The Only Shark In The Sea (The Date Shark Series Book 3) (17 page)

Chapter 19

The Expected Rush

Sitting on the floor next to Gypsy, Natalie listened to everything Vance said. She couldn’t stop shaking from the aftereffects of his touch, and tears kept rolling down her cheeks no matter how many breathing or visualizing exercises she did. Vance had
touched
her, after promising he would never do anything to hurt her, but she couldn’t stop his words from echoing through her head.

Guy had asked her to help Vance through this because she was the only one in town who knew everything about the circumstances surrounding Stephanie’s death. Natalie still thought she was woefully under-qualified to help him in any way, but she understood Guy’s reasoning. What she didn’t understand in the least was why Vance seemed to think she could do anything to help him.

Hadn’t she just proven that she couldn’t? What had she been thinking packing up all of Stephanie’s belongings? It had barely been a few weeks since her death and Natalie thought she was the one to decide when it all needed to be put out of sight?

But Vance had admitted that wasn’t what had truly set him off. They both knew, logically, that he couldn’t avoid going into the bedroom and master bath forever. She had shocked him with her actions, but the true reason he’d lashed out broke her heart. His guilt was underserved in Natalie’s eyes. She had grown to care for Stephanie, but not even a saint would have stayed with her that night after learning about the pregnancies. He blamed himself for not seeing the true source of her physical pain as well, but that wasn’t his fault either.

His guilt was crushing him, and for that one brief moment, he’d believed he had a chance to atone, or at least take full responsibility. Then it was ripped away by the harsh reality that the woman he saw in his bedroom was just, well, Natalie. No one of consequence. No one who could ease the agony he carried close to his heart every waking moment. She couldn’t help him. Natalie had known that even as Guy was working to convince her she could. Why had she agreed to try in the first place?

What was the other option? Let Vance wallow, alone, hurting? Natalie knew what that felt like. The scars she carried couldn’t be seen by the naked eye, but they were there all the same. It was like Vance could sense them somehow, without knowing the source. It had linked them together from that first meeting.

Now, the link had grown stronger as Natalie realized she could now see his scars in a way no one else could. It wasn’t just because she knew what Stephanie had done to hurt him. Her insight came from knowing betrayal so deep and agonizing that it cut straight through flesh and bone, into the soul where healing was impossible, but easily recognizable to a kindred spirit.

At that realization, her tears stopped flowing and her quivering body calmed. “I can’t let you in,” she said barely loud enough to be heard through the door.

The door creaked as Vance’s body seemed to sink against it. “I know. I’m not asking you to. I’ve done enough to hurt you already.”

She wanted to tell him that he hadn’t hurt her, but the words refused to leave her mouth. Physically, his grip hadn’t even been tight enough to redden her skin. Emotionally, though, the anger behind his touch had terrified her. The touch itself…it yanked to the surface memories of the last time she had been purposefully touched by another person. By her father.

Bile churned in her stomach at the thought of that night and the knowledge that he now knew she was in Chicago and was no doubt searching for her in order to force her to go home and face what he believed to be her crimes. Maybe if she hadn’t gotten that call from her father before…Natalie shook her head. It wouldn’t have made it any better. Not really. Sure, her reaction might not have been as strong, but nothing would have stopped her from running.

Instead of lying to him about what his touch had done to her, Natalie gave him the only other comfort she could. “I’m not angry with you.”

He was silent for a moment before saying, “But you’re scared of me.”

“It’s not you,” she argued. “Not you specifically, anyway. If there’s anyone I’m
not
afraid of, it’s most certainly you.”

“It used to be anyway,” he mumbled.

Natalie sighed. “No, Vance, that hasn’t changed.”

“But…”

“You scared me, in that moment, but I’m not scared
of
you,” Natalie said.

She felt good saying it, finally admitting that she wasn’t frightened by at least one person. Maybe he would be the only one she’d ever trust enough to say that to, but she realized she was okay with that. Her goal in calling Guy in the beginning hadn’t been to find a boyfriend. She’d just wanted to not be afraid anymore, to have at least one relationship that was semi-normal. Natalie hadn’t quite reached her goal with Vance, but it was more progress than she had made with anyone in the past seven years and she wasn’t willing to throw that all away because of one heat of the moment mistake.

Realizing Vance had never responded to her last comment, she leaned against the door a little more and asked, “Vance, are you still there?”

