Overture (Rain Dance, Book 1) (Rain Dance Series) (35 page)

     
"I missed
you," I mumbled as I turned to face him.

     
"I'm still
angry at you," he spoke quietly. "Also, it's dangerous to leave the
door unlocked. Anyone could have come waltzing in. Don't do it again."

     
"Anyone
did
come waltzing in. It was only unlocked for a little bit." I covered my
mouth and yawned, then took his hand between mine and kissed it. "Your
hands are freezing. How was your day?"

     
"...Really?" I tried to gauge his mood, but it was too dark to
see his expression. "…It was a rather aggravating day, to say the
least," he finally answered, somewhat irritatingly. "How was your
dinner?"

     
"Very much
yummy."

     
We were quiet
for the next minute, soaking up each other's presence.

     
"What are
you doing?" he asked after while.

     
"Hm?"

     
"I know
you said you sometimes felt adventurous, but I figured your…'sort of anxiety'
would have prevented you from going off on your own like this. You act like
it's no big deal that you took off so easily."

     
"It's
not
a big deal. It's different when it's just me. Survival instincts, you could
say, kick in. I don't allow myself to feel fear - for the most part."

     
"Well, the
next time you want to disappear, you're going to have to take me with you. Or
at the very least, if you're really in that much need of your own space, you
had damn well better tell me beforehand. You aren't alone anymore, Daphne. You
can't just leave the city and not tell me."

     
I hadn't really
thought about that. "I'm sorry. It's just something I've always done. I
didn't stop to think that you might worry."

     
"Well, now
you know. I do worry. All the time."

     
"
All
the time? You do realize that if I'm not with you, I'm either safe inside your
building or safe at home."

     
"Unless
you're sitting in my lap, I'm worried. And even then, I still worry that you
might disappear. Like you did today."

     
I leaned up and
kissed his neck.

     
If I hadn't
been so emotionally detached, I might've felt the same. Not to say that I
didn't care - because I did, of course. What I felt for him was one thing, but
I couldn't afford to worry about him like that. Those kinds of thoughts would
be the death of me.

     
"…Where's
Douglas?" I asked.

     
"He got a
room here."

     
"He didn't
have any other plans, did he?"

     
"It
wouldn't matter if he did, but no."

     
I shook my head
and yawned again.

     
"Go back
to sleep." He kissed my forehead.

     
"...Are
you really going to punish me?"

     
"Sleep,
Kitten."

     
I was out only
seconds later.

     
I was aware of
my surroundings before I even opened my eyes. I could still hear the ocean
singing in the distance. I could smell the expensive shampoo and the earthy,
sea-like scent that was purely Ethan. I could feel his breath on my skin. And I
could feel the hardness of his body as he held me close, protecting me from the
coldness of morning. Opening my eyes, I tilted my head up to look at him. He
was staring back at me, his blue eyes brighter than usual. I had the urge to
trace the thick black eyelashes that framed them. So I did.

     
As my fingers
neared his face, he closed his lids in silent consent. They were soft. I moved
inwards and began tracing down the length of his nose. When I touched his lips,
his eyes opened again but he didn't attempt to make any movement - not until I
cupped the side of his face, where he leaned into my hand and sighed. When he
brought his own hands to my face and leaned down, I suddenly remembered that I
hadn't brushed my teeth the night before. Instinctively, I covered my mouth.
Now still, he gazed at me questioningly.

     
"I need a
mint before we start doing
that
kind of stuff."

     
He chuckled and
kissed my head. "Would you happen to have any on you? If not, that won't
stop me."

     
"In my
bag."

     
He unfolded his
body from mine and got up, ruffling my head when I whined from the sudden lack
of warmth, and then walked the few feet to the small table that held my
backpack.

     
I stretched out
and yawned, turning to face away from where he stood digging. I looked towards
the window and was greeted with the sea, now golden due to the early morning
sun. I hoped it would stay like this for a long time, but I knew that the sun
would have to come up fully at some point. I turned to lie on my side, reaching
for my phone on the bedside table.
It's dead. I'll have to charge it again.
A small box of mints dropped from above me, landing right in front of my face.
As I took one out and popped it into my mouth, I felt the bed move as Ethan sat
down behind me.

     
"Kitten…"
he called softly. "Why do you have a gun in your bag?"

     
…Shit.
I
had completely forgotten about it.
What should I say?

     
I decided to go for nonchalance.
"I'm not
stupid. I wouldn't go on an adventure with only pepper spray."

     
"Huh." He became silent.

     
I peeked my
head around to see him. He sat on the edge of the bed, facing away from me.

     
"You know
how to use it?"

     
"…I
wouldn't carry it otherwise. Are you anti-gun or something?"

