When Faults Collide (Faultlines #1) (9 page)

I blushed with embarrassment, remembering my rudeness.

“Yeah, he’s my foster brother.”

“So you were in foster care?” Since he opened the door, I figured I would inquire.

He nodded again. “Yep. I bounced around a lot in the beginning. I was a pretty tough kid. Then I found Amy and Dave and they were great. I lived there for all four years of high school and during my first two years of college.”

“So you didn’t have to move out when you turned eighteen?”

He shook his head. “No. They wanted to adopt me, I was family. I
am
family to them. Like I said, though, I was a really tough kid. I told the judge I didn’t want to be adopted, and I did everything under the sun for them to kick me out, trying to prove that they were just like everyone else. Sort of ironic isn’t it? Push away the only people you care about to try and prove that they don’t really care?”

I smiled an understanding smile. “I know all about it. I did the same thing to my dad for the entire first year home. Calling me a tough kid would be an understatement for what my dad went through with me until I went to college.”

“Your dad sounds like a good guy,” he said as more of a statement than a question.

“He is,” I answered. “When people hear my story they’re always shocked that my dad just came and rescued me. In reality, he could have left me in that orphanage in India. But that’s not who my dad is.”

“You were in an orphanage?” he asked, taking his last bite of pancake.

I pushed my food around some. “Yeah. For a few months after my mom died. It was a nice enough place, which I now now is because of my dad. Before my mom died he had already started the paperwork process to come over to see me, so when he got the call that she died he made sure I went somewhere nice. They had to do a DNA test to confirm that he was my father and then a whole mess of paperwork, expedited, to get my dual citizenship instated so that he could bring me home. I didn’t know that any of this went on, obviously. Not until he told me.”

He pushed his plate to the side, took my hand, and searched my face until our eyes met.

“Well I’m glad that you have him.” He smiled, rubbing his thumb across the top of my hand.

“Well I’m glad you have Amy and Dave. They sound like good people, too. Everybody needs somebody.”

“Truer words have never been spoken,” he said, grinning.

I blushed.

We finished up with our pancakes and made our way back to the street towards Blake’s car.

I saw a homeless man sitting near his car on the ground. This wasn’t an unusual site in Richmond. The homeless population was getting bigger and bigger and without vagrancy laws, it wasn’t going to diminish anytime soon.

He stood when he saw us and began walking towards us. His hair was stuck to his head; he had cracked lips and no teeth.

This was an all too familiar and memorable site for me. I took a step back, breaking contact with Blake.

Blake cocked his head and looked at me confused, holding his
hand out for me again.

I shook my head and took another step back.

“Spare any change?” the homeless man inquired, stepping closer to us.

I took another step back and hit the wall of the building next to us.

Blake looked between the homeless man and me and then walked towards me, but not before the homeless man took an even closer step to me, and was only a foot or so away.

“Miss, could you spare some change?” he said holding out his hand.

His grubby, greasy, calloused hand
.

I started to shake my head vigorously, having flashbacks of those hands. Those hands making their way up my thigh, inside my sari. Those hands that punched me in the nose when I tried to scream and covered my mouth when he forced himself inside me.

“Atkaav!”
(Stop!)
I screamed in Hindi.

Blake pushed the homeless man out of the way and held me.

I slapped his chest and pulled away and screamed in Hindi again, shaking my head vigorously.

“Shhh, Asha. I’m right here,” he said, pulling me into him again.

I hadn’t realized I was crying until I felt the dampness on his chest.

I jerked away, coming out of the episode and realizing what had happened. “Oh my God. Oh, shit... I’m so sorry.”

He pulled me in again. “Why the hell are you sorry?
I’m
sorry. I shouldn’t have let him get so close to you. I’m sorry.”

I was shaking but tried to compose myself. I pulled back and roughly wiped away my tears, pissed that my makeup was ruined, and shook my head.

“Blake, you don’t have to do this,” I said defiantly.

He put his hand on my chin and raised my head so that we were looking at each other. Another rogue tear made its way down my cheek.

