Finding Honor (The Searchers Book 1) Page 11

  His father scolded him like he was a child. Seok’s behavior impacted their family’s business, and if he tried to embarrass his father, he would embarrass their company.

  Seok pounded his hand against his tool kit, the sound rattling the tools inside. He sucked in a breath and shook out his hand. He didn’t want to think about his father. He didn’t want to think about the self-involved prep school kid he was. Opening the toolbox, he made himself focus on arranging each tool, placed each wrench just so, in descending order. He only let his mind focus on the tools.

  Open the drawer, line up the tools, close the drawer, open the drawer. Over and over. Anytime Nora, and his feelings crept into his consciousness, he pushed them away.

  He closed the last drawer, breathing deeply. He owed Nora an apology. He was not sure where his animosity came from and why he directed it at her. Her arrival triggered something inside him, and now he spiraled out of control.

  He'd become a troll, hiding in the basement all day, emerging only for mealtimes and snapping at everyone before crawling back into his cave. Chuckling soundlessly, he crept up the stairs and stopped at the top step.

  The door swung wide and banged into the kitchen wall, making Matisse jump. “Shh!” he hissed. “Nora is sleeping, for God's sake.”

  Wincing, he tucked his head into his shoulders. “Sorry.”

  Matisse glanced at the clock above Seok's head. “You're out of the basement early.”

  He managed an embarrassed smile. “Yes. I...” He trailed off, not ready to give voice to his thoughts. Walking past Matisse, he looked out the window. It was sunny and clear; he was missing the last beautiful fall days before November settled in with unrelenting grayness.

  At this time of day, the sitting room would have full sun. He could sit at the window seat, and fall asleep reading.

  The image was so clear, he forgot about Matisse and walked into the living room only to see Nora curled up on the couch. Her head was pillowed on the arm, her legs drawn to her chest.

  She seemed uncomfortable. Her eyebrows were drawn together, and her legs shifted. Giving a little grunt, she turned onto her back, then her side, before easing into the cushions.

  In the bright sunlight, dark circles were visible beneath her eyes, and her skin managed to be both rosy and grey. Her forehead was dewy, like she was feverish.

  Seok stepped forward, pressing the back of his hand against her forehead. She was warm. Awkwardly bending his hand, he managed to press his wrist against her forehead. She was definitely warm.

  Adjusting his sleeve, he went to find Matisse. “Nora is feverish.”

  He checked the clock. “See if she took her pain meds. It’s Tylenol so it will bring down her fever.”

  “Perhaps you should—”

  Matisse flung back his chair. “Jesus, Seok. You can’t get her some Tylenol? What the hell?”

  Shaking his head, he attempted to explain. “I can’t…” He stopped. Nora was sleeping. What would she think if he was the one to shake her awake? He’d probably frighten her to death. Better she be awakened by someone she trusted, like Matisse, who currently stood glaring at him.

  His anxiety bubbled inside him, making him snap. “It’s not my job to take care of her.” He closed his eyes; that was not what he meant to say.

  “It’s not a job, Seok.” Muttering under his breath, Matisse found her Tylenol, and grabbed a glass from the cabinet. “It’s basic human decency.”

  “What do any of us know about that?” Seok fired back. Matisse’s face paled, and his hand shook as he filled the glass with water. It spilled across his hand and he set it next to the sink, wiping it on a towel. His face was stricken, but all he did was palm the pills and grab the water, leaving Seok alone.

  He was the nail, sticking up, catching on everything, tripping his friends, and opening wounds. Inside, he was screaming his apologies, but he couldn’t give voice to them. He merely turned, opened the door to his cave, and went back to work.

  Sixteen

  Feeling Guilty

  Nora dreamed about Reid. It was a mishmash of images: some real, some altered by her subconscious. In her dreams, he was a little boy with serious brown eyes and lanky arms he wrapped around her shoulders, giving her bony but satisfying hugs. She could smell him, heat and dirt, and something sharp. She could feel his soft, worn t-shirt beneath her cheek. She couldn’t hear his voice, but she could feel the rumble of it in his chest.

