Finding Faye: Page 6

  How many times has she searched for me in her dreams?

  I want her to know that I’m here, but I don’t want to interrupt her rest, so, kicking off my shoes, I lay down beside her and pull her into my arms. I’m surprised when she doesn't wake up but rather cuddles closer, murmuring before she sighs and settles back into the stillness of slumber. I didn’t see this coming. Not at all, but she needs to rest and right now I just need to hold her and know that she is safe with me. At last.

  Faye

  I’m dreaming. I must be. Something woke me up.

  I was dreaming that Travis had found me.

  I’ve had that dream so many times that I’m used to the crushing wave of sadness washing over me when I realize that I’m still alone.

  I sigh and move to stretch out. I’m still curled around the flat pillow from the hotel bed. I should wash up and try to get some more sleep, but I’m surrounded by warmth. It’s nice. I will just sleep some more. I can just wash up in the morning.

  I start to roll over, and that is when I feel it. There is someone on the bed, holding me. That is why I’m so warm.

  It’s like someone dumped ice water over me.

  I’m wide awake and I hold still, trying to make sense out of how someone got in my room. More importantly, why they are just laying here holding me?! What in the actual fuck? My heart is racing and I’m fighting to control my panicked breathing as I try to slip out from under a heavy arm.

  It tightens around me and a deep voice rasps, “Where you going, Faye?”

  I freeze, my breath caught in my throat. There is something about that voice. Why do I know that voice?

  I can’t think. Somehow I have got to get out of here.

  I take a deep breath and jump off the bed, throwing the arm away from me before running for the door. The room is still mostly dark, but I can see it's been blocked by a chair, and as I scramble to push it out of the way I already know it's too late.

  I whirl back to face the massive man who has crossed the room toward me, his hands held out in front of him so I can see that they are empty. I stare up, way up, trying to see his face in the dim light. He's so tall I am forced to take a step back until I'm pressed against the door, but his face is still in shadow. I’m so scared that I feel like I might faint.

  This is it. How it ends. I knew they would come someday.

  “I was just a kid,” I say, my voice pleading. “I never saw anyone I could incriminate.”

  I’m lying, but he still hasn't said anything yet so I’m not losing anything by attempting to talk him out of whatever he’s planning to do to me.

  A dark chuckle breaks the silence. Asshole!

  I open my mouth to try again, and he places a single finger over it. “I'm not here to hurt you,” he says. “I'm here to take you home, Sweetpea .”

  No one has called me that pet name in years and the implications almost bring me to my knees. Only one person has ever called me that.

  “Travis?” My voice is a broken whimper, revealing my confusion.

  “Yeah, baby. I finally found you.” His voice is rough with emotion, and before the words are even out of his mouth I am sobbing as I crash into him, my arms locking around his lean waist.

  After what seems like hours of crying, I can feel myself finally calming down. My grip on Travis hasn’t lessened at all, not even when he maneuvered us back to the bed and settled me on his lap like a sobbing rag doll. I still can't talk. My breaths shudder painfully, but my tears are slowing down and I feel purged somehow. An almost overwhelming feeling of relief settles over me, making my eyes and limbs heavy. My wet cheek rests against his soft t-shirt as I listen to the rhythmic thumping of his heart, the soothing sound of his even breaths.

  “How?” I mumble against his chest, inhaling his scent. He smells like rain in the pines mixed with a touch of fabric softener and salty skin. It’s a smell that is both familiar and completely new. I haven't felt this secure since I was a kid and he would let me sneak into his room when I was sad or frightened. “How are you here?”

  His arms tighten around me, pulling me closer, and I relax against him even more, wishing I could crawl inside of him and never be separated from him again.

  “I've been searching for you since the day I stepped foot back in the states. Before that, I had a PI looking for you. All I had to go on was your letter saying you were going to the cabin. After that, you vanished.”

