Nearly Broken (19 page)

It wasn’t in
no
time
, but I survived my first evening without him. I knew it was
silly of me, and that we had to get back to a normal life, but I just
liked having him around. I still didn’t like being alone at
night, even when I felt a sense of safety securely locked away in
Nick’s apartment. I had to turn on all the lights.

And I still felt bad
that I wasn’t doing some kind of work, so I spent the better
part of the evening cleaning the apartment. But I probably should’ve
left some of it alone, so I’d have something to do the rest of
the week. Luckily, Nick took me to the library the next day so I
could get a card to check out a bunch of books. Some for pleasure,
some for studying so I could take my GED. Of course, in order for me
to take it, I’d have to clear up this whole Claire Whitaker –
Megan Smith thing I had going on. Which incidentally, didn’t
take as long as I thought it would.

I fell asleep on the
sofa long before Nick came home from work and woke me up. He noticed
the excess of lights but didn’t say anything, and instead,
moved silently through the rooms turning them off one by one as we
settled in the bedroom for the night. After coming back from his
second night back at work, he handed me an envelope that had
Philippe’s laboratory name on it. “Wow. That was fast.”
I tapped the sealed envelope in my hand. “Do you know the
result?”

“Nope. I didn’t
ask, he didn’t say. I thought it best to let you open it.”

The contents of my
stomach were swirling inside. This was it. This thin little envelope
was going to determine the rest of my life, would tell me if Nick was
truly mine to keep, and if a family would be waiting with open arms
for me to come home.

How could one sheet of
paper hold so much power?

I am Claire Whitaker.
It still felt funny to say that, to even think the thought, as those
words seemed foreign, lost in translation.
I am Claire Whitaker
.
I was taken from my family, from a boyfriend who adored me, and had
more than my life stripped away from me. Forget the lost memories;
part of my soul was cruelly ripped from my body, lost forever in the
darkness that entrapped me those six months down in that prison of a
basement.

I told Nick I didn’t
know how long I had been kept there, but I was sure it hadn’t
been that long. After all, I still had enough willpower and strength
to fight my way out.

But it was a lie. I
knew exactly how long I had been imprisoned, how long I had been
used
. I knew the exact dates of when my supposed-parents died
and when I escaped. Six fucking months.

Well, five months,
nineteen days, to be exact.

But I’d never
tell him that. Better he thought two, maybe three months tops. The
higher the number, the harder it would be on him, and I had already
suffered enough for the both of us.

And Nick was lying
about completely believing I was Claire. I saw the relief that
flashed through his eyes when I read aloud the DNA results, saw the
way his face softened, and felt how his mouth was particularly
delicate as it explored my body afterwards. I could feel the passion
all the way to the tip of my toes.

I think for the first
time since I escaped that hellhole, I actually slept through the
night, and peacefully at that. Nick faced the chilly air first,
jumping out of bed and stepping into his drawstring pants. For the
second time, I got a really good look at the sunburst tattoo in
actual light. I had noticed once before, but he was on the phone
while changing, so we didn’t get a chance to discuss it. Its
core was at least two inches in diameter; its wavy, flaming tendrils
reaching well beyond that, the color splash of reds, yellows and
oranges covering a good part of the right side of his groin, fanning
out high enough to peek over his pants.

Teasingly, I asked,
“You let a dude’s hand get close enough to make that?”

“No. I let a
woman do it.” He winked playfully and added, “A really
hot one.”

I gasped dramatically,
pretending to be offended. Throwing the covers off, I began the
search for my own clothes. That instant chill pierced deep enough to
make me tingle inside, goosebumps sprouting up all across my flesh.

“Don’t
even go there. You don’t remember, but you went all googley-eye
for the guy that did yours.”

He watched as I pulled
my tank over my head, hunger firing up behind those rich green eyes.
Guess the goosebumps weren’t the only thing showing how cold I
was. “Is that why you found a hot girl to do yours? To get back
at me?”

Now that I had my boy
shorts on too, his visual was lost, and he was quick to extend his
arm and point at me as he headed for the bathroom. “Hey. I had
them first. Seeing mine is what made you want to get one too.”

Following him, I
stopped at the edge of the doorway. I watched his reflection throw
water into his hair and comb his fingers through it. “Do you
always tease your girlfriend this way?” I asked, faking
offense, pouting my lips for dramatic effect.

“Oh, is that
what you’re calling yourself these days?”

My nose wrinkled. “I
believe I’ve filled out all the necessary paperwork for the
position.”

“Well, in that
case, application approved.” He kissed me quickly on the lips.
“Now get away from me before we end up in bed again.”

Alright, we
had
been a little attached to the bed since we moved here. Enough we
might as well have been categorized with the newlyweds, because we
couldn’t get enough of each other. I may have only been a few
months shy of turning twenty, but I felt thirty, like I’d been
waiting forever for something this wonderful to come along. And now
that I had him, I didn’t want to let go. And if that meant
spending a lot of time playing doctor under the sheets, then so be
it.

“You say that
like it’s a bad thing.”

Chuckling, he tied his
shoes while he replied, “Not at all. But I have to be at work
in a few hours and I’ve got to get a workout in. I did nothing
while we were in Myrtle Creek and I feel like shit.”

