Breathe
Page 37
So I hoped she was free to go with me to the mall that night on an emergency mission.
“Incoming,” Chace muttered as I made mental plans with Lexie and took a sip of my latte.
My eyes snapped up and I saw the boy stealthily rounding the building. I noted immediately even from our distance that the eye wasn’t swollen anymore, the bruises were fading but not gone and the cut on his lip was still noticeably angry. He’d received a thrashing. Over a week and the evidence was still there.
The only thing that made me feel better about this was he was wearing the coat I gave him, the hat and the new jeans. But it was nippy. He really should put on the gloves and scarf.
I watched as he took his time and, as he did, he looked through the lot and surprisingly straight at the spot I’d been parked in yesterday, like he expected to see us there.
Like he’d seen us there yesterday.
Strange. Very strange. So strange it sent my body sliding toward Chace’s. My shoulder bumped his and, without taking his eyes off the boy, his arm shoved behind me and rounded my waist.
My hand went out and my fingers curled around his thigh.
We watched in silence as he approached the bags, crouched by them but he didn’t take time to dig through. He just grabbed them and motored to the back of the library, around and he was gone.
“Made us,” Chace muttered and I turned my head to look at him.
“What?”
He dipped his chin and twisted his neck to look at me, it hit me then how close he was but I didn’t move back.
Not a centimeter.
“Made us even before he grabbed the shit yesterday,” he answered. “My guess, just now, he scouted the area, didn’t see us on the street so he made his approach from the direction he came from. This means he led me off-track yesterday. He approached from the front, left around the front, headed toward town. Approached from the back this time, thinking we aren’t here. Wherever he goes, he approaches the library from the back.”
“Um… aren’t you going after him now?”
He gave my hip a squeeze, I read the command, pushed back into my seat and Chace looked out the window, his profile contemplative while answering.
“No. Want him to feel safe. Don’t want him to think it’s a trap. He needed that shit yesterday. He knows he can outrun us or lose us. He saw us before he even returned the books. Maybe he knew he could get away, didn’t want to waste the effort of walkin’ here from wherever to return the books. Maybe he thinks we’re no threat. No f**kin’ idea. But now, I think we should keep a distance, keep givin’ and hope he takes you up on your invitation and gives back. Writes a note. Gets comfortable. Gets to know you. Maybe he’ll approach us.”
This sounded like a good plan.
Or at least it did until Chace hissed, “Fuck,” with a lot more emotion than he’d been talking with a mere moment before.
“Chace?” I whispered but his eyes didn’t leave the library.
“Saw it yesterday, saw it clearer today,” he replied.
“What?”
His eyes turned to me and I caught my breath at the anger I read in them. I was stunned that his seemingly mellow mood had shifted in an instant.
“His face, Faye. That’s a week of healin’.” He shook his head and his gaze moved back to the library on another, “Fuck.”
I reached out a hand and curled it on his knee, leaning into him, whispering, “Chace.”
He shook his head again once but spoke. “Not eatin’ right, no medicine, no water to clean, probably doesn’t even know to do it. That’ll all delay healing but that doesn’t mean that kid didn’t get nailed. He got f**kin’ nailed. Nine years old, slinkin’ around for food, dumpster diving, I’m across the goddamned street and all I can do for his sake is sit on my ass, watch and wait.”
Entire verses of “Holding Out for a Hero” crashed in my brain.
As they did, I squeezed his knee and called softly, “Honey.”
Instantly, his head turned to me but I was so focused on his anger for the boy, I didn’t see the expression on his face.
“He’s got food. I’ll put medicine out tomorrow and tell him how to use it. Shampoo, soap, a washcloth, a towel, suggest he finds someplace to clean up. Urge him to eat the fruit and veggies. Maybe buy some vitamins and ask him to take those too. We’ll take care of him and then we’ll get him.”
“I know we’ll get him, darlin’, and that’ll be good. But who I really wanna get is whoever f**ked him up.”
I pressed my lips together because he said that like he meant it a whole lot.
Then I unpressed my lips and replied quietly, “I want you to get him too.”
His eyes moved over my face before coming back to mine and he whispered back, “Then I will.”
I smiled at him.
He leaned in and touched his mouth to mine.
Unfortunately, he leaned right back and said softly, “Gotta get to work.”
“Right,” I replied.
“Call you before you go to bed.”
I smiled again and repeated, “Right.”
His eyes dropped to my mouth before they came back to mine, he leaned in several inches and whispered, “I’d take that mouth, but that’d mean I’d be makin’ out with you in your car on the street. The town’s pretty librarian doesn’t need that kinda talk.”
This was disappointing.
Until he finished, “Least not yet.”
I smiled again.
Chace awarded me a return smile.
Then he took off and I drove my Cherokee into the lot, parked and went to the library.
* * * * *
Nine fifty-five that night
I was on my back on my couch, feet in the seat, knees to the ceiling, apple candle burning, snapping a piece of bubblemint in my mouth, the last glass of the wine Chace brought the night before mostly consumed and sitting on a table beside me.
I had my Nook in my hand and I was reading.
Lexie was luckily free. Her friend Wendy was not on shift at Bubba’s so she came with us to the outlet mall. They were both not only free, but also beside themselves with glee that we were going to the mall because I was going out with Chace. Lexie especially. She was delighted and didn’t mind showing it.
This felt good.
It also felt hopeful.
I liked my clothes but contradictorily, I wasn’t a shopper. Luckily, I knew what I liked and I knew where to get it so my shopping experience was as narrow as my life had been (that was to say, as narrow as it was a couple of weeks ago).
