He Saved Me Page 2

  “I’m trying to find her.” I was growing increasingly disappointed in myself. I should have known where she was by now. I’d found her so easily the first time. I was so lost in my thoughts, in my frustration, that I didn’t hear a word Rosa was saying. “What?” I asked, shaking my head.

  Rosa placed her hand on mine. “You’ll find her,” she said with confidence. I was grateful someone believed in my abilities, because I didn’t.

  October 15, 2010

  It’d been more than three months since I’d last seen Andra. I’d tracked down Six’s mother again and did some minor surveillance, but couldn’t dredge anything up. I was in California, watching Six’s mother water her garden when a shadow fell over the passenger side of the vehicle.

  “Julian.” The voice wasn’t warm and the tone was exceptionally unfriendly. The door opened and she slid in. Her hair was longer than it had been before, and a normal color. Brown. My chest tightened, thinking of Andra. It wasn’t her, of course. But this woman’s presence was a release of hope in my soul.

  “Mira,” I returned, watching her settle in the seat.

  “What do you think you’re doing here?” she asked, accusation in her voice.

  I met her eyes, which were angry, dark brows drawn together. “What are you doing here?” I asked back.

  Her mouth was in a thin line. For someone so small, her presence, her moodiness, sure took up a lot of space in the rented vehicle. “My intentions are better than yours,” she answered, without really answering.

  “Oh?” I asked, pissed. “And why do you think that?”

  I watched her pull a lighter from her pocket, recognized it immediately as the gold lighter she’d fiddled with the night I met her.

  “No smoking in the car. It’s a rental.”

  She snapped the lighter shut. “I don’t smoke.” She shook her head and looked at me, as if she couldn’t believe she’d said that. I was rather surprised too, given how she’d chained smoked right in front of me when we’d met.

  “Why are you here?” she asked, turning around in the seat so she was fully facing me.

  “To find Andra. I told you, I’m not going to just give up.” My own voice was impatient, frustrated.

  She nodded and I watched her chew her lip as she looked around, at everything but me. “You really like her?”

  Like her? I wanted to laugh in Mira’s face, but I knew that wouldn’t go over well. “I’m in love with her. She’s at the forefront of my mind, all day long. I’m in agony, not knowing anything.” It was the first time I’d allowed a glimpse of my feelings for her to be known to anyone but Andra herself. A dull ache resided in my chest as the words left my mouth. “I miss her.” I rubbed my hands through my hair. “No, that’s an inadequate word for how I feel about her.” I laughed without humor. “She thought I found her. But I didn’t. She found me. And now I’m lost again without her.”

  I waited, watching Mira’s face carefully. After a moment something slipped from Mira’s face, softening her features with understanding. It was all I could do not to shout, to beg her to help me. “Okay,” she finally said, her eyes on Six’s mother. My eyes followed hers and I watched as Six’s mother held a rose in her hand, staring at it as if it was the cause of all the happiness in her life.

  A moment later, my brain clicked on and I turned back to Mira. “Wait, what did you say?”

  Mira’s eyes moved to mine. It was the first time she looked at me as if I wasn’t something that displeased her. Her eyes were clear. She looked ten years younger without lines of irritation marring her forehead. “I said,” she swallowed, “okay. Let’s go.”

  “Go where?”

  “Oregon.”

  My heart slammed hard in my chest. “Andra is in Oregon?”

  Mira nodded. “And Six too.” She looked down a moment before she looked back up, out the windshield. She put her hands on her lap. “Six knows I’m coming.” She sounded ominous.

  “But not me?”

  Mira shook her head and looked at me. “No. And I know he’s going to be out of the area tomorrow night. It’s your only shot to get to Andra before Six stops you.”

  “But he knows you’re coming?” My heart was thudding painfully and hands prickled with sweat.

  “He bought a plane ticket for me next week.” She swallowed carefully, as if uncomfortable with the words. “But he doesn’t want me to see Andra. So if you want to see her, this is your chance.”

