You Are Here (24 page)

The street looked a little run down, actually, even being so close to Fort Hamilton. As I parked at least one house down, I watched the setting sun from the perfect angle to see a myriad of shadows cast across the façades of every house on the block. My old house got the most light.

When I spotted movement in the front windows, I pulled a pair of military-issue binoculars from under the seat and focused in. The dining room was off the kitchen. It didn’t look that different, but like everything from childhood, it looked smaller.

A couple emerged with two kids following them. The woman set a bag of takeout on the table while the older child, a boy, got plates from the cupboard. The younger was a surly looking girl. She went to the kitchen and returned with a soda. The man sat down at the table, eyeing the bag for a moment before making a comment. It couldn’t have been very complimentary as an argument quickly ensued. After a few exchanges, she picked up her empty plate and threw it in the trash bin before walking out of view.

It would have been my
un-
dad who got angry and walked out. My stomach turned. The decision to run away and enlist seemed to be the only way at the time, but in retrospect, it was probably what Andrew Sr. would have done.

Maybe I assumed seeing the house would validate me and my decision. Instead, the past that clung to it served to highlight why I shouldn’t have left. I stashed the binoculars back under the seat, started the car and drove away, no closer to feeling any sort of closure.

I struggled to erase the picture of Drew in the doorway, yelling after me as I marched angrily down the cement path and slid into a waiting car. It was the last time I saw him … until today. Similar memories clung to my skin like the humidity.

Restless, I drove to Coney Island. A brisk walk to the boardwalk found me frozen at the edge of the sand, gripping a stretch of the metal rail. The sea churned and I could relate. I wrestled with regret—the one thing I never thought I’d identify with. I’d been so angry when I ran, but I’d foolishly assumed that my parents would beg me to come home. They didn’t. They didn’t even call. Not even my mom. But Drew did. And I ignored him. And Nash did in his heartfelt, sloppily written goddamn letters. My true family had wanted me to come home and I’d turned my back.

A woman’s trilling laugh sounded behind me and I turned. Her hair was long and curly, fire-engine red and glowing, thanks to the low-slung sun behind her. She and her friend walked by and laughed together, their movement unblocking the sun. I squinted at the direct beam of piercing light.

Lucie. She’s my light
.

If I had made a different choice, would I even have met Lucie? The thought that I would have never felt her grace knocked the wind out of me. The fact that she came with my best friends in tow was basically the universe kicking me in the nuts.

I stumbled back onto the empty bench behind me and gaped at the low, crashing waves. My only shot at redemption and a life I consciously wanted to be part of was a woman who could decide she wanted nothing to do with me.

I stood to walk back to the car, purposefully ignoring the tremendous pain in my chest. I drove until I found a new hotel with the intention of working. I mean, Reese wasn’t going to kill himself.

Lucie

Hair Triggers

I couldn’t sit still. I tried to pick up where I left off in my book, but there was no way I could focus. Vivi texted, asking if he’d come back yet. I didn’t respond right away, so she called.

“No, he hasn’t come back yet!” I snapped when I picked up the phone.

“Whoa, slow your roll, my friend. I’m just checking on
you
, okay? Nash’s court stuff didn’t go well, so he’s going to be stuck at the office until late.” She made a low noise, annoyed. “I just figured I’d pass along the message, in case Grey wondered why Nash hadn’t called.”

I felt sheepish. “I’m sorry.”

“I know, babe. It’s stressful. This whole situation makes my head hurt,” she said, sighing. “Charlotte said Drew came home and went straight to bed with a migraine.”

“Really?” Great. I began to pace back and forth.

“She said he wouldn’t talk about it.”

“Vivi?” I asked with a squeak.

“What is it, hon?”

“He’s not coming back today.” My voice trembled.

“Well, he doesn’t live there.”

I made a low noise in my throat, like the precursor to a growl.

When Vivi spoke again, her voice was controlled. “So why isn’t he coming back?”

“He needs to be alone to think.”

She exhaled forcefully. “Okay. What else did he say?”

“Not much. But I don’t know how much time he needs.” I felt a cramp in my foot and stopped. I fell back onto the red chair and tried to stretch out the sharp pain.