  “I go there almost every time I have a day off and have gas money.” I need him to know that I have been looking for him too. “I hoped, every time, that you would be there. I know you were there once. You took my toy.” Tears fill my eyes again when I think of all the times I drove out there and sat for hours on the porch in all kinds of weather.

  “Baby, finding that unicorn almost ended me. Knowing you had been there and I wasn't...” His words trail off like he doesn’t know what else to say about it. He shakes his head a little. “I should have gone back every weekend,” he finally says, his words heavy with self-recrimination.

  I tip my head back and meet his eyes and smile a little, trying to show him that it’s okay. We are together now, and I am happy to know he wanted to find me as badly as I had wanted to be found.

  “We must have only have missed each other by a couple days,” I say, before tucking my tear-stained face back into his chest with a slow quivering breath.

  I don’t have anything else to say right now. I’m so very, very tired.

  Chapter Eight

  Travis

  Her tears wreck me. It's as if with every wrenching sob she expels the past four years of fear, stress and grief. Every single one is a knife slashing at my soul. All I can do is lift her into my arms, settle us on the bed, and wrap myself around her while she lets out a tidal wave of emotions.

  It's a long time before her tears quiet into ragged breaths and soft little hiccups. Now that the storm is over, I don’t feel quite as helpless and the little sounds she makes are sweet and precious to me.

  She takes a steadying breath before she asks how it is that I finally found her. I tell her the truth. There is so much sadness in her voice when she explains that we had only missed each other by days when I found her stuffed unicorn. She tucks herself more tightly against my chest with a sigh and drifts off to sleep.

  It’s still not too late, but we have both had an exhausting day. Settling her against the flat pillows, I get up, making certain that the door is still secure before laying down and gathering her against me and pulling the covers over us.

  For the first time in years I sleep without the nightmares.

  Pale sunlight brightens the room, waking me up, and I lay there for long moments savoring the heat of Faye’s body pressed against me. One small hand is fisted in the front of my shirt, the other is wrapped around me gripping my back. Even in slumber she holds on like she is afraid to let me go. Soon she will realize I’m not going to let her get very far away from me ever again.

  “Faye,” I whisper in her ear. “Sweetpea, we need to get up. It’s time to go home.”

  She murmurs sleepily, and I feel her grip on me loosen a little.

  “You’re really here? It wasn’t a dream?” she whispers, pulling back. Her amber eyes flutter open and focus on mine. She still looks exhausted, and the deep purple of the dark shadows beneath her eyes is even more evident in the light of day.

  “Yeah. I finally found you,” I tell her, smiling, “and you aren't leaving my side ever again. Especially not until we make contact with the other people looking for you.”

  “You know who killed my mom?” she asks, coming fully awake and sitting up in the lumpy bed, looking intently at me. “There actually is someone looking for me?”

  “Yeah—at least I have a pretty good idea of who it is. Turns out Brad was in pretty deep with the mafia. He was their lawyer, and helped launder money for them. He was also double dealing and had made a deal to sell their secrets to a rival family or the government—I couldn’t find out which o
ne. Your mom knew too much, so they murdered her too.” I’m not going to keep things secret from her. It’s important that she knows what the situation is so that she stays safe.

  She nods her head, acknowledging my words, but doesn’t say anything in response. She slides off the bed and crosses to the bathroom silently. I hear the door lock behind her, and the water in the shower comes on. It isn’t long before I can hear the muffled sounds of her sobs through the door. I’m not the type of man who hesitates, ever, but right now I’m not sure how to proceed. Navigating a tearful, frightened young woman is completely new for me. Even if I were to force my way into the bathroom, I still wouldn’t know what to do with her.

  I’m totally out of my element. Give me a hand-to-hand fight, or a fire-fight, and I wouldn’t have even a second of hesitation. I would blow through anything in my way… including this door with its pathetic little lock. Instead, I tap on the hollow wood.

