Forget Me Not (6 page)

My cheeks burn with the memory, and a dull pain thuds into the side of my leg.

“Ouch.” I glance at Will, and he grins. I bet he’s thinking of that time too. Probably laughing or getting ready to tease me again. I narrow my eyes in warning and, thank God, he doesn’t mention the mirror incident.

My skin prickles as we eat, and it feels like all the eyes in the room are on me. The newcomer. Everyone except Jax. He barely says a word as he slouches in his chair and looks around the dining room with bored, sleepy eyes.

Marcus prattles on about himself. He’s good with electronics, he says; most tech is based on it and computers. He likes
—no, loves—working with it. The conversation drones on, and I hear his words, but they don’t register. So I smile and nod like I hear him.

He pushes his glasses back up onto the base of his nose for the third time in as many minutes. “I figure out what it does, how it works, and its limits. Once I’ve figured it out, I incorporate useful tech into the protective clothing and weapons Resistance fighters use.”

Protective clothing? Jax wears black army style pants with shiny metal studs, a white T-shirt, and his leather jacket. A quick glance around the room tells me everyone else seems to be wearing ordinary clothes. Perhaps Marcus means the jacket.

We slide into eating in silence, and thoughts of home hammer my mind. Dad will be eating dinner alone, if he’s even bothered to eat at all. He won’t be worried yet; he’ll probably assume I’m at work because it’s Saturday night. The diner always gets busy, and the boss often calls me in if I’m not on the schedule. He’ll be worried when he wakes in the morning and finds I’m not home, though. “Is there a phone here?”

Jax looks up from his seat across the table. “Not a good idea, cupcake.”

“Are you patronizing me?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sugar.”

I hadn’t realized he was listening. He’s been totally zoned out the entire meal. Will’s gaze darts to Jax, and Will’s suddenly rigid as stone
. “What’s your problem?” he snarls.

Jax rolls his gaze to Will, raises a lone brow, and pushes peas around his plate. I love that Will looks out for me, but right now, it’s really not worth it. Jax seems like the sort to just snap. Uncomfortable silence settles around us.

Too much has happened today, and I can’t take in anymore. Every voice, every laugh, every scrape of every fork on every plate threatens to…. I can’t take it. Pushing my chair back, I duck my head and leave the room, quietly slipping outside.

Clouds reach long and thin, like fingers, in front of the bright moon. The soft, grey light of night surrounds me. That’s better. I sigh and slide down onto a wooden bench on the open veranda and lean my back against it, admiring the view. Letting it calm me. The clouds and moon would make a beautiful shot. If only I had my camera. If only I was home.

Cows bellow, frogs croak, crickets chirp, and the wind rustles the leaves of the nearby trees. It’s not as quiet in the country as I would have thought. Voices waft out of the window nearby. A small creak, like the squeak of a mouse, makes me look over my shoulder. Will closes the door and sits beside me on the bench, stretching his long legs out before him. “Interesting day.”

“I’ve had better.”

He squeezes my shoulder.

“I know Beau said he’d get word to our parents, but I just want to call home,” I say. “I want to hear Dad’s voice. I want to tell him I’m okay.”

“It’s all right, you’re allowed to be upset.” His hand still rests on my shoulder, lending comforting warmth.

“He’s going to be worried, Will. He’ll think…
it’s like before.”

Will splutters, and his brows fly up. “Worried? What an understatement.”

He’s right. Dad’s constant need to know where I am will have him calling every emergency service in the country by 9:00 a.m. We sit in silence, but voices from the kitchen still reach us. Will sighs and leans back against the wall. “The room Jax pointed out earlier—Beau’s office—I bet it has a phone.”

Jax shadowed us all
evening, so I didn’t get to tell Will it would be best if I search Beau’s office alone. No one questioned me when I said I was going to bed. They must have assumed I was exhausted. But really I wasn’t tired at all. I needed time alone, to pull my thoughts together and come up with a solid plan.

