Little Dark Secret (Storm's Soldier Book 2) (7 page)

“Are you still a white nationalist?” I said quieter and harsher.

“That’s what I came to discuss. I didn’t have a chance to explain yesterday.”

“Yes or no?”

“I’m trying to explain”

“I want a yes or a no, Calix? Are you or are you not a white nationalist?”

“I’m the guy who wants to be with you.”

His voice was low, and it ran down me like an earthquake. It would take so little to collapse into his grip. To allow myself to succumb to instinct.

“No!”

I shoved away from him. A sniffling woman seated next to me raised her head at us.

That had been louder than I intended. But it had been loud enough for us both to hear.

Calix’s eyes trembled, tipped inward. He breathed softly through his mouth. It was almost shocking to see the power I had over him.

I might have rushed to hold him in a weaker moment, but now I could face this. I deserved a man who didn’t have to keep secrets from me.

“What’ll it take?” Calix said. “I’ll do anything.”

“I told you what to do,” I said. “Answer my question. And don’t answer it until you don’t have to lie about it.”

Was it that hard to answer? It wasn’t freaking organic chemistry.

Calix held his eyes shut. His lips flapped the air, but then all he said was a very quiet. “Ok.”

He turned around and headed back out the doors. I waited and watched them shut. Something in me hoped he would come charging back, flush with purpose. All that came through, though, was a short Latino man cradling what looked to be a broken arm. I sighed and went over to help him.

When I headed back to the nurses station, Lilly’s eyes followed me all the way as I came around the counter to the door at the back.

“No big reason for being late, huh?” she asked.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Just tell me what happened.”

I turned on her. “Lilly, please. Just let it go for now.”

She clicked her tongue. “Fine, be that way.”

We didn’t talk much the rest of the day. It wasn’t a fight, she just knew to leave me alone when I was in a mood. God knows I didn’t stay quiet for long. One day was enough after a break up.

But I didn’t want to bitch about my luck and slink back into my cycle this time. I was tired of the cycle. Tired of guys who didn’t know how to stop fighting useless fights, tired of guys who didn’t even know why they were fighting.

Do you hate my family?
That’s basically all I had asked. He couldn’t answer that.

No, I was doing this all wrong. I couldn’t trust my instincts anymore. They had felt so good about Calix. But seeing him again reminded me that it had started as just animal attraction. His good qualities had been a surprise, and in the end, they hadn’t stopped him from being rotten.

If I wanted something real, I was going to have to fight my instincts. My brain was plenty good to get me through nursing school. I needed to use it to find good men, even if it meant going completely against instinct. I needed whatever the opposite of Calix was.

The answer came to my head almost immediately, but I fought it all afternoon. There probably were alternatives, other options, but this answer was easy and it made plenty of sense.

Why not see if I couldn’t find some connection with the one guy who was actually protecting me? Not just with his body, but with his actions too. A guy who really could keep me safe from the world by keeping me away from the dangerous parts. A guy that maybe, just maybe, I could like.

By the time the elevator doors chimed open later that evening, I was done fighting.

“Evening, Rosa,” Lem said, striding out of the elevator.

He was coming off his shift and his sharp, clean-cut looks had a bit of flush. His combed, brown hair was slightly off in a way that made him look real. He had on a merino wool sweater that stretched comfortably around his lean body and khakis that draped down his long legs.

Yeah, there were things to like, if I searched hard and was open to it. There was an air of calm about him. He looked like he could be blown up and put on Mount Rushmore. He’d certainly be better looking than the other faces on there.

“Evening, Dr. Sygard,” I said.

“Uh.” He pointed at his jeweled watch. “We’re off the clock now.”

“Alright, Lem.” I put on a smile. “What’s up? Do you need something?”

“I came here to ask just the same question of you. Are you holding up?”

Lilly was watching the both of us. I came out of the nurse’s station and led Lem off to a corner.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“That’s good.” His eyebrows arched. “You, uh, dealt with things already?”

It would have been arrogant, but given the seriousness of what he’d shown me, I was willing to understand. “I’ve made peace with it.”

“You’re a strong woman.” He smiled, looked down and tapped his feet.

Just ask me, you idiot,
I was thinking.

But this was my fault. He couldn’t even know whether I was open to seeing anyone, plus I was too harsh before. Good men shouldn’t have to come begging for my hand.

I gathered my breath and touched his shoulder gently. He perked up right away.

“Lem,” I said. “Would you like to go-“

“Saturday at seven thirty?”

I smiled. “Sure, that would work.”

“Perfect.” He smiled a dazzling smile. It was not gorgeous, but it was genuine, and it was bright enough to get lost in if I only let myself.

“Alright then,” I said. “No pressure.”

“None at all.”

Still, as he walked away, and I felt my heart go light, it wasn’t just at the idea of the date. It was to see how much of Calix I could find in him.

CHAPTER SIX

Calix

I passed the streets of Atlanta in silence. The car I drove rattled and shook with age, but it was silent compared to a chopper engine. My father sat in the passenger street, swelling the stillness. He had on a charcoal suit and stared straight ahead. I simply wore my military fatigues.

My father had asked me to drive so he could sit in proper reflection. It was the anniversary of my mother’s death. The last two, I had missed while overseas. Now, I could continue our tradition.

Driving wasn’t enough to dim my own thoughts. This day left room for too many. We had just finished the memorial at my mother’s grave. My father used to give long speeches about the cause. Today, he had simply murmured a few words about “carrying her torch.”

