Chapter 5 Rigor Mortis
rigor mortis
Cian
Sariah has gone from past tense to present tense, as if she’s stuck in the wrong timeline of her story. Her small frame is huddled in on itself in the corner of the sofa. The blanket bunches around her neck and is tucked over her feet and under her body.
I can barely stand to look at her with the pain this is obviously causing. “Do you need to stop?”
Her head whips side to side, but the sadness in her eyes when they meet mine tells a different story. “No. You deserve to know. And I’m strong enough to tell it.”
I take a deep breath and hold it before exhaling slowly. Why do I dread what’s coming next? It’s not like I don’t know the ending already.
“I left work and packed up everything I owned. I called Rosie and Randy and told them what happened and that I was coming home. Then I went to your place. I didn’t know how much time I had.
There was no technology on the compound, remember?
I wasn’t worried that a quick text would result in a windowless van showing up outside my apartment.
We weren’t in a mafia movie. I had time. Or so I thought.”
She adjusts the blanket even higher, and I fight every instinct to pull her feet my way. Or her body onto my lap so I can hold her.
“You know what happened. I hated lying. It was never me not loving you or not trusting you. I was a kid. You were too. I mean you were an adult, but we weren’t adult-adults. I couldn’t risk you getting involved. I couldn’t risk them hurting you.”
“You hurt me.” It comes out with more accusation than I want. I know better, but the sting of her loss slices nearly as sharply as it did at the time. She was my everything.
“I hurt you and I’m sorry. I crushed my own soul leaving, if it makes it any better.” Her sorrowful look breaks me.
“I can’t take it anymore. Come here.” I extend a hand, and she looks at it as if weighing her options.
It takes longer than I like but finally she leans forward, dropping the blanket.
I reach under her arms and haul her to me, planting her on my lap, her back to the arm of the sofa.
She’s safe. I’ll make sure of it. “And, no, it doesn’t make it better. Both of us hurting was never the goal.”
She takes a tentative finger and strokes my jawline. “I didn’t get far. I was almost to Nebraska when I got caught. I was heading to Wisconsin. In retrospect, I should’ve headed south, gotten as far away from South Dakota as I could have instead.” She looks away, as if into the past.
“The punishment was swift and brutal. That’s all I’ll say on that for now.” She darts her gaze down the hall.
Beatings?
Torture?
What is she saying? What did my sweet Angel have to endure?
“I was barely twenty. It took a while to be healed enough to be able to run. When I was well enough, I did just that. I knew way more by that time than the last. I knew the world and how it worked. I had tactics.” She sighs. “And I had Rosie and Randy, who saved me once again.”
I’m holding my breath trying to piece together what she’s saying.
And what she’s not.
I rub her back, my hand taking a path down her spine from the nape of her neck to just above her pert ass, before returning the way it came, only to make the trek again and again.
It’s for her, but it’s for me too. My mind is a dust devil in an Arizona summer, kicking up shit and whirling my thoughts.
“I’m sorry, Angel. I’m so sorry.”
She melts into me as if the last decade and a half hadn’t happened. As if we were still in my apartment at CSU with our futures ahead of us, wild and free and able to take on the world.
“Me too.” Her fingers fidget at my collar. She used to do this all the time. It wasn’t sexual or her trying to undress me. It was texture under her fingers, something to play with.
Not one woman has tried to undress me since that I haven’t thought about her and how I’d rather be dressed with Sariah fiddling with my buttons or my zipper than where I was at that time.
I release a huge breath and whisper into her hair. “I wish it had been me. I wish I was the reason you left and why you stayed away instead of that.”
Her voice is barely audible when she says, “You were never the danger. You were the shelter from it.”
I lift her chin and stare into her eyes as my head dips at a glacial pace. I’m watching and waiting, asking permission. Last time I charged; this time is a tiptoe.
She doesn’t close her eyes. She darts her eyes to my lips before returning her gaze to mine.
It’s the almost smile on her lips that draws the same from me.