“Okay, here’s what you’re going to do,” she began. She sounded more positive
finally
, so I was determined to ride that wave. “Get out. Go for a walk. See a movie. Visit the cat café and pet some pussy.”

“
Vivi
.” I groaned, but it turned into laughter.

“See? You’re all right, babe. I know I was upset with him, but he hurt my people. I don’t take that lightly. Regardless, I’m telling you to relax a little. Worrying is not going to solve anything, okay? You guys are brand spanking new. It’s good to have time off, especially after a difficult morning like this one.”

I nodded silently for a while.

“Okay?”

“Yes,” I responded. “You’re right. I’m good. I’ll be okay. Right?”

“Of course you will. Call me if you need to.”

“Thank you,” I said, meaning it on so many levels.

“You’re family, Lucie. I love you.”

“I love you, too. I’ll call you later.”

While my stomach was full of electrified butterflies, I measured out ten deep breaths before I even got out of the chair. I did feel calmer (with fewer fluttery, nervous insects), but not as much as I’d hoped. So I took Vivi’s advice. I grabbed my keys and stuffed a few basics in my pocket.

I decided to go to my
second
favorite coffee shop and get an iced latte. I had a strange feeling the entire way there, but I brushed it off. The patio was nice and shaded, though plenty of sunshine peeked through tree branches while I sipped my coffee.

I wasted a little time there, but I was restless, so I left to wander my neighborhood. I imagined doing the same while hand-in-hand with Grey, maybe pushing a stroller—eventually. It wasn’t a premonition. Just a wish.

I hadn’t gone far when that odd feeling amped up into a distinct pressure in my throat. It was the sense that someone was following me. The urge to spin around and search for the perpetrator was strong, but I crushed it and kept moving.

I stopped and leaned against a set of steps. I pretended to check my sandal for a rock. Other than a few individuals sitting on stoops, there were only a few people on the street. It seemed impossible to hide this way. Somewhat satisfied, I looked around without pretense. Still no indication, but I didn’t know what the hell I should be looking for anyway.

I moved on, automatically walking faster than I would normally. Paranoia sat on my chest like an elephant, and it was hard to breathe. I ducked into a deli and rushed to the back to grab a cold ginger ale. I cracked it open and started guzzling it on the spot. I panted while my eyes were glued to the door. The stock boy came over and asked if I was okay.

“I, um, yeah, I think so,” I said, unsure. “Thank you.”

I swallowed hard before slowly trailing through the aisles. I wasted a good twenty minutes debating between two salsa flavors, but ultimately bought both and left. My apartment was only two or three blocks from here, so I wasn’t worried about making it home until I made it up the first three steps to my building.

“Mila?”

My body froze, and I swear my heart stopped. Something about the voice was familiar. I turned to see a dark-haired woman who appeared to be somewhere in her forties. As I suspected, she looked familiar, too. Every hair on my person stood on end.

“My dear Mila, it has been so long!” she exclaimed, rushing forward to hug me.

I stumbled and dropped my bag from the deli as I fell back. I heard one of the salsa jars crack as I tried to scramble backward up the steps.

She stopped. “I did not mean to frighten you,” she said, her accent thick Russian. She showed me her empty palms. “You do not remember me?”

“No,” I blurted, but my mind said,
Nina.
I didn’t know how I knew that, but instinct told me not to admit it. I righted myself, holding on to the railing.

“Really?” she asked as she looked me up and down. Calculating. “It
has
been so long since Moscow. You were so young then.”

Mila
, she’d said. Bells went off but they seemed miles away. The name repeated until the sound was clear and loud as a gong right next to my ear.

Mila was my name. My
real
name. For a split second, everything hurt. My body went rigid and my head swam with a violent invasion of memory. I gasped, my lungs sharply swelling to capacity as more information than I could possibly process flooded me.

“
Devochka moya
,” she continued, as if I weren’t crashing right in front of her. She dropped to a whisper. I had to strain to hear her. “Are you all right? I have been looking for you since I heard about the fire.”

Without thinking, I rubbed the scars on my wrist. “What are you talking about? Who are you?”

She tried to sound soothing, but my hackles were high. “I understand this must be difficult for you.”