  “Of course I want to see her.” I blew out a breath. “Where in Oregon?”

  “On the coast. About ten hours. We’ll head out tomorrow morning.” She grabbed the handle of the door and my head swam with all the knowledge she’d just imparted on me.

  “Wait,” I said, reaching a hand towards her. “Where do we meet? And what time?”

  Mira leaned down into the car. “I know which hotel you’re at. Tomorrow morning, when I wake up.” She closed the door and walked away.

  CHAPTER TWO

  October 16, 2010

  Somewhere just before the Oregon border, I asked Mira the question that had been begging to spill from my lips since I’d seen her leaning over the gas station garbage can, trembling.

  “Are you pregnant?” My eyes were on the road, but I still saw her out of my peripheral vision as she turned to look at me.

  “That’s not a nice thing to ask a woman.”

  I chanced a glance at her, taking in the green color on her face, the dark circles under her eyes. “It was either that or you’re contagious with something, and I’d prefer to avoid it.” Truth be told, I really didn’t care one way or another. Mira didn’t care for me and all I could think about was the one brunette I wanted to be reunited with.

  Andra.

  Just thinking her name made me grip the steering wheel tighter.

  She was silent for a minute before she reached into the cooler between us and pulled out an ice cube. She rolled the ice cube over her forehead and kept her eyes closed.

  “Do you need me to pull over again?” I asked tentatively.

  She made a rumbling sound with her throat. “No,” she said on an exhale. “And yes.”

  “You need me to pull over?”

  “No. Yes, I’m pregnant.” She sighed. “I’m supposed to be through the worst of it, and I’m not.” She stopped talking, as if she realized she’d said too much.

  “Well, congratulations,” I said awkwardly, not sure if that was the right thing to say. Sick women made me anxious. Not seeing Andra made me anxious. I wanted to fast forward the next few hours and be with her already.

  I heard her laugh. “That sounded sincere,” she murmured sarcastically. She grabbed another ice cube and ran it down her face.

  I rubbed the steering wheel. “I barely know you,” I said.

  She sighed again and leaned forward.

  “Do you want me to pull over?” I asked, panicked I was about to be surrounded by the smell of vomit and hormones. The latter was already making me uncomfortable.

  “No,” she moaned with her head between her legs.

  I was unconvinced.

  I pulled into a gas station anyway and walked into the store. I grabbed ginger ale, remembering my mom’s desperate need for it during her last pregnancy, some water bottles and crackers before I grabbed some paper towels and checked out.

  When I returned to the car, Mira was puking in the trash can again. I stood there awkwardly with the bag of gas station purchases before climbing back into the car, feeling like an asshole for not knowing what to do.

  She climbed back into the car slowly, as if she’d aged a hundred years. I handed her the ginger ale first. She looked up at me through eyes rimmed in black liner and black circles that couldn’t be covered with makeup. She looked cautious, as if I’d poisoned the soda. But then she took it and glanced at me again as she twisted open the lid of the soda, seeming satisfied by the click it made when it broke through the safety seal. I watched as she took a small sip. I tore off a square of paper towel a
nd dipped it into the cooler, wetting it with the cold water. I squeezed out the excess water and held it out to her with as much detachment as I could muster, which wasn’t much. Women didn’t usually make me nervous, but sick women did. Especially sick, scary women.

  Again, she eyed me and the paper towel with distrust. Not in a way that she seemed afraid, but as if she was wary of my kindness to her. Which was natural, I suppose, since she didn’t know anything about me except that I was dead set on getting to Andra.

  My mind drifted off to thoughts of her, to the anticipation of seeing her again. Knowing I was hours from holding her again made me impatient. “Here,” I said, gesturing with the paper towel. “Put this on your forehead. It’ll help the nausea.” Or at least I assumed it would.

  She took it from my hand, pushed the hair away from her forehead, and laid it right above her eyebrows. I watched her lean back in her seat and close her eyes. I looked away.

