Eyes Ever to the Sky (A Sci Fi Romance) (The Sky Trilogy) (14 page)

He furrowed his brow. “Is she going to come home?”

She shrugged. “Dunno.” Then she clicked the door shut.

Hugh pressed his forehead to the door. That girl. He could still smell her strawberry shampoo.

***

The rain drummed on the roof above as Hugh walked out of the bathroom, rubbing a towel on his wet hair. He wore a navy v-neck t-shirt and black athletic shorts with drawstring ties Cece had left at the bathroom door. The clothes smelled a little musty, like they'd been in bags for a couple of years, but he didn’t mind. He’d thrown away those women’s jogging shorts and hoped to God he never had to see them again.

Cece had cleared off the kitchen dinette and put water on to boil for macaroni and cheese.  She’d also changed into a thin pink tank top and black yoga pants. And had she put on lipstick? He watched her move, hands gracefully setting the table. The symmetry of her body, the way her clothes hugged every curve. And they were alone. Heat traveled up his chest.
Stop it,
he told himself.
Don't get carried away.

She sat across from him. He drummed his fingers on the table. “So…you like your job?”

She shrugged. “It’s okay. I mean, I love working with Fer, but Michelle is out to get me. That was her boyfriend you sent packing tonight.”

Hugh nodded. “The short guy.”

“Yeah,” Cece smiled. Her two front teeth were slightly longer than the rest, like a bunny. Adorable.

“
What about you?”

Hugh blinked. He took a bite from the granola bar she’d given him and his stomach rumbled.

“Do you have family somewhere?” She combed through her damp hair with her fingers and watched his face.              

Hugh chewed slowly, giving himself a chance to think. How much should he tell her? He looked at her wide, understanding eyes. “I don’t remember.”

She placed both hands on the tabletop and cocked her head. “You don’t remember?”

“
Nope,” he said, trying not to let the frustration bleed through his voice. “No idea. I woke up two days ago with no memory.” He knocked on his head. “Nothing.”

Her jaw dropped. “No kidding?”

He nodded. “No kidding.”

“
Jesus.” She whistled. “It’s like a frickin
Lifetime
movie or something.”

“
Something like that,” he said, taking another granola bite. The chocolate chips crumbled beneath his molars, exploding sugary goodness over his tongue.

The water on the stove began to bubble. Cece got up and slid the yellow noodles from the box into the pot. He could tell she was deep in thought by the crooked set of her mouth.

She stopped and fixed her eyes on him. “We gotta figure out who you are.”

Hugh shrugged.

Cece sat down in front of him, still fixing him with that look. A look that said
this is serious business, mister.
She squinted her eyes and pointed a finger. “I’m going to help you find your family.”

Hugh shrugged and took another bite of his granola bar. “Who says I got a family?”

Cece’s brow furrowed. “Everybody’s got a family. Even if it’s really messed up.”

Hugh nodded in agreement, but a cold sliver had sunk into his heart. For some reason he felt that no one was looking for him. No one cared but this short, scrappy girl with a big heart. And right now no one else seemed to matter.

The timer above the stove dinged and Hugh pushed up before Cece could stand. “You don’t have to wait on me,” he said, heading for the stove. “Sit down. You worked all day.”

Her smile deepened. She sat back in her chair and crossed her tan arms on the table top. “I guess I’m just used to waiting on people.”

He flipped off the burner and lifted the pot. Steam coiled from the macaroni. “Well, I’m not used to being waited on.”

She cocked her head, a slash of dark bangs falling over her eyes. “How’d you know? You only remember the last three days.”

He smiled. “You’re right, but you’re still not getting up. Where’s your butter?”

She pointed. There was a short silence while Hugh cut a hunk of butter and dropped it in the pot. He found the milk carton in the fridge and poured some in. Then the powdered cheese. When he finally came to the table with two steaming bowls and produced them triumphantly, he saw her frowning. He sat, letting the bowl sit uneaten.

“What is it?”

