Chapter 12
Soren
“I’m going to check on Bella,” Maya says, and scurries off while I stand frozen in the same spot she left me by the door.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been invited to…
well, anywhere. I don’t have friends. Not because I’m unlikable, which I might be, but because I don’t have time for them.
I certainly didn’t expect such an invitation to come from the woman who quite literally tried to freeze me out.
While I know she’s not serious, something inside me wonders what it would be like to spend Christmas with her and Bella.
The idea is more enticing than it should be.
What am I thinking? I can’t pretend we are a family for the holiday. I’m not welcome. Not by Maya, and certainly not by the kid’s parents.
Maya knows I’ll eventually leave. Telling me to stay was a slip of the tongue—another one of her rounded barbs she thinks will hurt me. I’m not wanted. The problem is I’ve known that for a long time, and it does sting.
Now I sound like a sad sap. Why did I ever pay for therapy when I could have hired this woman to break me down piece by piece? She would have done it gladly.
Maya reenters the room, and something about the sight of her wet hair and vibrant skin color gets my heart racing. Which is ridiculous. She looks like Elmo… but like the sexy Halloween version with curves.
“The little monster is asleep, thank goodness. Come on, we want the sauna.” She motions for me to follow her down the hall. “It exhumes the pores quicker. Ask me how I know?”
“Exhumes? You sound like an archeologist.”
She stops dead in her tracks. “Because I am.”
I pull to a halt, catching sight of her face in the mirror on the wall. Her expression is dark and sullen.
Of course, I remember archeology was her dream, but she really did it? So why is she working as a nanny? I know the job industry is rough, and she probably makes a lot in a household like this, but she had much bigger plans and dreams.
I open my mouth to ask the questions on my tongue, but she spins around, water flipping off her hair and sprinkling my face as she speeds away.
“Hurry, before I change my mind and leave you to look like you ate too many candy canes for Christmas.”
I follow after her. I know where she’s going since I’ve memorized the floor plan, but I’m still unprepared for the size of every room we pass.
How people can casually walk around this place like it’s a normal home blows my mind.
I grew up in a decent-sized house, but after everything came crashing down, I decided smaller was better.
Less to maintain and ultimately, less to miss when I left it.
But here, there’s room to breathe and grow and dream.
Maya opens the door to the gym. It’s impressively stocked with a squat rack, free weights bench, yoga mat, and every cardio machine one could want.
In the corner is an ice bath and a sauna that could easily fit ten people.
There are rolled towels and fresh lemons on a mini table outside the sauna to complete the aesthetic.
Maya picks up a lemon I assumed was decor, slips a knife—a real one—from between the wood slats in the sauna, and cuts it in half.
She gives one half to me and keeps the other for herself.
“Strip. Rub this on your skin every five minutes. Helps the process. Or at least I like to pretend it does.”
“You’re very proficient at this. Makes me wonder if perhaps you aren’t very good at your job.” It’s meant to inflect some lightness into our midst, and thankfully, it works.
She laughs as she rips off her shirt.
I carefully avert my gaze and take off my own. I kick off my socks and pants, feeling awfully exposed in nothing but boxers.
“The only form of discipline I can use is the phrase ‘was that a good choice?’” Maya says dryly. Obviously, it’s something that has bothered her for a while. “So if you’d like to take a shot at fixing her behavior, be my guest. Since you can’t get fired.”
But surely she will if any of this gets back to Arabella’s parents.
My chest tightens like I was just punched. I’m a terrible person.
I need to get out of here before the guilt disables me.
I drape my wet clothes over an elliptical machine, then secure my backpack to the bar with a lock. Thankfully, I thought to take it off before I jumped into the hot tub.
I turn around to find Maya shaking her head as she wraps a towel around her body. “You locked your bag to an exercise machine? Trust issues much?”
I ignore the latter, weightier part of her statement. “I believe lathering with lemon while in the sauna to remove red dye from our skin might be a little stranger.”
She rolls her eyes and leads the way into the sauna, holding open the glass door for me.
“Are you going to lock me in here?” I ask.
“Unfortunately, that feature was disabled after Bella trapped her first nanny inside while it was running.”
“Did she kill that one too?”
“Nah, the nanny had a phone; she was fine.”
A chill runs through me despite the warmth. “Terrifying.”
“You’re telling me. Sometimes I feel like I’m a soldier in battle, taking my life into my hands every day.”
“You should probably quit.”
“I probably should.” She lifts a shoulder and drops it. “But oddly… I like her.”
Maya always had a soft spot for the underdog or the troubled child. Maybe that’s why she liked me. I was a project she could fix, like the kids she tutored after school.
I slip past her, careful not to touch her in any way. To touch her again would end in the demise of my resolve.