Perhaps I wasn’t enough of an audience. It was hard to ignore that two years ago, there had been three of us attending and not two. I had been thinking about Vaughn plenty already. Standing at my mother’s grave, I could only wonder if he had been struggling as I was now when he had been here last.

The sky was overcast. It was just a product of the season, but I remembered it usually being like this. The world always seemed to weep for Dolores Black. Or perhaps for the things that happened in her name.

I turned into the gas station parking lot. The place had been rebuilt beyond recognition. Clean white signs advertised prices in bright yellow LEDs. A slick plastic roof stood over the pumps. Even the convenience store exterior had been redone in a residential brick and mortar.

For a moment, I wondered if the address was wrong, but the landmarks around were right. The world simply moved on.

I parked in an empty space by the store. My father groaned as he climbed out. He looked around, almost as disoriented as myself. The changes here must have been recent.

I went around to help him, but he shrugged me off. He hobbled, proudly erect, toward the pump where my mother had died. He had shown weakness that day, he told me once. He had not been there for his family when they needed him. He’d said it was the worst feeling in the world.

But being there for him did not make feel any better about days passing without Rosa.

The pumps were all empty, this early on a Saturday. On weekdays, he might just spend a moment touching the pump, but today he sat on the curb by it. I watched him tremble and bow his head into clasped hands.

For the first time, I wondered how exactly the murder had changed him. Of course, he hadn’t been a white nationalist before. But he wasn’t far away either. I had a black friend or two when I was much younger. He hadn’t been fond of them, but he had allowed it.

After my mother’s death he had made me say goodbye. Few of even my white friends had stayed after their parents met my father, but by then I was deep into the cause as well. The few that stayed and the new ones I made became the first Storm’s Soldiers - with my father’s blessing.

Those were all surfaces changes though. Something had broken with him that day. Rosa’s words had cut deep, but she was wrong. I wasn’t the one wracked over not protecting my mom. That had been my father.

Now, watching him shiver and shake in the warm sky, I felt helpless. He held on to his grief too tight. Try as I might, I couldn’t protect him from facing it.

I remembered now, what came before the white nationalism, what came before the fire and brimstone and the rallies and the Storm’s Soldiers. It had been this. Days, weeks, maybe even a month of my father lying like death on his bed.

I was twelve and I’d had to run the house. I took Vaughn to school. I fed him and my father both. I couldn’t cook well, so I mostly bought food. My father’s school had put him on bereavement leave and still paid him. But I had been the one who kept us all going.

Somewhere in the middle, he had realized and apologized for what he was making me do. But he hadn’t risen.

It’s ok, Dad
. I remembered saying. I mouthed the words standing by the car, watching him now.
It’s ok. I’ll be here until you’re ready.

I hadn’t been broken. I had grown up. That’s what adults did. They rose up and took care of the people who needed them.

I wanted to tell Rosa. I wanted to call her and tell her right away. But it did nothing to answer her question.

The store door by me jangled open. I spun towards it sharply, reaching for my empty waist. But there was just an old black woman standing in the space. She had on a faded corduroy dress, thick glasses and a weathered face.

It was the old store clerk. At least some things hadn’t changed. I almost started to smile.

“Hey,” she yelled to my father, “What are you doing?”

He didn’t even give her a glance. She turned to me, her eyeglass chains jangling.

“You.” She stabbed at me with a finger. “I remember you. You’re that biker boy.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said.

“Your mother died here.” She turned back. “That’s your father.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“It’s been a long time since I seen him here,” she said. “I guess he doesn’t do this most years.”

“No, ma’am.”

She snorted. “‘Ma’am.’ When’d you get so polite?” She looked me over. “So you joined the army, huh? Well, good for you.”

We both watched my father awhile. She shook her head. “Well, it’s a slow day. You can stay for a bit longer if it helps.”

“He appreciates it,” I said.

“Aw, like hell he does. I’ve seen him in the news.”

She turned and hobbled back towards the store. I had come here often when I was a biker. I had thought I was remembering my mother. I might have been searching for fresh reasons to support my father.

The clerk had tried to talk to me once, but I had cast her aside. I remembered now what she’d said. The robber who killed my mother had also been the one who gave her that limp.

“I’m sorry,” I said, suddenly.

She glanced back, startled. “What? You ain’t done nothing to me.”

I cocked my head. “For the things my family said.”

“Aw, words are wind, boy - the good and the bad. You want to apologize, do something.” She gave my father a piteous look. “Don’t do this. Don’t fall into his grief. It don’t help a damn thing.”

Her words lingered on the ride home. I bought subs for lunch, and my father and I ate quietly at the dinner table. My father had been facing the store the whole time, but he didn’t ask about the conversation. He might not have even seen it.

He was still wrapped up as tight in his grief as he had been on his bed. Anniversaries were meant for celebration and renewal. All he renewed was the hold his grief had over him.

We ate in silence, and I washed up the few plates.

“I’m going to rest for the day,” he said, drifting through the kitchen.

“It’s only one in the afternoon.”

He turned to me. His face looked aged, no longer well-worn, but like cracked rust. “Is there something you’d like to do?”

“No. I’ll head back to base.”

He nodded. “Yes, that’s for the best. You can work on getting our weapons with renewed vigor now.”

I wasn’t even in the armory today. It was my last day of partial duty. Starting tomorrow, I’d be back to full capacity. It would mean little time at my desk position and even less time off.