A Dark Path – Chapter 17
She remembered getting drunk; that part was fun.
She remembered coming to his house; that part was embarrassing.
She didn't remember taking off her clothes. She didn't remember climbing into his bed.
She hoped that wasn't something she'd live to regret; she hoped he wasn't something she'd regret.
She looked around and his side of the bed was undisturbed. It was his bed, but he wasn't in it. She pulled on a pale blue shirt, also his and crept barefoot through the marble halls. She'd heard the stories and knew a scantily clad woman in bare feet wasn't unusual for Charlie Crews' house.
Ted Early, Charlie's roommate was drinking coffee and reading the paper over a large island in the kitchen. He said nothing, looked a moment too long at her legs and then pointed to a room, which presumably held Crews.
She found him in the living room, draped over a long couch of chestnut leather.
Either the couch was too short or he was too long, but it looked wrong, uncomfortable and painful. He was oddly arranged with an arm slung over the back like he was holding a lover. He wore navy plaid boxers and a heather grey t-shirt. His freckles extended to parts of him she'd never seen before, but she noticed now. He was restless; his body refused to be still. His long bare legs stuck to the leather, which squeaked when he moved, yet despite his position and comfort level, he snored softly. Had he done this to them or had she? She wasn't sure anymore. Regardless of whoever started them down this dark path, she'd led them both somewhere decidedly more tangled last night. She quietly slunk back to his room, took off his clothes and climbed into his shower.
He'd heard the soft footfalls of her bare feet echo on the empty hallways and kept up the pretense of sleep to give her options. She could simply disappear and he'd never ask her why she came to him in the dark of night with liquor on her breathe. He'd let her have her illusions as she gave him the freedom to keep his. He heard the shower start and the water surge through the pipes in his house, which was as silent as a tomb. At least he wasn't alone. Ted wasn't still chasing a dream in Spain although Rachel was still hidden away from a threat that no longer existed.
She was right - Rachel was – when she told him that he was sending her away so he could be alone.
Except that he wasn't alone – she was here. Dani Reese, his partner and something more – something indescribable, indefinable, an unknown to a man who thought he knew things. Turns out he didn't know squat. She was his and yet she wasn't. They were locked in spiral that promised pain and yet, unable or unwilling to let go. It was totally un-Zen.
The shower stopped and silence returned. He heard the soft snick of the front door and the sound of Ted's Ford Fusion as he left for the class at university he taught at 8AM. Twenty minutes passed, then thirty and forty, just shy of an hour he could no longer stand the not knowing – the silence had become oppressive.
He crept up the stairs in his rumpled clothes. A night on his couch instead of his bed made him feel stiff and uncoordinated. He felt like a stranger in his own home.
She sat still and silent on the edge of his bed wrapped in a fluffy white towel. She was crying, not bawling, but tears streamed down her face and stained her cheeks. Her eyes were closed and her chest heaved. He knelt before her and spoke her name softly, not Dani, but "Reese," like a question.
Her eyes opened and they were a warm brown and concerned. "What's…" he began and she dropped her head. His hands were on her in an instant. One rested lightly on her knee and the other held her chin returning her to his eyes. "Hey," he said in a low, concerned tone, "you're safe. It's alright."
She shook her head and bit her lip. "I shouldn't have come here."
"Why?" he rocked back on his heels.
"You're not my…" she started, then stopped unsure of how badly she'd screwed up.
"Your friend?" he offered. She didn't respond verbally but her eyes told him he missed the mark.
"Or I'm not yours?" he continued more seriously. He was treading dark and dangerous waters.
She couldn't hide the look of surprise in her eyes when he guessed her thought.
"You're wrong," he advised cautiously, "I am."
She cocked her head to the side in silent question.
"Yours," he replied firmly, "for as long as you want me, even if you don't want me."
"I…" she began and then lost her voice in his deep stare. "I don't want to screw this up," she found her voice and her confidence in his supporting look.
"You won't," he stated flatly. "I won't let you fall. I'll be right here."
"Last night…." she began haltingly, "did we?"
He smiled softly and shook his head no.
Her exhaled sigh was heartbreaking. She couldn't remember. In a way that was blessing….and a curse.
"What happened?" she demanded. She knew him too well. "What'd I do? What'd I say?"
"We fought," he didn't pull punches. She'd know if he lied, "you slapped me." Her look was one part skepticism and one part incredulity, "and hit me – more than once," he couldn't resist laying it on thick. He wasn't technically lying, just embellishing for effect. She closed her eyes and seemed to speak silently to herself. Perhaps she was praying he posited.
"You kissed me," she stated out of the blue. It was a statement of fact, without a hint of a question. That he was not expecting.
He rocked back on his heels and stood creating distance. "I don't remember that," he lied with is back turned.
"Liar," she said sullenly.
He wheeled. She could make him angry better than anyone else in the world. It was one of the many ways he knew his feelings for her ran deep and would last a lifetime. She was under his skin and in his head instantly. His lips were tightly drawn and his eyes a dangerous greenish grey.
"What I wanna know is… if you lie to me because of what happening here?" she intimated between them with her finger, "or because of what's on the wall of that closet?"
Charlie was dumbfounded. She wasn't up here mooning over him for the last forty minutes. She was up here in his closet going over his conspiracy wall. He was now uncertain, unstable and unhinged, far more than he was last night.
"Are you here to gather information for your father? Or just to drive me insane?"
'My father is dead. You know that," she shouted. "And I can't drive you insane. You're already there." She gathered her things and made ready to leave.
"Dani, stop," he ordered. It was his tone that stopped her. "I meant what I said," he spoke to her back because she had reached his front door. "If you're here to find me out, then you already have," he promised. "I love you," he admitted defeat, "I don't want to but I do."
"Sure I'm not just another lead you're following?" she asked as she walked out the door.
He started to follow her and then glanced at his watch. They were both due at work in a little under an hour. He heard her car start and peel out as she left. She was still angry, but then Dani Reese was always angry.
He shouted his frustration at the top of his lungs in his normally silent house. She was driving him crazy and yet, he wouldn't have walked away from her for all the money in the Bank of Los Angeles.