“Yes.”

“I thought you might have fallen asleep.”

That idea made her bite her lip. How had Vance gotten to her apartment? Hopefully he hadn’t driven. The nap was hardly enough to shake off his hangover or make up for all the sleep he’d lost over the previous weeks. Picturing him falling asleep in her hallway tore at her and terrified her.

“Not asleep,” Vance said, but his comment was followed up by a yawn. “Just thinking. Trying to figure out why you haven’t told me to leave you alone and why I feel better sitting here in your hall than I have the past few weeks being at home.”

Natalie hesitated answering. She’d already crossed the line once that day and wasn’t in any hurry to do it again, but Vance’s voice pleaded for a response. Taking a deep breath, she gave him an answer. “Even without everything else that happened with Stephanie before she died, being around so many reminders of her would have been difficult. Add in everything else and it’s no wonder you needed to get away from it.”

“Shouldn’t I want all the reminders? What does it say about me that I can’t bear to look at anything that belonged to her?”

“It says you’re dealing with your grief in your own way, Vance. Nothing more. A lot of other people have the same reaction. Not everyone finds comfort in being surrounded by memories. Plenty of people need to escape it all, even if just for a little while, so they can deal with their emotions by themselves.” Gypsy abandoned trying to nibble Vance’s fingers under the door and jumped into her lap to snuggle. She petted her gently, but her thoughts remained on Vance. “Eventually, you’ll be ready to go through all of her things. When you are, everything is boxed up and sitting in your office. It’s not going anywhere.”

Vance seemed startled by her words. “You didn’t get rid of it?”

“No, of course not. I would never do something like that,” Natalie said. “I just knew you couldn’t keep living on your couch, and since you refused to go into your room with all her stuff there, I just…I thought it would be easier if I moved everything for you until you were ready to deal with it on your own.”

“I guess I just saw everything gone, and I didn’t really think about where it went, just that it wasn’t there anymore.” He paused, silent for several seconds. “Thank you for doing that.”

Unsure of whether he really meant that, Natalie had a difficult time responding. Instead, her thoughts returned to that mental image of Vance falling asleep against her door. Even with Stephanie’s things no longer in the bedroom or bathroom, he seemed unwilling to go home.

Natalie didn’t fear a repeat of the touch. Despite everything, she trusted Vance. Actually having him in her apartment made her feel lightheaded, but she had managed being in Vance’s apartment earlier that day while he slept. It seemed likely to her that Vance’s exhaustion would catch up with him again quickly, but even if it didn’t, she had to be brave and strong if she ever wanted to help Vance or have a real friend.

“I’m going to open the door,” she announced suddenly.

The sound of her own voice uttering those words startled her, but she knew she couldn’t take them back. She refused to, no matter how scared she was of following through. Surprisingly, the objections came from Vance instead of her.

“No,” he demanded. The sounds of harried movement were muffled, but she knew he was standing, getting ready to leave. Her response to that was unexpected.

Stumbling up to her feet, Gypsy rolled off her lap awkwardly with an annoyed bark. “Vance, please,” she begged through the door. “Don’t go.”

“Why not?”

She bit her lip, hard. “Because you shouldn’t be driving, and you’re not feeling well, because you don’t want to go home yet.”

“I’ll be fine,” he argued. “I don’t trust myself right now. If I said or did anything else to hurt you…”

“I trust you.” Her voice was small, but strong. “Please don’t go.”

Silence. It stretched on for what felt like an hour. “Why not?” he finally asked.

“Because I don’t want you to.” She left it at that because the reasons behind her desire were too vast and confusing, too much to contemplate. She cared about Vance. He was hurting, and more than Guy’s request compelled her to make sure he would be all right. Being close to anyone was frightening, but being near Vance brought an unexpected comfort to balance out the fear. She felt better when she was with him, and suspected the feeling was mutual on some level.

Fear was all she had known for the last seven years, for most of her life really. Vance’s ability to temper the effects of her past seemed reason enough to want to stay near him, but that wasn’t her biggest motivator, surprisingly enough. What pushed her to put her hand on the doorknob and slowly begin to twist was the realization that her desire to help Vance was the one thing that outweighed her fear of being hurt again.

Vance’s expression was an almost comical mixture of shock and relief as he stood in the hallway staring at the now open door. She honestly expected some kind of praise from Vance for taking such a big step, but the first thing that blurted out of his mouth wasn’t praise at all.

