My belly twisted like a Rubik’s Cube and my breath stopped. The coldness was gone, and in the hard depths of his eyes lay something more. I didn’t know what it was exactly, but it made me feel as if I was dancing on a tightrope above a raging river. Vulnerable to the elements. Reckless. And at the same time, protected—like if I slipped and fell into the churning depths below, he’d be there to keep my head above water.
I tore my eyes from his. God, that was ridiculous. He’d be the one to push me under.
The rain strengthened. I smiled at the sound as it hit the metal roof of the cabin. It reminded me of an ensemble of instruments. Tambourine. Drums. The tapping of piano keys. And the light pick of guitar strings.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I said, glancing out across the yard. I didn’t need ambience apps with recordings of soothing rain to sleep. I had this.
When Vic didn’t say anything, I looked back at him.
He was tense. Brows furrowed and jaw tight. He’d uncrossed his arms and was now gripping the railing, looking as if he was going to crush it.
I frowned. “Are you okay?”
He remained silent, but his eyes flicked to the ceiling of the porch as if the sound of the rain on the metal roof bothered him.
I cleared my throat and moved toward the door. “I, uh, should go to bed.”
And I should tell Darius I’d take the guesthouse at Callum’s farm. It was silly to delay the inevitable. I didn’t want Jackson staying in a motel until I found another place, and the longer we stayed here, the harder it would be for Jackson, because I saw the way he gravitated toward Vic. What I didn’t want to admit was that there was a part of me that didn’t want to leave, and it wasn’t because of the cabin. It was because of him. Vic.
Vic straightened and reached for my guitar, his fingers wrapping around the neck. He strode toward me, and my heart felt as if it was going to bust through my rib cage. The question was whether it would run from him or toward him.
He stopped a couple feet from me and held out the guitar. “Thanks,” I managed to squeak past my dry throat as I took it from him.
He stared at me for a second, or maybe it was only a half a second. Okay, it was more of a millisecond before he said, “Make no mistake, I’m not a fuckin’ superhero.” Shit. He must have heard Jackson say that. “Lock the door.” He turned and walked down the porch steps, instantly getting wet.
“Vic?” I said before I could stop myself. I almost hoped he’d keep walking, but he didn’t. He turned to look at me, the moonlight bouncing off his hard jawline. I was going to say thanks, and then changed my mind. “Goodnight.”
He gave an abrupt nod, almost as if he was annoyed, then disappeared into the rain.
Vic
The woman was like a goddamn cowbell tied too tight around my neck.
Last night, or rather early this morning, after the shit with the kid and Macayla, I’d gone back to the house, packed my stuff, and then texted Jaeg to swing by and fix the cabin screen door in the morning. I’d even got so far as throwing my bag into the truck and starting the engine.
I ended up sitting in the bloody truck for an hour, listening to the fuckin’ rain as penance, my head jam-packed with images of her and the kid. Yeah, it wasn’t only her who haunted me; it was the kid too. Seeing him cowering on the floor with his fist in his mouth. And I knew why he did it. To suffocate the sounds so no one would hear him. What I didn’t know was who had scared him so badly that he was terrified to make a sound.
I didn’t leave though. The rain had stopped, and I’d gone back inside and stood under the cold shower again until the numbness took hold and I could breathe again without thinking of her or the kid.
My cell vibrated. I set my green smoothie on the counter and dug it out of my cargo pants pocket, glancing at the screen.
Jaeg: I’m not your personal handyman. Fix it yourself.
I huffed, tossing my cell down, and then chugged back the rest of the drink. It was just after seven, and I was hoping to get the screen door fixed before they even knew I’d been there. Thankfully, the rain had stopped.
I walked outside to my truck and dropped the tailgate. I reached in for my toolbox, unclipped the lid, and grabbed the drill. I cut through the trees and strode toward the cabin, the twigs that were snapping beneath my boots feeling as if it was happening in my insides. I’d come back for the solitude, and here I was, fixing the screen door of a cabin I’d rather burn to the ground.
I walked into the clearing and saw the kid sitting cross-legged on a patch of long grass. The one spot the morning sun managed to reach between the tree limbs.
Guess I wasn’t that fortunate, and they were already awake.
His head was dipped, and I could see his lips moving. It looked like he was talking to himself or whatever was in the grass beside him, likely that Aquaman action figure I’d seen him with.
When I drew closer, his head popped up. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open.
I lifted my chin to say hey and was about to walk past when he threw his arms out in front of my path.
“Watch out for Waffles,” he shouted.