Chapter Three

Kate is loudly eating breakfast by the time I enter the living room, and greets me with a cheerful, "Any messages, this morning?"

I glare at her, but since I'm not really angry it only makes her laugh. "You might have asked me before giving him my number."

"It's obvious he likes you, Ana. And you're far too shy to do anything about it, so I made an executive decision."

I can't help a smile at that, given how much I enjoyed hearing from Christian. And then my brain catches up with what she just said. "How is it obvious?"

"After you'd gone to bed, he emailed me from a private account, and included his phone number. That never happens when I interview someone. A couple of them have literally taken out restraining orders. He's even agreed to provide a few recent photos to go with my story. You're a fucking legend."

I bow slightly, and say, "We aim to please." Her resulting giggle is light hail dancing on a tin roof. Cautiously preparing my breakfast—even after years living together, Kate struggles to remember that change equals danger for me—I plead, "You my study buddy today?"

"No can do, Steele. I have to finish this article. But I promise to submit to your rigorous schedule from tomorrow, okay?"

She doesn't really mean it as criticism, but I still feel it. "Hey, not everyone is guaranteed a career when...oh, fuck, I'm sorry. I didn't really mean that. Your family has been so good to me."

Cursing myself for ruining the mood, I reach out towards her. Kate readily takes my hand, and squeezes it in reassurance. "S'okay, babe. It's a fact that I'll eventually take over the family business. I know that I'm lucky. But I also want to earn it, so I really will knuckle down from tomorrow, okay?"

Just glad that I haven't offended my best friend, I meekly agree, "Okay."

She squeezes my hand once more before releasing me, and then quietly says, "And my family owes you, forever."

This is the start of an argument we've had so many times that we no longer even need the words. After a few seconds reliving the dialogue in my head, I ask, "And how is Ethan?"

With a sigh, Kate reveals, "Annoying, as only a brother can be. But he's doing well. If he had any interest whatsoever in journalism, I'd have some real competition." We're saved from any more awkwardness by her computer chiming. "Oh, that might be the photos. Remember to take breaks, okay? And eat lunch."

"Yes, Mom."

"So you know, I'm poking my tongue out at you right now."

There can be no answer but to reciprocate, and I go about my day to the sound of Kate's wind chime laugh.

By late afternoon, I've been studying so long that the words are starting to sound like gibberish. So it's a relief when the message alert sounds on my phone, and I open it to hear the robot say, "Good afternoon, Anastasia. Is now a convenient time to talk? Christian."

Heart thumping, and lips smiling, I call him to say, "You don't need to sign your texts. I know it's you."

"Good afternoon, Anastasia." He sounds so happy to hear from me that I hug myself with glee. "So, your phone tells you who the message is from? My tech guys are educating me, but I'm still learning."

He's researching visual aids? "Uh, it does if I ask it to. But you're the only person who uses my full name. Most people just call me 'Ana'...oh, you can too, if you wish."

After a moment, he asks, "Would you prefer that?"

A little surprised at the answer I find lurking in a remote corner of my brain, I reply, "No. I like how you say my name."

"Because?"

Heart now beating so loud that I'm worried he might hear it, I have to swallow before finding the courage to reveal, "Because it makes me feel special." When he merely sighs, and the ensuing silence stretches on, I prompt, "You wanted to talk?"

"Yes. I'm finding it difficult to not think about you every waking moment." He sounds so sad. God, is he married? Really must ask Kate what she knows about him.

I can barely hear my own voice ask, "That's bad?"

For a few seconds, all I hear is his breathing, and then he sounds harsh when he says, "I'm bad."

Utterly confused, I can only echo, "Bad?"

"Damaged might be a better word. I'd really like to stay in touch with you, Anastasia, but_"

Longing to reach through the phone and soothe his concerns, I interrupt, "Everyone's damaged, Christian. I hit my head, and have been blind since. But we find a way to cope, to get on with life."

"Oh, I was wondering what happened. It's obvious that you weren't always blind."

"But you didn't ask."

"Not because I don't care. I just...it seemed like asking would somehow erase who you were before. After two minutes with you, I knew that your blindness is only a tiny part of who you are, so I didn't want to...fuck, I'm not explaining this right."

I can't stifle a sob, but ignore the tears to reassure him, "No, you explained it great. It's so often the second question people ask me, and I hate it."

We're both silent for a while, and I take the time to get my rampant emotions under control. Eventually, he observes, "I made you cry again."

Miracle of miracles, I'm suddenly laughing. "Yes, you did. Thank you."

He laughs a little too, and then asks, "What's the first question they ask?"

And now I'm blushing. Even a phone call with him is a roller coaster ride. "Promise not to use it against me?"

"No, ma'am." I'm still debating whether or not to give him so much ammunition when he guesses, "They ask if you're single, don't they?"