“Really, Blake. I’m messed up. You don’t need to do this,” I said, quieter this time.

“You are not messed up. Your past is messed up. Your past does not define you. You are not messed up,” he said confidently, looking at me in that soul-searching way.

The air between us shifted. There was a physical pull between us, bringing us closer until he was holding me again. I closed my eyes and accepted his comfort, letting the feel of him be the thing to keep me grounded.

I’m not even sure how long we stood there, because in that moment, time didn’t matter. Time was an irrelevant force; the only force that mattered was the two of us.

I stood there in his arms, continuing to shake, an occasional sob rising from my throat, and he didn’t falter.

Chapter Eight

We walked up the stairs towards our shared porch hand in hand. When we reached the top, he pulled me in for another embrace.

He pulled back and leaned in, holding my face in his hands.

“You possess charms that you know not of “he
whispered.

I kept my eyes locked onto his but smiled and breathed back, “Quoting Edmond Rostand...are you real?”

He chuckled softly. “I’ve been asking myself for days if you are really real. I have a way to find out.”

Then he did it. He kissed me. Chastely, softly, lips upon lips. But
oh boy
, he kissed me.

My entire body was on fire from the chemistry flowing freely between the two of us.

I exhaled slowly, eyes still closed, savoring every moment of the aftershock of his kiss.

I opened my eyes as he put a hand on my hip and pulled me in again.

This kiss was more passionate, but was still soft.

I closed my eyes and fell into his embrace. I’m not sure how long the second kiss lasted; again it seemed like time did not exist when our bodies connected.

When he pulled back we were both a little breathless. We gazed at each other for a moment before he kissed the top of my head.

“Goodnight, sweet girl,” he whispered.

“Goodnight,” I whispered back.

I opened my door and turned, waving one last time before closing it and leaning against the back of it.

Lily shrieked and skipped to where I was standing, grabbing both of my hands with hers.

“I saw! I saw! Oh my God Asha, I am so happy for you!” she exclaimed while hopping up and down.

I grinned, both in the aftershock of my evening and at my friend’s excitement.

She pulled me to the sofa and we sat down.

“Tell me everything!” she demanded.

We sat there for about an hour while I told her everything, except the part about the homeless man. She didn’t need to know that. That was crossing into “whole truth” department and as much as I loved Lily, she couldn’t handle all of that.

I looked at the clock and realized it was past 1am.

“Oh shit, Lily. I’ve got to get to bed.”

We both went upstairs to our respective rooms. I went to the bathroom and wiped off my eye makeup, brushed my teeth, and washed my face. Then I grabbed some comfy fleece pajamas and went to climb into bed.

I heard music playing and let a small smile form on my face.

Everything Changed
by Farewell Flight.

I pulled out my phone and opened Twitter.

Within seconds there was a reply.

He followed that with a text. I grinned like a fool reading it.

I quickly replied.

I bit my thumb waiting on his reply.

I threw my arm over my eyes and groaned.

What had I gotten myself into?

He had seen the tip of the iceberg of my whole truth, and he hadn’t run. He didn’t falter or show pity. He did exactly what I needed in that moment, and doing what I needed seemed to be what he needed.

Chapter Nine

I slipped on my running shoes and started walking down the stairs, setting my playlist to play Cashmere Cat.

I stretched for a few minutes on the sidewalk and then took off. I always started with a slow jog, slowly picking up pace until I was at a steady run. I dodged people walking their dogs, focusing on my breathing and paying attention to the beat of the song.

I rounded the corner, ran in place while I waited to cross the street, then dodged across and down two more streets before getting to Jefferson park.

My iPod switched to MIA and I kept my pace running laps around the sidewalk surrounding the park. Couples sat in benches, kids played in the playground, but they were invisible to me. The only thing visible was what was directly in front of me.

Breathing in and out, I cleared my mind.

This is why I needed my run. It kept me grounded and kept my mind from going foggy.

After finishing my ten laps, I stopped to put my hands on my knees and catch a breath. I hadn’t realized how much faster I was running until I stopped.