“I’m afraid to go in.” The bare, childlike honesty of his admission had a strange effect on Natalie.

Even though she had opened the door of her own free will, a tight grip on the doorknob was the only thing keeping her hand from trembling. At least, that had been true until Vance spoke. Her trust in him had been built more on hope than anything else, but now it solidified into something more tangible and real. Vance would rather go back to the place that was slowly strangling the life from him than step into her apartment, just to make sure he didn’t hurt her again.

Natalie’s hand fell away from the doorknob and relaxed against her side. Vance was still staring at her, dumbfounded, and what she said next certainly didn’t help him out any. “Vance, I’m not worried about you touching me again, because I want it to happen. I want to be able to give you a hug when you’re having a rough day or sit next to you on the couch so you don’t feel so alone. It’s going to take me a while to work up to that, but I know you’ll help me get there, and I know you won’t push me to move faster than I’m able.”

She stepped away from the door, leaving it open. “I’m going to start fixing dinner,” she said calmly. “When you’re ready to trust yourself as much as I trust you, just remember to shut the door behind you. My trust does not extend to my neighbors. Especially not to that weird Howard guy.”

Turning away, she watched from the corner of her eye as Vance blinked a few times before he closed his mouth, stepped into the apartment, and shut the door behind him. Instead of panicking in the face of the expected rush of fear the situation normally would have brought, Natalie smiled.

Chapter 20

The Strongest

Unsure of what had just happened, Vance stood in the entryway, unable to take another step. Had Natalie really invited him into her apartment? After he’d grabbed her and sent her running from him in fear? He didn’t understand what had changed. She almost looked relaxed as she took down several pans from her hanging rack and set them on the stove. A few minutes earlier she had refused to open the door to him, and now…

“You aren’t allergic to shellfish, are you?” Natalie asked from the kitchen.

Vance blinked and turned to look at her. “What?”

“Shrimp,” she prodded. “Can you eat them?”

It took him a moment to process the question and come up with an answer. “Yeah.”

Not exactly a brilliant response, but he was too off-balance to think. Was she really making him dinner? Vance couldn’t figure out if he was way more hungover than he’d realized, if his insane amount of alcohol consumption over the last few weeks had permanently damaged something, or if he was still asleep on his couch. This being reality seemed like the least likely option to actually be true.

“Vance,” Natalie said, suddenly five feet away from him—which for Natalie was equivalent to being toe to toe. “Why don’t you go sit down on the couch? You still look really worn out.”

Nodding instead of speaking, he watched her walk back to the stove for several long seconds before doing as she asked. Maybe being away from her would help him figure out what was going on.

It didn’t.

Vance wasn’t sure how long he sat there staring at the floor, but apparently it was long enough to boil linguine and sauté shrimp. It seemed like only a few minutes before Natalie approached with two bowls of steaming pasta, but it must have been longer.

“I need to feed Gypsy, but go ahead and start eating. I’ll just be a few minutes,” Natalie said. Her voice was far more relaxed than usual, but she still skirted around him at a distance.

He nodded again and stared at the food. It looked delicious, sparking his long dormant appetite enough to make him reach for the bowl. The warmth of it burned his palms slightly, but he felt it was the least he deserved. It kind of felt good, actually. In fact, it was the only thing he had really
felt
since Stephanie died. The only thing he’d bothered to notice, anyway. He had only eaten the sandwich earlier to please Natalie. He hadn’t even tasted it. Spearing a piece of shrimp and the accompanying noodles, Vance lifted it to his mouth as real hunger finally hit him. He sighed as garlic and butter washed over his taste buds.

“Does it taste okay?” Natalie’s quiet voice asked from across the room.

Looking up, Vance realized she was sitting in her armchair, the farthest spot she could manage from him while still being in the same room. “It’s delicious,” he managed to say. “I didn’t know you could cook.” He really knew very little about her on a personal level.

“My mother taught me when I was young.” Her brow creased and she looked down at her food. Knowing full well how little she enjoyed talking about her family, Vance was surprised when she continued. “Cooking is one of the few good memories I have of her…of my childhood in general. It was easy to please her in that one thing, at least.”

“But not in others?”

