7. ROAD TRIP
Allison Harper - deceased
Denise Marie Juneau - deceased
Lauryn Whitaker - deceased
Jessica Greene - deceased
Monica Jane Deveraux - deceased
Rachael Leigh – Pittburg, PA
April May June - Really?
Desmond Casey - ?
Rex Casey - ?
Katelyn Vaughn - ?
As much as I didn't like to admit it, Madison had been able to find the names of all the kids who were last in St. Christian's before the place was shut down. She got them pretty damn fast, too. She was still working on where the others were located, but that gave us time to visit our first.
Ethan, of course, was slightly proud about being right, but knew me just enough to know that it wasn't best to boast aloud.
The easiest to track down and question was Rachael Leigh. Apparently Ms. Leigh had become quite a lucrative entrepreneur in the twenty-seven years since St. Christians, owning her own vast fortune. How did she get so rich?
She started out sewing costumes for dog. And apparently there were enough people in the continental U.S. who liked to subject their beloved and loyal pets to humiliation and degradation. I mean, honestly, what Chihuahua is going to want to be prancing around in a tutu?
It was a five-and-a-half drive to Pittsburg. I told Ethan that we would be bunking in a motel overnight since there was no way I would feel like spending 11 hours in a car in one day. So while he was upstairs packing an overnight bag, I was downstairs at the kitchen table trying to get a hold of Ms. Leigh to see if she was available to see us when we hit town. If she didn't answer then I'd have to pop up and surprise her, and that rarely went well.
"I'm all packed," Ethan said as he came down the steps, satchel in hand. "I called Grace and let her know that I won't be home until tomorrow evening, so if Shaun needed something she knows where the spare key is."
I clicked print on his laptop to get the directions as he walked up behind me.
"Can I see the list?" He asked. I handed the list of names to him carelessly and went about finding a cheap motel in the area.
"April May June – really?"
"Really," I said. "Some parents like to make life rough on their kids by naming them something corny. Apparently hers really wanted to make things difficult by giving her up at birth."
"Would Norman be considered something difficult to live with?" Ethan asked playfully. I glared sardonically and sneered. "Hey, don't defensive – my middle name is Travis. You think I didn't have a hard time growing up?"
"E.T. Mars?" I asked blithely.
"Yeah, try getting by that one," he said.
The doorbell rang and Ethan sat his satchel on the table. I heard him great Madison as he urged her to come inside.
"Hey, I wanted to know if you were able to get a hold of Rachael yet?" Madison asked.
"Nothing yet," I said. "We're about to head out the door and hit the road."
"Pittsburg, here we come," Ethan said.
"Yeehaw," I said dryly. Oh, how I couldn't wait for Pittsburg. I was pretty certain that my sarcasm could be seen from space.
"Road trip? Mind if I come along?" Madison asked.
"I'd rather you didn't," I said.
"Norman," Ethan groaned.
"I'm just saying that the less people present, the less people in danger. It's for your safety, Madison," I said. To some extent that was true.
"I'm going – how come you don't mind putting me in danger?" He asked.
"I did mind – I tried to get you to stay, remember?" He smirked a little.
"Come on, Jayden; I'd be so useful to you both. The three of us would be the dream team of investigators," she said. Madison leaned on the counter and pushed her cleavage out, squeezing her arms together to accentuate her wiles. "Please?"
Ethan snickered; she didn't understand what was so comical about watching her try to beguile me onto her side with sex appeal, but he sure as hell did. I stared her down as I tapped my finger on the table, tossing my options over in my head.
"You'd need to gather a few things, and we don't have to wait on you to run to your house and come back," I said.
"I have a bag of clothes and incidentals in the department beneath the seat of my bike," she said.
"You were planning on coming with us?" That certainly wasn't winning me over. "Ethan, did you tell her about this trip?"
"…I might have let something slip," he said with a sly grin.
