Taking a calming breath, I suggested they come in to help with lunch. It turned into an argument over who should pick what we’d eat. I settled it by making slightly smashed peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. They both looked down at the mangled food on their plates and said nothing. Their internal sensors had finally warned them to save themselves by remaining mute.
I opened the windows throughout the apartment and the French doors in the kitchen to allow a breeze while they ate quietly. Before they finished, I decided I needed more quiet time and plugged in a movie. However, paint fumes from the apartment next door gradually permeated our living room, and the boys started begging to go outside. I agreed and trudged after them.
By the time Jim pulled into the driveway, I wanted to rip the keys from his hand and drive to the mountains.
“Rough day?” he called from the truck with a smile.
I nodded, not trusting what I’d say if I opened my mouth.
“Me, too. Want to go out for a drink?” he asked as he dropped next to me on the porch step.
I turned and gave him an are-you-stupid stare. I wasn’t opposed to alcohol, but leaving the boys completely alone while I consumed it—no matter how annoying they were—was not going to happen.
He grinned and stood just as I heard footsteps rapidly descending the stairs inside.
“Let me know if you change your mind,” he said.
He walked in as Emmitt stepped out. Emmitt gave Jim a dark look as they passed each other, but his expression cleared when his eyes fell on me. He sat next to me, and my stomach danced while my heart stuttered. A solid smear of brown paint decorated the side of one of his hands. Tiny speckles of white paint coated his hair.
“Want to watch another movie with me?”
I agreed without hesitation.
Inside, I heard a shower turn on. Seconds later, Jim began to sing. Emmitt’s expression changed, appearing more guarded.
“Let’s watch it upstairs,” he suggested.
I sat on the lumpy couch with a relieved sigh. The door to the apartment remained open. I could faintly hear Jim’s baritone, and Aden’s answering giggle as the group made cookies in Nana’s kitchen. It was enough noise to know where they were but not enough to bring on a twitch.
Emmitt popped in a movie he’d borrowed from Nana and, still colorfully adorned with paint, joined me on the couch. This time, I focused on the movie and relaxed...or tried to. My insides continued to go funny around Emmitt, and it proved as distracting as my worry about Blake.
An hour and a half later, I frowned at the rolling credits and wished for another thirty minutes. “I made grape drink at lunch,” I said, standing. “Want some?” I just wanted to stall going back downstairs. I still felt out of control emotionally and wasn’t ready to take on my brothers again.
He nodded, lips twitching, and I moved to the kitchen to pour a glass.
“Were they that bad today?” he asked from behind me.
I wrinkled my nose. Either Jim told him, or he’d witnessed my reactions to them at some point throughout the day. At least he hadn’t noticed my other freak-outs.
“No. I’m just not used to being around them so much.”
“How much time are you used to spending with them?”
I shrugged, determined not to say more, and turned to hand him his glass of purple, flavored water.
He didn’t take the glass. Instead, he reached out and tenderly tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.
A girl stood in a busy, mall food court. She wore heavy makeup. The girls with her talked and laughed. She smiled but didn’t stop scanning the crowd. Dark shadows circled her eyes. I guessed she was younger than she appeared. Probably sixteen or seventeen. It seemed as if she wanted to hide her youth behind the makeup and clothes.
Her skittish gaze began to make me nervous. I looked around, trying to figure out what she searched for. I saw in the food court clearly, but the shops further away faded into a haze. I wondered what it meant that I could only see the immediate area in these visions.
Looking closely at the area visible to me, I spotted a man watching her from across the food court. He appeared several years older than she did. She hadn’t noticed him, yet.
He pulled a phone out of his pocket and dialed a number. I could hear his end of the conversation clearly even over the distance that separated us. It would have been impossible in the real world, but perhaps in my vision world I could hear anything I could see.
“Gabby, I found her, but—” He stopped and listened, never taking his eyes from the girl. “Yes. I understand you think she’s important, but she’s not even eighteen. How am I supposed to get her to come with me?” He paused again. “Fine. You better be there when we get there.” He hung up the phone and slipped it back into his pocket.
I became aware of the present and Emmitt’s thumb softly trailing across my cheek. My heart skipped a beat, and I struggled to breathe. He stood so close. Friends, I reminded myself.
“What are you thinking about?” Emmitt asked.
I took a slow breath. “Nothing.”
He dropped his hand, and his eyes searched mine. “We all have our secrets, Michelle.”
I wanted to snort in disbelief. What secret did Emmitt have that could possible rival the laundry basket of secrets I carried?