You Are Here (15 page)

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Authors: S. M. Lumetta

BOOK: You Are Here
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“See?” Her voice pitched in her excitement. “You’re here with me and it’s just the beginning. I don’t know every step, but sweet lips, if you’re willing to take the journey, I’m more than happy to lead the way.” She chuckled and laid her head on my chest, humming. Her body curled to mold tightly to mine as she wiggled her hips, trying to rub as much of herself against me as possible.

My quiet laugh was unexpected, possibly on both our parts, but what did not surprise me was how she completely shifted the mood. And by mood, I mean my dick was all-in for a repeat performance of the other night, or better, a continuation.

“Hmm.” She grinned—she knew what she did to me. “Do you want to take a bath?”

I threw her a curious look. “What the hell is it with taking a bath? You know this is the second time you’ve brought that up, right?”

She cleared her throat, a strange laugh trilling out after the sound. “Um, never mind.”

She hooked her fingers over my shoulders from behind and pulled herself higher. She closed her eyes and settled her lips on mine.

I fought for focus. “Don’t you think we need to talk?” I said, my words smashed between us.

She dropped her heels to the floor as her grip on me fell loose at my sides. Her face was wiped clean of mischief, transformed to a spot-on teenage mope. “Oh, right. Yeah. We should. Talk.
More
.”

I paused to take a deep breath, not just to shed the guilt for killing her mood, but to try and dampen the need to bury myself inside her repeatedly.

“Believe me, we could avoid talking for days.”

She grunted a laugh in response.

I continued, “I’m just trying to catch up. I mean, I want to know what happened to you. I want to know who you are and why you can do this to me.”

She grinned and her shoulders folded forward as if she were shy. Nodding, she studied the floor as she spoke. “I know. I will tell you,
and
I’ll
listen to whatever you’ll tell me,” she said. She looked up, her eyes wide, and kissed the tips of two fingers together before pressing them to my lips. “I promise.”

The glint in her eye was back, and it shot warmth up and down my spine. I was going to bring it all crashing down, for sure, but right now? Fuck it, I was going to enjoy myself.

Chapter Seventeen

Lucie

Bubble

 

 

 

“I just wanted a kiss,” I told him as we sat in a post-coital cuddle, leaning against the wall near the windows.

He laughed for a solid minute—or at least it felt like it. “So that’s why you dropped your robe and unbuttoned my jeans. I guess I read that signal all wrong.”

I giggled against his chest, loving the happy quake of laughter beneath my cheek. From that cozy vantage point, I surveyed the path of destruction from the kitchen through the living room. He managed to knock over a stool from the breakfast bar, which broke off a leg. A small lamp crashed off the table next to my red chair thanks to my flailing, and someone had pulled on the curtains hard enough that one of the rods came down. We could sure do some damage when we were horny.

“I should get going,” he said, making no attempt to leave. If anything, I felt his hold on me tighten.

“What? You just got back. I thought you wanted to talk.” As soon as the words came out, I heard how panicked they sounded.

We managed to sit up and he pulled me into his lap.

Bad move, dude. You’re still naked. I’m still naked.

“I’m just going back to my hotel,” he said. He kissed the spot behind my ear and I moaned a little. I turned to kiss him deeply and his muffled laugh vibrated into my mouth. “Lucie.”

He took my face in his hands and I leaned into his palm. He held me back to look in my eyes. “Keep doing that and I may never leave,” he murmured.

“Promise?”

His amusement slid and slowly vanished from his face. His eyes darted away, looking for a point of focus.

“Grey, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” he assured me while easily lifting me from his lap. We both stood.

“Please stay?” I asked, but it was really more of a plea. It felt ridiculous, but I wanted him here as if that would erase the past few days. “It’s late. You should stay.”

“I don’t know, um …” His naked fidgeting and trying to cover himself was somehow incredibly cute to me.

I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. “I … I was just thinking that if you stay, we could hang out tomorrow, you know? Get to know each other a little better. Maybe take a walk, have brunch, or lunch. Or dinner.”

“Screw breakfast, I guess,” he said with a lopsided grin.

“I am highly amenable to having you for breakfast,” I replied, straight-faced.

