False Regret: Pikorua - Book 1 (21 page)

“I
still think you should press charges, but we will talk about this more when I
get home from work. Are you both okay?” she asked. We nodded and walked her to
the door.

My
mother left, and I turned to Cade. “Are you sure he didn’t do anything to me?”
I asked again. “Oh God, please tell me the truth. Don’t lie to me to protect me.” 

He
took his time answering, not meeting my gaze. “I swear to you, he got no
further than kissing you. Like I already told you, I kicked his ass, and then I
called your mom. If he had touched you, I would have killed him.” Something in
his voice made me believe it wasn’t an empty threat.

He
walked away, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets. I watched him stare out
the front window. He spoke in a cool tone, not sounding like himself at all.  “How
you can be so damn gullible? Why in the hell would you drink with those guys in
the first place?  For the life of me, I don’t get why you went into a bedroom
with him. Were you into him?” He clenched his jaw so hard, it twitched as he
tried to control his temper. “What if I hadn’t been there? I don’t know if you
are naive or if you just like pushing my limits.  For such a smart girl,
sometimes you are so fucking stupid.”

His
words hurt more than a smack to the face, but I remained calm. “I was never
into him. After we drank the whiskey, I was sick and needed to sit down
somewhere. He said he’d go find you once he got me settled. I am sorry Cade, please
don’t be mad at me anymore.” My arms encircled him from behind.

I
felt him relax, and he turned into my embrace. “Promise me you will be more
careful. Please don’t drink like that again, of if you do, make sure you stay
with me.”

“I
have no plans drink again. I feel like death.”

“I
bet you do.” He chuckled. “You don’t smell so good either.”

I
laughed but knew it was true. Sweat and vomit clung to the air around me. “Okay,”
I said, releasing him. “I’m going upstairs to shower.”

“Maybe
I should help you with that.” He smiled wickedly as we held hands and ran up
the steps.

***

We
had crossed over state lines before Cade stopped for the night. Few words had
passed between us since our initial conversation. He looked exhausted, his
features slack as he struggled to keep his eyes open. Even though I’d slept in
short intervals during our journey, I was in need of a break. Every part of my
body ached, and I longed to lie down to relieve the strain in my neck.  He pulled
into a motel six and checked us in using cash. He parked the car in the back
and carried our bags inside while keeping vigilant watch of our surroundings.
There were two beds in the room. “Would you like to use the bathroom first?” he
asked.

“No,
you go first,” I said. “You’re beat and need to rest.” He nodded, the weariness
evident in his posture.  He came out minutes later dressed in his same clothes.
He put his pistol on the nightstand and took the bed nearest the door. I headed
into the bathroom to take my turn. I peed and brushed my teeth, taking note of
my banged face in the bathroom mirror. When I was done, Cade was dead asleep, face
down on top of the bedspread, hand near his gun. I pulled the covers off the
other bed and placed them over him before crawling in next to him. Even though
I was afraid to touch him, I took comfort in having him so close. I fell asleep
but woke an hour later to him shaking me.

“Ellia,”
he was saying. “Wake up, you’re dreaming.” I came to, trembling so hard my
teeth knocked together. It was one of my usual nightmares involving Cade
suffering a gruesome death. I was crying as always when roused from my
dreamscape. “It’s not real,” he said again. In those first few moments of
waking, confusion and fear gripped me.  I wrapped my arms around him. “It’s
okay.” His words were soft in my ear as he stroked my hair. Once I had a hold
of him, I couldn’t let go, and he was gracious enough not to make me. I fell
right back to sleep.

The
next morning I woke up alone. I heard the shower running. The motel door remained
locked, and all was undisturbed.  His pistol lay on the night stand, and I sat
on the edge of the bed touching its cold steel, wondering if I had the guts to
pull the trigger. When he came into the room, bare-chested, using a towel to
dry his hair, he saw my hand on his gun. “What are you doing?”

I
yanked my hand away as if I were a child caught in the cookie jar. “Nothing,” I
replied.

He
sat down beside me. “Ellia, I need you to make me a promise.” I stared at my
hands, not wanting to see the disappointment in in face. He knew exactly what
I’d been thinking. “Swear to me you will not take your life.  I would get you
help if it was safe to do so, but right now all you have is me, and I am
begging you not to do that.”