  “Are you going to drive or what?” she asked. I glanced over and saw her looking at me with her trademark death glare. I put the car in reverse and backed out of the spot. A few minutes later, I heard her sigh. “Thank you,” she said on an exhale.

  I nodded curtly. I gripped the steering wheel as I pulled back onto the highway. We sat in uncomfortable silence before the noise in my head outweighed the strength of my resolve to ignore her. “Is it Six’s?”

  I felt her turn to me and just the look out of the corner of my eye caused me to swallow. For being such a tiny person, she sure packed a hell of a lot of punch in one look. I braved a glance and saw her glowering at me.

  “What?” I asked, lifting a hand in the air defensively. “It’s a legitimate question.”

  “’Legitimate’ is an interesting word choice,” Mira commented quietly, but with venom in her voice.

  I groaned. “Well, you’re like any other woman in my life then, dissecting my words.”

  She sat up straighter, the movement exaggerated with her lack of calm. “First of all, I’m not a woman in your life.”

  Jesus Christ, I thought. Dissecting my words still. Why did I even bother?

  “And secondly, I know you’re a writer. You choose your words like a murderer chooses a knife or a gun. Your words are your weapon.”

  I lifted a hand from the steering wheel, flying it up in the air in frustration. “Just-just…” I stumbled over my words. “Just forget I asked anything. God damn.” I shook my head. “Let’s go back to ten minutes ago, when you thought I poisoned your soda. Life was quieter then.”

  I didn’t dare look over at her, but I felt the annoyance like it was a blanket, covering me. The car was too hot. Her hormones were stifling. I rolled my window down just enough to get air. I could almost see the steam lift from her.

  Note to self: Never ask Mira anything. Ever.

  “Stop here,” Mira whispered. I pulled the car off the road. It was dark, the street quiet. It was a sleepy time of year for this coastal town, and not a single house was lit. Not that there were many houses to begin with. “There,” she said, leaning forward and pointing to the two story house that looked slightly sad. “That’s it.”

  “How do you know?”

  Mira gave me that look. The one that could probably burn my skin if I didn’t deflect her focus. I’d already fucked up by asking her a question.

  “Okay,” I said holding my hands up in impatient surrender. “Are you coming with?”

  “No,” she said, chewing on her lip. “I need to give Six a call. He’s not going to be happy.”

  “Is he ever happy anyway?” Shit, J. There I went asking another question. And there she went, glaring at me as if she wanted to set me on fire. I wasn’t entirely positive she wouldn’t.

  “Just go,” she said, motioning with her hands.

  “Should I knock on the door?”

  Another question. Another you’re-an-idiot look from Mira. I was beginning to think this was how we would forever communicate. “Yes,” she said, her voice full of nothing but sarcasm. “Go knock on the door. I’m sure Andra will answer the door knowing there’s some stranger knocking on it in the middle of the night.” She sighed. “You’re going to have to sneak in. She’s probably asleep. Just…” she shook her head. “Just try to be discreet.”

  I didn’t bother to ask anything else and exited the car a moment later. I walked up the asphalt, sticking to the side of the road as close as possible. My blood was pumping, excitement was filling my entire body. I looked up at the house as I approached, feeling my palms sweating. It was magnetic, this reaction. Andra and I were magnets for one another and the closer I moved towards the house, the more intense the pull became.

  I tried the front door, twisting the handle slowly to no avail. It was locked.

  I walked around the side of the house, straining my ears for any noises, squinting in the blackness for another way in that wasn’t through a window. I couldn’t hear anything over the roar of blood in my ears.

  Behind the house was a little porch, the width of the back side of the house. There was one chair. I stalled my efforts for a minute, looking at the single chair sitting in the cloak of night.

  I put my hand on the chair, thinking of Andra sitting out here alone, staring at the surf. I tucked that thought away as I tried the back door. Unlocked.

  I opened it slowly and entered the house, my movements making quiet creaks of protest from the home. There was dead silence.

