Hybrid (The Healer Series Book 2) Page 6

  “You shut me down, but talk dirty to me at the same time?”

  “Just because I say no, for now, doesn’t mean I want you any less than you want me.”

  “You’re the one saying no! That’s exactly what it means!” I yell.

  “Why do I feel like the woman in this situation?” he tries to joke, as he lies naked, stretched across my bed, looking like hot sex, making it difficult for me to hold onto my anger.

  “First of all, that’s an inaccurate stereotype, but for arguments sake, let’s pretend it’s factual. Let’s see. You’re a tease. You’re shutting me down. Oh, because you are the woman in this situation!” I hiss at him, clinging to my anger for dear life. I feel wounded and rejected, which leaves no room for rationality.

  “Aldo, no means no,” he tries to joke again, doing his best imitation of a female voice. I smile slightly, fighting the urge to laugh.

  “I only date guys that put out,” I pipe back with as straight a face as I can manage, failing miserably as he laughs. His laugh makes me weak in the knees. Damn him!

  “Why buy the cow when you can have the milk for free?”

  “I hope you’re the cow in this situation,” I say dryly. “Is that it? Are you waiting for me to propose?”

  “Aldo, it’s not like there’s nothing. We fool around all the time,” he ignores my previous question and his tone sounds annoyed.

  “You are literally killing me Rhett Mason. When I die, the coroner report will state ‘death caused by lack of penetration.’ And it will be all your fault.”

  “And your tombstone will read: Aldo Lawson, loving aunt, devoted sister, unbroken hymen.”

  “I hate you right now,” I growl, trying like hell not to laugh at him.

  “Nope. You just told me you loved me, and I will never forget it. I’ll keep it here, always.” He pats his chest over his heart with his hand.

  I stare at him. I am madly, head over heels, in love with him. I’m a pathetic being at this moment. My pride has been wounded severely by his refusal to make love to me, but here I stand, doe-eyed, with weak knees as he smiles at me.

  “Rhett, it’s mine. If I want to give it away, it’s mine to do so.” I try to be serious again.

  “You know it’s yours, but you are also mine. My job is to protect you. You’ve been through a lot, and I want our lives to be somewhere different when we take that step.”

  “What does that mean?” I ask exasperated. I am so confused when it comes to Rhett. Here, I just threw myself at him and he shuts me down all while saying he loves me, wants me and needs me. My head feels like it may explode.

  “I want you to know you’re safe, your brothers too. I can give that to you. You’ll never have to heal again.”

  “Why wouldn’t I heal?”

  “Because it’s dangerous.”

  “Rhett, I don’t want to hide what I am.” I never imagined not healing. It’s my gift. I don’t want to waste it.

  “You want to be found?”

  And there it is. Our dilemma. I am scared of being found. Terrified. Rhett knows it, sees it, and would do most anything to ease my fear. My aunt Lucy used to say, “If you cannot find peace within yourself, you will never find it anywhere else.” She said many wise things I never heeded when she was alive. I want to be the woman that’s okay with hiding from what she fears and letting her big, strong man protect her, but that’s not me. I hate to be scared. I hate the feeling that there is an evil out there that could hurt me if it finds me. But mostly, I hate that so many before me lived in fear and died at the hands of evil. That is why I cannot find peace within. There is no peace for me while Healers suffer the atrocities of others.

  I know Rhett would protect me at all costs. He loves me. And that is why I must leave him behind. It’s impossible to justify hurting someone you love—or many you love—to do what you truly believe is right. Lucy also used to say, “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.” I get what she was trying to tell me now. Hindsight is twenty/twenty. Sometimes we choose a path we think will lead us toward a noble cause; full of ambition and altruism, only to look back and see we ran over and crushed the ones we love most along the way. At this moment, I know Rhett will be crushed when I leave.

  “No, I just mean I don’t need you to protect me. I want to heal. It’s like you said, it’s our gift.”

  “Why don’t we talk about this tomorrow?” He nods his head toward the door, indicating he hears someone moving about in the house.

  “Okay,” I nod, all too glad to have dodged that conversation.

  “Come here, please,” he begs. I approach him, and he pulls me down. I climb on him, straddling him as he kisses me gently, his erection pressing against me. Arching my back, I begin moving my hips, gently sliding across his erection gently. Rhett groans, grabbing my arms and squeezing.

