Finding Truth Page 6

  Before Matisse could go on, she interrupted him. “We don’t have to go to Europe. We can find places within driving distance. We can sleep in the car. Rent a U-Haul for your bike and go. Even Massachusetts is milder than Vermont in the winter. I wonder if they have races there. Let’s look it up on your phone.” Her words spilled from her mouth, giving away how desperate she was for him to agree.

  For his part, Matisse didn’t make eye contact. He stared at the floor like it held all the answers he needed and shook his head continuously. As her voice rose in pitch, he crossed his hands over his head, fingers linking. Reaching out a hand to reassure him, she gripped his shoulder. When her hand touched his body, he jolted like he’d been electrocuted, chair flying backward as he paced the kitchen.

  “I need the money from these races, Nora.” His eyes flicked to each of them, while his long, lean body loped from one end of the room to the other. “You all know we need the money.”

  “We have plenty of money.” Seok’s voice was calm. He held one of his kerchiefs, and twisted it tightly. The muscles in his face where set. “We are fine, Matisse.”

  “What if something happens? What if Nora needs to quit the study and they suddenly hand us a ten thousand dollar bill again? What if Apollo gets hurt? He has crappy student insurance with a huge deductible, and then we’re in for an 80/20 split. I can’t magic up twenty percent of a hundred thousand dollars. Can you? And there’s Ryan’s admission fees and deposit. Cai’s—Dieu—can you even imagine what he’s coming out with? A week’s stay? Christ.”

  “Tisse,” Nora breathed. She’d had no idea he was worried about money. This was what the races were about? Not about taking risks, or feeling the wind in his hair, or having the need for... whatever. “I thought you loved the way you felt when you race.”

  “I do.” He knelt in front of her and gripped her shoulders. “I really do. But these races—while they center me and make me feel good, the payout is enormous. Way more than I get winning at the tracks.”

  Nora’s hands dropped to her stomach where her anxiety was centered. It roiled, threatening to reject the shake she’d had. “We have money problems.” She’d suspected as much. It was why she stayed in the goddamn study.

  “We don’t have money problems,” Seok said.

  “I have a plan for school, Tisse. You’re not responsible for this. I thought I told you,” Ryan added.

  “I’d remember if you had,” Matisse said. “I have an eidetic memory.”

  “Cai has insurance, Apollo has insurance and hospitals have payment plans,” Seok added.

  “My mom used to say don’t borrow trouble,” Apollo said and winked at Nora when she caught his eye.

  “I’ve got nothing,” Nora allowed. “I’m sorry. I know I’m in a weird position. I know the study is a double-edged sword, but with this job, I’ll eventually get ahead of the debt. And not taking classes or living on campus, I’m not accumulating more.” She pressed her fingers into her stomach, adding pressure to the pulsing ache of nerves. “I’m so sorry you felt like you had to do this, Tisse.”

  “We need to come to each other with these kind of worries. No more solving problems on our own for things that affect all of us,” Seok commanded. Nora wanted to salute him. The seriousness of his words, however, kept her from doing so. Besides, he was right.

  “I’m not good at sharing my worries,” she allowed. “I’ll try to be better.”

  “Me, too,” Ryan said.

  “Are you saying I shouldn’t be concerned about this?” Matisse ground out. “I’m not being illogical. There are very real money issues looming. And Nora is right. I do like the races in the neighborhood. I like the strategy and the speed. It will be hard to give up.”

  They’d gone around in a circle. Discouraged, Nora stared at her lap.

  “But I will.” He tucked his finger under her chin and lowered his head to hers, kissing her gently. “I’ll stop racing. In the streets. Around here.”

  She couldn’t help the smile his very specific promises prompted.

  “I’ll share my worries, and you’ll share yours,” she continued. She wound her arms around his neck so she could whisper in his ear. “I’ll reward you with kisses.”

  “Not after these Apollo shakes, though. Okay?”

  Groaning, she dropped her forehead to his shoulder then lifted and dropped it again like she was banging her head against a wall. “Exasperating man.”

  “Sexy, kale-breathed woman.”

  Snorting, she tugged him closer and tighter, loving the way he wove his long arms around her. “Thank you,” he whispered again. “I’ve never had anyone accept me the way you do.”

  Her heart cracked a little at his words. “It’s easy,” she said. “You’re easy to love.”

