Promise (36 page)

Was I really so stupid thinking someone like me could have someone like him? Like some stupid happily-ever-after romance novel?

Even as my hand clicks the door handle on Jeremy’s running car, I can’t help but swivel my head, hoping to catch a glimpse of that Monet blue coming behind me.

I hate the part of me that is disappointed that he isn’t following.

“Let’s go,” I mutter, clicking the seat belt in place and staring straight ahead.

Beckett

I’m taking a fucking moment because I know when I’m about to go dark.

She has no idea what I would do to keep her safe. That little incident yesterday with the sorry-ass forms of life that tried to drag her away was nothing.

One of the things you have to learn to do in my line of work is to compartmentalize. Build little boxes where you put away certain thoughts and memories. Otherwise, you would be a diaper-wearing heap-of-crazy in a hospital corner where people need a five digit code to get in and out.

Promise has no idea what kind of hell she is going to erupt in me. I let her go for one reason—sometimes those little boxes open when they shouldn’t . . . and the darkness seeps out.

That’s what was about to happen when I heard her tell me she has to do what
he
says.

That this was a fucking mistake.

Those words were like needles tipped with a hundred kinds of poison, stabbing straight into all the parts of me where she lives.

I know my own darkness. Sure, I put it away, but it has a mind of its own when it chooses.

That’s when people get hurt, sometimes, people I don’t want to hurt. But, they have a way of getting caught in the crossfire.

Fuck if this is over.
I jerk on a pair of jeans, commando style, and a t-shirt. I slam my fists into the hanging heavy bag in the weight area until my knuckles are sending jolts of pain to my shoulders. Then, I hit the door, spitting fire. Her ass is mine.

Promise

I am too angry at Jeremy to even speak for the first twenty minutes of the ride to my apartment.

And, his Corolla smells like mildew and stale burritos.

He tried to start on me as soon as I got in the car. After five minutes of his questions and my silent answers, he’s gripping the steering wheel, his fingers turned white, but he’s finally shut up.

“How did you know I was there? Or, where he lives?” I’m ready to get this show started even if I’m not sure if it’s a comedy or a tragedy.

Jeremy pulls into what should be my parking space at Meadowood Green Apartments, but I don’t have a car.

“It wasn’t hard to figure out.”

He’s avoiding the question, but I’m honestly not that interested. I’m somewhere else. My head’s still laying back on Beckett’s chest, listening to his heart beat in my ear and feeling something as close to happy as I will ever get.

Even if it was just temporary insanity.

“Come on, let’s go inside.” His voice softens, and I know he cares about me.

He might not be Beckett, but he’s been a steady force in my life. Maybe there’s something to be said for that old phrase—flames that burn twice as bright, burn half as long. Beckett burns brighter than anyone I’ve ever met.

Jeremy is more of a flicker, but I can always count on him being there.

Bruce is inside, scooping noodles out of a white, takeout container. When we come in, he stops mid-bite. The apartment smells like Pad Thai, his favorite from Sally’s Szechuan down the street.

He raises his eyes from the noodles and blinks at me before glancing with narrower eyes at Jeremy.

He shakes his head and spins to drop the container on the table with a thump.

“Hi.” I muster, watching his patented eye roll, and I give him a wide-eyed stare, telling him to behave.

“Hi back.” Bruce crosses his legs at the dining table and drums his fingers on the table top. “How was the funeral?”

“How are all funerals?” I am too tired to play with Bruce right now. He isn’t really asking about the funeral at all.

I fight to raise my eyes and look at Jeremy. I need to know everything between us is okay. I hate that I feel that way, but I do.

He’s shrugging his shoulders and looking annoyed as he stares at me.

“We should finish our conversation.
In private
.” Jeremy tips his head toward the hallway.

“I was here first, and I
live
here,” Bruce says toward Jeremy.

I shoot him a look but Jeremy is already three steps toward my room, so I fall in line behind him like a puppy. The worry about Jordan and my case is never far from my mind, and Jeremy is my conduit for both any tidbit of information about Jordon or news about the adoption.

Inside my room, he throws his jacket on the edge of the bed. He misses and it slumps to the floor in a heap, and he sits down. It’s the only place to sit, so I can’t entirely fault him for being presumptuous, but you would think he would, at least, pick up his stupid jacket.

See, the thing about my room is that there really is just the bed. The bed and the fire and the faces. Well, the faceless faces.

My feet feel like they are pressed harder into the carpet than necessary, but it’s the way Jeremy’s eyes are sending me wishful signals to join him that has me stuck.

We’ve been in my bedroom before. Sometimes Bruce has people over, and we come in here to chat. But, it’s never been
this
. Him sitting, looking like he thinks he belongs on my bed.

He’s got an unusual energy about him today, the difference that has been growing between us these last few months since he told me about the foster family filing to adopt Jordan.

“I talked to Lydia today. She’s happy about how the apartment looked the other day.”

I’m uncomfortable, and I don’t know where to look. I dart my gaze from Jeremy’s face to the pencil sketch pinned between the two canvases on the wall.

I find it hard to believe that Lydia is happy about anything, let alone anything to do with me. But the more I think about her, the more I wonder why she is the way she is. Maybe her life wasn’t all she expected it to be either. I can see how your history molds you and my former disdain for her is turning to pity.