My lips meet hers and fire ignites… that glimmer before the roar, the flicker that could burn down a whole forest if left unchecked, the spark that tells me this is not over.
Her fingers trail my jaw as she moans into my mouth. I can’t stop my instinct to consume her. I deepen the kiss, desperate to be closer.
With all the discipline I have, I pull back and rest my forehead against hers. Our breaths mingle. When I open my eyes, she’s staring at me. “What now, Angel?”
“Now I want to hear about you.”
I shake my head. “There’s time. I’m not withholding, but there’s time. I want to hold you.” My voice is quiet and, for the first time with her, I’m unsure. “May I?”
“What would you call this?” She looks down at her body enveloped in mine.
“I’d say I can’t get close enough to you, but after your story, I’d like to—no, I need to—hold you. Please.”
Her face goes serious, and she nods once as if comprehending how essential it is that I protect her.
I twist us and collapse into the sofa, my back to the room, hers to the cushions, our arms between us as we face each other. I can’t help the whoosh of air as I finagle us into place. I was younger the last time I attempted that, and it hadn’t required strategy.
I kick off my shoes, and thread my legs through hers, staring at her and those mesmerizing eyes. As I study her face, I can’t argue that she’s matured into a beautiful woman.
The girl in her is still in her expressions, but her face is all woman. She’s stunning.
She toys with the button just under my Adam’s apple and averts her gaze, as if she needs her eyes on her fingers to keep her busy. “What were the chances of running into you at a bar in Denver? It’s got to be a million to one. Maybe five million to one.”
“My brother-in-law owns the bar, the restaurant, and half the block, and I’ve only been there twice, make that ten million to one.”
Her eyes spring to mine. “Ayla’s married?”
“To an overly protective, über-rich bazillionaire who dotes on her. She’s a professional photographer and owns Aspen & Evergreen Gallery in Larimer Square. They’re a Denver power couple at this point.”
“Wow. I always expected her to go into the family business. And Liam?”
“Liam is a whole other story. He’s… Liam.
He’s also how I knew your number and address.
I wasn’t stalking you.” I look away, but eventually return my gaze.
“I would have, of course, had I known your name, but not in a creepy way. In an I-never-wanted-to-let-you-go kind of way. Shit, that still sounds creepy. Missing you and wanting you and not sounding toxic shouldn’t be mutually exclusive. ”
She laughs, and her eyes crinkle right at that beauty mark that has always been a tractor beam to my dick. “You’re stunning,” I whisper.
She buries her head in my pec as if the compliment has made her shy. She breathes deeply.
“Earlier tonight.” I whisper, trying to shove down the pain evident in my voice. “I heard Renée say ‘Mom’ through the phone, and I thought…”
Sariah
“You thought… what?” My head snaps up.
“I thought she was mine, and you hid her from me.”
My body goes rigid beneath his arm, and my legs might as well have rigor mortis. “I would never.” It comes out as a hiss.
“Angel, I mean this as a compliment, you’ve proven to be incredibly strong and more resilient than you should have ever had to be.” The admiration in his tone shows his approval.
“I wouldn’t do that to you. And I wouldn’t do that to her.” My girl deserves a dad, not just a sperm donor.
“Point taken. Just know that the little time you asked for was shattered when I heard her speak. You asked, and I planned to honor it. Then I heard her voice and something snapped in my brain. I couldn’t not know for myself.
More so, I couldn’t wait even that small amount to see you again.
And if there was the chance…” His voice trails off, and his eyes slam shut.
Burrowing my body into his, I take a deep breath and squeeze him. “I’m glad you’re here. Even if I was shocked you were on my front porch.”
“Me too.”
He places a kiss to my forehead, and I can’t stop the sigh that falls from my lips. This man. He used to do that… kiss my forehead. Something about it always felt protective. Sweet. Possessive but in the way that was safe. I’ve missed it and didn’t even recognize it until now.
“There’s so much more to say.”
“I know, Angel, and I want to hear it all. But since it won’t be another fifteen years before we chat again, let me hold you right now, and trust that tomorrow and the next day and the next, we’ll have the time.”