  “I think someone disagrees with you about waiting and he happens to be a key player in all of this.” I kiss along the line of his jaw to his chin, continuing to grind on top of him. I know he won’t give into me tonight, but I will do my best to torture the shit out of him. I kiss down his neck, down his chest, and bite his nipple gently. His breath hitches and he pulls me up.

  “You are a cruel, cruel woman.”

  I climb off of him and bat my eyes. “Whatever do you mean?”

  He stares at me intensely. “I love you, Aldo. You know that, right?”

  “I do,” I nod. I know he’s crazy about me. I’m not sure why he’s holding back, but I know sometimes secrets are for good reasons. He’s hiding something from me, maybe about whatever I heard him and Sarah talking about that first night I woke up. I don’t know, but I know it’s to protect me, whatever it is. I just wish protecting me didn’t involve sex, or lack of. “I love you, too.”

  “We have a lot of good things coming our way baby.”

  “I know,” I smile sadly where he can’t see. “I’m going to go get a drink and see who’s up. I’ll be back in a few.”

  “Okay, I’ll be waiting. I have something for you.” He stands, grabbing his boxers off the floor and I’m caught like a deer in headlights watching him. He’s all lean muscle, broad shoulders and sex. Just sex.

  “What?” I snap myself out of it.

  “I’ll give it to you when you come back.” He kisses my hand softly before plopping back down on the bed.

  I get a glass of water as opposed to bottled water. I’ve avoided the fridge all day after my little blood-craving incident last night. Leaning against the sink, I sip from my glass, lost in thought. The mature side of me knows Rhett wants me, but there’s another side, the side that pretty much dominates when it comes to how I view myself, and that side keeps saying there must be something wrong with me. There just isn’t any good reason for Rhett to refuse me. There’s also a small voice that whispers somewhere in the back of my mind saying there is a real reason and it must be something bad, but I ignore it. I can’t allow myself to think that way about Rhett.

  I meander into the living room where Whit is passed out on the sofa, the effect of too many beers. Plopping down in the recliner, I stare at a rerun of the Golden Girls on the television, wondering what to do. I pull out my rectangle and squeeze it. It’s time to go. My mind starts trying to piece together a plan, but I drift off to sleep before I can play out any thoughts. In my subconscious, I end up at the farm; my new favorite place to go in my dreams because it’s the place I fell in love with Rhett.

  Sitting for a moment, I enjoy the scenery when it hits me. Rhett isn’t here. I look around to be sure, but he’s nowhere to be seen. It’s time. I have to lock his door. I quickly shift the scene so that I’m in the large white dome. Another door stands beside Thomas’s door. I close my eyes and swallow. When I open them I hold a silver skeleton key in my hand, similar to the key I used to lock Thomas’s door, but his was black. I quickly lock Rhett’s door, fighting my tears. Once it’s locked, I sift to the barn and place the key on the ledge above Bruno’s stall door. The horse eyes me
disapprovingly. Great. I’m now getting a guilt trip from a horse in my dreams.

  “I have to, Bruno,” I whisper to him as I rub his chestnut brown forehead. I close my eyes and force myself to wake up.

  Leaving Whit in the living room sleeping, I tiptoe into my bedroom. Rhett is out like a light. He rarely sleeps, but when he does, he sleeps hard. Moonlight streams in from the window, bathing him in its light. He is a beautiful specimen.

  Walking as if the floor is made of eggshells, I grab the jacket he wore earlier today and dig though the pockets until I find the key to the yellow Beast. I feel something hard and square in his other pocket. I reach into it and find a small box wrapped in silver paper with my name on it. He bought me a present? My teary gaze moves to where he lies in my bed, still sleeping. I hate myself at this moment.

  Allowing myself a brief moment, I play out a soft kiss in my mind, the kiss I would give him if I knew he wouldn’t awake. As it is, touching him isn’t a possibility if I want to leave. I mouth, I love you, and take the box with me. Leaving with nothing but the box I found in Rhett’s pocket and my purse, I quietly exit the house. Once outside, I slide into the yellow Beast and put it into neutral. It rolls down the driveway until I’m on the street where I start it and leave for Virginia.

