Kaidan had been captivated by the store owner’s deep Texas accent. He asked a ridiculous number of questions just to keep the man talking. He then tried to repeat the man’s accent when we got in the car: “‘Where are y’all young’uns headed? We got us some maps over yonder by them there h-apples.’”
I laughed out loud as he butchered the man’s beautiful drawl.
“He did not say ‘over yonder’!”
“I’ve always wanted to say that. I love Americans. You’ve got a nice little accent, though not nearly as wicked as his.”
“I do?”
He nodded.
Aside from the occasional y’all, I didn’t think I sounded Southern, but I guess it’s hard to say about your own self.
“Tell me about the places you’ve lived.” I angled in my seat toward him and unwrapped the first of his two sandwiches, winding a napkin around the bottom half and handing it to him.
“Thanks.” He took a huge bite and began talking after he swallowed. “I was born in London. My mother also died in childbirth, like all mothers of Nephilim.” He took another bite as I pondered this.
“I grew up back and forth between the British Isles: England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales. I spent short periods of time in France, Italy, and South Africa. This is my first time in the States. I was disappointed by Atlanta at first—I’d wanted to live in New York—but it’s grown on me.”
Everything about Kaidan was exciting and exotic. This was my first time traveling away from home, and he’d already seen so much. I ate my apple, glad it was crisp and not soft.
“Which was your favorite place?” I asked.
“I’ve never been terribly attached to any place. I guess it would have to be... here.”
I stopped midchew and examined his face. He wouldn’t look at me. He was clenching his jaw, tense. Was he serious or was he teasing me? I swallowed my bite.
“The Texas panhandle?” I asked.
“No.” He seemed to choose each word with deliberate care. “I mean here in this car. With you.”
Covered in goose bumps, I looked away from him and stared straight ahead at the road, letting my hand with the apple fall to my lap.
He cleared his throat and tried to explain. “I’ve not talked like this with anyone, not since I started working, not even to the only four people in the world who I call friends. You have Patti, and even that boyfriend of yours. So this has been a relief of sorts. Kind of... nice.” He cleared his throat again.
Oh, my gosh. Did we just have a moment? I proceeded with caution, hoping not to ruin it.
“It’s been nice for me, too,” I said. “I’ve never told Jay anything. He has no idea. You’re the only one I’ve talked to about it all, except Patti, but it’s not the same. She learned the basics from the nun at the convent where I was born.”
“You were born in a convent,” he stated.
“Yes.”
“Naturally.”
“Anyway,” I continued, “I didn’t talk to Patti about any of the changes in me or the things I could do when I was growing up. So I do understand the loneliness.”
“Even so,” he said. “Her love for you...”
And there it was.
I had grown up with love, and nothing else. Kaidan had grown up with all of the knowledge of who he is, and all the material things in the world, but no love.
“What about all of the girls you’ve dated?” I knew I was reaching. “I’m sure there’ve been some who loved you, and maybe some who you could have loved, too?”
“No girl has ever loved me. You have to know someone to love them. They’ve all been infatuations. They wanted to own me. That’s the nature of lust.”
My gut wrenched with guilt as I recognized the feeling he described. And just when I was afraid he would notice, Jamie Moore’s face flashed into my mind. She would have been capable of loving him, given the chance. As much as I did not want to think about her, I felt a pull in that direction.
“There’s a girl at my school who you were with last year. I guess it was when you first moved here. She was really nice. Jamie Moore?”
He nodded in acknowledgment, but kept his eyes on the road. I didn’t continue. I was afraid I’d pushed my luck too far, and the topic made me nervous anyway.
“Look, here’s the deal,” Kaidan said. “They all know up front I’m not interested in a relationship. I never lie to any of them. I don’t need to. The truth hurts worse than a lie. Jamie thought she could change me. It was a foolish notion.”
It seemed that he wanted me to believe he was hardened, but I didn’t. I had seen cracks, glimpses of something softer hiding under it all. So I went for it.
“Do you ever feel sorry for them, or sad to see them hurting?” I rushed on before he could answer. “Please, I don’t mean that as a judgment. I’m just trying to figure you out.”
His grip tightened on the steering wheel, turning his knuckles white.
“What if I say no, hmm? What if I have no compassion for the ones I’ve hurt—no, better yet, the ones who have allowed themselves to be hurt, even sought out the pain?”
I held my hands in my lap and stared down at the half-eaten apple turning brown at the edges.
“Then I would feel bad for you,” I said.
“Why?”