until he woke. But the inspector from CPS was due to arrive in forty-five minutes. Reluctantly, I went out, leaving him to sleep a few more minutes while I made coffee and breakfast.

I was at the stove, doing a second take on eggs and sausage with what I hadn’t cooked for his birthday, when I felt strong arms slip around my waist. Cory nuzzled my neck, nipped my skin playfully, then just held me. I closed my eyes and leaned into him.
Yes, this. I could have this every morning, if only…

“Cooking? Again?” Cory murmured in my ear. “Whose birthday is it today?”

I smiled. “It’s just leftovers. But the inspector is coming and you’re going to pass with flying colors. That’s a special occasion in my book.”

He planted a warm kiss under my ear and released me to get some orange juice from the fridge. “Speaking of which, what have you got going on today? I know you have your lunch with your friends but after? You want to get dinner later? To celebrate?”

I hissed a curse as the sausage spit at me again. I was preoccupied with the impending grease fire before me, not paying attention, not being careful. I cursed again and shut off the burner. “Yes, I have lunch with the Posse at noon, and then I’m meeting my mother for a dress fitting, but after that I’m free.”

The small kitchen suddenly felt ten degrees colder. There was no movement or sound from behind me and I closed my eyes for a moment, one moment, and then it all came crashing down.

I slowly set the sausage pan down with shaking hands and turned.

Cory leaned his back against the granite countertop, his hands to either side, gripping the edge in white-knuckled apprehension. The look on his face would have been heart breaking if not for the stony coldness in his eyes.

“A dress fitting,” he said, his tone flat. “For your wedding.”

My mouth moved but no sound came out. I couldn’t answer. Any answer would either shatter his heart or wreck my carefully constructed world. I felt caught in a trap of my own making, helpless to break free.

“Well?” he snapped, making me jump. “Speak!”

“I…I…”

“Suddenly you can’t talk,” Cory said with bitter sarcasm. “So don’t. I’ll make it easy on you. Just answer me one question. One question, yes or no.” He crossed his arms over his chest, as if bracing himself. “Are you going to go?”

“Cory—”

“
Yes or no!”

I flinched and he immediately looked remorseful. But the flinty look in his eye somehow hardened further, until I was petrified that the inherent sweetness in him was forever altered, like a vein of water freezing between the stones of a great mountain, creating cracks, breaking it apart.

“Okay,” he said. “Good to know.” He strode to the living room and I followed.

“Cory, wait…”

“I’m not your fucking houseboy,” he muttered, throwing his duffel on the couch. “I’m done.”

“You’re leaving?” I watched, aghast, as he threw his clothes into the bag. “What about the inspection? They’ll be here in half an hour!”

“Fuck it all,” Cory said without ceasing his task.

“Now, wait. Listen to me, please.” I strove for calm, even as my heart galloped in my chest. “I know you think that last night meant that things might be different between us now—”

I snapped my mouth shut when he rounded on me, anger ablaze in his eyes. I’d never seen him so furious.

“Don’t talk about last night. It never happened,” he seethed. “
It never happened
.”

I watched helplessly as he strode to the bathroom where he threw his razor and other items into a small bag.

“You’re not giving me a chance to explain,” I said.

“I don’t want to hear one of your bullshit speeches.”

“Hey,” I said.

He continued to pack.

“
Hey,
” I cried thickly, my throat threatening to close on me. He turned and another flash of remorse crossed his features. I guessed the agony in my heart was reflected in my face. “You have to give me time. You can’t just have one night—one night that
did happen
—” I said, loudly to override his protest—“and expect me to reorder my entire life…completely rip it apart and put it back together just like that.” I snapped my fingers. “I need time. I have obligations…pressures…”

“
You
have pressures?” Cory laughed bitterly. “Princess, you wouldn’t know pressure if it bit you on your pampered ass.”

I hugged myself, shaking my head. “This isn’t you. You’re hurt and angry and I don’t blame you but—”

“Nope, I’m neither,” Cory said, and the anger drained out of him right before my eyes. “I’m a fucking idiot, that’s what I am. And just…numb. I’m numb and I’m done.”

I watched him twist a key off his keychain and he set it down on the low coffee table. The house key to the bungalow. He went to the front door, his bag slung on his shoulder.

“What about the inspection?” I whispered. “What do I tell them?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,” he said, horribly, uncharacteristically caustic. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”