“I thought sex
was exercise.” He pressed his lips tight and shook his head,
refusing to take the bait, so I asked, “Did I ever exercise?”

“Sometimes you
ran, but you spent most of your free time writing and investigating.”

“Huh?”

“You worked on
the school paper. You were going to go to college here and get
English and Journalism degrees so you could work for a magazine or
paper somewhere.”

“Really?”
Shrugging, I thought on it, saying, “I suppose Journalism could
be cool. But what if college isn’t right for me anymore?”

“Megan, you keep
worrying about things you don’t need to worry about. You don’t
have to figure out everything right now. Just get your GED and then
decide the next step. I don’t want you to rush into something
because you liked it as Claire. I want you to do what Megan wants.”

He literally ran off
after that, leaving me to ponder my future alone.

Today was the day.
Sunday. Time to meet the parents. Funny, I’d always thought
that phrase was meant for meeting your significant other’s
parents, not your own. I’d tossed and turned all night, my
nerves shot to hell and back with worry. I still had no idea who
these people were to me. Not a single memory about my family had come
back to me, even though I’d spent hours this past week
memorizing every photo in that album, trying desperately to associate
a sound, a smell,
anything
, that would remind me of the moment
it was taken. But I had nothing. Truthfully, I haven’t had
memories involving Nick resurface either, and he was the one I spent
the majority of my time with this past month.

What if I never got
any of them back? Then my whole childhood would be lost, leaving me
with nothing more than memories that were falsely implanted in my
mind. I still shivered when I thought of what those handlers must’ve
done to achieve that.

I took a deep breath
and held my stomach, trying to calm the nausea within. I had already
tried on three of the shirts and was debating on a fourth. Turned out
I was right about being ten pounds heavier as Claire, because now the
clothes in my closet were looser than they should’ve been.

Why did I even care?
These people were my family. I was pretty sure I could show up in a
potato sack and they wouldn’t care less. Blowing off the
closet, I grabbed a pair of sneakers and called it good.

Portland to Seattle
was a three hour drive and my nerves continued to eat away at me.
Maybe I should’ve brought that study guide. At least I could’ve
tricked my mind into concentrating on something else.

With a smirk, Nick
turned and asked, “You wanting chocolate yet?”

“What?”
That question was so left field.

“You always
craved chocolate when you were stressing.”

Huh. I hadn’t
really ever noticed that before, but then again I was close to broke,
so chocolate wasn’t something I indulged in often. But now that
he mentioned it, chocolate sounded pretty damn good right about now.

“Check the glove
box.”

With curious eyes, I
pulled on the lever. Amongst the basic car crap you’d expect to
see, ie. maps, pens, extra napkins and a tire gauge, were two
packages of plain M&Ms. “Awesome.” I offered him a
bag but he shot me down.

“You’re
probably going to need both bags by the end of the day.”

“It’s not
fair,” I whined grumpily, ripping into the bag so I could pop a
few of the hard-shelled morsels into my mouth.

“What’s
not?”

“You know me so
well. You know all my quirks. When I’m lying.” Raising
one eyebrow, I added, “My sexual hot spots.” Yeah, that
got his lips to curl a little too wickedly. “I’ve got
nothing on you anymore.”

His chuckle was just
evil. “I was wondering when that was going to occur to you.”

“So will you
tell me those things about you now?”

“Nope.” He
was so blunt my jaw actually dropped. “You figured them out
once, you’ll figure them out again.” I groaned
dramatically when he had the nerve to follow that up with a wink.
That just made me pop a fistful of chocolate.

“So here’s
the game plan. We’re going to stop off at my Mom’s first.
I figure she’ll be a good warm-up since you’re still
nervous about your own family.”

I kind of just stared
at him, completely taken aback. “But you don’t talk about
your family. Ever.”

Nick’s face
soured, his lips taking on a wrinkled curve. “It’s not
that,” he said solemnly. “I know you tried asking that
first night we met, but you had just told me that those people who
pretended to be your parents died on you, and you were genuinely
upset about it. And I’m sorry, but it just pissed me off. You
had a loving family that bled tears over your disappearance, praying
every damn day for your safe return. You were so brainwashed you
actually mourned for those assholes. So yeah, I really didn’t
want to discuss families with you,” he finished, perhaps just a
little too bitterly.

Damn that made me feel
like shit. Suddenly, the M&Ms were having the opposite effect on
me. Grimacing, I tossed the bag back into the glove compartment. “I’m
sorry,” I said quietly. I didn’t even have the courage to
look at him when I apologized. “God, I must be the worst
girlfriend ever.”

Sighing, he replied,
“No, you’re not.”

“No, seriously.
I’ve been so self-absorbed in my own problems that it hasn’t
even occurred to me that you may have some too. I’m such a
bitch.”

“Baby,” he
cooed, grabbing my hand and squeezing it over the center console,
“you’ve had every right to be self-absorbed. Normally I
wouldn’t say that, but you have some fairly significant issues
to deal with right now. I’m not mad at you for that. Shit, I’m
not mad period. We’ve found you, we’ve proven you’re
a Whitaker and today you’ll reunite with your family. I
promise, beginning tomorrow, most of this nightmare will be behind us
and it’ll get easier.”