“Incoming,” Chace muttered as I made mental plans with Lexie and took a sip of my latte.
My eyes snapped up and I saw the boy stealthily rounding the building. I noted immediately even from our distance that the eye wasn’t swollen anymore, the bruises were fading but not gone and the cut on his lip was still noticeably angry. He’d received a thrashing. Over a week and the evidence was still there.
The only thing that made me feel better about this was he was wearing the coat I gave him, the hat and the new jeans. But it was nippy. He really should put on the gloves and scarf.
I watched as he took his time and, as he did, he looked through the lot and surprisingly straight at the spot I’d been parked in yesterday, like he expected to see us there.
Like he’d seen us there yesterday.
Strange. Very strange. So strange it sent my body sliding toward Chace’s. My shoulder bumped his and, without taking his eyes off the boy, his arm shoved behind me and rounded my waist.
My hand went out and my fingers curled around his thigh.
We watched in silence as he approached the bags, crouched by them but he didn’t take time to dig through. He just grabbed them and motored to the back of the library, around and he was gone.
“Made us,” Chace muttered and I turned my head to look at him.
“What?”
He dipped his chin and twisted his neck to look at me, it hit me then how close he was but I didn’t move back.
Not a centimeter.
“Made us even before he grabbed the shit yesterday,” he answered. “My guess, just now, he scouted the area, didn’t see us on the street so he made his approach from the direction he came from. This means he led me off-track yesterday. He approached from the front, left around the front, headed toward town. Approached from the back this time, thinking we aren’t here. Wherever he goes, he approaches the library from the back.”
“Um… aren’t you going after him now?”
He gave my hip a squeeze, I read the command, pushed back into my seat and Chace looked out the window, his profile contemplative while answering.
“No. Want him to feel safe. Don’t want him to think it’s a trap. He needed that shit yesterday. He knows he can outrun us or lose us. He saw us before he even returned the books. Maybe he knew he could get away, didn’t want to waste the effort of walkin’ here from wherever to return the books. Maybe he thinks we’re no threat. No f**kin’ idea. But now, I think we should keep a distance, keep givin’ and hope he takes you up on your invitation and gives back. Writes a note. Gets comfortable. Gets to know you. Maybe he’ll approach us.”
This sounded like a good plan.
Or at least it did until Chace hissed, “Fuck,” with a lot more emotion than he’d been talking with a mere moment before.
“Chace?” I whispered but his eyes didn’t leave the library.
“Saw it yesterday, saw it clearer today,” he replied.
“What?”
His eyes turned to me and I caught my breath at the anger I read in them. I was stunned that his seemingly mellow mood had shifted in an instant.
“His face, Faye. That’s a week of healin’.” He shook his head and his gaze moved back to the library on another, “Fuck.”
I reached out a hand and curled it on his knee, leaning into him, whispering, “Chace.”
He shook his head again once but spoke. “Not eatin’ right, no medicine, no water to clean, probably doesn’t even know to do it. That’ll all delay healing but that doesn’t mean that kid didn’t get nailed. He got f**kin’ nailed. Nine years old, slinkin’ around for food, dumpster diving, I’m across the goddamned street and all I can do for his sake is sit on my ass, watch and wait.”
Entire verses of “Holding Out for a Hero” crashed in my brain.
As they did, I squeezed his knee and called softly, “Honey.”
Instantly, his head turned to me but I was so focused on his anger for the boy, I didn’t see the expression on his face.
“He’s got food. I’ll put medicine out tomorrow and tell him how to use it. Shampoo, soap, a washcloth, a towel, suggest he finds someplace to clean up. Urge him to eat the fruit and veggies. Maybe buy some vitamins and ask him to take those too. We’ll take care of him and then we’ll get him.”
“I know we’ll get him, darlin’, and that’ll be good. But who I really wanna get is whoever f**ked him up.”
I pressed my lips together because he said that like he meant it a whole lot.
Then I unpressed my lips and replied quietly, “I want you to get him too.”
His eyes moved over my face before coming back to mine and he whispered back, “Then I will.”
I smiled at him.
He leaned in and touched his mouth to mine.
Unfortunately, he leaned right back and said softly, “Gotta get to work.”
“Right,” I replied.
“Call you before you go to bed.”
I smiled again and repeated, “Right.”
His eyes dropped to my mouth before they came back to mine, he leaned in several inches and whispered, “I’d take that mouth, but that’d mean I’d be makin’ out with you in your car on the street. The town’s pretty librarian doesn’t need that kinda talk.”
This was disappointing.
Until he finished, “Least not yet.”
I smiled again.
Chace awarded me a return smile.
Then he took off and I drove my Cherokee into the lot, parked and went to the library.
* * * * *
Nine fifty-five that night
I was on my back on my couch, feet in the seat, knees to the ceiling, apple candle burning, snapping a piece of bubblemint in my mouth, the last glass of the wine Chace brought the night before mostly consumed and sitting on a table beside me.
I had my Nook in my hand and I was reading.
Lexie was luckily free. Her friend Wendy was not on shift at Bubba’s so she came with us to the outlet mall. They were both not only free, but also beside themselves with glee that we were going to the mall because I was going out with Chace. Lexie especially. She was delighted and didn’t mind showing it.
This felt good.
It also felt hopeful.
I liked my clothes but contradictorily, I wasn’t a shopper. Luckily, I knew what I liked and I knew where to get it so my shopping experience was as narrow as my life had been (that was to say, as narrow as it was a couple of weeks ago).