  10

  Matisse

  Exhaustion. When it hit Matisse, it hit him hard. Another late night wasn’t in the cards. He was emotionally drained, and it left him as wiped out as if he’d run a marathon.

  He hit his bed, face first, landing sideways, feet hanging off the side. Closing his eyes, he reached for the covers and folded it backward. Unable, and unwilling, to move, he got a small triangle of material, enough to cover one shoulder.

  A knock on the door startled him, and he called out, “Come in.”

  “Hi.” It was Nora. “Mind if I sleep in here tonight?”

  Like a jolt of caffeine, her words had him sitting up and making room for her. “Not at all.”

  He slid himself beneath the covers, folding them back so she could slide in next to him.

  “You’re still dressed,” she said.

  “I was too tired to change.” Not anymore, though. He shrugged out of his blazer, vest, and t-shirt and dropped them on the floor. Beneath the covers, he wrestled with the pants. He thought he was so cool wearing leather pants. Well look at him now, squirming like a worm.

  Rather than get into bed, Nora watched him. One hand covered her mouth, but her eyes sparkled, and he knew she was trying not to laugh.

  “Ready,” he finally said.

  She wiggled toward him, and he lifted his arm so she could rest her head on his chest. “Thanks,” she murmured, her breath tickling his skin. “I needed to be close after all that.”

  He hadn’t realized it, but so did he. With her here, his breathing deepened and evened and his body sunk into the bed.

  “I’m so tired,” Nora whispered. “Will you get the light?”

  The room plunged into darkness, but his body was on high alert, aware of every move, breath, and sigh Nora made. Her body rubbed against his as she got comfortable and draped her smooth arm across his stomach to tuck beneath his back.

  The gentle slide of skin against skin reverberated like a shock wave through his entire body. “Nora.” He gasped.

  She made a noise of question, and he wondered if she had any idea what she did to him. Her leg positioned across his, hips canting into his side, and he realized she did.

  “I haven’t slept,” he whispered, as if he wasn’t wide awake.

  “I know.” Her voice held feigned innocence. “I’m sure you’re very tired.”

  Her body moved over his, knees on either side of his hips. She sat up, and he was suddenly very annoyed he’d turned the light off. In the dark, with only shadows, he had to rely on what he felt and heard. He knew she crawled to his mouth when her shirt skimmed his chest, breasts pressing against him. Her hands sank into the pillow on either side of his head, and then her lips were on his.

  When he chuckled, she pulled away. “What?”

  “You taste like mint.” He’d made her paranoid.

  “Not taking any chances.” She giggled. “Not after what shall hereafter be known as the oregano incident. God, that shake was foul.”

  “Are you feeling any better?” he asked as he trailed fingers along her ribs, tracing each bone and the flare of her hips. He sunk his fingers into her skin then released the pressure to slither back up and under her shirt.

&nbs
p; Pausing, she seemed to be considering his question. “You know, I am? Dammit. I’m going to have to cop to it working.”

  When he chuckled, it did interesting things to their bodies, rubbing places that began to throb. Nora’s solution was to kiss him. She pulled her legs under her to reach his mouth, nibbling his lips, and scoured his scalp with her fingers. Content to let her lead at her own pace, he settled in for a frustrating and wonderful experience.

  Days before, he’d pressured her to have sex, but she’d called him on his shit. In the meantime, he’d thought a lot about her reasons for slowing their physical relationship and found he was on board with them.

  The whole thing was new to him, a relationship moving at its own pace. No destination in mind. He’d never let things progress naturally. He’d always shifted into high gear. Eye on the prize and all that.

  Nora’s lips against his were magical. Her fingers played him like a musical instrument, pressing into his sides, releasing and creeping to a new spot. Never before had he felt the things he did with Nora.

  “Your mind is busy,” she whispered against his lips, interrupting his musing. She swept her hands across his eyelids, forcing them to close.

  The tip of her tongue teased his lips, and he opened his mouth. Her kisses were tentative as if she wasn’t how far to go, how hard to push. She was waiting for him. He was an equal partner—every move forward she made needed an answer from him.

  Like a strike of lightning, he suddenly understood what she was asking. Sex was give and take. It was chase and retreat and meet in the middle. It was being tuned into Nora so he knew what she needed without her having to say a word.