Now, I gaze outside from my seat in the window with my legs tucked up beneath me, clutching a pink flowered cushion to my chest. It’s been hours since Will and I sat out the front, so surely everyone must be asleep by now. As if to confirm my thoughts, the deep rumble of someone snoring echoes down the hall.

An owl hoots in the distance, and though the sound is muffled by the glass, it startles me back to the present. It’s got to be safe to make a move. I turn over my wrist and look at the leather-banded, silver-faced watch.

Midnight.

I ease the door open just a crack, desperate not to make a sound, then a crack more. I poke my head out and peer into the hall. The door across from mine sits ajar, but the room’s too dark to see inside.

The dim light from my lamp casts a narrow beam into the hall, lighting up the shadow of a person slouched on the floor of the hallway facing my door, back propped against the wall. I creep a little closer. Better make sure it’s safe. His leather jacket hangs open over his pants and white fitted T-shirt. His head lolls back against the wall, and his long, dark eyelashes brush his cheeks. Jax.

I hold my breath so I’m silent. The dog, Ace, has curled up beside him, and Jax’s hand rests on the dog’s side. Ace opens a chocolaty, shining eye and watches me. Don’t move. Don’t bark. Don’t give me away.

Without the blank expression, Jax’s face is totally relaxed. He’s actually really good looking
—shame he’s not nicer. I raise myself onto my toes and sneak past him, down the hall. He doesn’t stir, but the dog raises his head and watches my every move.

“Shh, good boy,” I breathe and tiptoe down the stairs and into the first floor hallway. That was pretty close. Light seeps out of the kitchen, throwing a dim trail down the long hall and onto the large oak door I make my way toward. Huh, I managed to find my way back here. Impressive. This has to be the right room because Jax pointed in its general direction earlier and said something about an office.

Holding my breath with the hope no one’s inside, I reach toward the knob and twist. An attempted swallow scratches my throat. My mouth is dry, all the moisture sucked away. The hallway’s dull light seeps into the room from the open door, illuminating a heavy timber desk with solid carved legs which dominates the room. The shadows of potted plants skulk around the room’s edges. A small lamp on the table is like a beacon, calling to me. When I flick it on, a soft yellow glow fills the room, glinting off the paintings on the walls. Piles of paper heaped like mountains cover the desk, and amongst them sits an ancient black phone.

A sigh of relief squeezes my thick throat.

Everything in this place is so old, but it’s still a phone. I’ve seen this type in museums and old movies watched with Will on Saturday nights. It’s black with a round dial on the front and a hand piece balancing across the top. I pick up the hand piece and jam my index finger in the hole marked nine. I know to use it you have to put your finger in the small round hole at the number and pull it around.

One by one I drag the dial until it won’t go any further, dialing Dad’s number; then I hold the black hand piece to my ear and wait. Nothing. No sound. The line’s dead. Great, the stupid old thing doesn’t even work. The phone must just be a collector’s item. I jam the earpiece down, cringing at the loud noise, and continue my search of the room.

My heart sinks the further I look. Nothing else even resembles a phone.

I yank the top desk drawer open and wince when a multitude of pens slide and clatter around inside. Their movement reveals a black shiny cell
phone hiding in the bottom. Leaning against the desk to steady myself, I snatch it and turn to leave the room, my hopes and heart soaring with the elation of success. Now I just need to find somewhere away from the house to talk freely.

As I raise my gaze from the precious phone, my breath and step catch mid stride. Jax slouches in the doorway, effectively blocking my way out.

“Damn it.”

“You can’t call.” He eyes the phone in my hand.

I shove it into my back pocket.

“It’s not safe. His phone will be bugged.”

He can’t possibly know who I’m calling. I stare at him and take a deep breath. “Whose phone?”

“They need to find you, and using your father is their best bet.” His voice holds the tone of Al and Dad discussing the recent sunny weather: bored, casual.

