Burying Water (29 page)

THIRTY-TWO

Water

now

“The hummingbird.”

“Good morning, Dakota,” I offer, placing her coffee down on the counter in front of her. I have no clue what she’s talking about.

She waves a sheet of paper. “That’s your spirit animal.”

“A bird?”

She smirks. “A tiny, tireless bird who will fly thousands of miles to get to its nectar, who will appear dead at night, and then full of life in the morning. They’re the only birds who can fly backwards, did you know that?”

I shake my head, transfixed.

“In the spirit world, the hummingbird represents so many things—hope . . . persistence . . . miracles . . .” The passion in her voice is contagious, and I feel my own excitement swell. “Vitality . . . resilience.”

There’s that word. The one Jesse wrote in my journal. The word that calls to me.

“This,” she thrusts the paper out, “is what I see when I look at you.”

My jaw hangs open as I take in her creation—a medley of swirls and pen strokes, the detail intricate and precise. It’s a black-ink sketch of a hummingbird in flight, only its feathers are curled to form droplets of water.

In a word, it’s beautiful.

“Dakota. This is . . .” I can’t stop staring at it. “It’s incredible. Thank you.”

“You should get it right here.” She taps the back of my left shoulder.

I nod. “That’s exactly where I’m going to get it.”

“I think Jesse will like it.”

I feel her steady gaze on me and I hazard a glance to see the small smile she hides behind a sip of her coffee. I haven’t admitted anything to her about Jesse and me yet.

“I picked up dinner at Poppa’s last night and overheard Tina talking about how the sheriff’s son and the Crazy Tree Quilt Lady’s cousin were seen cuddling at the rodeo.”

I blush. Of course. This town really does love the sheriff’s son.

She flashes that alluring smile. “Surprise him with a tattoo. I know a great tattoo shop in Bend.”

I begged for the darkness to swallow up the pain and it listened, wrapping me in a cold embrace.

“Tell me who the father is,” that voice—full of anger and hatred—demands.

My baby. What’s going to happen to my baby? Panic ignites, somewhere deep inside me.

“Tell me!”

My mouth moves to form
the words; the same words I’ve said over and over again. A chant. “Just some guy.”

I feel pressure seizing my chin and cigarette smoke wafts closer. “Who is he?”

“Just some guy . . .”

“Come on . . .
Did you really think I would let some guy fuck my wife and get away with it?” The glint of a blade flashes.

“Just some guy . . . bar . . . just some guy . . . bar . . . just some guy . . . bar . . .” I whisper. I won’t give in. I won’t give him a name. The tip of the
blade pierces my skin at the temple. I’m too weak to scream, even as I feel it slowly tearing into my face, the agony bringing tears to my eyes. I won’t tell, I won’t let anyone hurt him—

“Wake up!”

My eyes snap open to find Jesse’s face hovering over me, his hands on my shoulders, shaking me hard.

I’m gasping for air.

“You’re with me. Jesse. You’re safe.” He smooths his hands over my face, wiping away tears that must have sprung in my sleep. A worried frown mars his beautiful features. “You kept saying—”

“ ‘Just some guy,’ ” I whisper through ragged breaths. “I think I just had a flashback.”

Jesse’s jaw clenches. “What was it?”

I shake my head slowly, desperately trying to grab on to the bits before they slip back into oblivion. “A voice. And a smell. Cigarettes. He kept asking me for a name.” I reach up and touch my scar. “He wanted a name. He cut me because I wouldn’t give it to him.” Burying my face in Jesse’s bare chest, I inhale deeply, trying to rid myself of the acrid tobacco smoke that still somehow taints my subconscious.

Did you really think I would let some guy fuck my wife and get away with it?

I gasp. “I’m married. My husband did this to me.” I push away from Jesse but he grabs hold of my hands.

“Do you remember why?”

Why?

Why?

Why would my husband do this to me?

Tell me who the father is.

“Oh my God.” My stomach tightens. “Because it wasn’t his baby. I wouldn’t tell him whose it was.”

Dr. Weimer was right. I had an affair.

Jesse’s hands around mine slacken. Even in the pre-dawn light, I can see the deep frown. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” My palms find their way to my empty abdomen, a longing ache spreading through my chest. Somehow, I’m sure.

Jesse scoops me into his arms and lets me sob against his chest. But I feel the growing tension in his body. When I hazard a glance at his face, I find him glowering at the ceiling.

What must he think of me?

THIRTY-THREE

Jesse

then

I barely hear the trance music this time, though its steady beat throbs in my chest.

I haven’t been back here in almost two months. The only reason I’m here now is because it’s New Year’s Eve and Boone said Viktor would be here.

I’m praying that means Alex is, too.

Boone hands me a drink, which I have no intention of touching. I need my wits about me, or I’m liable to do something stupid. Like kiss Viktor’s wife in front of him.

We cut through the thick crowd of drunk, rich assholes, and I narrowly avoid a martini on the shirt and pants I bought for tonight. At first I felt like a chump at the store, but now that I’m seconds away from seeing Alex again, I’m happy I bought the tailored outfit.

Except, she’s not here.

I take in the table, spilling over with the usual guys and a few new ones, plus a slew of young, pretty girls, some of whom may very well be paid escorts. Priscilla is in the mix, attached to Viktor’s side, his arm draped over her shoulder, his thumb absently grazing the top of her tits that are practically falling out of a plunging neckline. He’s making no attempt to hide his philandering, which makes me think that Alex isn’t due to arrive anytime soon.

But wouldn’t he make her come tonight, of all nights?

Unless he’s bashed her face in again.

“Happy New Year!” Rust stands to pat his nephew’s back as if he hasn’t seen him in months, though Boone’s been out with him almost every night lately. I have a feeling Miller will be out of a job come spring. “Jesse!” He offers me his hand.