  “Sweetpea, you okay in there?” I know she's not, but like I said, more than a little out of my element…

  The sounds of sobbing stop and I hear her sniffle. I can’t help but smile as I remember her doing that when she was little. I used to hand her a tissue or wipe her face with the hem of my t-shirt, but that isn’t going to fix this. I really just want to get my arms back around her until she feels better. Her voice is husky from crying, and the running water muffles her words.

  “Yeah, I just need a few more minutes.”

  I don’t like it, but I sit down on the bed to give her the space that she needs, tapping my foot while I wait.

  “Travis?” she calls. “Will you hand me my backpack?” Her face peeks around the door as her damp arm pops out, pointing at her bag in the corner.

  I can’t help but laugh a little when I take in the bag, which is an old one of mine.

  Picking it up, I cross the room and hand it to her. She smiles up at me as she takes the bag. A threadbare white towel wrapped around her head hides her hair. She looks so young and innocent that the fatigue on her thin face seems that much more obscene to me.

  “Hurry up, Sweetpea, I’m starving,” I call out through the door, catching a glimpse of pale legs and her cute little ass as she wiggles into a worn pair of jeans and pulls a tank top over her head.

  Her ribs are visible, and the sight halts the sudden surge of desire running through my veins. Helping her into my jacket I wrap an arm around her shoulders and take the bag from her hand, leading her out the door to my truck. It’s untouched, which means I don’t have to hunt anyone down today.

  After I help her up into the cab I glance back toward the lobby windows. The old clerk is still at his post and lifts a hand in a brief wave. I nod my thanks and open my door. I expect to be hearing from him, so I will have Becca start figuring out what he can do for us.

  Faye

  No longer being alone is the most wonderful feeling in the world! Seeing the man that Travis has grown into amazes me in an entirely different way. He is even bigger and broader than I imagined. Even bigger than he was in the photo I still have tucked in my backpack. He must work out a lot. His hair is a darker blonde than I remember, shaved short on the sides and a little shaggy on top. It’s sexy. His eyes are the same bright blue, making my heart flutter. His face is all hard planes and angles, accentuated by rich golden stubble. Ridiculously thick, dark lashes provide the only softness in his face.

  He has me tucked me under his arm, pressed against his side. I’m trying to not be obvious as I check him out while helps me up into the seat of his lifted pickup. He walks around the front to the driver’s side door with a short lift of a hand toward the sweet elderly man at the counter. I’m going to have to ask about that. Before I know it we are on the road and heading back toward Spokane.

  It’s difficult to believe that we have been living in the same city for the past two years. He could have easily picked any other city to build his business in. I shudder to think about what would have happened if he had decided to settle elsewhere. As much as I like to say that I have been doing fine, I know the truth. I have just barely been surviving. Living in one small room filled with thrift store finds, without any real friends. Never really having enough to eat. I’m happy to have been found.

  We drive in silence for a while, wrapped up in our own thoughts, I guess. After a while Travis breaks the silence, telling me about his business and his friend Blake. The one I hit in the knee with my bat. I felt terrible about it before I knew who he was, but knowing it was Travis’ friend and business partner? Well, that makes me feel even worse about it.

  If I had just given him a chance, all of this running and fear could have been avoided.

  Travis assures me that Blake will be okay, that I didn’t do as much damage as I thought I had. It makes me feel somewhat better, but only a little.

  “I really want to apologize to him,” I tell Travis, my voice heavy with guilt. The one time I try to defend myself it’s against someone trying to help me.

  “Sweetpea, no apology is needed. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t asked him to keep his eyes on you. Neither of us expected you to even notice him, let alone that you would feel that you needed to defend yourself.”

  I disagree with him, knowing that Blake had tried to talk to me, but I keep it to myself. I can already tell Travis isn’t going to accept that I’m as at fault as they are. More so, in fact.