  In the next moment, the heat was sucked away, leaving her cold and shivering on the linoleum floor of the cafeteria. Nora turned her head, and she met Reid’s eyes. His mouth opened and closed, a trickle of blood dripping from the corner. “Nora,” he whispered. “Nora.”

  “Nora!”

  Jerking awake with a cry, she saw Matisse leaning over her, his hand against her forehead.

  “You’re okay.”

  She pushed to sitting and Matisse let his hand fall into her lap. Without thinking, she grasped his hand with both of hers and began playing with his fingers. He cleared his throat, and she blushed, pulling her hands away. “Sorry.”

  “No. I wanted you to have your pain pills. You’re a little warm.”

  “I meant to take them. I was just sleepy.” Her skin felt a little clammy.

  “I figured. Lot of action today. Here.” He gave her a half smile and held out her water and giant prescription pain pills.

  The cool water soothed her aching throat. “Thanks.”

  “What’s next?”

  Glancing at her wrist, she realized her watch, cheap as it had been, was gone. She took in her borrowed sweat pants and sweatshirt, and a bubble of self-pity began to well in her chest. She tamped it down. She’d had nothing before, and she had nothing again. It was a crappy place to be, but not unfamiliar. Clothes could be replaced. She had a place to stay and these guys were taking care of her in a way no one ever had.

  Ugh, there’s the pity party again.

  Playing with the hem of her sweatshirt, she asked, “What time is Cai back?”

  Matisse reached for his back pocket, pulling out his phone. “An hour or so. He goes to the youth center a bit before school gets out to unlock and get snacks ready.”

  It made her smile, the idea of Cai, the golden-haired, golden-eyed boy putting together after-school snacks for high school kids. She giggled a little, picturing him spreading peanut butter on celery and then carefully placing raisins along the length.

  Matisse’s phone vibrated in his hand and he frowned at it.

  “What is it?” She suddenly had visions of Ryan and Apollo being hounded by reporters or angry strangers and having to hide out like she and Matisse earlier.

  “Ryan says you were cleared by the police.”

  A huge weight lifted off her shoulders, and then strangely, settled back in place. “I’m cleared? I’m not going to jail?”

  Matisse continued to type and read. “Yes. I didn’t know it worked like, bam—you’re done.”

  “I don’t understand. What about the reporters and the people? Everyone who thinks I’m guilty? I mean— my jobs, my apartment, all my stuff…” The list went on and on, even if she couldn’t speak each item out loud.

  “It doesn’t all come back after this. Some of it does, but it won’t be like it was.”

  Nora didn’t know if she wanted it to be the way it was. Did it really matter if she no longer made sandwiches at the MiniMart? She’d been so self-absorbed: work, pay bills, work, pay bills. It was all there was for her. She barely thought of Reid, she’d been so focused on survival, and making it through each day.

  Here, with these guys, things felt deeper, more important. Thinking about Reid, and what he meant to her, helped her let go of her past instead of hide from it.

  Unfortunately, she had new demons now, new mistakes, new guilt to live with. She rubbed her forehead. Everything had changed, and she had no idea what to do.

  “You don’t look happy.”

  She shook her head. “No. I’m relieved. But
…”

  His eyes traced her face as if he could catch every nuance of her expression. “You don’t feel innocent, do you?”

  She felt sick.

  “You didn’t make Reid shoot those people. If you hadn’t been there, if you’d read about it, would you still think it was your fault?”

  She stared at the water she still held in her hands. “I don’t know. It may not have been as real. I mean, getting shot is pretty damn real. Those kids’ deaths, it wasn’t some distantly removed event. And Reid…” Matisse’s hand brush hers. He took the water from her and put it on the coffee table. “No matter if I was there or not, Reid was still the one who shot them. At one time in my life, he cared about me. Even if he didn’t when he died.”