“I
won’t, I promise. It was a fleeting thought; that’s all.”

“Look
me in the eye and say it again.” He grabbed my chin and forced me to meet his
gaze.

“I
swear,” I said and pulled away from his touch.

“Good,
we need to get back on the road. You can use the bathroom.”

“Okay.”
I didn’t have a change of clothes, but I picked up my purse anyway. Cade had a
bag, and he dug through it for a clean shirt. Stopping to study him for a
moment, the tattoo over his ribs surprised me. He had my initials inked amidst
angel wings. The artwork was a beautiful and intricate piece that spanned most
of his side and camouflaged the scars from the shooting and surgery. Knowing he
had carried me with him in some form, touched me on a deep level.  The symbolism
took my breath away, and without thinking, I walked up behind him and wrapped my
arms around him. He tightened up, like my touch was revolting, and uncoiled my
limbs from his body. Tears sprang to my eyes, and I ran into the bathroom.

I
showered, letting the rejection fall into the drain, and then brushed my teeth
and hair. When I emerged, he was standing by the door waiting for me. “Ready?”
he asked, not acknowledging the earlier scene. I nodded and followed him to the
car. We had coffee for breakfast and then continued on our journey to nowhere.

“Where
are we going, Cade?” I asked after hours of silence.

“Honestly,
Ellia, I haven’t made a concrete plan yet. I figure if we keep moving, we can
stay ahead of them,” he said.

“For
how long?” I stared out the window into the rolling winter terrain, feeling the
gloom of the sky in my heart.

“For
as long as it takes,” he replied.

After
an hour of staring at the empty corn fields, now barren and frozen, I looked
over at Cade. He was still so handsome, even with the harder lines of adulthood.
“You don’t have to do this. You don’t owe me anything. Please don’t throw away
everything you’ve done with your life for me.”

He
shot me a look of irritation. “I am doing what is right, so stop questioning my
decision.  The FBI will figure it out, and we can both return to our lives
soon.”

Anger
seemed to boil beneath his surface, and I wasn’t sure what I’d done to set him
off again.
You hugged him, you idiot. You are the daughter of the man who
killed his family. He hates you,
said the pessimistic voice inside me.
Whether that was true or not, we were out of sync with each other, and I
dreaded the days ahead. After his spiel the day prior about his need to protect
me, today he seemed bitter about the sense of duty he’d imposed upon himself. I
didn’t know where his head was at or my own. I pulled my knees up to my chest
and rested my forehead on them. We had been so close when we were young, it
seemed unfathomable to feel so disconnected from him, yet here we were.

Hours
of silent driving filled the day. Neither of us even bothered with the radio,
just content to suffer with our own thoughts. When we checked into another motel
that night, I was glad for the break in our awkward proximity. A repeat of the previous
night occurred, except that he was still awake when I emerged from the
bathroom. I crawled into the other bed and turned away from him. He shut off
the light without saying a word.

A
typical nightmare plagued me, and I woke to Cade shaking me again. “Jesus,
Ellia, wake up,” I heard him say as I awoke. The sobbing that always followed
my horrendous dreams started without my permission. He handed me a handful of
tissues. “What are you dreaming about?” he asked. “Roberts and Mendiola told me
you had bad nightmares, but God, Ellia, it’s awful. Tell me what you are seeing.”

“You
… mostly,” I choked out. “And my mom and Matt, and Sam, but almost always you. Every
night I dream about you dying in some horrific way, and I can never save you.
It seems so real, and I am just so helpless. I’m sorry I woke you, but I don’t
know how to stop them. I went through a spell like this after you died, but
they eventually became less frequent.  Since the safe-house, they’ve come
back.  Agent Mendiola gave me sleeping pills for about a week, but as soon as I
stopped taking them, the nightmares came back.”

He
scooted down on the bed and got face to face with me. “Ellia,” he said my name
in a hushed tone. “If I could go back in time and change everything I would.
I’m so fucking sorry for what I did to you.”