  Cognizant now, he focused totally on the girl in his arms. When she stroked his tongue with hers, he returned the pressure. He listened for the sounds she made. Her hips ground against him when he sucked her tongue into his mouth, drawing on it hard.

  Her skin pebbled with goosebumps when he used his rough palms on her sides, and all of the noise and static in his head disappeared. His body was completely under his control because it was his way to give pleasure to Nora.

  Eventually, their kisses slowed, urgency giving way to languor. With a hand against her back, he urged her forward, and tucked her chin beneath his head. Their breathing slowed, her stomach pressing into his as she exhaled. They hadn’t brought each other to climax, but he was as satisfied as if they had.

  In his arms, Nora startled. He soothed her, rubbing circles on her skin until she fell asleep. To keep her in his arms, he turned them, squeezing her tightly. His eyes closed and sleep overtook him, but Nora stayed, arms tucked between them, cheek against his heart.

  11

  Nora

  Nora’s phone dinged. In the midst of a dream she knew was a dream, the sound nudged her toward wakefulness. Another ping, and her eyes opened. Matisse clung to her like a limpet, squeezing her tightly.

  She stretched, and his grip loosened to give her enough room to wiggle her way out of bed. Outside, gray clouds hung low in the sky; it was the kind of bleak day only November could manage. It wasn’t until the phone from the bedside table lit up in her hand that Nora realized this was not her phone. This was Matisse’s phone.

  Mom: Thanksgiving plans must be made. Call me.

  Matisse had a mother. A mother who expected him home for the holidays.

  After she placed his phone in the exact same spot she’d found it, Nora backed out of the room. Her mind turned over a Boudreau family Thanksgiving.

  She liked the way Matisse’s mother stated things—clear, concise. As she climbed into the shower, she considered what she knew about Matisse and his family. It was pretty much nothing. He was from Mississippi. He was French or Cajun. Or some combination of the two. She thought Cajun was French, so the qualifications were lost on her. Being Cajun-slash-French and from Mississippi were the sum total of her knowledge of Matisse’s family and his past.

  She came into the kitchen where Apollo and Ryan sat, one with a shake and the other with a coffee.

  “Your shake is in the fridge,” Apollo told her, as if she’d been searching desperately to repeat the horrid experience from yesterday. ”How do you feel?”

  Ready to politely decline his shake, his words had her doing a mental check. She felt good. No scratchy throat or runny nose or cough. Nothing hinting at a cold. He smugly waited for her answer. “I feel good.”

  Apollo rapped the table with his knuckles and smiled. “Told ya.”

  Not about to rain on his parade, Nora got the shake out of the fridge. It had more pink in it today, and when she took a sip, she smiled.

  “More orange juice and strawberries with a bit of vanilla yogurt. Still packed full of the good stuff, but I heard your complaint about the aftertaste.”

  Swallowing another sip, she nodded. “Thanks. This is much better. I was going to visit Cai in a bit. What are you guys up to?”

  “I’m headed to the library to copy a bunch of references that Professor Bismarck, God forbid, make available online. I have to beat out the other students in the class. He put this esoteric book in Reserves which means we can only take it out thirty minutes at a time.” His eyes danced, excited at the prospect of elbowing out the competition.

  “Sounds like a bloodbath,” Nora observed.

  “Hardly.” He snorted. “I heard at Harvard, law students will actually hide the books in the stacks so other people can’t find them and, thus, are unable to complete the assignment.”

  She grimaced. Nothing about that level of one-upmanship appealed to her.

  “So.” She took another sip of smoothie and shivered. Despite Apollo’s best effort, there was still an aftertaste. “Thanksgiving is coming up. Are you guys going home?”

  They exchanged a glance, and both placed their drinks on the table.

  “I go to my parents’ for a day visit,” Ryan said, his gaze on Apollo, who traced the pattern in the wood with his finger. “Seok, Apollo, and Cai generally volunteer somewhere. Matisse sometimes visits Mississippi, depending on the weather and his mood.”

  A huge gap in what she knew about the guys loomed in front of her. If she wanted to fill it, she’d have to navigate a river hazarded with crocodiles, and landmines, and spikes and anything else that might be in an Indiana Jones film.