I nod, rubbing my temple into his pec, and exhale the worry and exhaustion. I’m warm and safe, cocooned in the shelter of his body.
My mind wants to race, but it might as well be laced with Xanax.
It drops to a pace that feels like slow motion.
There’s nothing compelling me to be frantic.
There are my deep inhales and slow exhales.
There’s the rise and fall of Cian’s chest and the bristle of his five o’clock shadow that catches my hair now and again.
Eventually the weight of his arm around me gets heavy, and his breathing tells me he’s asleep. I pull back just enough to study him.
I’m sure as a kid he was blond. He was in the summer I knew him too.
He’s older now, and his hair and brows are deeper, a light brown, but I’d bet it would fade to gold given any time in the sun.
His stubble leans red. Not full ginger, but that rusty color that should clue everyone in to his Irish heritage.
His jaw is square and solid as if he would be too pretty without the corners to his face, so God gave him that to tamp down the pretty into a more ruggedly handsome appearance. His cheeks hollow just enough that his face appears square. On a woman, it wouldn’t work. On him, it’s amazing.
His full lips are parted. The bottom one is pillowy. It takes all the discipline I have not to stretch and put my mouth on his, roll him to his back, and taste it.
“Angel.” Those lips form his name for me before curving up in a grin so wicked, it threatens my panties.
Busted. “Yes, Ci.”
“You’re looking at me like you want to eat me. I have no problem with that, but your daughter—”
I throw a hand over his lips, with more force than needed. “Don’t finish that sentence.”
“It’s a fact of life,” he says through my fingers. “It’s something we’ll need to negotiate.”
My spine goes stiff, and my voice goes lethal. “She’s non-negotiable.”
Cian’s face morphs from confusion to hurt. “Sariah.” He gives me a little shake. “You know me better than that. I meant we need to figure out how we negotiate life how it is now… That’s not anything negative about Renée. I have things too.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. I mean, I am… and I’m not.” Because it’s true. I’m not trying to be mean, but I certainly won’t allow Renée to be reduced in any way. I know that life. I know the language that surrounds it. I’m the bulwark against the waves that want to crash against her.
And I will not fail.
“I knew you’d be a good mom. I didn’t know you’d be fierce.” His eyes melt as he speaks. His words come in tandem to his body pulling me closer. “I like it.”
I sigh and nuzzle into his chest. The world, the last fourteen-plus years, all the noise falls away. “I missed you.”
“Missed you too. There’s lots left to say and I can’t promise perfection, but I want to see you. I want to know you and get to know Renée. Can I take you both to dinner tomorrow night?”
The grin that plays on my lips is met with a lightness in my soul. In fact, those might be butterflies doing some synchronized choreography in my belly right now. “I’d like that. Full disclosure, though. My girl is in full-blown hormonal-teenager mode, so be warned.”
“Don’t forget, I lived with Ayla. And she’s a redhead and all that comes with it.”
“You moved out before she hit this age if I remember correctly.”
“True. She was a nightmare.” There’s humor in his eyes as they drift from mine to my mouth. His head drops to put me out of my misery.
His mouth is on mine. Again finally. And not a stolen kiss where my daughter could see.
One just for me.
It takes all the discipline I have not to pull him on top of me or alternately, push him to his back so I can be astride him. Instead, I pull back and reach for his jaw, rubbing a finger down his bristly stubble, watching my finger as it goes.
“I don’t know how to do this,” I whisper.
“To know you so fully, but not know you at all. To trust you with me when things…” I shake my head before laying it all out there.
“I’ll be real with you. I’ll give you the truth, even when I don’t like it.
But I need the same. I need brutal truth, severed from the flowery language. Promise me.”
“My Angel.” His face is thoughtful as if he’s considering my request. It’s a long moment before he speaks. “I promise. In return, I want you to promise me you’ll trust me with whatever fears haunt you. Those ghosts that trouble you? I want to be the one who hunts them.”
I nod, but I don’t tell him.
They hunt me. They hunt us. And one day, they’ll come.
Because they always do.