Mosquito Chase (7 page)

BOOM!

Red. Everything was red. My feet dragged to a stop, knees buckling to the floor. My chest constricted with agony. I had lost him again. My head fell into my hands, and I rocked forward on my knees as I tried to keep the grief in. I didn’t want to see the world without Simon. Waiting for eternity in this darkness was better than seeing the world move on without him.

“Angie…”

My name echoed in a deep Irish brogue. I shook my head as I lifted it from my hands. A faint light shined through the darkness as a suited man walked cautiously toward me.

“Angie?”

My heart wept for him. I knew this part all too well. He would never reach me, and I would wake up alone. I buried my face into my hands again. I couldn’t watch him vanish into the air like all those other times.

“Angie. Angie. Angie.”

I shook my head as his voice became a faint echo. My heart begged me to get up and go, to scramble up from my knees and chase him into the lingering mist, but my head shook these thoughts away.

“Angie?”

My heart clenched at his southern drawl. My breathing ceased. Warm hands covered my cheeks.

“Angie, you gotta get up and hide.”

I uncovered my eyes as his cobalt ones bore into me. Why was he here?

“Caleb?”

He lifted me from the floor, helping me to my feet. Blood trickled down his cheek, his eyes wide and filled with despair.

“You’re hurt,” I said, not understanding what was going on. I felt concern about his face and his apparent anxiety.

He pulled me into his arms. A sigh of relief escaped as his protection surrounded me.

“You gotta hide!” He pushed me into a corner. The blackness turned to grey, but I still couldn’t see beyond the blur. I didn’t know where I was. This part had never happened before. I focused on his face; his immaculate face.

“But you’re hurt,” I whispered, gently wiping his cheek with my thumb. He leaned his face against my hand. Why was I not pushing him away? Why did I care about him? When he wrapped his arms around me, I buried my face into his neck.

“You have to get out of here. Please. Do it for Simon.”

I pulled away from him slowly as I stared into his begging eyes. “Simon?”

“Go, baby. Now. Go!”

He turned to run away. No, don’t leave me, too.

“Caleb!”

I ran after him, down a grey tunnel. My heart pounded needing to get to him. He needed to stop. He needed to come back.

“Caleb! No!”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

I inhaled deeply, and the breath lodged in my throat. No, not again.

“Caleb!”

“Caleb!”

“Caleb!”

“Caleb!”

“Angie, wake up.”

“Caleb!”

“Come on, wake up, Angie.”

“Caleb!”

The grey engulfed me, a sense of calm. His warm touch caressed my cheeks.

“Caleb,” I whispered.

“Shh, shh. You’re okay now.”

I opened my eyes to find that familiar cobalt staring down at me. My breaths came in small sobs. He was still here. I wrapped my arms around his bare torso and wept. It felt like I had lost Simon and my father all over again. Caleb cradled me to his body as he shifted his weight onto the bed, lying beside me. I struggled to get closer. He knew I hated him and I knew he hated me, but right now I needed his warmth.

He didn’t speak. He merely let me cry until the tears stopped. This nightmare I’d had so many times, was different now. It had always ended with Simon, but this time … this time
he
had been there.

I tilted my head away from his neck as his hand rubbed up and down my arm. He reached down and grabbed the quilt, covering us both. He cast a concerned look, his eyes full of a million questions. “Where did you go?” was what he chose to ask.

My only reply was a one-shoulder shrug. What was I supposed to say? Oh, I had a dream about you getting shot and killed just like all the other men in my life? He helped me to lean back, and I rested my head on the pillow. The dull light from the lamp cast shadows across his face. He repositioned his body up, easing down onto his elbow. He kept a safe distance, but still close enough that I could feel him. The lines of our mutual hatred blurred into something I couldn’t define. A ceasefire was about to ensue.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?”

I stared into his eyes again, a mix of cold and warmth. I scooted up slightly to gain some composure as my eyes shifted to my quilt covered feet. I crossed my hands over my belly, wanting to make sure my little guy knew everything was okay out here. My eyes roamed over Caleb’s body, his sculpted figure lying beside me, focusing on the spot where the quilt met his skin. I couldn’t meet his eyes, so I focused on his abs instead.

“It’s the same dream I’ve had since I lost my dad.”

“He died in Afghanistan, right?”

I nodded, confirming what he already knew. I looked away from him, staring down at my belly. My hands stilled on my stomach as I tried to regulate my breathing. He shifted, and the back of his fingers brushed against mine.

“You can tell me about it. Maybe it would help.”

I looked into his eyes as he gave a small yet reassuring smile, accentuating his chiseled jaw and those subtle dimples. I felt I could trust him to an extent; his occupation thrived on honor and protection. This went beyond petty high school shit. This was my life … or what was left of it.

“It always starts with my first memory of my father. I didn’t know who he was then, I barely recognized him, but some part of me knew that he wanted me to remember him. So I lied and said I did. It was really sweet; the first time that I can remember my family being together. Then my mind goes twisted on me.”

“How do you mean?” Caleb asked, scooting up from his elbow to lean back against the headboard. His arm touched mine, but I didn’t turn my head, refused to look at him directly. If I had to look at him, I’d never get through the dream.