  Ryan had family, but did he have siblings? Were his parents married? Divorced? What about Seok, Cai, and Apollo? Seok was from Korea; she knew Thanksgiving was an American holiday, but did he go to Korea at all? Did he have family there?

  “I can see your wheels turning.” Ryan reached for her hand and squeezed her fingers. “What do you want to ask?”

  “How much time do you have?” she joked, her laugh forced. Glancing at the clock, she waved him away. “You need to crush the hopes of good grades for all the other students in Bismarck’s class. Go. I’ll ask you my questions later.”

  Her hand still holding the glass was suddenly covered by Apollo’s much larger one. “I’ll answer your questions,” he said, and flicked a gaze to Ryan then back to her.

  “You will?” Was it her imagination or did Apollo’s dark skin pale?

  “Yeah. I can always pass, right?”

  “Of course.”

  Ryan squeezed once more, and transferred his coffee from his mug to a travel cup. “Text me if you need me, but I’ll see you for dinner. Whose night is it?”

  Pursing her lips, she tried to remember. “Seok? Maybe? I’ll let you know when the others get up.”

  After a quick kiss on top of her head, and a gentle one on her lips, Ryan was gone, leaving her and Apollo.

  “Thanks for the shake,” she said again. “I think it worked. No scarlet fever for this girl.” She laughed then winced. It was not a funny joke, especially not when her boyfriend was still in the hospital, recovering.

  “Bad jokes. You must be nervous,” Apollo said.

  “I’m not sure what to ask,” she said.

  “How about I start? What did you usually do for Thanksgiving?” />
  “Worked at the deli.”

  “Anything else?” he asked, brown eyes serious. “Did you hang with friends or family?” He grimaced. “Sorry.”

  “No,” she answered quickly. “You’ve given me permission to ask my own awkward questions. You’re one to my nil.”

  “Shoot.” He smiled, dimple appearing in his cheek. But his knee jiggled—an outward sign of his nervousness.

  “Do you have family in Vermont?” she asked.

  “No,” he said, eyes sliding away from her then back. “My parents are dead.”

  “Oh.” How should she respond? Stupid. She should have come up with appropriate responses to potential answers before she went skipping across the knowledge gap from one snapping crocodile head to the next. “I’m sorry, Apollo.” Pushing her shake out of the way, she climbed over his body. She hugged him and rested her head on his shoulder.

  “Thanks.” His deep voice vibrated against her body. “It’s been a long time, but thanks.”

  “There’s no one else?” she asked.

  His cheek rested against her hair, and he shook his head. “My grandma is in a nursing home in Rhode Island. I’ve got an aunt there. I get down maybe once a year, but she has Alzheimer’s. My Gram, not my aunt. So she really doesn’t know I’m there. My aunt is nice, but she’s busy with her own family. And I have the guys.”

  “We both do,” Nora said.

  “And now we have you and everything is new.”

  She sat back to see his face. Did he truly mean what he said? Were she and the others enough? Not asking him what happened to his family and how he ended up all alone was hard, but she could sense she’d pushed him as far as he could go.

  “Cai will want to tell you about his family, I’m sure,” he went on, his tone hinting at something dark.

  “My mom wasn’t big on holidays,” Nora began. Not often did she allow herself to reminisce, but she would for Apollo. “But my dad was. When they were together, I mean.” He leaned away from her to see her face as she spoke, and she grinned. “There was one time, it was pretty short so it was memorable, when they were both with it. Mom was clean. I didn’t know what that was then, but I did know there was food and the lights stayed on. My dad was never on drugs, but he had...” In her mind, she could see her father pacing back and forth in their living room. Her mother drawing on a cigarette while her father mumbled under his breath. With an adult’s perspective, she knew her father had some sort of mental illness. But to the little girl she was, it was just one of his dark times. After a while, the dark out-numbered the light, but she didn’t want to give Apollo a dark time. “I’m not sure what he had, but for this holiday—I’m pretty sure it was Easter because of all the pink—I woke up and he’d hidden those little eggs, the chocolate ones?” Apollo nodded encouragingly. “He’d hidden them all over the apartment, and my mom and I searched everywhere for them. I bet he hid an entire bag because that summer, I was still finding chocolate eggs. He would do things like that. Special things. Buy me scratch tickets for my birthday. Take me to the library and tell me to get everything I wanted.” She laughed.