Unblinking, I glared at her. My eyes began to burn and prickle, but I would not drop my lids before she answered me. Her face twitched ever so slightly.

“I am Nina, I was your nanny. You really do not know me? I have been in touch with Ursula. She worried this might happen one day. I was still living at the—”

“I don’t know any Ursula. You need to leave. Now.”

I stepped backward up the steps. She stared at me for a moment. “I promised Ursula and Ivan I would find you if anything happened.”

“I’m calling the police.” I said, grasping for the handle on the door.
Shit.
It was locked. I fumbled for my keys.

“All right, Mila.” I hated the sound of that name right now. “Here is a number where you can reach me if you need to,
da
?” She leaned forward and laid a card on the step below me. “I hope to hear from you.” With that, she smiled weakly and left.

I caught her look over her shoulder once, but when she saw me watching her, her neck snapped front. Before I could single out the right key, I dropped them and collapsed to sitting on the ground.

Seeing this woman—my
nanny—
had cracked open the vault. I remembered. Everything that happened to me. There were lots of fuzzy spots, but my life wasn’t a complete mystery anymore. I erupted into tears and sat, sobbing uncontrollably on my front steps.

“Grey,” I wheezed to myself. I looked up and down the street, hoping against reality that he’d stroll up at this exact moment. When I looked west, the setting sun blazed and forced me to look away. “Please.”

At that moment, the door gave way behind me and I fell inward. My toke-happy neighbor almost stepped on me.

“Lucie Lu!” he said, laughing. I still didn’t get why that was funny. “Sorry, kid. I didn’t see you.”

He extended a hand and pulled me up. I picked up my keys and ran inside without thanking him. I managed to unlock my apartment after a lot of swearing and trying three different keys. I slid around the door, gasping through the revived terror, and slammed it shut. I hooked the chain and flipped all the deadbolts. Once I felt relatively certain I was secure, I leaned against it, settling my forehead on the wood.

I wanted Grey, but I also wanted to forget everything I’d just remembered. Panic stormed my veins.

A strong arm gripped me at my waist as Grey said in a low, warm voice in my ear, “I got you, my Lu.”

I screamed even though Grey’s touch alone was a relief. He loosened his grip.

“I’m sorry,” he began.

I sunk my fingernails into his arm, begging him to hold me still.

“I know I said—” he said.

“I don’t care. I need you right now.”

Warm, lush lips pressed behind my ear, sending a shiver of heat down my spine. I turned around to take in his face. I flipped on the hall light, illuminating the intense expression he wore. There was a grim flickering in his eyes, but also a mirrored need.

“Grey?” My equilibrium was tipsy, swimming in love, lust, and a fresh black cloud of fear. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t answer, his chest rapidly rising and falling. I slipped my hands lightly over his hair as I waited nervously.

“Fine,” he said, but it was the sound of defeat.

I wanted to cry. Every muscle holding me upright released as I collapsed into his chest. I nuzzled into a spot at the crook of his neck. I pulled my hands in and tucked my arms in front of me, my fingers absentmindedly tracing lines on his chest. I noticed an odd energy. Cold, anxious, bulletproof.

I felt as if I were screaming, but my voice was low, embarrassed. “I remember, Grey. My life, the attack. The fire was all my fault.”

Grey

Torn Stitches

The world beneath me jerked as if a rug were being yanked away.

It wasn’t enough that I was here to confess what I was, but Lucie had memories now. Maybe even all of them. I should feel happy for her, shouldn’t I? But I didn’t. Unless happiness feels like dread.

“How could you say it’s your fault?” I asked.

“I saw it happen. A preview, ya know? But I … I didn’t believe it.” With wide, clear eyes, she seemed to beg me to wipe the memories away. My shoulders sank under the weight of empathy.

“You always had this ability, then?”

“Sickness,” she muttered, sporting a painful smile.

The air was heavy with some kind of trepidation as she broke away from me. I followed her into the kitchen. My lungs filled with fire as an irrational anger ignited in my veins. I knew what I had to do and even though I did not look forward to it, this turn of events was preventing me from getting it over with. I realized with a metaphysical punch to the gut that I was looking at confessing like it was a job. The lack of conversation did nothing to soothe me.