He sounds so smug. Bastard. "No comment."

He laughs like everything good in my life, and says, "You're lucky. That's the first question they ask me. Second is whether I'm gay."

Genuinely shocked, I squeak, "What?"

"No, really. Even Ms Kavanagh. Did you not review her questions before the interview?"

Mentally composing a lecture to Kate, I reply, "There wasn't time. I'm sorry she did that. It's none of her business."

"It's okay, baby. She's not the first, and won't be the last. Even my family silently ask this one. Well, not my idiot brother, who has actually asked me."

This answers questions, and raises still more. But I'm getting a headache from all the emotion, so I smile to ask, "Are you single?"

"That's complicated." He sounds sad again.

So much for no emotion. "Complicated how? If you're with someone, just tell me, Christian. I won't slit my wrists or anything."

"You'd better fucking not!"

Whoa, where did that tone come from? For the first time, I get a picture with his voice, and I don't like it. We've been so honest with each other that I don't hesitate long to accuse, "You're a lion tamer now."

"Sorry?"

"I told you that voices bring images to my mind; you were suddenly an old-fashioned lion tamer, cracking his whip."

I'm not sure what I was expecting, but his harsh laughter is not it. "Oh, Anastasia, you have no idea. But I thought you don't see images with me?"

"That was the first one." My voice sounds so small.

"I scared you?"

"A little."

"Then no more joking about harming yourself, okay?"

I almost ask if someone in his life has ever done that, but instead reply, "Okay. And you didn't answer my question."

He sighs, and says, "I'm currently single. But my relationship status is irrelevant. I'd like to stay in touch, as friends, if that suits you. But there can be nothing more between us, Anastasia. I realize that my behavior yesterday promised something else, and I apologize_"

I'm angry. Finally, an emotion I'm comfortable with. "Just fucking tell me, Christian. I'm not a child!"

I can practically hear his surprise at my outburst, but then he chuckles and warmly vows, "No, you most definitely are not."

Lord, I'm suddenly remembering his arms, and what they felt like. And then I recall his reaction. This is all confusing as hell, but one thing is suddenly very clear. "Oh, you don't like to be touched."

This time I really do hear his shock. He gasps, and I can imagine him recoiling from the phone. It's his secret, and I don't want to force him, so I content myself with counting the seconds. I'm up to seven before he breathes, "No."

Not even Kate knows about this, or she would have mentioned it. It must have taken courage to admit that much. Forcing myself towards a cheerfulness I don't really feel, I tease, "So, what aids do you use?"

His laughter is gratitude, washing over me. "An over-priced shrink, rigid control over every aspect of my life and strenuous physical activity. You're okay with this?"

"I'm sad that I'll probably never get to hug you, but it's not really anything to do with me, is it?"

"Baby, it's everything to do with you."

Baby? Why do I feel like he's called me that before? "Uh, not sure how."

"Remember I joked about being okay with catching you if you'd tripped a second time?"

"I remember everything."

"Me too. But it was only after you'd left that I noticed how honest that was; I really wanted to hold you in my arms again. I don't recall ever feeling like that before."

I'm hugging myself again, and my smile is so big that my words are distorted. "Sounds like progress?"

"The over-priced shrink seems to think so. But I'm still damaged, and you're too young to gamble on me ever being healed."

Like he gets to decide that for me. "But we can talk on the phone?"

"Yes."

"And maybe sometimes hang out, as friends, after I move to Seattle?"

"Assuming you still want anything to do with me by the time you have a degree in your hand and the world at your feet, yes. I'd like that."

"All right. Anything else? I have finals to ace."

"Uh, no, nothing else. Oh, talk to Kate about secure communication. She'll know what I mean." With a light laugh, he says, "You're being wonderful about this, thank you."

"Maybe I'm just not that into you, Christian." I hold my breath, hoping he knows I'm joking.

"Oh, Anastasia, the things I could show you if we'd met under different circumstances."

Holy hell! I'm dizzy from his tone. And, for the second time, I receive an image with his voice. "Uh...you..."

He's clearly amused at my incoherence when he asks, "Yes, Ms. Steele?"

"You're fire now."

"Oh, I like that. Yes, I am. Don't let me burn you, okay?"

"I'll try."

"I really have to go, baby. Kate said to remind you about breaks."

"I'll take one now, I promise."

"Thank you. Goodbye for now, Anastasia."

"Bye, Christian. Thanks for calling."

"I didn't, but I would have. And it was truly my pleasure." And he's gone.

I don't know many minutes I'm frozen in place, reliving the conversation. And a few more wondering if I'll ever tell him that the flames didn't just envelop me, they entered me, until the image exploded in a blaze of hot pleasure. I've never actually done the deed with anyone. Other than myself, of course. But I now understand; his voice is sex.