He closed his eyes and shook his head in amusement.

I laughed. “Listen, just stay. You’ll stay, yeah? You have to fix the curtains anyway,” I told him with a wink.

He swallowed and a flash of discomfort washed over his face. It was quick, but I saw it. I had no idea how to ask about it, and wasn’t sure if I should.

“Okay.”

I kissed him quickly, and went about typical bedtime stuff. I washed my face and started to brush my teeth, but stopped mid-brush when I noticed him staring from the doorway. Still naked.

“What?” I asked through a smile and a mouthful of suds.

Grey laughed, low and breathy. “I don’t have anything to sleep in.”

I spit, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “Oh, you’re already wearing it, hot stuff.”

I handed him a spare toothbrush and slapped him on his bare ass before I walked out the door and into the bedroom. I did a freaky little happy dance and collected myself.

“You may have noticed I’m wearing the same invisible pajamas,” I called.

“I noticed.”

His near-growl totally turned me on. Again. I blew the hair out of my face and spotted my phone on the nightstand.

Vivi had sent a text about a half hour ago, so I sent a quick reply.

All’s well, V.

Apparently she was still up.

Meaning?

Grey’s back.

Really.

I sighed, understanding her concern.

I slapped him. Hard. Does that help?

ILY <3 He deserves worse, but it’s a start
.

ILY2. Talk soon.

That’s it? No more scoop?!

Later.

Fine. Don’t forget spa weekend coming up! Grey is not invited.

*eye roll* I know that. Looking fwd to it.

Maybe slap him one more time for me, k?

Hello?

This number is now on “ignore Vivi.”

Hahahahahahaha!

“Who was that?” The gravelly whisper in my ear sent shivers over my skin and made my heart hiccup. I felt the warmth of his body behind me and pressed back. He hesitated at first but wrapped his arms around me.

“Vivi asked if I’m okay,” I said, looking away as I continued, “I stayed with her for a few days. I was really upset and I didn’t want to be alone.”

His arms fell away. “Right.” His warmth left me, guilt palpable in his body’s absence.

“Grey.” I spun and grabbed his hands, pulling him back to me. “This is just
us
right now, okay? Just us. I promise
.

He looked unconvinced, but he nodded.

“Hey, I had every right to be angry
and
upset. Don’t you think?”

Another nod, almost imperceptible this time. “Aren’t you still?”

I slapped his face lightly to get him to look me in the eyes and his responding expression forced me to swallow a smile. “I’m working on that, quite honestly, but that’s why I want you to stay. Come on.” I pulled him toward the bed and threw back the covers. “I can tell you a bedtime story.”

His lips curved, but he acquiesced. “Is it a scary story?” he teased as I climbed in.

“A little.”

And it was, really. It was
my
story. The story of how I became this weird version of me. The murders and the fire, waking up clean of it all … I supposed that was kind of horrific from an outsider’s perspective.

Grey rested his head on the pillow with half his face consumed by its loft as I began. I focused on the aftermath when I woke, but I shared what I knew of before and the attack itself. It wasn’t my first retelling of what happened, but since it was to someone so important, it felt hollow. I just didn’t feel right to say what happened to me—
not
because I remembered it that way but rather like history book text.

Through all of it, though, he remained silent. His expression was stony sometimes, almost blank. I nervously watched his eyes in the dim light. They morphed from stormy seas to bright inviting blue—at least in my mind. His face was partially in shadow, and those shadows played tricks, especially when I was tired. I’d spent many sleepless nights in the hospital, watching dark corners become nightmares.

“So after months in the hospital, you moved in with Vivi and,” he paused, taking in a deep breath, “Nash?”

“Mmhmm.” I nodded, inching closer.

His lips curled upward.

“Vivi became my ally, you know? She helped me in ways I didn’t know I needed. And Nash and Drew and Charlotte … it was the ultimate comfort to have such friends.”

“I’m sure,” he whispered.

“Tell me you’re okay,” I pleaded. My fingers tingled as they lightly touched his chest.

“I don’t know what that means.”