  After driving a short way we stop for breakfast at a roadside café. It’s much nicer than the one I work at. That isn’t saying much, since my work is a dive, but this place is cute. Maybe I can get a better job now that I don’t have to hide who I am. I already know that Travis won’t allow anything bad to happen to me. I’m looking forward to being myself again.

  He catches me looking for the cheapest items on the menu. “Sweetpea, you don’t have to scrimp to save me a couple bucks. Get whatever sounds good.”

  I am so used to counting every single penny that just thinking about spending without restricting myself makes me nervous. “If I order everything that sounds good, there is no way I could eat it all,” I tell him. “Everything sounds delicious.”

  He smiles at me, a big happy smile that showcases his dimples, and points at the menu. “Choose, Faye. If you can’t finish it all, I will. Or you can bring it home with you.”

  ‘’Okay then,” I concede, scared and excited about just picking anything. I really want the taco omelet and the strawberry crepes with a mug of hot chocolate. And orange juice. So when the waitress returns with her little pad in hand I take a deep breath and order. Travis requests a bowl of oatmeal and fresh fruit. No wonder he looks so freaking amazing

  It’s been a long time since I have had an opportunity to eat what I want, and now that the order has been placed, I'm almost bouncing in my seat with anticipation. I know that I’m too skinny. Stress, loneliness, and just being broke all the time doesn’t do much for my appetite. Today is the first time in a long while that I can actually say I’m ravenous.

  “You do realize that the omelet comes with toast and home-fried potatoes?” the waitress asks me, her face showing her surprise at the amount of food I ordered. I nod, looking down at the table. I feel a little bashful, but I still want it all.

  Shrugging, she jots it down and tops off Travis’ coffee with a flirtatious smile. I can’t stop my eye roll, not that I blame her. He is easy to look at, with his messy blonde hair, piercing blue eyes and scruffy face.

  When our food comes, I dig right in. The omelet is fluffy and flavorful, bursting with seasoned beef and gooey with cheese. The crepes are perfect, and the fresh strawberries and whipped cream are exactly what I had hoped for. I can’t decide what I like better, so I alternate bites, moaning at the wonderful tastes. I should be embarrassed by the sounds I make, but I’m not. Years of cheap ramen noodles and frozen veggies could never taste this good.

  We eat in silence until I slow down. Travis gestures to the plates in front of me. “Which one do you want me to finish?”

 
“I can’t decide. They are both so good.” I laugh, shoveling another bite in my mouth.

  “I’m gonna eat your toast,” he says, reaching for the plate, and I smack at his hand.

  Being with him is so strange. I feel all of the comfort and ease I had with him as a child, combined with all the feelings of the youthful love I felt for him as a teen. This awareness of him as a man is entirely new to me. It makes me feel off-balance and unsure of how I should act.

  I never said a word to him about how my feelings had morphed into something else. Something more. I’m sure there is no way he could possibly feel the same way about me. We haven’t spent time together since I was a little girl. Everything he knows about me is from old letters and his teenage memories of an abused ten-year-old.

  The thought is sobering, and a little depressing, causing my appetite to fade. With a sigh, I push the plate with the omelet toward him and take a small bite of sweet strawberry filling, my eyes focused on the table between us.

  “What’s going on in your head, Sweetpea?” he asks, reaching across the table and tipping my chin up until my eyes meet his.

  “Nothing. Just feeling a little embarrassed by how much I scarfed down.” I force a small laugh. I can tell that he knows I’m not being truthful, but that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. I can also tell that he wants to push me for the truth. I’m grateful when he doesn’t. I’m not sure I could explain without sounding kind of crazy. He’d never believe that I’m in love with him after all these years. I’m not even sure he would have believed it if I had told him years ago. Why would he think my feelings would be anything other than a childish infatuation?

  “Don’t ever be embarrassed by anything you do, Faye,” he says, a smile curling the corners of his full, soft-looking lips. The look in his eyes is sincere. Intense. I look away again, unable to maintain the contact. Mumbling a sound of agreement, I bob my head and take another bite of my food.