  I peeked into the kitchen on my left and the dining room on my right before ascending the steps. The steps clearly signaled my presence with their groans and squeaks. I was sure that if Andra was indeed in this house, she knew someone else was as well.

  I brushed my sweaty hands down the sides of my pants. My heart beat so loud in my chest, so solidly, as if making me aware of its frantic state was necessary.

  I reached the top step, opened my mouth to call out her name and then I heard the distinct click of a gun being loaded.

  In the time it took to take a breath, I’d stilled my movements. “Andra,” I whispered in the dark. There was one open doorway directly across from the staircase. I swore I could hear her heartbeat. It was hers, the rhythm as familiar as my own.

  A moment later I heard her voice. “Julian.” I was nearly brought to my knees. I heard the sound of something metal being set on the worn wood floor and I approached the door slowly, the sound of her heartbeat ringing in my ears, her heavy breaths coming closer. And then she stood, silhouetted in the doorway. “Julian,” she said, this time with relief.

  I couldn’t wait a moment longer. I stepped into the doorway and as I reached my arms for her, she jumped, right into my arms, right where I needed her to be.

  I held her tightly, afraid to let her go and lose her again. My nose burrowed in her hair and I breathed in her clementine scent and exhaled a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

  “Andra,” I murmured into her hair, feeling my heart settle its rhythm, my chest loosen and allow me to breathe more normally.

  She pulled back and her hands found my face. Her eyes were glistening, even in the dark. She was beautiful, she was always beautiful, but seeing the emotion in her eyes made my own tighten with the surge of relief I felt.

  Her fingers roamed my face, touching my features as if the moment was a dream. And that’s what it felt like. Holding her, seeing her, it was the sweetest dream. My lips descended quickly, impatient for that connection to her. Her hands gripped my hair, she moaned a small sound that reverberated through her mouth into mine and I fell in love with this woman all over again. I needed Andra like I needed breath. Possibly more.

  She pulled back and this time her cheeks were wet and there was a shaky smile on her lips. “You’re here.”

  I touched a finger to her lips and rubbed reassuringly. “I missed you, Andra.”

  Her head fell back and she let out a laugh-that laugh-the sound I didn’t know I needed to hear so desperately. God, she was the most incredibly stunning creature on earth. I found her. An
d I loved her.

  She let her head fall to rest on my shoulder, her hands found my waist and gripped me tightly. “Understatement of the year, I think, Julian.”

  I closed my eyes. Hearing her say my name, hearing the word roll off her lips. This was what I’d longed for. I wrapped my arms around her tightly and kissed her hair. I knew I wouldn’t let go of her anytime soon.

  I held her in the doorway, catching up on the months I missed with her, until the sound of a door crashing open from downstairs startled us.

  Andra shook, as if she’d been on the verge of falling asleep standing up, which was something I recognized only because I felt that same sleepy comfort when holding her in my arms. Her eyes looked to mine. “Six,” she said, sounding mildly worried.

  “Andra!” his voice called out a moment later from downstairs.

  Andra gave me a knowing look. “Six, I’m fine.” Her lips quirked up sideways and she cocked her head as she looked at me. “What a completely inadequate word,” she laughed.

  I heard muffled voices downstairs and guessed Mira was trying to unsuccessfully calm Six. My hand found Andra’s. “Let’s go,” I murmured, gesturing with my head to the stairs.

  When we reached the bottom step, Six was sitting in a chair in the dining room, looking too big for the room. There was one small lamp lit in the corner, but the way it was casting light on Six’s features was ominous. His face alone was the definition of rage, his knuckles strained from the pressure of the fists he was making on the table. He eyes looked to me and I saw more than rage, however. I saw fear. And that’s why I wasn’t intimidated, because I knew he was only looking out for Andra and her safety was paramount.

  “Hey,” Mira’s voice barked from behind us. I moved to the side and let her pass. She was carrying a short glass with amber liquid in it. She placed it on the table in front of Six and pushed it until it connected with his knuckles. “Drink, Six,” she said.