Cainsville: Visions Part 28

"Daere." She corrected his p.r.o.nunciation to Day-ree. "Yes, I remember Daere."

"Did you know she was Pamela La.r.s.en's mother?"

Veronica said nothing. She watched him, with a look he could feel in the pit of his gut. The look didn't promise threat. Yet it was a warning nonetheless, and when he met her gaze, he felt a tug, as if she was pulling the question from his mind. His anxiety ebbed. There's nothing wrong. Go back to bed. Watch over Olivia. This isn't important.

"Yes, it is."

When he heard himself say the words aloud, he stiffened, waiting for her to give him a look of confusion, of question. She blinked, then nodded, a smile playing at her lips, almost as if ... pleased. She looked pleased.

"Olivia's going to want answers," he said.

"Yes, I suppose she will."

That look vanished, but she continued watching him. Waiting. For him to ask the questions? He knew it would do no good. They needed more information first.

"Is she in danger here?" he asked.

Veronica looked surprised. "Danger?"

"Yes, is Olivia in danger? Here. In Cainsville."

"No. Never." Her tone was firm, fierce even. "Neither of you are."

"It's Olivia I'm concerned about."

"I know."

"I won't allow anything to happen to her."

She smiled. Warm. Pleased again. He felt as if he'd given something away, revealed too much. The anxiety buzzed in the pit of his stomach, and he wanted to pull back the words.

"Go inside, Gabriel," she said. "Get some rest."

He nodded, more curtly than he'd intended, and escaped.

As he stepped into the apartment, he heard a meow and an "Oh!" and found Olivia in the middle of the room, her hair falling in a halo of soft curls, eyes wide with sleepy confusion. She wore only an oversized shirt, feet bare, long legs bare. He jerked his gaze back to her face.

"Alarm," she said, and lunged for it.

He made it first, entering the code before it went off.

"I thought you'd changed your mind and gone home," she said. "I was just going to throw the bolt. Is everything okay?"

"I stepped out for some air. Did I wake you?"

She shook her head. "Something..."

He tensed. "You heard something?"

She waved off his concern. "No, no. You're okay, then?"

"I am."

"I'm sure that sofa isn't very comfortable. That might be why you aren't sleeping. If you'd like to leave..."

He searched her face for a sign that she wanted him gone. He knew he wouldn't find one. Even when she was annoyed with him, she never seemed to really want him gone. Still, he looked. He probably always would, watching for that signal that he wasn't wanted, and if he sensed that, he'd be out the door before she could say goodbye.

"I'm fine on the sofa," he said.

A smile, sleepy but genuine. Happy that he was staying.

"Go on," he said, waving toward her room.

Another smile as she retreated. "Good night, Gabriel. Sleep well."

"I will."

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT.

I served Gabriel breakfast the next day-Larry cooked it; I just served. Once Gabriel left, I stepped outside to call Ricky.

"What time do you start work tomorrow?" he asked.

"Ten. Gabriel has a morning appointment and doesn't need me there until then."

"Perfect. I have cla.s.s at ten. How about an overnight trip to Wisconsin? We have a cabin up there. Monday nights are quiet and the forecast is clear."

"Sounds good. Are we riding up?"

"I figured you might want the car for this one. It's almost two hours from Cainsville. A bit long for a bike if you're not used to it. I imagine you were a little sore after the other day."

"A little. But I don't think it was the bike."

He laughed.

"Either way, I'm not complaining," I said.

"Are you sure? I could slow down." He paused. "The bike, at least. I'm not sure about the rest."

"I'm not even sure about the bike. You're pretty d.a.m.ned unstoppable either way."

"Mmm, maybe."

"Bring the bike."

I'll admit that I'd wondered if the excitement of that first bike ride had been more about the fact that I hadn't had s.e.x in over a month. It wasn't. The rush was still there, in every way, and we made it about twenty miles before pulling off on another empty road for another l.u.s.t-fueled pit stop. After that, I changed out of my skirt and into my jeans and Ricky made me wear a helmet-he'd brought an extra this time-and we headed onto the highway for the rest of the trip.

Ricky had warned that the cabin was rustic. It was also a bone-jarring five miles down a dirt road that tapered to a trail no car could breach. While our destination wasn't anything like the so-called "cottages" I'd visited growing up-million-dollar lakefront homes-it was surprisingly nice. A thousand or so square feet of log cabin with a ma.s.sive deck. The deck did not overlook a lake, but there was a stream burbling past. And trees-lots and lots of trees-with no other dwellings in sight.

"Wow," I said, leaning on the railing, looking out into the endless green.

Ricky came up behind me. "It's okay?"

He wore the same expression he'd had after we first had s.e.x, that uncertainty and doubt, his eyes anxious, hair still mussed from the helmet. It made him look deliciously vulnerable, and I pulled him over.

"Why wouldn't it be okay?" I asked.

"No lake," he said. "No swimming or boating. Definitely no jet-skiing."