She twisted her mouth. “I need to ask you…” She spoke the rest of the words looking into her macaroni. “You’re being so wonderful and I’m glad you’re here, but I have to ask. It’s been bugging me.”

“Ask.” He placed both palms on the table, ready. “I’ll tell you the truth. Whatever it is.”

She looked up, her hands tugging on the ends of her hair. “The blood.” She frowned. “Where’d it come from?”

Hugh leaned back in his chair. He'd said he’d tell her the truth. He lifted his fork and tapped it nervously on the side of the bowl. He sighed, looked at her and began.

“
This morning I was really sick, so sick I thought I was going to die.” His eyes flicked to her face. “I decided I'd find a cop or something and ask for help. I walked into a convenience store a couple miles outta town. The shop owner was dead. He…” Hugh winced remembering the man’s bloody throat, the flies. He swallowed hard. “I was in there when a cop showed up. He didn’t give me the chance to explain. By then I was covered in blood.” Hugh’s hand floated down to his side where he’d felt the bullet enter. Where there was no trace.

Cece pushed up from the table, the dishes clattering. “Oh my God, you’re hurt! Why didn’t you tell me? We have to get you to a doctor.”

He put his hands up, shaking his head. “No, no, it’s fine. Really. It wasn't my blood.” So much for telling the truth. But there was no way she'd believe the truth.

Cece crossed her arms over her chest, her brow furrowing. “But, there was so much of it.”

Hugh tried to smile, but his face tightened. “Really, Cece, I’m fine.”

She paused, pressing her hand to the tabletop. “Show me.”

He looked up at her. Her face was locked in determination. “Come on. Really?”

She nodded. “Otherwise I've gotta call an ambulance. I'm not going to let you bleed out on my mom's couch.” She jutted her chin, not wavering. 
             

He leaned back and pulled up the shirt so she could look over his abdomen. Her eyes traced over his stomach, a blush running up her cheeks.

“I guess you're telling the truth,” she said, puzzled.

“
Yeah. See? I'm fine,” he said, pulling his shirt down, heat rising up his neck. Her face twisted as she took in his story. Would she believe it?

She looked at him a moment. “That doesn't make sense,” she said, leaning back.

“Cece,” he said, placing both palms on the table, looking straight into her face. “I didn't hurt anyone. I swear.”

There was a long pause as she looked at him. What he wouldn't give to get inside her head right now, hear her thoughts. Couldn't he have that super power stored up somewhere? Instead he watched her face and waited nervously.

“Okay,” she said slowly.

“
Okay.” He nodded, feeling guilt. He dropped his eyes to the bowl. The smell of the macaroni, so starchy and cheesy, was making his stomach somersault. He took a bite, the gooey goodness coating his tongue. Would she think he was a murderer? Would she kick him out? Slam the door in his face? He glanced up at her. She was eating carefully. He could almost see the gears working in her head. She seemed to let it slide for now. Then her eyes flicked to the door and a nervous shadow darkened her face.

“
Where’s your mom at?” he asked, scraping the last yellow globs out of the bowl.

Cece shrugged. “I woke up this morning and she was gone.”

“She do that a lot?” He set his bowl down and eyed the empty pot. More. He needed more.

“
Yeah, she takes off sometimes.” Her eyes trailed over to the couch. “Most of the time lately she just lays around, but she flushed her medication and now I’m not sure what she’ll do.” She lifted her eyes to his. “My mama’s not well.”

“
Sorry.”

“
It’s okay,” she said, looking down.

Hugh reached for her empty dish and rinsed both out in the sink. The clock above the stove read half past ten. He felt the fatigue down to his bones. He looked over and caught her rubbing her eyes. “I should go.”

She stiffened. “Where?” Her eyes shifted to the rain streaming down the kitchen window. “Out there? You can’t.”

He stood. Thunder cracked across the sky hard enough to rattle the window panes. He certainly didn’t want to sleep under some overpass, but the thought of her mother coming home and catching him sleeping on her couch did not appeal to him either. “I’ll be fine.”