"I promise I won't get on your nerves," she said. I rolled my eyes when she jutted out her bottom lip, quivering it with woe. "Please? I'll be your best friend."
"I don't need any best friends who write for the American Tribune," I said stiffly.
"I'll give you foot massages for a week," she said.
"I can rub my own feet, thank you," I said. Although I had to say, the idea sounded very tempting at the moment.
"Yeah, but while you're here I'll be your foot-rubbing slave. You don't even have to ask, you can just order me to do it. Just say; 'Get over here and get busy!' And I'll be right there."
I didn't know whether it was the say she'd bobbed her head when she impersonated me, or whether it was the idea of a good foot rub whenever I wanted one, especially since I'd been on my feet so much lately. I groaned and rubbed my cheeks.
"All right, but I don't want you making it fucking obvious to Rachael Leigh that you're a journalist – that's a surefire way to get her trap sealed shut, and she might have information that could lead us to Desmond Casey," I said.
"Right, no mentioning to anyone that I'm a journalist," she said.
"And I'm asking the questions. I don't want to hear you whining when you don't get to ask what you want, because we can just leave you behind right now and save me the trouble if that's going to be the case."
"Right, no whining."
"And no begging," I added.
"And no begging – when you say 'hush,' I'll be quieter than a church mouse," she said.
"I'm going to remember you said that," I said, eyeing her down.
"Agreed," she said giddily. We shook on it, and she squealed, rushing out the door to go and get her things.
"That was very nice of you to allow her to come along," Ethan said commendably. "You handled it like an adult, and I'm proud of you."
"You owe me big time for this," I said.
"You're already getting foot rubs from Madison, I think the information leak is squared," Ethan said. He sat down across from me and his tone became serious. "About last night…"
"I'm fine, Ethan; just a small episode, nothing to worry about," I said. I felt fine when I woke up this morning, and had a big breakfast; I was on top of the friggin' world.
"If that's a small episode, I can't imagine what it's like on a regular basis," he said.
"I manage, all right? What happened is done and over with, and now we can focus on Rachael Leigh." He frowned, disappointed, and balled his fists on the table. He then leaned back in the chair, slightly letting his head bob loosely around his shoulders, and reached into his pocket.
The vial. He spun it around and around in his fingers. "So you're still using it?"
"I haven't touched that stuff in two years," I said. His eyes were somewhat critical, disparagingly judging me. "I swear, Ethan, that's the god's honest truth."
"Then why is this here?" He asked. I couldn't exactly come up with a reason that made tangible sense, it was just something that I needed nearby, something I had to prove.
"It's so that I won't forget that I'm just a man," I said. "It's sort of like my Kryptonite, and I keep it nearby to remind myself when I should just walk away."
"Don't you think that's a bit like playing with fire?" Ethan asked.
"I think it's like jumping into a volcano, but it's just something that I need," I said.
"I think that you should throw it away. If you had any integrity, you'd do it for me, if not for yourself," Ethan said. He sat it down on the table and stood up from his chair, reaching for his satchel. "I'll be waiting in the car."
I didn't like the way he'd said that, nor the disapproving look in his eyes as he turned to walk away.
"Ethan," I said. My voice sounded desperate; I didn't care. He looked up at me again, that sullen judgment still lingering around his eyes like an aura. "You do believe me, right?"
"I believe you," he said flatly. "It's what I saw last night that I don't trust. If you could've seen yourself from where I was standing, I think you'd understand."
I ran a frustrated hand through my hair; he didn't understand. I stared down at the vial.
Maybe he was right? Maybe I should just throw it away? I'd been so deep in detective work that the symptoms were getting worse. If I kept this up, who knew where my mind, my body – where I would be a week, two weeks from now. If things got so bad that I couldn't take it anymore, I might just use it.
Then again, it could save my life if the side effects became too overwhelming.
I swept the vial into my hand and stuffed it in my coat pocket.