My hands clasp together, squeeze into each other, turn over, and drop to my sides. “I need to talk to him.”

“Why?”

“Dad needs me. We only have each other. My mother’s gone.” I glance at the curved trees in a painting on the wall. “I have to tell him I’m safe. He can’t lose me too.” The words rush out through my aching throat.

A noise like mice gnawing on cardboard draws my eyes to his fingers. They pick at the doorframe, scratching off the paint. “I’ll help.” The corner of his mouth turns, just a little, and he shakes his head as if he’s surprised by his own offer.

He’ll help me. I reach into my pocket and pull out the phone.

Softness warms his eyes for a brief moment, then they return to their usual bored stare. He detaches himself from the doorjamb and moves closer. His eyes never leave mine. They hold me without letting go, and it’s like I can’t move, can’t think, can’t breathe. He slides his hand under mine, uncurls my fingers, and takes the phone. He places it back inside the drawer.

“You can’t call, but I’ll take you there,” he says evenly. “You can see him, briefly. Exchange heartfelt words of endearment, dance a jig for all I care, and then I’m bringing you straight back.”

Not what I expected, but I nod. This is ten times better than a call. I’ll let him take me anywhere if it means seeing Dad.

His eyes continue holding mine, steady, serious, strong. “You have to promise me you’ll follow my instructions. If a situation arises, we’ll need to return immediately. I can’t have you jeopardizing the safety of this base.”

The tension seeps out of my body, and my shoulders sag. I’m going to see Dad, so everything will be all right. Looking Jax straight in the eye, I tell him, “I promise.”

I follow him outside in silence. The lack of city sounds almost rings in my ears. Instead, the wind rustles through the long grass. The crisp night air smells fresh and pure, a good match for my new mood. I suck in a deep breath and let it out slowly, savoring the wholesomeness which doesn’t exist in city air. We head toward the paint flecked outbuilding which houses Marcus’s workshop.

“Ever ridden a bike?” Jax asks.

“Yeah, Will has a road bike. I ride on the back all the time.”

“Good, this is almost the same.” He opens one side of the double wooden doors.

The motorbike I saw earlier still rests by the wall. Once a muscle bike perhaps, but now it’s stripped to its bare essentials, almost naked to the bone. It’s merely an engine with a seat and two wheels. It is really rather ugly. The handlebars laze back like those on a Harley.

I take a small step backward, pinching the corner of my lip with my teeth. “Is that thing safe?”

“Thing? That bike couldn’t be safer. Marcus built it from scratch.” He tilts his head a little. He sounds like he’s talking about a favorite toy. “He’s still got to pretty it up, but the turbo boost makes it faster than fast.”

“Does it have any special abilities?”

His mouth rises from the left corner. “Not everything around here is tech.” He points to a cupboard against the wall. “Grab a helmet.”

I toss him a black full face helmet and take an identical one for myself. My hand drops under its unexpected weight. It’s so much bigger than my usual helmet at Will’s.

Jax pushes the bike out of the workshop. A small backpack slung over his shoulder rests against his hip. I’m not sure when he got it. Maybe he picked it up while I grabbed the helmets. He pulls the workshop door closed, leaning back and pulling his weight against it. It must be really heavy. After everything’s closed, he mounts the bike and starts the engine. It’s quiet, like the hum of a loud insect, which is nothing like the enormous growl of Will’s roadie. Jax tosses his head in a gesture for me to climb on behind him.

I throw a leg over and wriggle into place. The warmth of his body touching mine contrasts sharply with the cool night air. Touching him makes my skin tingle in a mixture of good and bad. So I scoot as far away from him as I can, wishing for the warmth of a jacket instead.

“Hold on,” he says.

I rest my hands on his shoulders. The bike jerks forward, almost throwing me off and evicting a sharp squeal from deep inside me. I throw my arms around his middle to stop myself from falling.