Cece plugged both hands on her hips. “You will not be fine. Look at it out there.” Lightening split the sky.

Hugh shrugged. “Do you have an umbrella?”

Cece arched back in her chair as she thought. He tried not to focus on the pull of her tank top across the swell of her breasts. Tried and failed.

“
Look, here’s what we’ll do. You can sleep on the floor in my room.” Her eyes flicked uncertainly to his face and then away. “We’ll shut the door. She’d never come in. She has this thing for privacy.”

Hugh swallowed hard. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“Why?” A blush crept up her cheeks. “You’d rather sleep in the rain than with me?” She clasped her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. “Oh, no. We’d just, you know, be sleeping.”

A blush burned up Hugh's cheeks. “It’s okay. I knew what you meant. I don’t want to sleep in the rain, but I can’t get you in trouble.”

She tugged on the hem of her tank top. “She probably won’t even come home. If she does, we’ll sneak you out my bedroom window. My mama’s not the most observant person.”

Hugh felt himself nodding. He followed her into her bedroom and his eyes locked on the backside of her yoga pants.

Cece flicked on the bedroom light. The small room was as neat as the other parts of the house were messy. Her bedspread was pulled tight. Brushes, cosmetics and perfume bottles lay in neat rows on her vanity. Her shoes were matched in pairs across her closet floor.

She pulled down a sleeping bag and spare pillow from the shelf in her closet. A two-inch expanse of stomach appeared as she reached up for it and heat burned up Hugh's chest. He took the bedding from her, suddenly aware of the warmth of the room. A sweat broke out down his back. She walked over and snapped on the window unit AC. It rattled to life, the smallest puff of cool air finding him.

“The noise will make it harder for us to hear if my mom comes home, but it’s too hot, don’t you think?” She sat on her bed, the mattress resting directly on the floor.

Hugh spread the sleeping bag on the floor, a clumpy, blue bag with a red flannel lining. He plumped the pillow and lay down on his side, facing her. She did the same.

“Cece,” he said.

“
Yeah?”

“
Thank you,” he rolled over on his back and looked up at the ceiling. “As far as I can remember this is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

She laughed lightly. “Considering you only remember the last three days, that’s not saying much, but you’re welcome.”

She clicked off the light. Hugh lay on his back, his hands locked behind his head, listening to her breathing. Sleep pulled him down, but he fought it for as long as he could, if just to hear one more of her sweet, even breaths.

CHAPTER
TWENTY — CECE

Wednesday 10:47 p.m.

There was a boy sleeping in her bedroom.

Cece stared at the dark ceiling, her heart pounding ruthlessly in her chest. There was a boy sleeping in her bedroom. A handsome, sweet, caring boy three feet away. She listened for each breath, deep, resonant and entirely male coming from the floor. She was exhausted, but her body felt charged as if she’d just been sprinting. She rolled over and caught a whiff of his scent, a mix of Dove soap from her shower and a male musk completely his own. Breathing him in, listening to him quietly wheeze, she knew she’d never get to sleep.

This was crazy. Any minute Mama could blow in her room like a tornado and rip this perfect moment apart. What would Mama do if she found Hugh on her bedroom floor? Clearly they weren’t doing anything. Mama had said Cece needed to bring a nice boy home, but this was probably not what Mama had in mind.

Thinking of Mama, the guilt gripped her again. God, she hoped her mother was some place safe. An image of her frail mother soaking wet and shivering under an overpass flooded her mind.  She shivered and pushed the thought away. Tomorrow morning if Mama wasn't home, Cece vowed she'd organize a search.

Hugh sighed in his sleep. She gazed at him in the dark. A sliver of moonlight illuminated his copper-brown hair. He was
so
handsome. Was that the reason she'd decided to trust him even though she knew it was a terrible decision? He'd been covered in blood and his explanation was so vague. But his eyes were so…honest. She'd read about liars in her psychology magazines and how to recognize their tells. Hugh was just scared.