Natalie shook her head. A small shred of desire to take up his role as therapist tried to waken, but Vance quashed it immediately. Not only was it not the right time or place, she wasn’t his patient anymore. He thought about that simple fact, surprised how much it hurt. They would become real friends now—that was what Natalie had said—but that scared Vance more than he wanted to admit.

Trying to find something else to think about, Natalie’s earlier mention of her neighbor reminded him that he had a letter for her in his pocket from the man. He didn’t reach to retrieve it right away. “Earlier, you mentioned Howard, that you didn’t trust him. Why not? I mean, why trust him less than anyone else?”

Shrugging, Natalie pulled her knees in closer to her chest. “Just a weird vibe, I guess.” She took another bite of her pasta and chewed slowly, giving herself time to decide whether or not to keep talking. “Everybody gets someone else’s mail now and again. It happens all the time. Most people just stick it back in the outgoing mail slot and move on. Howard’s the only one who goes out of his way to return my misplaced mail personally.” She shrugged again. “It seems to happen way more with him, several times a week. I tried calling the post office to complain, but it keeps happening.”

It wasn’t the strangest thing a person could do, Vance had to admit, but given that Natalie made it pretty obvious how little she wanted to interact with people, it did seem odd that he kept trying to force the issue with her. Then there was the oddly casual way he talked about her, like he knew her when he didn’t.

Setting his bowl down, Vance took the envelope Howard had given him out of his back pocket and set it on the coffee table. “He gave me that to give to you when he let me in downstairs.”

Natalie’s head cocked to one side. “Howard let you in? Why?”

“He remembered me from the night the police came for that drunk guy.” Vance tried to think back to that night and place Howard somewhere in the scene where he would have caught sight of him. He hadn’t been paying very close attention to who had come out of their apartments to watch the show, but he couldn’t seem to remember spotting Howard anywhere.

Natalie seemed equally bothered by the news that Howard had even been involved, but she kept her thoughts to herself. Bowl empty, she set it on an end table near her chair and tentatively reached forward for the letter. Vance hadn’t bothered to look at the letter at all, but when Natalie dropped the envelope like it had burned her only a second after picking it up he reached forward and snatched it off the table in concern.

The sender’s information was completely blank, giving no hint of who had sent the letter. The information for the recipient was even more confusing.

Clara Townsend c/o Natalie Price
.

Clearly, there was no one currently visiting or living with Natalie, so why would someone send mail to this Clara woman at Natalie’s address? It seemed like a strange mistake to have made, and a faulty address wouldn’t have made Natalie spring back from the letter like it had bitten her.

“Who is Clara Townsend?” he asked, suspecting this woman wasn’t a stranger to her. Natalie didn’t answer, and when he looked up he was startled to find her hugging her knees and rocking back and forth in her chair. His first instinct was to rush over to her, but he forced himself to stay still and try to reach her with words alone. “Natalie, do you know who this woman is?”

Vance wasn’t really sure what he expected her to say, but the answer she gave wasn’t even in the ballpark.

“She’s me,” Natalie moaned as she covered her face with her hands.

His head was still foggy, but Vance didn’t think he’d have understood even if he hadn’t been hungover and sleep deprived. “What? How can you be her? That doesn’t make sense.”

Natalie started rocking more forcefully. Her breathing was breaking down into a dangerously erratic pace. “I changed…my name. Protect myself. I didn’t think…he couldn’t…he found me anyway.”

“Who found you?” Vance demanded.

Natalie curled in on herself, burying her head beneath both arms. Her mumbled answer was barely audible, but it sent a chill through Vance all the same. “My father.”

She wouldn’t respond to anything after that. For nearly half an hour, Vance sat on a couch across from Natalie, desperate to help her but completely unable to do anything. It wasn’t until Gypsy wandered in from the kitchen and began licking her bare feet that Natalie stirred from her trauma-induced ball of fear. It still took her quite a few minutes before she was steady enough to untangle herself and reach down for Gypsy. She pulled her into a protective cocoon of arms and legs and huddled with her there for another ten minutes before Vance braved speaking.

“How do you know the letter is from your father?”

The silence stretched on to the point that Vance thought he would wait all night before she was able to speak of it again. Eventually, her voice slipped out from beneath the curtain of hair hiding her face. “It’s his handwriting. Only the people I grew up with know that name. After his call, I knew he was looking for me, but I didn’t think he knew where I lived.”

“He hasn’t tried to contact you at work since that first call?”