The sound of his laughter rings through my helmet, sending hot embarrassment to my cheeks. Thank God he can’t see me. The helmets must have wireless Bluetooth.

“I told you to hold on; this beast is fast.”

We speed along the dirt road in a cloud of dust. Dark trees and strange shadows whiz by. Out on the paved road we accelerate faster than I’ve ever traveled before. My thin shirt flaps in the wind, and goose bumps cover my arms. It’s far too cold for autumn. The pendant, made cool by the night air, stings where it sits against my chest. I shiver and, relenting, lean closer to the warmth of Jax’s back.

Thinking of Dad’s relief when he sees me brings a smile, but how will I explain this situation? I can’t just tell him about the pendant or what happened in my room
—he wouldn’t believe it, and it may put him in danger. I can’t tell him I’m in trouble and not explain further, or he’ll go out of his mind with worry. I can’t lie either, say I’ve gone on a road trip with Will, or something. It won’t explain my disappearance, reappearance, pending disappearance, and the photo of me on the news. Maybe I’ll just tell him I’ve been working extra shifts at the diner—doubles, back-to-backs, something like that. No need to explain Jax; he can stay out of Dad’s sight.

Perfect.

We reach the city while the sky’s still shrouded in darkness, the high-rise buildings bathed in the night. The normally crowded streets are deserted, with not even a garbage truck in sight.

“I need to know where to go,” Jax says through the Bluetooth. I was so deep in my own thoughts that the broken silence makes my breath hitch.

“But you’ve been to my house.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“It’s on the far side of city, out in suburbs.”

The bike leans to the side as we round a corner. “Let’s get a coffee,” he says. “We need a plan.”

My stomach growls in agreement, and my aching back does too, but Dad’s probably been up half the night pacing the living room. “No, Dad will be worried. We should go straight home.”

“You promised to follow my
instructions,” he reminds me. “It’s four thirty in the morning. Half an hour’s not going to make a difference. Besides… you look like you’ve been awake all night. You should freshen up.” There’s a light jest to his tone, like Will’s casual tormenting.

“Because I have been awake all night.” I rub my shoulders, and my head pounds. I’m so tired. “Are you offering to pay? Because I don’t have a wallet.” This is such a waste of time.

“Settled. Call it our first date.”

Squeezing my eyes closed, I take a deep breath. He might think he’s being funny, but when I’m tired and stressed it’s not the right time for jokes.

The bike slows, and he pulls into a parking lot. Multicolored lights circle a diner right beneath a flashing neon sign:
Diner Open 24 Hours
.

We swing down off the bike. My legs protest against moving out of the position they’ve been resting in for the past four hours, but I kick out and jiggle them around while Jax stretches to the side like a wrestler warming up for a fight. After a few moments, he walks to the diner, pushes the door open, and a bell jingles. Shoulders sagging, a waitress shuffles around the floor, the only server for a handful of early morning customers. Two women sit in a booth wearing nicely pressed nurse’s uniforms, their faces fresh, ready to start the workday. Three men and another woman perch at the counter, all sporting the telltale bleary eyes of those who’ve been on nightshift.

I run my fingers through my messy, tangled, helmet hair. I’m still wearing yesterday’s dirty clothes, and Jax is right, I must look a mess. A sideways glance tells me I’m the only one. Other than his usual unkempt hair, he looks infuriatingly nonmessy. At least he looks tired, dark circles smudging the skin under his eyes.

The waitress’
s gaze slides right over me, drawn to Jax where it rests with a beaming smile. A smile which says, I think you’re hot.

The smile he returns actually looks friendly, not like he’s privately laughing. “Two black coffees and two orders of bacon and eggs, please.”

I hate it when people order for me, but with him paying I wouldn’t have ordered food. So I let it slide, appreciating the fact he’s buying. I slip into the red, faux leather booth opposite him. Grabbing a napkin from the holder, I twist it between my fingers. “I want to go home alone.”