  “Nora,” he sighed. “You’re not responsible for his actions.”

  In order not to argue, she bit at her nail, but Matisse stopped her. “You’re not.”

  “But what if I could have done something to stop him? Everything is different now. I have this guilt. I don’t know if it will ever go away.”

  “It doesn’t.” As if speaking to himself, he repeated, “It doesn’t.” He stood quickly and left her, nearly running to the stairs and taking them two at a time until he disappeared from sight.

  “Matisse?” she called after him. “Matisse!”

  Pushing herself off the couch, she called to him again, but there was no answer.

  “What happened?” Seok’s voice made her jump.

  He’s going to be so mad at me.

  “Matisse is upset. We were talking and then he left.” She hesitated, taking a deep breath before continuing. “It’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  “I…” A knock on the door interrupted her.

  He checked the peephole before looking back at her in confusion. Opening the door an inch, he asked, “Yes?”

  Nora heard a voice she’d wanted to forget. “Is Honora Leslie here?”

  Seventeen

  Seok Steps In

  Seok didn’t like the look of the svelte, well-dressed man at the door. He especially didn’t like the gun the man wore. Or the way he happened to flash his shoulder holster when he flipped his jacket out of the way to reach into his pocket and remove his badge.

  Ahh. He understood now. “How can I help you, Officer?”

  The man opened his wallet, showing Seok his badge. “My name is Detective Michael Vance. I’m looking for Honora Leslie and was told she temporarily resides at this address.”

  Holding the door in such a way that only he was visible, he pretended to study the badge. He didn’t appreciate Detective Vance rubbernecking around his home.

  “Let me see if she’s available. Wait here.” He stepped back, shutting the door in Vance’s face and turned to face Nora.

  “Do you want me to send him away?”

  Her face was white. “Wait. I don’t know. Ryan… Matisse told me… Ryan said the charges were dropped.”

  There was a knock on the door, but he ignored it. “I will send him away.”

  She chewed at white lips, nodding, and he remembered how feverish she felt. He moved without thinking, pressing his hand against her face. “You were warm.”

  “I feel better now.”

  Detective Vance knocked again, this time harder and longer. Sighing, he opened the door again. “Detective, I’m sorry, this is not a good time. If you would like to leave your card, I’ll make sure Nora gets it.”

  “I need to speak with her now. I’m sure she’s home.”

  Standing taller, he stepped outside and closed the door behind him. It forced the detective to step onto the walkway, leaving Seok standing higher than him. “Whether she is home or not, isn’t important. Do you have a card?”

  The man’s face flushed, and he noticed the way he threw his shoulders back, as if he could stand taller than Seok. “Of course.” He took out a card. As Seok reached for it, the detective jerked it away. “It is very important I speak with her.”

  “I’ll be sure to give her your message, Detective.” Seok bowed his head, a nod which sent his blue hair swinging into his eyes. He enjoyed pissing off the man so thoroughly.

  Vance flashed his teeth. “Be sure you do.” He walked stiffly to the sedan at the curb, getting in and peeling away, blowing through the stop sign at the end of the road and disappearing. For the first time in a while, he felt he was directing his contempt at the right person.

  Eighteen

  Matisse’s Distraction

  After closing the door on Detective Vance, Seok handed Nora a card. “I told him you’d call. Call or not. Talk to Ryan first.”

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  He lingered a moment. “I’ll be downstairs. If you need me.” He hesitated again. “It’s fine for you to come down.”

  “Thanks.” She recognized it as the peace offering it was.

  He nodded once, heading through the mess of a dining room and into the kitchen. He paused, but then shook his head and kept going, leaving her at the bottom of the stairs. She put her hand on the newel post and heaved herself up, meeting Matisse at the top.

  “Sorry.” A light blush stained his cheeks. “I got weird.”