"Not really my thing." I leaned back against the railing. "I like this. Completely quiet. Completely private."

A hint of a grin. "It is private. No need to worry about the neighbors."

"Not just that," I said. "It feels like..." I looked around and felt the calm of the forest slide over me. "Beyond peaceful. I'm pretty d.a.m.ned sure I can't get a cell or Internet signal. No need to check my phone. No need to feel like there's something else I should be doing. A complete break from everything and everybody."

"Except me."

"You don't count. You are the most low-maintenance guy I've ever dated, and this is the least demanding relationship."

"I do make demands."

"s.e.x would only be a demand if I didn't want the same, which is never a problem."

"I've noticed that." He slid his hands under my a.s.s, shifting closer. "I'm glad you're okay with coming here." He looked out into the forest and something glittered in his eyes, a hunger, a yearning. "I love this place. When I was a kid, my dad had to mark our weekends here on the calendar so I'd stop bugging him about when we were going. I still bugged, because it was never often enough. I'd spend hours out there, tramping through the woods. It was like Disney World for me."

"No place like it on earth?"

"Exactly. Even now, I come up here when I need a study break, and half the time I'm out there instead, walking around. It's like..." He struggled for the words. "Like recalibrating. After some time here, I'm ready to deal with all the s.h.i.t in the regular world."

"I can understand that."

He nudged me back onto the railing, hands still cushioning my a.s.s. "I've never brought anyone here before. Not a friend, not a girl. It's like ... you have a place you love and then you bring someone, and they notice all the flaws and I feel like I'm being judged, too, for liking it. With you, I don't need to be anything. To do anything. I can just say 'this is me' and you seem happy with that."

"I'm very happy with that."

He looked me in the eyes, and that uncertainty flickered again, as if he wasn't sure I could be telling the truth. I pulled him into a kiss, but he resisted, leaning into my ear instead and whispering, "It's the same for me. I'm very, very happy."

I plucked at his shirt. "And there's no way I can make you any happier?"

"There's always a way."

"Good." I pushed his shirt up over his chest. "Then let's get you naked. 'Cause that always makes me happy."

He laughed, the sound echoing through the forest.

We'd come in at midnight, after hours sitting around a campfire, drinking and talking. Lots of talking, one of the two things it seemed we never tired of. The other followed. By one, we were sated and asleep.

When I woke, refreshed and wide awake, it felt as if it must be morning. It wasn't even 2 a.m.

I tried to get back to sleep, but something pulled me from the bed, tugging me to the window. Finally, I gave in and slid from under Ricky's arm.

I didn't need to open the curtain. Moonlight already streamed through the crack. It was a waning moon, maybe three-quarters, so bright it was like headlights flooding the room.

A branch sc.r.a.ped the gla.s.s, the leaves plastered against it. I reached up and put my fingers against them, the cool gla.s.s sending a chill down my arm. As I looked out, I could imagine that chill on my skin, like riding on the bike, the bite and the burn of the wind. I shivered and pressed my whole hand to the window. It was open an inch, and when I moved closer, the breeze tickled over my naked body. I could smell our campfire, and I imagined I heard our voices and Ricky's laugh and I shivered again, smiling.

I glanced over my shoulder at Ricky, sprawled over the bed, and drank in the sight of him, marveling at my luck in being here. I'd been telling the truth when I'd said how comfortable it was being with him. There was no jumping to get his attention. No struggle to make him smile. No treading warily, gauging his mood, tensed for the next betrayal.

I wanted to stay here. Tell the rest of the world to go to h.e.l.l and leave me in this forest, alone with Ricky, at least for a little while.

Right now, though ...

I turned back to the window. Right now I didn't want to be here at all. Not in this cabin, that is. I heard the sigh of the wind and the creak of trees, and smelled crisp fire and pungent cedar, and I wanted to be out there. To walk. To run. To see ... whatever there was to see, because I felt as if I was missing something in here, as warm and comfortable as it was.

"You, too?"

I jumped as Ricky's hands slid around my waist.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you," he said.

I went to turn around in his arms, but he only tightened them around me. I tugged open the curtains and moonlight poured into the room. Ricky pressed up against me, warming my back as the cool breeze chilled my chest.

He lowered his head to nuzzle my neck. We stood there, him pressed warm against me as we gazed out into the forest.

"I was up doing this a little while ago," he said. "Woke thinking it was morning, and it turned out I'd only been asleep for ten minutes. It's that kind of night."

"It is."

We stood there, my fingers pressed to the gla.s.s, his hand caressing my hip, neither of us speaking for at least five minutes, then I said, "I want to go out."

"Let's get dressed and go."

"I guess the dressing part isn't optional?"

A chuckle. "I would like to say it is completely optional, but while the bugs aren't bad, the underbrush is thick and the ground is rough. Jeans and sneakers are a must. As for the rest ... I'm inclined to go with 'totally optional.'"

"Good."