     
"Only in
the wrong hands." After a few more moments of silence, he finally turned
to look at me. "Is there something you want to tell me?" he asked,
his eyes careful but probing.

     
No.
"Not really." I hesitated, knowing that I wasn't going to get out of
this that easily. "But there's something you want to ask, obviously."

     
"What are
you doing with a gun to begin with?"

     
I didn't like
his question. It made me feel like a child who had gotten caught stealing
candy. Or a deadly weapon. "Protection," I answered simply.

     
"Protection from…?"

     
I tried to
answer as nicely as possible. It wouldn't look good to have an attitude.
"People have guns. Is it so odd that I would have one?"

     
"I don't
have one."

     
"You have
Douglas."

     
He pursed his
lips and turned away. "I just can't imagine
you
, who cries over
accidentally killing spiders, carrying around a thing like that. Not without
some definite reason."

     
Damn, he
promised he wouldn't bring that up again.
"I gave you my reason."

     
He leaned back,
working something out in his head. In that moment, I was ready to run - to drop
everything we had built just to avoid the inevitable conversation that was
about to happen. Panic threatened to take hold of me, but I forced myself to
stay calm.

     
"You said
you wanted to disappear," he stated, his voice gentle. "You work
under a pseudonym. Not that strange, but interesting when you combine it with
the fact that, even under a false name, you avoid making appearances. As an
artist, I would think that you'd be eager to jump at new opportunities.
Instead, you shy away from them. If your anxiety were that bad, I might
understand. But as you said, it's not so much of an issue now..."

     
"I
accepted the job you gave me."

     
"True. You
gave me your real name, as well, but I have to wonder why you never told it to
any of the previous galleries you ever partnered with. Not even Mercedes knew
it. I find it interesting that, despite the fact that you've made a name for
yourself in the art world, there's not a single bit of information about you -
not as artist…not as anything. Not even a simple 'about me' section on your
website."

     
"I'm a
private person, remember?"

     
"You
aren't listed on the apartment lease," he continued. "That's
understandable since Dale rented it out first. But then…you aren't linked to
any
previous addresses since you left your parent's house. There
are
a
number of jobs that you've worked, but that list stopped three years ago. After
that, it's like you stopped existing."

     
Numb - that was
all I felt. Not anger. Not even surprise. "…That must have been one hell
of a background check you pulled."

     
"Maybe
that's when your art career took off. Maybe you decided to embrace your need to
be alone and become a hermit." He smiled at me, but I knew it wasn't over.
Slowly, he began to stand up. "But I know you now. I know your false smile
from your real one, having seen it for myself. I know you well enough to know
that something is wrong." When I said nothing, he began to leisurely pace
the room. "I know that your stepfather is in prison. I know that something
happened to you in the past to make you so…" After pausing, he sighed and
turned his head to gaze at me. "Kitten, it takes quite a bit of effort to
live freely as you do, yet still remain under the radar. Me being the single
exception, I think you go out of your way not to leave any obvious trails. And
when you say things like
I needed to disappear
, it either means that
you're suicidal or that you're hiding from something or someone. Tell me - am I
just overanalyzing everything?"

     
It was only now
that I realized what a perceptive fucker this man was. Or had I just given too
much away? Regardless, it was no wonder he could manage the kind of work he
did. He was intuitive, did his research, and knew when to puzzle things
together.

     
"…I'm not
suicidal."

     
He stood
waiting patiently, still watching me with a gentle expression. I let out a
heavy sigh and rubbed at my temple.

     
You're
really going to do this? He'll run.

  
   
No. He won't. I know he won't.

     
But you
might.

     
I took in a
deep, shaky breath. If I was going to get through this, I was going to have to
build up some distance. I looked up towards the ocean once more.
"Ethan…you want to hear a story?"

     
After a moment,
he nodded carefully.

     
"Are you
sure? It's a bit long. Not to mention boring."

     
"Please."

     
I let out
another sigh. "Food. I need to make food first. It will be easier."

"Will
you be joining me for this magic morning meal?" I asked as I removed the
items from the mini fridge to set onto the counter.

     
"…If
there's enough."

     
"There's
plenty."

     
The silence
wasn't working for me at all. I quickly ran to my phone, hooked it up to the
nearest outlet to charge, and played some Johnny Mathis.

     
The first thing
to go into the microwave was the bacon. I was glad that I had remembered to buy
paper towels, though I probably should have grabbed some cups, too. We would
have to drink the orange juice from the carton. I set eight slices onto a
couple sheets of paper and put them in for a few minutes.

     
"I'm
afraid it's going to be a bit ghetto," I said apologetically. "Not at
all like the tasty cuisines you're used to. But this is how I did things back
in the day. It's much better than just toast."