Natalie peeked up at him through her hair. “I don’t know.” Vance frowned in confusion, prompting her to explain. “I blocked his number and told security to never let him into the building. They said they’d let me know if he tried, and I haven’t heard anything, but I have no idea whether or not he’s tried to call.” Braving the room a little more, she lifted her head and stared at him, Gypsy clutched against her chest. “How did he find my address?”

Vance wished he knew. No doubt Natalie had done everything she could to keep her information private. There were still ways to find out, he assumed, but it wouldn’t have been easy. “Natalie, I know you said he wasn’t physically violent toward you, but it sounds like that wasn’t true for other people and you have no idea how he might have changed since you saw him last. If he’s tracked you down and is intent on punishing you, there’s a possibility he means you harm. I think you need to consider going to the police.”

“And say what?” she demanded. “I ran away from my parents seven years ago and now they’ve found me and I want the police to do…what? What would I claim on a petition for a restraining order? Their records are clean. I have no proof they’re trying to hurt me.”

“Why are they coming after you?”

“Why was Stephanie so terrified of having children?” she demanded, her eyes filled with anger instead of fear.

Vance was so taken aback by not only her intrusive question, but the fire behind it, that he fell back against the couch and closed his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” Natalie whispered. “I shouldn’t have said that. It’s none of my business, but I just…I can’t talk about it. It’s too…I just can’t.” Tears began tumbling down her cheeks as her shoulders shook. The defeat that weighed them down bothered Vance deeply.

He didn’t move from his position on the couch, but he did start talking. “Stephanie’s father was a cruel man. He beat her mother, but he never touched Steph. He wasn’t kind to her, but he never hurt her physically. She didn’t understand why, and honestly, I don’t understand why he spared her and no one else either.”

Vance shook his head, wondering not for the first time if it was some manipulative method of abuse only he understood, because his choice to never raise a hand to her certainly didn’t protect her. “When Steph was three, her mother finally tried to leave and take Steph with her. They didn’t make it far before he found them both and dragged them back home. Her mother took her own life two days later.” He heard Natalie’s gasp, but he continued on. “After that, it was an endless string of woman, some live-in girlfriends, and some women he actually married. He didn’t treat any of them better than he had Steph’s mom. He even had several other children with these women, but they all grew to hate Stephanie just as much as they hated her father.”

“Why?” Natalie asked quietly.

“Because she was the only one he never hurt. Most of the women turned their anger on Stephanie. If he caught them hurting her, he would punish them for it, but all that did was make them hate her even more. Eventually all the other girlfriends and wives left him, taking their poor children away from a horrible situation, but they blamed Steph for everything they had been through.” Vance sank into the couch, imagining what Stephanie had suffered for so long. “She wasn’t spared, though. The emotional abuse her father subjected her to, the way the other women and her half siblings treated her, it nearly broke her. When we met in college, she was terrified of forming relationships, because she had been convinced that anyone she tried to befriend would end up being hurt and hating her like everyone else had. She honestly thought she was cursed.”

“But you helped her.”

Had he? Not enough, apparently. Vance didn’t respond to Natalie’s comment. “After the way she was treated as a child, Stephanie was so scared she’d end up like her father or those other women. It terrified her to think of putting a child through the same things she had been through.”

“But she wouldn’t have,” Natalie argued.

“She knew her fears were irrational,” Vance said, “but I suppose you know better than most how little that matters.”

Natalie frowned and dropped her gaze. “I know all too well.”

Dragging his hands down his face, Vance sighed. “Nothing I said or did could convince her that things would be different with us. She hid the damage she’d suffered well—not that she hadn’t overcome many of her fears—but she held on to a lot more than people knew. I thought one day she’d let it all go, but I was wrong.”

The room fell silent after that. Vance didn’t expect Natalie to open up just because he had. He knew she wasn’t ready to talk. That wasn’t why he’d said what he did. He wasn’t even sure why he’d told Stephanie’s secrets. Her passing didn’t absolve him of promises to keep her confidence. The truth was, he didn’t understand why Steph had made the choices she did. Not really. He understood in a conceptual way, but emotionally…it tore straight through to his soul that she hadn’t told him about the pregnancies or trusted him enough to help her through it. Maybe he thought telling Natalie, who harbored her own seemingly insurmountable fears could give him insight, explain why, but the pained expression on her face said she didn’t understand any more than he did.