47. Forty Four
Forty Four
Cecil
If I were a better man, the night at the beach would have been a one-off.
I’m not a better man.
It’s a week later, and I’ve tasted Eden’s lips at least once a day since.
I wish I could say it’s her pursuing me, that I’m too weak to tell her no, but that’s not the reality at all.
I’m the one seeking her out. A quick kiss in the shadows of a hallway while Creed makes dinner, or early in the morning before he wakes.
With plenty of determination between the two of us, we find ample opportunities to steal moments of one another.
It’s painfully cliche, but it really did “just happen”. It wasn't a conscious decision on my end to throw caution to the wind. If anything, I’d been keeping her at arms length to prevent this. At least, I thought I was.
I can’t remember ever being so… enamored by someone. It’s unordinary circumstances for an unordinary girl.
There wasn’t an outright discussion about whether or not to tell Creed, but she’s kept it between the two of us. With everything else going on, the last thing I want is to find out how my brother reacts to me locking lips with his only friend. My guess is: not well.
We’ve also decided not to worry him with the alleged premonition Eden’s mother had.
I’ve tried once to broach the subject with Eden, but the sadness in her eyes and her persistent efforts to change the subject had left my resolve running dry.
We don’t discuss it. It’s just there; a shadow in each conversation, each stolen glance.
I’m not worried about it. I’m not. Because there’s no way in Hell I’m going to let anything happen to her. Especially not now.
Having spent the day between the Sanctuary and the Refuge, I’m dead on my feet by the time we make it home.
Stepping into the centuries old house, I relish in the barely functioning air conditioning.
It’s only about five degrees cooler than it is outside, but it’s not nearly as humid.
All day, the cotton of my shirt has clung to me like a second skin.
Sweat from the day leaves me feeling sticky and irritable.
Just as I’m about to head up the stairs, Creed steps into my path.
Eden stops, too, but he asks her to start preparing dinner.
The control freak he is, I know something’s awry.
Eden looks unsure, but she could never say no to him, and she obeys without question.
We’re alone. Creed scowls.
Damn it all.
“What are you doing?” He asks.
I don’t know how he knows, but it’s evident in the ruddiness of his cheeks.
Lying to my brother has never felt good, but it’s admittedly my bread and butter.
“Hopefully showering,” I reply coyly.
Creed looks in the direction of the kitchen, probably ensuring Eden is out of view. Satisfied, he steps further into my space.
“You know what I mean. I saw you two on the beach.”
All the blood in my face rushes down and out into my extremities, leaving me ashen. Forsaken by my own body, there’s no hiding my guilt.
Creed presses on. “What are you doing with her?”
A rumble of defeat sounds from my chest as I rub a hand down my face. There’s no explaining that I’m at a loss as much as he is, so I shrug my shoulders as a last resort. Technically, it’s not a lie. Not that I expect to win any brownie points for my begrudged honesty.
Creed’s eyes narrow around his ire and his jaw sets firmly. Christ, he’s really angry with me.
“Do you love her?”
Something exceptionally unpleasant rushes into my chest. It’s hot, and angry, and it freaks me the fuck out. So, I throw my head back in a guffaw. It’s a show, and it’s fortunate that Creed is unable to hear the breathlessness that threads into my faux laughter.
“Of course not!”
My brother regards me like I’m a piece of gum he’s found on the sole of his shoe.
There’s a very minute part of me—one single atom—that wants to drop the asshole facade for my brother’s sake.
The trip to the beach did wonders for our relationship, but I might as well have thrown the memory out to sea.
All over a fucking kiss. Well, a series of kisses. Whatever.
Sweat prickles my brow, and it has nothing to do with the heat.
Creed inhales deeply, and then he’s the one exhaling a rough laugh, though it’s void of any humor. “Leave her alone. You’re going to confuse her.”
“I’m confusing her? You’re the one who told her that she’s in love with me!”
“BECAUSE SHE IS!” He says it like it’s the most obvious, and alarming, truth he’s ever known. Pupils blown and hands shaking, it’s possibly the most stressed out I’ve ever seen my brother.
Even with the lack of voices, both of us have begun to huff and puff while our hands fly through the air. If we’re not careful, Eden’s going to realize something’s wrong. And wouldn’t that just be the cherry on top?
Eyes darting nervously to the side, I put my hands up placatingly.
“If you have feelings for her—” I don’t get to finish my thought before he’s shaking his head in disbelief and pacing around me.
“Right.” He shoots me a disgusted glare. “Of course that’s what you think.”
I’ve been stabbed, shot at, and had my face bashed in, but somehow his snarky comment is the thing that stings.
My brother approaches me once more. On instinct, I stiffen my spine and square my shoulders. Despite the inches I have over him, in this moment, we’re eye to eye. Equals.
