She said those last two sentences as if trying them on, feeling for their meaning, deciding if she truly believed them. Her face showed she didn't, but wanted to, kind of doubtful and hopeful at the same time. I debated whether to force an explanation and decided to let it go, for now, anyway.
'Thanks, Mom.' I threw myself at her in a grateful hug—grateful for her blessing and her return. She didn't let go and I knew she missed me, too. 'There's just one other thing.'
She stepped back and studied my face, her own expression leery.
'I feel really good with Tristan and I'm learning to trust him. So…' I hesitated, bracing myself. 'There might come a time when he needs to know about things. You know…things I don't know yet.'
'Alexis—'
'If he understands, maybe he won't get mean or run.' My voice cracked on the last word.
Mom put her hands on my shoulders. 'You do really like him, don't you?'
I nodded. She sighed.
'Let's just see how it goes, okay? Maybe we can talk about this again later…or maybe it won't be necessary.' With a kiss to my forehead and a turn on her heel, she clearly stated the discussion was over. I didn't know if I'd won just a little or not.
She went to bed and I reviewed my notes one more time. Just as I finished, there was a tap on the kitchen door. I nearly fell out of my seat at the seemingly loud sound in the dead silence. I sat there, frozen, trying to figure out what to do. My heart had jumped at the sound and now it raced. Should I run? I glanced over at the knife block on the counter. Fight?
Another tap on the door's window.
Would they really knock first?
'Alexis, it's me.' Low, sexy voice muffled through the glass pane.
I laughed internally at myself and hurried over to open the door.
'What are you doing ?' I whispered. 'You scared the crap out of me.'
'Sorry.' He grinned, like he really wasn't. 'I just had to make sure she hadn't killed you or planned to take you away or anything.'
I smiled giddily. 'No, actually, I think it's all good.'
'Okay, good.' It came out as sort of a whoosh of relief.
'Is that it?' I asked when he just stood there.
'Well…I didn't get to say good-bye and I couldn't sleep without this.' He bent over and brushed his lips across mine. Then he smiled and winked. I stared at him, dazed. 'Okay, better. I can sleep now. Good night.'
''Night,' I murmured. He disappeared into the darkness.
Our glorious weekend stretched into the following weeks. We watched sunsets and cooked dinner for Mom. She watched us carefully at first, but seemed to be coming around.
We played Baby Steps every day. He got a question and I got a question. They often led to more questions, but they were generally superficial topics. We discovered we had similar tastes in music—a preference for alternative rock, but could enjoy anything but rap. I learned he wanted to be an engineer or an architect. He'd lived in many places throughout Europe, as well as several cities in the U.S., had spent time in Japan to study Aikido and had traveled to every continent except Antarctica.
He learned I'd never been out of the country but had a passport because Sophia thought it practical, and I took four years of Spanish in high school and could say maybe five full sentences and count to one-hundred. I told him I could name every Edgar Allan Poe story and recite by heart nine Emily Dickinson poems. I even admitted I'd tried my own hand at poetry.
I learned he didn't like Halloween, saying it wasn't right that little kids wanted to be witches, vampires and other monsters. I admitted I'd always been a witch or a vampire, but always a good one—as a vampire, I carried around a cup of donor 'blood.' He guessed correctly it was Mom's idea. She preferred fairies, princesses and humorous costumes to the gory and scary ones. He asked Mom if my interest in monsters and fantastical creatures was healthy. She just laughed. I talked him into taking me to a couple haunted houses and he growled fiercely at the monster-actors, making them jump and shriek. I laughed so hard I almost peed my pants. He admitted it was the most fun he'd had on Halloween.
By Thanksgiving, we knew all of each other's favorite everything…colors, bands, authors, actors and actresses, food, ice cream flavors, books…. All the top-layer stuff that really had little to do with who we were and why…the stuff that made us real. Little hints and nuggets could be gleaned from these surface subjects, but they didn't touch the deep, inner-workings of our hearts or souls and definitely had nothing to do with the secrets we kept and pain we hid. I knew, though, it was only a matter of time before those things came out.
And when they did…well, it certainly didn't happen the way I could have ever expected.
Chapter 8
'Owen and I could have done that,' Tristan said as Mom and I climbed step-ladders in the bookstore's expansive front window, a string of Christmas lights stretched between us.
It was the night before Thanksgiving and Tristan and I had spent the day helping Mom and Owen prepare for the holiday rush. Mom didn't believe in selling Christmas before Halloween or even Thanksgiving, so here we were, nine o'clock at night, still decorating. Nearly finished, Mom had just sent Owen home. Not two minutes ago we had two perfectly able—and perfectly tall—men to hang the lights. But this was Mom's way of making sure everyone (well, Tristan specifically) knew we depended on no one.
'Alexis and I are quite capable of doing this,' Mom replied. 'In fact, you can go home, too, Tristan.'
'Nah, I'll stay. Although, we could be done a lot faster if you didn't do it the hard way,' he said as he picked up empty boxes that had held the decorations.
Mom mumbled something under her breath, but all I caught was 'normal' and 'mainstream.' Tristan chuckled as if he heard her clearly, though he was at least twenty feet farther away from her than I was.
I opened my mouth to ask what that was all about when a pair of headlights racing down the street distracted me. The shops on Fifth Street closed hours ago. I could see lights of restaurants and bars down another block, but our block was deserted, except for this one car. So I didn't understand when the headlights suddenly swerved, arcing right into the store's window. Then I realized the car barreled straight for us.
' Mom! ' I shrieked without thinking.
The car continued racing right at us, way too fast to stop in time.
'Alexis! Jump! ' Mom yelled.
Before we even had a chance to jump, though, we both flew off the ladders and into Tristan's arms. I stared wide-eyed like a deer caught in headlights—literally—my mind somehow registering several things at once. When the car was about twenty yards away, still going way too fast, a light flashed on something directly to the right of it. It was the driver's door, swinging open. Then Owen, who had just left through the back door, stood in the street, but out of the car's path. He thrust his hands out toward the car as if willing it to stop. The driver must have finally slammed on the brakes—the tires squealed as it nearly stopped just before crashing into the store.
And then it hit. Sliding into the window. Glass imploding.
Mom and I tucked our faces into Tristan's shoulders. He bent over to shield us. Glass chinked and shattered as it rained to the floor around us.
When it was finally quiet, I lifted my face and immediately smelled the night air, mixed with lingering exhaust fumes. The orange car sat quietly only a couple of feet inside the shop—right where Mom and I had been only seconds earlier. The ladders lay on their sides, part of one under the car, as well as the Christmas tree and fake presents we'd just set up.
'That was intense,' Tristan muttered as he straightened up. 'You two okay?'
Mom shook her head, not to answer but to shake her hair out. A couple of small pieces of glass hit the floor. 'I'm fine.'
She twisted in Tristan's arm and he let her go. I noticed pink lines on her arms—minor scratches already healed. She healed much faster than I did. I hoped Tristan didn't catch that.
'Uh, yeah, I think I am,' I breathed. 'Are you?'