Even with a towel around her, there is far too much skin on display, though it’s cherry red. She’s got a sports bra and some spandex shorts on; they must have been under her sweats, or she keeps them here specifically for these moments.
Maya takes one side of the sauna, and I take the other. I notice she leaves a small crack in the door. I’m not the only one with trust issues.
I lean back against the hemlock wood, relishing the heat after being cold for much of the night. For the first time in months, I feel my body relax as sweat drips from my pores, creating streaks of red down my skin.
“How’s Rosie?” Maya asks.
There goes the relaxation.
My neck muscles tense, and I find a knot in the wood to stare at. “Uh, good. I think.”
“You think? Are you guys not close anymore?”
“We are.” I frown. “I’ve, uh, actually been trying to reach her and can’t.”
“Oh.”
My eyes fly to hers. “That ‘oh’ felt very pointed.”
She pulls one leg into her chest. The red is streaming off her in stripes, turning her into a zebra. I’m sure I look worse.
“It’s just, you always protected her more than she needed protecting.”
I swipe the stinging sweat from my eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Your life kind of revolved around her. I always wondered what you wanted.”
She has no idea what she’s talking about. I had to protect Rosie because no one else was going to. I don’t need anything else.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but Rosie is a tough girl… at least she was eight years ago. I’m sure she can take care of herself.”
I roll my lips. “She microwaved a fork last week. Nearly burned her apartment down.”
Maya laughs. “Okay, so she can be a little ditzy, but she’s an actual genius.”
It’s true. She has an IQ of 145. Maybe I haven’t given her enough credit. I do tend to take over and fix things even if she doesn’t ask. But after what our parents did, the way they wronged us, I feel like I owe her that.
And now I see Maya was right. Again. I’m often too busy with this job and ensuring our future. I don't take time for myself. Except for my daily trip to the gym and a walk across the park.
I shift, absently rubbing the lemon on a particular red spot on my torso. Maya’s gaze connects to the spot, and I clear my throat. I didn’t know it could be possible, but her face somehow deepens in color, and she looks away.
That blush. I lived for that sweet, innocent look on her face. Those were simpler times, when I still had hope for the future. Before reality took its nasty whip to my dreams, and I used that whip to chase the rest of them away.
“So…” I clear my throat. “Now that you’ve dissected my life, should we talk about why you are working here and not as an archeologist? Unless this is just a fun side gig?”
Maya purses her lips, pointedly looking at her feet. I don’t plan on letting her off that easily.
“That was all you talked about. How you were going to go to Egypt and Brazil and find treasure. Rewrite history.” If she got her degree, she was halfway there.
She shakes her head with a harsh laugh devoid of humor. “And I was so close.”
I wait for her to open up more, but instead she drops her head back and closes her eyes. I watch her for three full minutes. I couldn’t take my eyes off her if I tried.
How is she so tantalizing, sweating rivulets down her pink skin, her dark hair matted and curling around her forehead?
I walked away from this woman—but not this woman exactly. This woman is stronger, yet afraid. What happened to my Maya?
My internal clock goes off, reminding me I need to leave. Maya is okay. She doesn’t need me, certainly never wanted me to stay to begin with. I can’t justify remaining here. The longer I’m here the harder it will be to leave her again. I’ve overstayed my unwelcome; it’s time to move on.
I sit forward, ready to bolt before I can change my mind. But it’s like she can sense it.
“I’m done.” Maya stands abruptly. “That’s as good as it will get, but you can stay longer if you want.”
I swallow, ripping my gaze away from her.
“There’s a full bathroom in the gym you can use. I’ll go upstairs.” Then she’s gone, leaving me alone to gather my thoughts.
When Bella freed me from the balcony, I’d planned to hide the painting and then retrieve it before sneaking out after I was 100 percent certain Maya was okay.
Now I’m back to square one.
It’s getting increasingly frustrating that none of my plans are working when it comes to the females in this building.
The next time the opportunity arises, I’ll have to be quicker.
I unlock my backpack and carry my clothes into the bathroom. There’s a jacuzzi, a shower to fit at least seven people, and a vanity and closet stocked with everything one could need.
There’s a full-body dryer, because apparently these people are too good for towels, and I drape my clothes over it and turn it on high.
I take a quick shower, scrubbing my still faintly red skin. It’s stuck in the creases of my fingers and select spots on my body, but I’m no longer a walking neon sign. My clothes are still damp, but I put them on anyway. I’ll be home soon, and then I can change.
It’s quiet as I wind my way through the halls and to the first floor. Perfect. Don’t mind me; I’ll take my painting and stash it while I figure out a way around the cameras. But…
The painting is gone.
In its place is none other than the woman who got away.