“I
don’t blame you, anymore, Cade. We were just kids, anyway. Thank you for taking
care of me, for protecting me since this all started. I’ve lost count of how
many times you’ve saved me.” I wiped my eyes and stared into his. My heart
seemed to liquefy in my chest, and I gave into an impulsive notion. I leaned in
and kissed him.   He tasted so good, and I didn’t want to stop. He put his hand
on my shoulder and pushed me away from him.

“Ellia,
I can’t be with you,” he said. “Not like that. You are vulnerable, and this will
not make you feel better. We can’t go back in time.”

I
rolled onto my back, devastated by his rejection, and stared at the ceiling.
“It’s fine. I’m fine. You can go back to sleep. I’m sorry I woke you.”

He
let out a heavy breath. “Don’t be angry. I am not trying to hurt you.”

“Why
do you have my initials tattooed on you?” I asked.

He
sighed and sat up in the bed. “I was in love in with you. You seem to think it
meant nothing to me, but it meant everything. I wanted to remember you.”

“I
guess the difference is that I never stopped loving you--I still love you.”
There, I said it, and I couldn’t take it back. I presented that lingering
feeling I kept buried under all my resentment, and now he knew the truth.

He
turned around and looked at me. “You don’t even know me, Ellia. Who we were
when we were seventeen defined our relationship. We aren’t kids anymore—we are
strangers.  I have no interest in trying to rekindle what used to be. I’m
sorry.”

He
might as well have stabbed me through the heart. I turned away and curled
myself into a ball, hiding my anguished tears from him.

His
hand landed on my arm. “That didn’t come out right. I can often be insensitive
which proves my point. I know that’s not who you remember. You are stuck
thinking of me as Cade, the song writer, the kid who could express his feelings.
That kid is gone, and I am what’s left. In my job, I have no room for emotions.
I shut them off a long time ago, and that’s how I cope.  I didn’t mean to hurt
you. What I should have said, is that I will always love you, but I don’t want
to be with you because I am scared I might destroy you again.”

“Maybe
it’s a risk I am willing to take,” I said through my tears.
Why do you keep
setting yourself up for his rejection, you stupid, stupid woman?
He’s
right, you are strangers.

“Should
you though?” he asked softly.

I
rolled over and sat up to face him, brushing the tears off my face like a
toddler. We stared at each other as minutes ticked away, and then I saw it—I
saw the old Cade looking back at me with such tenderness it tore me in two. He
was lying to himself if he thought that boy didn’t exist anymore.

Without
a word, I straddled his lap, forcing my lips onto his.  I wanted to be with
him, the new Cade, the old Cade, it didn’t matter. I craved him.  He put his
hands on my hips and tried to push me away again, but I was relentless and
aggressive as I ground myself into him. I tore off my shirt and pressed my bare
flesh against his torso while my mouth crushed his. I knew I had him when he
fisted his hand in my hair, dragging me down on the bed and returning my
advances. Passion consumed us as years of pent up emotion broke through our
communication barrier. I thought I would die from the physical response my body
had to this man’s touch. Nothing had ever felt so intense. I raked my fingers
down his back and screamed his name when I came so hard, the first time, my frame
convulsed.

After
hours of assiduous love making, the weeks of frustration and years of pain
culminating in an obsessive physicality that neither of us could control once
ignited; we wore ourselves out and fell asleep. There were no bad dreams to
disturb my slumber. We had driven each other to point of collapse. Hungry desire
that consumed me, overrode the aches from the car accident, and in the aftermath,
I rested well.

When
I woke in the morning, stiff and sore, Cade was still asleep next to me. I watched
him breathe. He wasn’t a boy anymore, and a man’s body replaced the one I used
to know; but manhood suited him well. My eyes traveled his sculpted form,
making me want to make love to him again. I could still see traces of the
Celtic knot and Pikorua under his new tattoos, but they were shielded enough so
no one else could decipher them. Black razor-sharp edges amidst softer swirls
now covered his upper arms. The tattoos made me feel sad, knowing they concealed
his past, but they also reminded me of us. He was the severe edge, hard and
unyielding, and I was the swirl, flitting around him.  A cross tattoo on his
chest hid an entry-wound scar from a bullet, and I leaned over and brushed my
lips over it.