Things were a little rough between Ethan and me after our conversation in the kitchen. Somehow I think that he knew that I still had the vial of Tripto on me. Madison looked uncomfortable in the front seat, glancing over at Ethan as he drove, and me as I went over my fact sheets in the back seat. Our tension must have been palpable to keep her quiet for so long. Not that I minded, exactly.
"It's chilly," Madison said. Ethan grunted, I went on about my business. "How about some music?"
"Sure," Ethan said.
"No," I said. Madison looked back at me with some impression of incredulity, a brow quirked down as if to say 'Seriously?' "I like to be able to keep track of my thoughts while I'm reading. I don't want another victim to die just because you needed to listen to Ace of Bass."
"Okay…" Madison leaned her forehead against the window and watched the cars drive by in the rain.
I kept wondering whether Monica Deveraux was alive or not. What was Ash doing to find her?
"Are you boys going to tell me what's up between you?" Madison asked.
"Nothing to write home about," Ethan said. I laughed. Despite the attitude, it was funny. "If you need to use the bathroom or gather snacks and provisions, I suggest doing so now."
He pulled into the muddy, gravel ridden lot of a gas station and parked beside a pump.
"Good, I need to get out of this car," she said. She opened the door and stretched, and I kicked my feet up on the seat.
"Hey Madison," I called out. She bent low and glanced inside the car, taking note of the mischievous grin on my face. "Get back here and get busy."
"You're not serious," she said. "You want a foot rub right now?"
"I need it to concentrate. The more relaxed I am, the easier it is to crack this case," I said.
"You've got to be kidding – it's raining 'Nam out here!"
"I seem you recall you using the word slave at one point, didn't she Ethan?" I heard Ethan chuckle and he opened the door, opting out of taking sides on this one. Madison groaned, shut the front door and opened the back, climbing inside as I casually kicked off my shoes and placed my feet on her lap with a smile as wide as a hyena's.
Four hours later, and one hell of a back ache later, we arrived at the motel I'd circled on the map. A small dive, nothing too extravagant, and most importantly off the map. If anyone was looking for us, this was the last place in the state they'd think of looking for us.
"How many of you will be sharing rooms?" The guy behind the desk asked. Short, probably 5'7", with a long, grey, thinning ponytail and thick rimmed glasses. I took note of the fishing vest around his shoulders, and the 14-point buck head mounted above his office door. A hunter, kept to himself.
"We'll each have separate rooms, preferably adjoined," I said. Ethan moved as if to say something, but backed down. Something was on his mind.
"Will you each be paying separately?" He asked.
"I'll be putting all three rooms on my card." You're welcome, Madison.
My room was practically a closet, so small that the bed barely fit inside with about two feet of walking space around it. The bathroom was dingy; didn't plan on using that anytime soon. I'd drive the highway to find another gas station if the urge called.
I set my small bag down on the bed and sat on the edge, running a hand through my wet hair to shake out the water. I reached into my pocket to fish out my phone, but reached into the wrong one and felt the vial.
Somehow it'd made it out of my pocket and sat cradled in the palm of my hand as I looked it over. I reached over, unzipped the bag, slipped the Triptocaine into the inside pocket and zipped it shut to be done with it all.
There was a soft knock on the door. I groaned as audibly as possible. I just wanted to lay down and stretch out for I while. Reluctantly, I bounced up and stepped over to the door, opening it.
"Hey," Ethan said. "Feel like talking?"
"Not really," I said.
"Come on, I won't bite," he said. He slipped a box from behind his back; doughnuts. "As an added inducement I brought these."
"Is that supposed to be some kind of bribe?" I asked.
"I thought you government lackeys loved doughnuts," Ethan said. I leaned my head against the door, sighing and stepping aside. He stepped in, out of the rain, and sat the box on the bed.
I took his coat and laid it with mine over the wooden chair that sat beside the window and he sat down, hands clapping on his knees as he glanced around the room. I sat down next to him and leaned forward.