I put up with two minutes of small talk before I excuse myself to use the restroom. Really, to text Alex.

I’m at The Cellar. Where are you?

She hasn’t returned the three texts that I sent her since the night at the restaurant. This time, though, she answers almost immediately.

I’m not feeling well so I stayed home.

Dread swells.

Did he hit you?

I’m fine, Jesse.

A moment later:

Have a Happy New Year.

Fuck that
.

I round the corner and nearly plow into Viktor.

“Jesse.” That snakelike smile greets me. “Where are you off to in a rush?” A slight slur twists his words.

I force my jaw to unclench. “Another club. I promised some friends I’d meet them there for midnight,” I lie. I always was a good liar.

“You should reconsider. We have a few extra girls here tonight.”

“Too rich for my blood. I like the low-maintenance ones.”

He stares at me for a long moment, as if weighing the truth to my words. I’m expecting him to bring up the car rebuild he wants me to do, but he only chuckles. “You are an odd one. Have a good night.”

I speed through the crowd without a second glance back.

I’ve been buzzing the gate for ten minutes now and she’s not answering. When I see her run out the front door in her pink coat and head for her car, I know Alex isn’t willing to deal with me here. Not with Viktor in the same city. That’s fine, as long as she’s willing to see me.

I tail her BMW for ten miles, until she finally pulls into an empty park in a wooded area. I’m out of my car and pulling her door open before she has a chance. “What happened?” I demand, taking her face in my hands. It’s even more drawn than before and pale, but otherwise, it’s unmarked.

And yet the fear in her eyes is unmistakable.

“What’s going on, Alex?”

Tears begin to stream down her cheeks. “I’m pregnant.”

Two words, whispered so softly, punch me in the stomach. “Jesus.” I didn’t expect that. I take a few steps back, inhaling the cold air. It’s too cold to be out here without a jacket and gloves, but I barely feel it. My eyes automatically drift down to her stomach, though I can’t even see it, buried within her jacket. “Does Viktor know?”

She shakes her head. “When he heard me throwing up my lunch today, I told him I have the stomach flu. That’s why he didn’t make me come out to The Cellar tonight.”

“I . . .” I struggle for what to say.

“I’m keeping it.” Fierce determination flashes in her glossy eyes.

I nod slowly. Of course she is. I’ll bet she’s going to make an incredible mother, too. I think I’m in shock. In the back of my mind, I keep thanking God that we used condoms every single time we slept together, or I’d be losing my shit right now.

But I don’t bring that up.

“Viktor doesn’t want to be a father, does he?” I remember her telling me that.

She opens her mouth but it only hangs there, whatever words are sitting on her tongue left unspoken as hesitation swims in her eyes. Finally, she says, “He’s never going to find out.” She pauses. “Viktor is always handing me cash.
Lots
of cash. For groceries and bills and shopping. I’ve been saving it all since I found out. And I’ve been quietly selling off some of my jewelry and designer stuff. I should have enough to cover rent and basic necessities for the next two years, if I live really cheaply. I’m just going to leave a note and tell him that I’ve had enough of his cheating. I can’t risk confronting him and having him hurt me. Not now. A legal divorce will have to come later.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. “How long have you known?”

Her steady gaze answers me before her words do. “About a month.”

That night at the restaurant . . . she knew. That’s what she wanted to tell me but couldn’t. “When are you leaving?”

“In the next few weeks, before I start to show.”

As if things weren’t hard enough for her before, now this? I crouch down in front of her. “Are you afraid?”

“Terrified,” she whispers, her eyes searching mine, an unreadable look in them. Like a soft plea, only not quite.

“Where are you going to go?”

“I don’t know yet. I’m definitely leaving Portland. Probably Oregon. Viktor can’t
ever
find out about this baby.”

I don’t blame her. She’d have the asshole in her life forever, then. Even if he doesn’t want kids, he seems like the kind of guy who would keep tabs on it.

But . . . far away from Viktor means far away from me.

My heart sinks.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I don’t want to drag you into this,” she admits. “I wish things could be different for us.” She sighs and then tunes the radio, just in time to hear a crowd cheer from wherever the station is broadcasting. “Happy New Year, Jesse,” she whispers, saying my name in that way that sends shivers down my back. Leaning down, she skates her lips over mine, the very same hesitant way she did the night I stopped to change her flat tire for her.

I guess some may say that it was the flat tire that changed me.

But, really, it was Alex.

“Don’t go,” I hear myself blurt out. I can’t lose her.

I think I’m in love with her.

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Yeah, you do. Stay with me.”

A sad smile touches her lips. “You know that won’t work.”

“No, not in Portland.” It’s all so clear to me now. “In Sisters, in my apartment. Viktor’s not going to find you there. I know it’s not much, but you said you were happy there. So
be
there, with me.”

“But . . .” A deep furrow creases her forehead. “What are your parents going to say?”

“Don’t worry about them. I’ll deal with them. The garage is mine anyway.”

She scoops my hands within hers, pink from the cold. “Things have changed, Jesse. I’m having a baby.”

“Yeah, I haven’t forgotten,” I mutter.

She pauses, frowning. “You’d take me, even if I’m carrying someone else’s child?”

“Yeah. I guess I would.” Am I crazy? Maybe. But the truth is, I’ll take her however I can have her.

“Jesse, it’s . . .” She hesitates and then clamps her lips shut, as if to stop herself from saying whatever she was going to say. Tears well in her eyes and she nods. “Okay.”

Relief and happiness slams into me, and that’s how I know this is the right decision.

Shutting her door, I climb into the passenger seat and take her hand.

And we begin making our plans.