  It takes me eight hours to get to Richmond, Virginia from Maine. The drive is long and tedious, but I enjoy the scenery. Autumn has fallen like a heavy hand upon the Commonwealth and the leaves are a blur of breathtaking yellows, oranges, and reds. Memories of one fall when Lucy brought us to Carter’s Mountain in Charlottesville resonate as I drive down the interstate. She brought us to pick apples and to witness the extraordinary beauty of the mountains in the fall, when we drove through Virginia on our way to Maryland.

  By the time I park the yellow Beast in front of the Bank of Richmond, I’m exhausted and starving, but I can eat and rest later, after I get into Lucy’s safe deposit box. The bank looks exactly as it did in my dream world. I must’ve absorbed the memory of it from Lucy long ago. It’s a single story building made of red brick with very poor landscaping surrounding it.

  I enter the bank and it appears to be empty with the exception of two tellers behind the counter. I guess Saturday mornings aren’t that busy. A friendly, middle-aged looking woman with wide rimmed glasses greets me. “May I help you?” She beams a friendly smile filled with stained teeth, possibly from a lifetime of drinking coffee.

  “Yes, my aunt has a safe deposit box here that I need to get into.”

  “Are you on her list?”

  “I don’t know,” I answer blankly. There’s a list? What the heck?

  “Well, let’s look her up. Follow me. My name is Cassandra, by the way.”

  I follow her to a desk in the back corner of the bank’s main room and sit in a burgundy arm chair as she settles in her seat behind the desk.

  “What is your aunt’s name?” She perches on the edge of her seat and places her hands over the keyboard, ready to type.

  “Lucy Lawson.”

  Her eyes dart to me instantly. Turning fully toward me, she studies my face with awe. “You’re Aldo?” Her voice is a whisper.

  I look around the room to see if anyone is close. The bank is empty with the exception of two young tellers behind the counter, both out of earshot from us. “Yes,” I answer nervously. How does she know my name?

  Her eyes dart down as disappointment washes over her face. “I’m sorry for your loss,” she whispers.

  My throat tightens with her words as emotion swells inside of me. “You knew her?” I manage to ask.

  “She saved my son’s life,” Cassandra removes her glasses and our eyes meet. She takes a tissue and dabs her eyes before placing her glasses back on. Standing, she grabs a purse from her desk drawer and walks around to me. “Follow me.” She glides towards the teller’s desk. “Stacy, I have to leave for a bit. It’s an emergency.”

  “O-okay,” Stacy, the young brunette with an eyebrow ring, stutters. “Everything okay?’

  “Yes. It’s fine.” Cassandra smiles. “Call my cell if you need me.”

  I follow Cassandra out of the bank into the crisp autumn air. “Where are we going?” I ask, inspecting the surroundings. I have no idea what’s going on, but I’ve watched enough movies to know there are a few likely scenarios that might occur. Mainly, I’m looking for vans that could screech up as the side door slides open while a man wearing a mask—like the one from the movie Scream—nabs me, or a large group of thugs descend from behind cars and the rooftops of nearby buildings and surround me, or for Cassandra to pull something out of her purse and attack me. Maybe I’m a little paranoid. Who says today’s television isn’t quality?

  Cassandra stops beside a gray Ford Focus. “She said you’d be apprehensive to go with me and to tell you there are answers here.”

  The day Lucy gave me her necklace she told me it would give me answers one day. “Where are we going?” I ask again.

  “To my house. She sent me something to give you.”

  I climb in her car and ten minutes later we pull up to a small town house. Once inside, she leads me to the kitchen and seats me at the table that’s covered in coloring book pages, crayons, and crumbs from what appeared to be a Pop-Tart.

  Cassandra turns to me. “My daughter Ava is four. She had a sleepover with my sister and her daughter last night.”

  “She’s a lovely artist.” I hold up one of the half-colored pictures.

  “There are a thousand of those things around the house.” She rolls her eyes and sets about clearing the coloring sheets off of the table.

  “Please don’t clean for me.”

  “Just tidying up.” She tosses the papers in a trash bin by the back door. “Aiden, my oldest, is home. Lucy was very adamant you meet him.”