"So you wanted to talk?" I asked.
"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry about what I said this morning," he said.
"You know, you spend half of your time apologizing to me these days."
"It's none of my business why you keep that stuff around you. It's your life, and if you need your reminder then you should keep it." He frowned a bit, thinking through whatever went through that head of his. Then his calm, baby blue eyes locked onto mine. "Still, even though I overreacted and it's none of my business… I think that you should get rid of it."
I ran the fingers on my right hand along my chin, stroking it in thought. Should I tell him the truth? The whole truth? As a father, what would he think of me after he knew what I'd done?
It was hard enough for me to accept, and I wasn't in Ethan's shoes. There was no telling what he'd think of me. But the only way to find out was to explain it to him, and it was the only way he'd completely look past this hurdle we'd come to.
"The truth is that you're right, Ethan, completely right – I should get rid of it," I said. I couldn't look him in the eye, so I stared at the floor and hoped for the best. "But that's not going to happen. The complete truth is that I may eventually use it one day. Not that I want to, or totally intend to, but it is a possibility."
"Why? If it's done this much to you, if it has this much hold over your life, why would you subject yourself to this… mindless torment?"
"Because the last time I allowed myself to get too involved in a case without balancing out my addictions, it cost me my life, and my conscience. I will never forgive myself for what happened. And it's something I'll have to live with. But I won't let it happen again."
"What happened?" He asked. I put my head in my hands, prepping myself to walk down that memory. Not that all the preparation in the world could make it any easier. But for Ethan's trust I'd do it.
"After a year of being weaned off of the ARI device, I was ready to go back to work. I was put on this case, I was following a drug lord. But I was still having these… rifts in reality. I was advised to keep a small amount of triptocaine on my person at all times in case something like this happened again. But I was stubborn; proud. I knew that I could overcome anything thrown at me.
"There was a sting, and Monty Gespard, the ring leader of the cartel, was getting away. I chased him down, out into the streets. And then I felt this sense, like I knew that my mind was going to have another breakdown. But I pressed on anyway because I knew that I could get to him before the ARI side effects started working against me. I was determined that I could overcome the effects without having to rely on the tripto. Having to do that would mean weakness.
"I caught up to Gespard. He had a little girl at his side, an innocent hostage. With a gun to her head, he threatened to shoot her if I didn't lower my gun. The world around me became a blur, and I knew that I was already over the edge and into a residual trip, but I had to bring this guy down to prove that I was still on top of the game.
"I fired, and put a bullet right between Gespard's eyes. The girl lived. I'd saved her. But she kept kneeling down and crying over him, I couldn't understand it. I'd just saved her life, he was holding her at gunpoint, and yet she was crying over his body. I walked up to Monty's body as my men arrived.
"Julianna Breslin lay dead on the concrete as her daughter, Hannah, cried over her body. I'd shot an innocent woman right in front of her kid." I tried to keep my face shaded away from Ethan. I could feel him watching me. Not that I was crying, I just couldn't bear the judgment that I would see in them.
"Pride killed that woman, my pride. And my bureau, which I'd served loyally for fifteen years, decided to honorably 'retire' me to ease the guilt on their hands for doing this to us," I said. "I keep that vial not only as a reminder, but so that I can make damn certain that something like that will never, ever, happen again."
I built up the courage to look at Ethan. I wasn't sure when he'd stopped staring at me, but now he seemed to favor the wall ahead.
"Can you understand that?" I asked.
"Without condemning, I understand," he said.
He stood up and reached for the door, pausing only briefly. Again, he wanted to say something but chose to keep his thoughts to himself and left, closing the door behind him and leaving only silence in his wake.
I hated that I couldn't make out what he was thinking. I was supposed to be able to get inside of people's heads.
I grabbed my car keys and coat, heading out the door. I needed to drive, I needed to be alone for a while. And what better way to spend my time than to hunt down Rachael Leigh and get this trial out of the way?