“In my dream, his welcome home party morphs into a desert, and he’s running off to protect his country.” I took a deep breath, trying to hold the tears at bay. “Then I see it. I see him get shot right in front of me.”

Caleb reached for my hand and laced his fingers with mine. Our interlocked hands rested between us as I stared at our fingers. That made it harder; knowing that whatever happened tonight would amount to nothing. If my dream had been some indication of things to come, I had to end this now. I’d lost too much. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing more.

“After that, I find myself in some sort of tunnel, watching a replay of Simon’s murder.” I sighed and glanced over at him. “That’s where it usually ends.”

“How did it end this time, Angie?”

I took a deep breath and planned my words carefully. There was some part of me that wanted to tell him everything.

“You were there telling me to hide,” I said slowly, as if against my will. “I refused. I wanted to stay with you, but you insisted that I hide … for Simon.”

He was silent for a long time before he said, “What happened then?”

My lip quivered. Our eyes met. The wall of hatred between us came tumbling down.

“I’m not gonna die, Angie. No one is gonna come after you.”

“They’re already coming after me.”

“I won’t let them hurt you.”

His eyes overflowed with a comforting certainty, and I felt safe in that short moment. I laid my head on the pillow and rolled away from him. The bed shifted again as he sat up, clicked off the lamp. I waited for him to leave. I waited for the sound of his heavy footsteps. I waited for the sound of the closing door so I could return to my tearful state. The bed shifted again as he lifted the covers up around me. And then he scooted in beside me. I cocked my head back to stare into the dark shadows of his face.

“What are you doing?” I whispered.

“I know we have our issues, but there’s no way I’m letting you go through that again tonight. I’ve never seen so much pain on one person’s face before.” He snuggled close to me and wrapped an arm around my belly. I settled my head back into the pillow as he whispered, “I’ll sleep with you every night if I have to. I wouldn’t wish that kind of pain on anyone … not even you.”

I felt too exhausted to argue. I settled comfortably into his arms. Maybe he couldn’t take the pain away, but for this one night, it didn’t hurt to let him try.

The clock read 5:28 in the morning, and I was wide-awake. Darkness filled the room, the sun had yet to rise. Angie curled next to me in such a way that I couldn’t see her face, but I could hear small breaths of contented sleep. Over the past few nights, we took to sleeping in my room, sharing my king-sized bed for the third night this week. I wasn’t due to wake up for another thirty minutes, but for some reason, I found myself waking up early so I could watch her sleep. There was something intoxicating about her. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her.

I knew that there was a definitive barrier between us, but it almost seemed there was a possibility I could hurdle over it if I wanted to. But she was pregnant with a dead man’s baby. I tried to reason with logic, telling myself that her heart belonged to a ghost. And even as I told myself this, I still couldn’t tear my eyes away from the bare skin of her back exposed between the crumple of her shirt and the dark lavender panties she wore. Maybe it was the “look but don’t touch” rule that enticed me. Of course, she was beautiful in every way, and though I’d never admit it aloud, I had always thought so.

But she was Angela Butler. If I’d tried to pursue her in high school, my reputation would’ve been tarnished beyond repair.

After Steven blabbed to the football team that he’d gotten with the sluttiest girl in the sophomore class, I knew I could never ever go after her. For one, I was two years older and considered an adult in the eyes of the law. Secondly, my father was the sheriff of Olde Town, which meant I had a family reputation to uphold. Yet now, staring at her, I couldn’t figure out why I had let other people influence my decisions. She still hated me; although, maybe she didn’t hate me as strongly these days. There might have been an unsigned peace treaty between us, but I still got the feeling she didn’t care for me very much.

It was almost as if she sensed the thoughts swimming through my head when she rolled over and snuggled into my chest, fast asleep. Her blonde hair splayed across my arm, a bit longer than she’d worn it back before she left town a couple of years ago, but shorter than her long locks from high school. It was no longer highlighted with lighter shades of blonde the way it once was. I couldn’t understand her need to hide her natural color; she had beautiful hair, almost a strawberry blonde. I studied the way her bangs fell into her face, gently brushing the hair behind her ear. I dragged the back of my finger down her cheek. Her skin was as silky as her hair. I dropped my hand as I exhaled a low, shaky breath. Maybe it was the close proximity to her the past few weeks, but I didn’t know what was going on with me. No matter how many times I told myself I didn’t want anything to do with her, my rough exterior was crumbling. That could only mean a disaster was waiting to happen.

As much as I didn’t want to move, I had to get out of this bed, had to put some distance between us. I eased my arm from under her neck. She moved as her eyes fluttered in a heavy blink. A lazy smile eased up her cheeks as she wrapped her hand around the back of my neck and pulled me toward her. I didn’t pull away when her lips brushed against mine. So soft. My hand clenched the sheets as she sucked on my bottom lip. Her lips danced with mine a moment before she broke away with a smile, her eyes closed. Her even breaths returned as she fell back into a dead sleep. She was out of it, possibly dreaming. I knew it didn’t mean anything, but holy fuck! My thoughts went back through the years to that one and only time I had been close enough to kiss her, and I waved her off because Tabitha had just dumped me. I couldn’t be with a woman who’d been with Steven. One kiss would have started me down a slippery slope. As it turned out, Tom had slept with Angela that night.