“She’s important to me. If you don’t love her, leave her alone. I’m begging you.” The fire in his eyes has dulled down to a desperate ember, but he doesn’t lose any of his intensity. I can’t help the pride that tightens its fist around my heart.
How far he’s come. All because of Eden.
The corner of my lip quirks, and I make the terrible decision to attempt to lighten the mood. “Begging?”
The force knocks me back before I even register Creed has moved. My back is against the wall, the sharp edge of a picture frame biting into my spine. I’m so stunned, my arms hang uselessly at my sides. Even when my wits recalibrate, I don’t attempt to fight back. I never would.
“If you do not love her, you will leave her alone.”
“Fine,” I relent, grimacing as I peel myself from the plaster.
Speculation evident, he adds, “Promise me.”
Footsteps patter down the hall. Eden nears.
Our time is up.
“I promise.”
Satisfied for the time being, Creed relaxes his posture just as her lithe figure floats into the room.
Her brows are notched together in confusion, and she looks behind me to where the frame is crooked.
She wants to ask, I can tell, but a subtle shake of my head has her averting her gaze back to my brother.
Wordlessly, I make my way to the shower.
With the water as cold as this old house can manage in the Louisiana summer, I struggle to freeze out the conclusion of my conversation with my brother.
If you do not love her, you’ll leave her alone.
The issue isn’t that I think I’ll break the promise. No, that would be much too simple.
The issue is that I don’t think I’ll break the promise at all, but I have no intention of leaving her alone.
What a horrifying realization.
“Three weeks?” The voice comes from my left, and I glower into the sunshine to make out who spoke.
It’s a man in his mid to late-forties, his red beard peppered with gray hairs.
He’s been with the Resistance longer than I have, and based on the patronizing glint in his eyes, he doesn’t like his position beneath my thumb. Can’t say I blame him.
“Yes,” I confirm with as much calm as I can muster.
My hands spasm with the effort to keep still.
Every disapproving gaze is trained on me, and I want to crawl out of my own skin.
It’s not because I’m worried whether or not they like me—that’s the least of my concerns.
It’s what might happen if they decide to back out of the fight that has me on pins and needles.
Veda stands at my side, but only as moral support. I’m the one fraternizing with the enemy, so I must also play messenger boy.
A young girl speaks up next. The pitch of her voice is enough to make me wince.
“What the hell! You said—”
“I know what I said.” I gesture to myself.
“But it’s not up to me. They’re moving, so we have to be ready.
” My voice is empty, void of conviction.
Murmurs and worried glances sweep over the group.
Everyone but Sylvie seems to rethink their decision of pledging allegiance to the cause.
Eyes as sharp and calculating as ever, she only watches me.
As the roar of voices crescendos, my own anxious thoughts join the fray. My mind becomes an echo chamber of fragmented worries and accusations.
It’s the human condition that something must be to blame for all of life’s misfortunes. As the man standing before them, that blame falls on my shoulders. The burden isn’t one I carry lightly.
Fortunately, shockingly, Eden and Creed handled the news well.
I had told them as delicately as I could over dinner two nights prior.
Eden only nodded, while Creed looked pensive and pushed his plate away from him.
There was a moment where I thought he might flip the table or run out in a panic, but he was motionless for only a minute before saying, “Good thing we’ve been training. ” And that was that.
Now, they stand on the edge of the crowd while chaos ensues. Creed’s eyes meet mine briefly, and he offers a toothless grin of reassurance.
A voice rings out above the rest, and I snap my attention to the speaker.
“If you want to leave, no one’s stopping you!
Just quit your bitching so the rest of us can come up with a plan.
Christ.” Sylvie punctuates her sentence with a flip of her hair, effectively silencing the group.
There are a few muttered curses from those who make their exit, removing themselves from the fight altogether.
I get it, but it’s still shit. We could use all the help we can get.
Silently, I count the heads of those remaining. Twenty seven. We have twenty seven people to take down over one hundred of the Brothers. And that’s just locally. The odds aren’t great, but I have no choice but to force optimism.
A touch to my shoulder comes from my left, and Veda steps forward. “Tell us what we need to do,” she says, loud enough for everyone to hear. The expectation is palpable, crawling over my flesh.
I cannot fail them.
A swallow gets stuck in my throat, and my gaze roves over each individual face. Lastly, with Eden’s eyes reflecting the stars, she gives me a stiff nod. My muscles loosen enough to force words up from my diaphragm.
“In nineteen days, the Brothers will be attempting a siege on the Orphanage downtown, giving us the perfect opportunity to bring them to their knees.” Each word carries an ounce more confidence than the last. Looks of speculation ease into those of determination.
“Here’s what we’re going to do.”