Her place definitely wasn't hard to find. On the outskirts of Pittsburg, a single house about half a mile away from the next house. Reminded me of those old horror flicks where the heroine's all alone on a full moon night, and some axe-wielding maniac has it in for her for no particular reason other than he's bored and evil.
I knocked on her door, and the porch light flipped on. A woman, short and much younger than I'd been expecting, answered the door. She eyed me suspiciously from the ground up with a look of contempt.
"You a reporter?" She asked. I had to bark a laugh.
"Nowhere near," I said.
"You just have that look about you," she said. "So who are you and what do you want?"
"Is this the home of Rachael Leigh?" I asked.
"Depends on who's looking for her," the woman said. I took that as a yes.
"I'm agent Norman Jayden, FBI," I said. I figured since I'd gone through the trouble of making the badge I may as well get as much mileage out of it as possible. Impersonating a federal agent could land me three years in federal prison with a $250,000 fine, but being an honorary retiree of the bureau I figured I could slip by.
The woman stepped aside and I thanked her for letting me inside. She led me through the neat and tidy house, filled with hokey abstract paintings and statues. She stopped at a door and knocked lightly.
"Mom," she said. "Mom, there's some guy from the FBI to see you."
"Come in." the young woman opened the door and stepped aside. I walked slowly inside the room. It was cold in here, and smelled like a hospital.
Rachael Leigh lied in bed, sickly frail and looking close to death. Her honey-blonde hair was rife with white and grey shades, and her hollow
"FBI, you said?" She asked.
"Yes, ma'am," I said. "I'm agent Norman Jayden. I'd like to ask you a few questions, if now's a good time."
"If this it is about that fraudulent scam that my assistant was running behind my back, you're out of luck. I've already said everything I have to say publicly about that, and any other questions you may have, Mr. Jayden, can be forwarded to my lawyer."
"That's not why I'm here, Ms. Leigh." I reached into my coat pocket and slipped the picture of Desmond Rex out to hand to her. "Do you recognize the boys in this picture?"
Rachael reached for her glasses on the chest beside her bed and slipped them onto the ridge of her nose. The reaction was immediate, she knew them.
"Elizabeth, please leave us alone," Rachael said. Rachael dropped the picture and slid the glasses off of her nose, grabbing her chest.
"Mom, is everything all right?" Elizabeth asked.
"Please, just leave, sweetheart," Rachael said. Elizabeth closed the door without another word. "Sit, Mr. Jayden, sit."
I carefully settled my weight onto the edge of the bed at her side.
"What is this about?" She asked. I unfolded the list of names and placed them on top of the photo.
"I'm a criminal profiler investigating a string of murders. All of the victims were women who'd come from this orphanage, the same one that you grew up in."
"St. Christians," Rachael said.
I believe that this man, Desmond Casey, is the Barbershop Killer on account of his modus operandi, his brutal incisions with a straight razor," I said. Rachael placed her hands in her lap and gnawed on the inside of her jaw as she thought. "I'd just like to ask you for whatever information you may have on Desmond Casey and his whereabouts."
"I knew that boy. I did," she said. "The other one in this photo, it's Rex, his younger brother. If I recall correctly, their parents had died in some terrible tragedy just before they were given to the state.
"They say look out for the quiet ones, and oh, Rex was a quiet one. But it's really the loud ones that cause trouble. Desmond wasn't just a boy. There was something inside of him that drove him, it governed him. He was so angry all the time, always so confrontational and trying to blame someone. One day that anger drove him to an act that will forever remain burned in my memory.
"There was a new girl, Katie. She was twelve when she arrived, so Desmond would've been, oh… Seventeen about that time. He immediately took a liking to her for some reason. The rest of us knew it wasn't right. Just the way he looked at her should have been enough for us to step in and do something, but we didn't know any better.