  “Why?” I ask completely baffled.

  “She said he’s proof that there is good with the bad.” Cassandra busies herself making a pot of coffee.

  I sit silently, trying to understand the meaning of Lucy’s words. Good with bad? What the hell is that about?

  Once Cassandra finishes filling the coffee maker, she flips it on and yells for Aiden. Moments later a tall, lanky kid enters the kitchen rubbing his eyes.

  “What Mom?” He stares at her before his eyes turn to me. There is an instant change in his demeanor and his body straightens as a subtle smile spreads across his face. “Well hello.” He says it so casually I have to bite my lip not to laugh. It’s nice to know even when I look like hell from lack of sleep that I can impress a horny teen.

  “Aiden, this is Aldo.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Aiden extends a hand and I take it.

  “Aiden had cystic fibrosis.”

  “What is that?” I ask as Aiden sits down beside me, gazing at me appreciatively.

  “His body produced too much mucus and—”

  “I was drowning in my own snot,” Aiden chimes in, interrupting his mother.

  “He had a lung transplant. The surgery went well, but he got an infection. His body wasn’t responding to antibiotics and the doctors told us he was going to die.”

  I stare at Aiden who is nodding. “But you lived,” I smile.

  “Thanks to your aunt,” Cassandra adds. “Coffee?” She holds up a white mug.

  “Please.” I accept the mug and she places a jar of sugar in front of me with a spoon.

  “How long ago was this?”

  “Four years ago,” Aiden answers.

  “Aiden, go up and clean your room,” Cassandra orders as she grabs a carton of milk from the fridge. Aiden lets out a long groan as he stands and trudges towards the door.

  “It was nice to meet you Aiden.” I wink at him and he grins before exiting.

  “I got myself a real ladies man on my hands,” Cassandra sighs shaking her head. “I’ll be right back.” She exits quickly and I sip my coffee as I listen hard for the energy of anyone else that might be in the house, but I don’t pick anything up. Minutes pass when Cassandr
a returns with a wooden box locked with a small combination lock. She places the box in front of me and steps away.

  “She said you would know the combination. You’re welcome to open it here. I’ll go in the next room and give you some privacy or I can take you back to your car.”

  I stare at the box before looking up at her. “I don’t understand. Why did she give this to you?”

  Cassandra sits down across from me and sips her coffee. “I didn’t have any way to pay her for healing Aiden. She said one day she might call upon me for a favor. About a year and a half ago, she did. She said she would be sending me a locked box and that I was to keep it until you showed up for it.”

  Her words hit me right in the gut. That means unequivocally, Lucy knew something was going to happen. She knew she might die so she sent this to Cassandra. “What about her safe deposit box?”

  “There isn’t one.”

  I stare at the box blankly. It looks exactly like the box I dreamed she left us in the car we drove to Florida in, in my dreams. How much of the things that happened in my subconscious were things I had absorbed? Am I really gifted if I can’t differentiate between what is real information and what is random stuff my subconscious makes up? Lucy knew I would come for this box, but how? I swallow the painful lump in my throat, fighting back tears. “But what if you hadn’t been there? What if you had quit or taken the day off? I might never have gotten this box.”

  “She said if you didn’t show up within three years to burn the box. I promised not to quit and I made sure there was a note in the computer to contact me if Lucy’s name was given just in case I missed work.” Cassandra stands and touches my shoulder. “I’ll give you a few minutes.”

  I nod. “Thank you.”

  Cassandra exits, and I run my hand over the top of the box. Lucy knew I would come for this. Or maybe she didn’t know. Maybe she was being her usual paranoid self, and prepared for the worst case scenario.

  Numbers run through my head as I try to guess what the combination is. The first one that comes to mind works—our birthday. With trembling hands, I open the box. My chest aches as I stare down at the stacks of money wrapped in numbered ribbons that lay on the top. I count the numbers on the ribbons and realize it’s thirty thousand dollars. Lucy left me thirty thousand dollars? I notice an envelope underneath the cash and quickly pull it out. ALDO is written across the front. Tears prick at my eyes as I run my fingers across the lettering; Lucy’s last letter to me. I look around once more to make sure I’m alone and with shaky hands I open the envelope gently, trying to preserve its integrity.