“You didn’t tell me how you knew where I was.”

“I know a lot about where you go.” He sounds almost boastful.

“Do you follow me? Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” It’s four o’clock, and he’s usually in the office until six.

“I was out doing a welfare check. I knew you were off today, so I came by. Bruce said you were at a funeral, and I figured it out from there.”

Beckett told me the loft belonged to Louis. I still don’t know how Jeremy knew I would be there unless he followed me. Wait a second.

Dummy, he doesn’t know that you know that he knows Beckett. But you know.

I decide not to press the issue. Instead, my desperate need to find out anything new about Jordan takes over.

“What else did Lydia say?”

Jeremy’s lips come together with a self-satisfied grin.

“She said . . . your living situation is not
ideal
. I didn’t tell her anything about your other visitor except that he was just the son of a patient at the nursing home, and he was a bit more persistent than you liked, so you cut it off.”

I say nothing. I’m not sure what to say or what I’m thinking.

“Can you just come and sit down?” Jeremy shifts, leaning on arms with locked elbows and jerks his head toward the space next to him.

My feet are moving even though they feel like iron boots. I tug my jacket tighter around me, remembering I’m not wearing a bra.

Because I couldn’t find where Beckett flung it off of me, inside that room where I just let him make love to me for the seventh time.

Yes, lucky number
seven
. I’m counting. Because it’s all I can think about. And, it’s exactly what I shouldn’t be thinking about.

And yes, I am reminded with every step of each time.

I sink down gingerly onto the mattress next to Jeremy, and he leans into me.

“See? Not so bad, huh?”

I cringe, thinking about how far I let it go with Beck. How loose I was with starting to let myself feel something for him. Who is he, really? I hate that I constantly doubt him, but history has proven to me that I fall too fast and usually end up screwed.

His scars give him a sense of mystery, the way you can’t seem to look away once you discover his eyes. But we have no history, nothing to base these feelings on. He could probably be a very scary guy. He
is
a very scary guy, what am I talking about. Maybe I’m being
lured
. Groomed until he unleashes that other side of himself.

“
Are you here
?” Jeremy is leaning forward, elbows on his knees with his head turned to look at me.

“Yes, sorry. So, what do I need to do?” I’m done dancing around all of this; I need to know the bottom line. I’ll do anything.

“Do you care about me?” Jeremy sits up, eyes scanning the paintings around the room as I feel heat coming up over my chest.

I swallow hard, almost a gulping sound, as I try to figure out what is going on.

“Yes. Of course.”

“I’ve known you longer than anyone else in your life, haven’t I?”

It’s clearly a rhetorical question as he continues without missing a beat.

“Seen you through a lot of tough times. Been the one person you’ve turned to, counted on.”

The dramatic pauses are telling me something is coming, and the creeping red blotches on my chest begin to crawl up my neck with a prickling heat.

I clutch my hands in my lap as Jeremy shifts, leaning one shoulder behind me, the length of his arm connecting with the tightening muscles in my back.

“Yes, I’ve always appreciated everything you’ve done. I may not always show it, but I do.”

“Well, these last couple months, spending more time together, I know you need stability in your life.”

This conversation is leading somewhere I wish it wouldn’t, but I can tell it is a runaway train at this point, and the only thing I can do is hold on tight and hope I come out on the other end in one piece.

I turn to try to say something that will keep whatever this is from flying off the rails, but it’s too late.

In a flash, his warm, wet mouth is on mine. His tongue jabbing between my lips. His arms burst around me and tug me closer in a fumbling jolt. I’m trapped.

I’m in shock, I freeze. I don’t kiss him back, but I don’t push away either.

Thank goodness he breaks away. His breath is coming in little gasps, and there is an arrogant, satisfied smile on his face.

“Lydia said the best thing for your case would be for you to be in a stable relationship. In a home. Not an apartment where you rent a room with a
gay
roommate.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do? And, stop talking like that about Bruce. He’s one of the best people I know, and why you have to preface every reference to him by his sexual preference is stupid.” My voice is shaking, and I wish to be anywhere else but here. My face is hot, my stomach is curled into itself, and there is a growing pain in my temples.

When I say that, Jeremy’s eyes look like someone just jabbed him with a cattle prod, and he jumps up off the bed, scaring the shit out of me.

Holy crap! He’s pulling a small, white velvet box out of the inside pocket of his corduroy sports coat, and I don’t remember how to move or think or speak.

“I care about you more than anyone, Promise. I’ve cared for you since you were a little girl. But, it’s so much more.
We
can be so much more. A
family
. You, me, Jordan. If you marry me, I can assure you a life with your brother. A
good
life. Lydia will recommend custody to you.”

I shake my head.

STOP. I want off this ride.

I am at a complete loss, and I can’t stop swallowing the spit that keeps gathering in my mouth.

Jeremy is staring. He’s standing in front of me as I sit on the bed in a state of sheer terror.

“I . . .” Swallowing again. That’s like twelve swallows in a row. “I don’t know what to say.”

That is the truth, but I can see from the way he draws his lips tight, it is not the reaction he wanted.