     
Ethan leaned
down, squinting into the microwave. He watched the bacon turning as though it
were some sort of experiment gone wrong. Once finished, I replaced them with as
many Eggo's as I could fit onto the tray. He continued watching in fascination.

     
"If we're
lucky they won't turn soggy," I mumbled.

     
"I didn't
know you could stick all this stuff in there. I thought
these
could only
be cooked in the toaster," he said as he picked up a waffle between his
fingers and waved it around. He looked at me then, his expression severe.
"Are you absolutely positive the bacon will be fit for human consumption,
though?"

     
"Mm. Not
ideal…but when you only have a microwave to cook with, everything becomes
microwavable. Well, not
everything
, of course."

     
When the
waffles were done, I took the can of whipped cream and the jar of strawberry
glaze and coated them, careful not to make a mess. Paper towels were used in
place of plates, which I set up onto the small table along with the bacon, the
waffles, and the orange juice. After turning the music off, I took my seat and
folded my hands in front of me to offer a prayer.

     
"Blessed
are the heavens for allowing me the chance to eat this deliciousness and for
gracing me with the presence of true beauty incarnate. Amen."

     
Ethan stood
uncomfortably behind his chair.
The poor man.

     
"Do you
want to leave now?" I asked, entirely serious. "Because you can, and
it will be okay."

     
He looked down
at me, still unmoving.

     
"It would
be better for you to leave now. Because if you leave anytime after I tell you
whatever it is I'm going to tell you…" I wasn't sure how much I was going
to tell him yet, but I knew it wouldn't be pleasant, regardless. "That
will be it for us. I'll return the check for the mural and you will never see
me again. Do you understand?"

     
There was
tension in his face now. Slowly, he sank down into his chair. After a momentary
pause, he picked up a waffle and bit into it. "Go," he ordered. His eyes
never left mine.

     
I looked down,
took a deep breath, and began eating, taking a second to enjoy the taste of the
strawberry glaze before I started speaking. "I don't know when or why my
parents split up. My mother never talked about my father. She rarely spoke to
me period and I never really cared enough to ask. I can't help but wonder if he
wronged her in some way. It might've explained her behavior towards me. But who
knows?"

     
I didn't look
at Ethan, not even once. Whatever his reaction might be, I didn't want to see
it. I tried to remember what I had told him so far about my past. He knew I had
left home at some point and lived on my own, and he knew about my stepfather
being a criminal - which is probably what led him to becoming suspicious of me.
He knew my real father had died when I was young and that I had primarily lived
in two areas of California. I'm pretty sure that was it.

     
"Whatever
the reason," I continued, "it was the best decision they could have
made. I was really happy with my father." I took a bite of the bacon. It
was crispy, just the way I liked it. "I don't know too much about him.
Just that he was good to me. He loved me. He was very young, though. I imagine
he must've struggled." I chuckled then, shaking my head. "Of course -
he was on his own, after all. But it never showed. I was always well-fed and
had plenty of pretty dresses. I guess I was spoiled, even then." I knew I
was stalling, but I needed to start at the beginning. "It was just us two,
and when he died…"
No.
I didn't want to think about that, so I
quickly skipped ahead. "I don't remember ever meeting my mother before
then. I knew she existed, but that was all. And I was okay with that."
Thirsty, I reached for the carton of orange juice and took a sip.

   
  
"I was eight, and by that time she had already
been married for a couple of years to a very wealthy man. Truman Graves,"
I spoke deeply, trying to imitate his own gruff voice. It sounded wrong, of
course. "Together, they had a daughter who was almost two years younger
than myself. Aubrey. Back then, she was unbelievably adorable. Funny, too. It's
unfortunate that we couldn't get along." Taking another bite of my waffle,
I paused to lick some whipped cream off my fingers. "My stepfather also had
a son from a previous marriage. Noel. He's about your age." Finally, I
looked at Ethan. He was staring at me with his hands folded in front of his
mouth.

     
Returning to
the bacon, I took my time chewing until I finally had to swallow. "Anyway,
I was never as happy as when I was living with my father. My new family…well,
they pretty much ignored me, more or less." More and less both being a
little extreme, but I would get to that. "Mostly, I would stay locked up
in my room listening to music. Or playing video games. I didn't go out much at
first. I didn't relate well to kids my age."

     
He finally
decided to speak. "What about Dale?"

     
"Dale…" I smiled. "I always felt comfortable talking to
Dale. But then, everyone did. He was just that kind of kid. The oddball who got
along with everyone. Always talking about the future. Always wanting to build
things. His house was two streets over from mine. We spent most afternoons in
his backyard working on a tree house. Under his parent's supervision, of
course. They were really kind." I grabbed the orange juice and took
another small sip. "We were out scavenging the park for materials when we
bumped into Jillian. Our Jillybean. She was crying. There was some major
elementary school drama going on within her clique and her friends were putting
her through hell. At some point, the three of us became inseparable - at least
up until high school, when we all drifted apart. Though in the end, we were
brought back together."