"Katie was a writer, and oh, she could write. She had a brilliant mind, always so happy. Like the anti-Desmond. Where he promoted hate, and anger, and chaos, she promoted unconditional love to the rest of us.
"One day, down by the lake, he and Katie were playing. It wasn't any different than any other day, but this time something in his eye glinted as he looked at Katie. Something he'd been fantasizing about for a while, I would guess. He took Katie into the trees. He said he just wanted to show her something.
"And then the screams came. We ran and ran, trying to find them. By the time we found her it was too late, Desmond had already violated her, took her innocence and left her on the floor of the woods alone. She was bleeding. He had these razors, see; beautifully crafter knives with sterling silver handles. A family heirloom, I believe. He'd cut her while he raped her.
"The rest of us, we tried to tell Sister Hale, but she wouldn't hear of it. Desmond had gotten away with his crimes and he knew it. So there was nothing to stop him when he decided to go after Katie again, and again."
Rachael was quiet for a moment as she stared down into the face of the boy she recalled.
"Then St. Christians was closed, and we were all separated. I don't know whatever became of Katie, but I hope she managed to get away from those memories before they consumed her."
"Ms. Leigh, your life could be in danger. I think that you should be put into a protection program until the dust on this case settles," I said. She laughed.
"Mr. Jayden, I am forty-three years old, and I feel like I'm seventy," she said. "Any efforts you put into protection would only be wasted. Be it by the cancer or Desmond's hands is inconsequential; the point is that I'm dying."
She gripped my hand and looked into my eyes. Something in her tired eyes perceived a man, but what kind of man she saw I couldn't begin to fathom.
"You think too much about the years you have left, but you never really spend them living," she said. "There's something inside of you that I've seen before, something desperate. If you don't come to peace with whatever you're fighting, it'll turn into anger. When you're controlled by anger you only end up hurting the ones you love."
I folded up the papers on the bed and slipped them back into my coat pocket.
"Thank you for your time, Ms. Leigh," I said. She smiled and closed her eyes. It was almost instantaneous, the way that she fell asleep. I closed the door to her room as quietly as I possibly could.
"Listen, if either of you need anything just give me a call," I said. I handed Elizabeth my number, and she smiled halfheartedly as she pocketed the card.
The sun was setting on my drive back to the motel. Here the sun actually broke through clouds and cast the roads in gold as three shadows reached out for me slowly until the horizon had swallowed it whole.
Pulling into the motel, I parked right in front of the space between mine and Madison's room. She immediately opened the door, shielding her eyes from the headlights until I cut the engine.
"Where have you been?" I slipped out of the car and closed the door.
"My job, the reason we're here in the first place," I said.
"You were able to talk to Rachael Leigh?" She asked. "Why didn't you tell me? Or Ethan, for that matter?"
"It doesn't matter, she didn't tell me much that I didn't already know. Except now I'm certain that Desmond Casey's our guy." She looked thoughtfully down at the pavement for a moment, pacing for a few moments.
"I found his brother while you were gone," she said. This piqued my interest. Finally, something the two of us could talk about. "The really weird part is that I know him."
"You know Rex Casey?" I asked. "And the name didn't actually ring a bell until now?"
"No, I don't actually know him, I meant to say that I've met him," Madison said.
"Well let's go, pronto, get me the information."
"Not until I've eaten," Madison said. "Let me borrow your car, I'll go get something to eat, and then we can get down to business."
"You? Borrow my car? I don't think so," I said caustically.
"Why not? I bet you'd let Ethan borrow it if he asked," she said.
I stammered. I would, if he asked, and I wouldn't even ask many questions. Touché, Madison.
"That's different, Ethan's my case partner," I said. Weak excuse, and not only did I know it but Madison knew it too, I could see it in her face. "All right, take the keys, but bring it back in one piece."
"I'll even put gas in it," she said. Now that I could agree with. I tossed her the keys and she was gone faster than lightning. Not that I could blame her, none of us had really eaten all day.