  “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” He helped her up the last step. “You weren’t weird,” she added when he stopped at her doorway.

  “I wasn’t the kind of weird I aspire to, I guess I should have qualified that.” He reached past her to push open the door.

  “I just woke up, but I want to lie down again.” She dropped onto the bed, and closed her eyes, sinking into the mattress. “I’m not usually so lazy.” She opened her eyes to see Matisse grinning at her.

  “You’re forgetting the major healing your body is trying to do.”

  “It’s strange to be like this around other people, though. If I’m going to be weepy and mopey, I usually do it on my own.”

  His pinky touched her pinky where their hands rested on the edge of the bed. Gently, he linked them. “I wasn’t used to having a bunch of people around either. But it turned out to be nice. These guys… they’re good guys.”

  “Très beaux?”

  Matisse burst out laughing. “ ‘Très bon.’ You said, very handsome. It sounds the same.”

  She blushed. “Say it again for me.”

  Speaking slowly, he said, “Très beaux.”

  She watched his lips. “And the next one?”

  “Très bon.”

  Closing her eyes, she repeated the words in her head. Each time it sounded like, bo. “I don’t hear it.”

  “Listen again,” he whispered, or perhaps she imagined he did. She tilted her head to the side, ready to focus on his voice.

  “Beaux, bon.” His breath ghosted over her face.

  She said the first word quietly, to herself. When she inhaled to speak the next word, his lips touched hers.

  Her eyes flew open. Matisse stared at her, watching her closely, and her lids fluttered shut.

  He didn’t kiss her like he was asking a question. His kisses were a statement, a command, and Nora couldn’t help but comply. He stole her breath. His hand gripped the back of her neck, holding her in place while his tongue demanded entrance to her mouth. She opened for him and he slid inside. He stroked his tongue against hers, strong and sure. She shifted, trying to get a better angle so she could respond in kind.

  She brought her hands to his head, and when he would have moved, she held him in place. He gave a small chuckle against her lips, and she smiled back. It was hard to kiss while smiling, and it only encouraged Matisse to be sillier. He pushed at her shoulders until she found herself lying on her back, staring up at him. He lowered his face to hers until they were nose to nose. He brushed it back and forth across hers before sliding it over her lips to the crook of her neck.

  She stroked across his back, holding him to her tightly while she lifted her chin to the ceiling, making room for his mouth.

  He inhaled, and then his t
ongue and lips pulled on her skin. She shivered, a tremor vibrating from her neck all the way to her toes. He inhaled again, and then, he blew a raspberry against her. She screeched, tilting her head to the side as if she could squish him out of place. Matisse pushed her back when she tried to turn away from him and did it again. She started laughing, her sides aching as she tried to suck in a breath, but she couldn’t stop. He did it again and again, and as hard as she pushed and rolled, he stayed in place.

  Finally, he propped himself on his arm. “I win.”

  Still laughing, she wiped the tears from her eyes. She noticed the way his lips were swollen and his eyes sparkled devilishly. She pushed at his shoulder, and he let her flip him to his back.

  He jack-knifed to sitting. “You’re not sleepy anymore, are you?”

  She shook her head. “No. I’m wide awake now.”

  A grin split his face. He was so proud of himself, she had to roll her eyes.

  “Nora?” A voice called from downstairs: Cai.

  “I’m up here!” she answered.

  Matisse stood, brushing his long hair back from his face. “Have fun at the youth center.”

  She nodded, feeling strange all of a sudden. Her fingers touched her lips and she wondered what she looked like. She tried to flatten her hair, but it bounced back up.

  Footsteps bounded up the stairs with a loud thump. Right before the door opened, she remembered: Apollo. Oh God. What have I done? What would Cai see on her face?

  Matisse didn’t seem worried. He was flushed, yes, and he was, she thought about it, really really handsome, but he wasn’t embarrassed or ashamed. She touched her lips, hesitating before she turned to Cai.