     
"Why Jilly
bean
?"
he asked.

     
I shrugged.
"No real reason. She reminded me of a character in a movie. Are you going
to eat, or is magic that much of an abomination to your palette?"

     
With an arched
brow, he reached for a waffle and took a bite. "Imitation," he
reminded me.

     
I smiled briefly
at him before swallowing nervously. The hard part was coming up. "Those
first few years were alright. School was okay since I had Coops and Jilly. But
when I would get home, it would be back to my own world. I was safe so long as
I was in my room. Usually. So as time went on, if I wasn't with my friends, I
stayed there more and more unless I absolutely had to come out. The
relationship between myself and my family was pretty bad. Although…there were
times when Noel would be nice to me when the others weren't. He never called me
any names. He never yelled at me. He never hit me."

     
Through my
periphery, I noticed Ethan go still in his seat. As soon as he'd heard the word
hit
, his grip tightened around a piece of bacon, snapping it in half. I
almost had the urge to laugh.

     
"There
were rules, you see," I explained.
Don't speak unless spoken to. Never
make eye contact. Always do as you're told. Don't embarrass or make a fool out
of the family.
"My mother usually handled the punishments. I was a
fairly quick learner, so it was okay for a while. But later on, as she got
older, Aubrey began to take advantage of those rules and…well, she kinda turned
into a bitch," I said, more disappointed than annoyed. "But I can't
blame her entirely. My mother hated me, and she raised Aubrey to feel the same.
The problem was that I couldn't challenge her back. Aubrey, being the daughter
of Truman, was right by default. And if I even suggested otherwise…Those were
the only times my stepfather would come into the picture."

     
The tension
around Ethan grew as memories began to flood my mind. Words, mostly.
You
ungrateful, selfish leech. Living off of my money because your own father was a
worthless piece of shit.
"Anyway, that's just a bunch of petty family
drama. You wanted to know about the gun, right?" Before he could argue, I
quickly went on. "Well…" Where did I even start? "Noel."

     
"…Noel
gave you the gun?" he asked when I found myself at a loss for words.

     
"No."
I felt the intensity of his gaze on me and I couldn't help but squirm. We were
now at the part of the story that I did
not
want to talk about -
especially to the man who I hoped would eventually take me to bed. "Like I
said, he was…"

     
I did a quick
replay of the last four years in that house, trying my best to figure out how
to go on. I already felt the tears threatening to fall. "Um…"
No.
I can't.
I inhaled sharply and skipped ahead again.

     
"I left
just before I turned eighteen. Dale's family was kind enough to let me stay
with them. For three months, I worked and saved up as much money as I could.
Noel had given me a bit of money, too, but I kept it for emergency purposes
only." I swallowed again, looking anywhere but at Ethan. "When that
summer ended, Dale went away to college. Jillian stayed behind and eventually
began her nurse training. I gradually kept moving north and worked as many jobs
as I could, painting during my free time - when I could afford to, at least. I
was alone, but happy. I stuck as close to the coast as possible, and the ocean
became my closest friend. A few years passed, and while Dale and Jillian were
finishing school and turning into adults, I was stuck…not really going
anywhere. Anyway…" I stared up at the ceiling, trying to remember that
night. Not that I could ever forget it.

     
"Three
years ago is when it happened. I felt uneasy those days, like I knew I was
being watched. I came home from work one night and they were already there,
waiting for me. Three of them, all spread out, luckily. When I went into the kitchen,
it was just the one guy. I don't remember the beginning of the struggle."
A long minute of silence passed as I recalled with perfect clarity what
happened afterwards.

     
"When I
finally calmed down and stopped screaming, something changed. Like…everything
around me had stilled, too." I looked down at my hands. Smooth. Pale.
Small. "I noticed then that he had a gun. And for some reason, I lost the
urge to try and runaway." I brought my hands closer to my face,
remembering how they had felt on his skin. "He had lots of itchy stubble -
I remember that. And I remember the little beads of sweat on his forehead. I
even remember the smell of his breath. Garlic bread. His eyes were dark, nearly
black. He had a scar that ran through one of his eyebrows. And a crooked nose,
as though it had been broken before. As for the fight itself…well, I managed to
get the gun. He was down before I could even process what I had done."

     
I looked up at
Ethan, who was staring back at me. He sat in stony silence, still as a rock. I
couldn't read his expression. Disbelief, maybe. Confusion. Anger. Fear.
Compassion. Possibly all of the above.