“I just want you to know that—” I stopped. Words failed me. My pulse vaguely throbbed behind my eyes and I blinked as if my lids were too heavy. I wanted to tell him it would be okay. They’d be friends, brothers again. But I didn’t know that. Did I?

I suppose I was asking for it.

The smell is musty, as if time had been locked in and left to decay. Piles of boxes and a few pieces of wardrobe furniture are scattered throughout the space. Grey stands on the cement floor with his arms crossed over his chest, feet spread apart. He looks stressed, sad.

“He sent it all to me,” he says. “Every last scrap of my stuff. He didn’t want it taking up any room in his new office. So instead of just throwing it out, he thought I’d enjoy all the stuff I left behind. I didn’t want it either.”

“So how did you get it back here?” Drew’s voice sounds hurt and angry as he steps over to peek inside a box to Grey’s left.

Grey turns and paces in the opposite direction. “Military helped me organize the shipment.”

Silence fills the room like a dense mushroom cloud.

“Dad said you came to get it, and that’s when you said goodbye.”

“He’s not my dad,” Grey snaps and spins around to face him. He seems contrite. His tone becomes softer and shamed. “I already said goodbye.”

I opened my eyes to Grey’s, panicked and dark, as he cradled me in his lap. His touch was soft as he smoothed my hair off my face.

“What the fuck just happened?”

I touched my head, the throbbing sensation heavier now.

“Are you okay?”

I nodded. “I told you I have premonitions,” I said quietly. “That’s what happens when I have one. Then I get a headache and sometimes feel dizzy or nauseous.”

“Jesus.”

“I don’t see Jesus. It’s not a religious experience.”

He chuckled. “Well it looked like a possession. Or at least maybe a tonic seizure.”

“What the hell is that? A cocktail?”

“No,” he said, laughing.

“I don’t shake,” I said, glowering.

He shook his head. “Tonic seizures are when all your muscles go rigid.”

“Oh, right. Yeah, no. I don’t always freeze up like that, but they checked me for those in the hospital. A few times.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Oh, just a few times.”

I narrowed my eyes at his sarcasm. “I had quite a few while hanging out at the hospital for as long as I was.”

He shrugged. “I see you’re pretty comfortable with these …
visions
?”

The label came out somewhat condescending through tight lips and underneath raised eyebrows, and I tried to deflect the pang of hurt. I knew he was struggling to accept it as fact, but that didn’t make it sting any less. I hadn’t been totally comfortable with them to start, so I had to remember that I couldn’t expect him to immediately assimilate.

“I prefer to call them ‘previews.’” I turned my head and kissed his stomach. “And they usually revolve around you.”

His eyebrows pulled together as if by a drawstring. That statement had clearly made him uncomfortable, if not suspicious. He wanted to ask what I saw, but didn’t.

“It’s okay to be curious. I was going to tell you anyway. I saw you and Drew talking about all the stuff that your—um, your
un-
dad sent you.”

If it was possible to see him pale in this light, I did.

“What else?”

I moved next to him so we could settle back down. He didn’t move until I coaxed him down next to me. I stayed very close with my head on his pillow.

“A bunch of boxes and a few pieces of old furniture? A royal blue chair with a high back, I could see. Seemed like a garage or something.” I watched him flip onto his back and sigh as if to scream. “Does it sound familiar?”

His profile and the shadows around it nodded. “Who told you about this?”

I poked him in the shoulder. “No one told me, you asshole,” I said, unavoidably offended. “I literally just saw it. If it doesn’t sound familiar, that’s fine. It’s just what I see.”

As he rubbed the spot on his collarbone, he eyed me carefully. Calculating. He still didn’t trust me fully and I had to admit to myself that it was tough to accept.

“Okay. I could be having psychotic delusions, for all you know, but here’s the thing. I’ve also been checked by an entire team of psychiatrists and psychologists, a.k.a. experts on crazy, and I’ve been deemed sane!” I argued, flopping onto my back and crossing my arms. It was a bit of a tantrum, but I got tired of the eggshells I had to walk on.

Quiet took over, the bland sounds of the city outside the windows and the soft rush of air conditioning the only response to my minor tirade. I felt embarrassment prickle at my cheeks and sighed. “Sorry. I—”

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