I saw Ethan's door beyond hers, and the lamp light therein. I walked along the sidewalk casually, taking my time until I was standing right at his door. Should I knock? He might not want to be disturbed. But still, I had to know if he was done with me. The way he left earlier, I wouldn't be surprised.
The door opened without a single scratch.
"Norman," Ethan said as he took me in, realizing that I was actually standing at his door.
"Yeah, I was about to knock but you beat me to it," I said.
"I was just coming to see if you were back from wherever you'd gone," he said. "Come on in."
I stepped inside. Well wasn't this peachy? His room was way bigger than mine, and I paid the same price. What the hell was up with that?
"Would you like some coffee? I've got some on the desk there," Ethan said.
"I won't be in your hair long, I just had to clear up a few things," I said. Ethan sat on the bed, and I paced as he watched me intently. What did I say? How did I begin?
"Where did you go?" He asked.
"I questioned Rachael Leigh. Desmond is definitely our guy, razors and all." He nodded thoughtfully and leaned back on his arms, kicking his legs out and crossing one over the other. I decided to go for broke and just put all of my cards on the table. "Listen,
"I understand if you want nothing to do with me or my crazy past, and addictions, and episodes. It's way too much to drop on someone in such a short time, and I understand if you're through when we get back." He didn't say anything at first. That made me nervous. Then he cocked his head with this serious expression across his brow.
"What made you think that I would be done with you once we got back?" He asked. And I could tell that this time he expected an answer.
"The way to left my room after I told you what happened earlier. I could see the ruling in your face, and when you couldn't look at me… Wouldn't look at me, I just assumed that it was over and you'd be moving on once you got home."
Ethan's blank stare turned into a frown and some sorrow came over him. "Is that what you thought? I'm sorry if that's what you've been thinking all day, that wasn't it at all."
He stood up and faced me, looking from eye to eye with sincerity. That was one thing I could count on when talking to Ethan Mars; sincerity. An air of authenticity in everything he did and said. That's why I took such a crazy risk two years ago and snuck him out of the department; I knew, just by looking at him, that he meant every word he said.
"I didn't say anything because I didn't know what I could possibly say at that moment without coming off as jackass for not understanding what you've been shouldering," he said. "You've been carrying this guilt alone, and I can't imagine what it must have been like.
"You've been helping me with my fears, and I intent to stick by you as you face yours. Even if I don't understand them, I want to help you get past them."
I'm not entirely sure what had changed in the air of the room, what had set him in a different light, but I saw Ethan in a way that I'd never seen him before. And yet it was how I'd always seen him. The man that I wanted to save and looked up to at the same time. The man whose superpower could be found in immeasurable generosity and kindness.
He wasn't a saint, he was just a man, but he was someone I could worship and help at the same time, for the rest of my life. And so the part of me that wanted hold him, to caress him, stepped forward, slowly closing the distance and keeping his eyes.
I had never been entirely certain if Ethan would've responded positively to me if I were to do this, but he didn't back away, and his intoxicating breath stayed completely calm as I brought my face closer to his, inch by inch. And he still stared into my eyes serenely as I stopped my body mere centimeters from his.
He was the one to lean in and bring our lips together. Of course he would, I thought. I smiled against him at the thought, and closed my eyes as I took in the experience of him.
His hands moved up to my neck, and his fingers slithered into the hair at the nape of my neck, massaging my scalp as he deepened the kiss. I'd grabbed his hips, feeling his belt and pants slide beneath the shirt material at my fingertips, pulling him against me and allowing him to flick his tongue past my lips.
It was incredibly enthralling, and the taste of him heady, as we stood wrapped in the warmth of one another on equal ground. He knew all of my dark, seedy secrets and demons and I knew his. Yet we were both completely willing to draw a line and protect one another from being consumed by fear.
Because he was my partner, and I was his; unquestionably, irrevocably, irretrievably his.
