Falter (7 page)

My hand guided a rag over the clear, uneven surface while I glanced outside at the figures on the sidewalk and smirked at the way the window distorted some of their features. As I skimmed over the movement outside, a breathtaking pair of eyes snared my focus.
 

My hand slid down the glass, causing a loud squeaking. I moved my face closer to the window to get a clearer view. The familiar aqua color remained motionless against the wandering crowd. I cursed the random heads bobbing past, interfering with my vision of him.
 

From behind the warped layer of glass, I focused on the face that owned the blue-jeweled eyes. It was the stranger that kept me from falling the day before.
 

He was as still as a picture, staring at me from across the street.
 

How long had this man been watching me?
 

I looked behind me to make sure it was in fact me he was staring at. Assured that no one else was within his line of sight, I turned again to meet his gaze.
 

He was gone.
 

Suddenly, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. My ridiculous, inexplicable need to be close to this stranger was, once again, denied.

Uneasy emotions clouded my thoughts. I needed a break. I placed the spray bottle and rag in my hand on the lower shelf of the hostess desk then jogged down the hall and into the kitchen.
 

Layla was leaning casually against the shiny, silver counter behind her. Her long, lean legs crossed out in front of her, begging for attention. Gavyn rested a hip against the island in the center of the room. His muscular arms crossed over his chest as he spoke to Layla in a professional tone about the café’s inventory.
 

“Hey, will you cover me for a few minutes?” I interrupted, touching Layla’s elbow to catch her attention.

“Sure, hon. Are you ok? You look a little pale,” she asked, straightening from her relaxed position. Concern pinched her sleek brows together.

“I’m fine, just need a minute. Thanks,” I called over my shoulder and rushed toward the back door.
 

A stinging breeze blew over my skin as I shoved the door open, but I welcomed it. My head was swimming.
 

What a mysterious attraction to have for a man I’ve only seen twice. So powerful.

Something moved at the end of the alley, catching my attention. A silhouette leaned against the building too far away to make out a face. It didn’t seem threatening, but I kept my guard up, just in case.

I stared down at my feet and tried to clear my head. I inhaled the cool, thick city air. A few deeper, lung-filling breaths and I could return to reality; I could forget him.

“Open your eyes!” an urgent whisper commanded me.

My eyes darted around the alley. I was alone. Even the figure at the end of the alley was gone. Dread amplified my muddled emotions.

Gulping a lump of fear, I spoke. “Hello? Is someone there?” Nothing but the whir of a swift breeze answered back. “There is no one here, Nevaeh,” I scolded myself.

The door opened behind me. George’s head peeked around the edge. “Are you ok? I heard you talkin’ when I went by. Thought maybe you needed some protection.” He laughed, holding up his arm and flexing to make a not-so-big muscle.

“George, I’m going crazy,” I whimpered. “Something’s happening. I think I need to see a doctor.” My face tightened in fear, and my voice trembled.
 

The lines in his expression shifted into a more serious demeanor. “Nev, what are you saying?”

“Last night, when I yelled at you, I experienced something. I’m not sure what, but I heard things that might not have been there. There were strange noises…and honey, George. It smelled like honey in a bathroom with no honey. And something touched me, but I couldn’t see it.” The pitch in my voice rose to a surprising new octave as I told George about the night before. I glanced down at my aching fingers and found a handful of George’s shirt clutched in my fist. I was using him as my anchor to stay afloat.

George’s brow creased, baffled by my confession, but he let me ramble on.

“A minute ago, someone whispered the same words I heard last night.” I waited for him to answer, to tell me he knew exactly what was causing the hallucinations and how to fix it.

“It’s because of all the change, Nevaeh,” he assured, failing in his attempt to quiet my alarm.

“I don’t know, George. There might be something off in my brain—from the accident.” Tears breached the lower lids of my eyes.

He wiped my cheeks with his sleeve and held my face in his hands. “Let’s tell Gavyn and see what he says. Maybe he knows someone who can help.”
 

I nodded in reluctant agreement. George grabbed my arm and gently pulled me into the building.
 

Keeping composed while we walked through the kitchen was harder than I thought. I stared at George’s heels, hoping the others wouldn’t notice me crying. They rushed by us, too busy to pay attention—all except Layla.

“What’s goin’ on guys?” she asked in a worried, high-pitched tone.

“Nev’s not feeling well. Have you seen Gavyn?” George answered for me.

“I think he’s upstairs. Can I help?” Layla rubbed a small circle between my shoulder blades. “What kinda not feeling well?” She leaned forward and whispered the last question like it was a secret. “You havin’ female problems?” George glanced at me with a crooked eyebrow to see if he had to answer that question for me too.
 

“No, it’s not that, Layla. I’m sure it’s nothing.” I saved George the trouble.

He huffed, shaking his head, and continued. “She had an injury when she was younger and thinks it may be causin’ some issues. We need to find Gavyn. Thought maybe he’d know what to do.”

“I’m pretty sure Gavyn is in his apartment. Tell me what he says, and I’ll go with you. They can handle it here without us for a while.” Layla pulled me in for a hug. My body stiffened against hers. I wasn’t used to affection from outsiders, but after a moment, I welcomed the solace her arms offered.

George and I walked out of the kitchen and into the back corridor toward Gavyn’s apartment. His door was tinted with a midnight blue stain. Dark streaks from the wood grain underneath marbled the thin layer of paint, turning it into an interesting piece of art at the end of the hall.
 

Strangely, I felt a little intimidated as I stared at the partially open door. I told
 
myself that I was better and didn’t need to burden anyone else with this nonsense. Especially since I had no clue how Gavyn would react or how it would affect George.
 

I stopped a few steps from the door. “You know, I think I’m okay now that I’ve had a minute. This really isn’t necessary.”

“Girl, we
are
gonna talk to him
 
and we
will
find some way to make sure nothing is goin’ on in that noggin of yours. What you told me ain’t normal.” George looked down at his feet and muttered under his breath, “I should have found a way years ago to have you looked at.” His expression turned to one of shame, and his eyes glossed over as if he was about to cry. This man never cried.

My heart grew heavy for him. “It’s just all the change like you said. I’m sorry I made such a big deal about it.” None of this was his fault, and he didn’t ask to be responsible for me.
 

I never truly understood the depth of George’s love for me until now. A special bond has always existed between the two of us, forged during all the hard times we shared. He has given me more than I could ever ask from another person: love, support, and a chance at life. George has given me a home. Not in the security of four walls and a roof, but home in the form of one person unconditionally loving another. No matter where we rested our heads, it was home as long as George was there.

“George, this is not your fault. You didn’t know.”
 

“No, but if I had money…,” he answered, his apologetic voice trailing off into thought. The indentations of age lines deepened between his bushy, graying eyebrows, reflecting the pain and guilt he carried.
 
Being the man George was—a man who made jokes of heavy situations as a coping mechanism—his expression quickly changed into the pouty puppy dog face I used often.

I let out a defeated breath. There was no point arguing with him. When George wanted me to do something, I couldn’t deny him. Right now, he wanted me to get checked out.
 

“Old man, you drive a hard bargain. Do they teach you those guilt trips on the streets, too?” I lightheartedly sassed, pretending to be cheerful to lighten the mood, but underneath I was scared. George eyed me, surprised I mocked his persuasive attempt at getting me to do as he asked. His playful pout shifted to a stern glare that told me I had no choice in the matter.
 

I took another breath and peered over at the dark blue door, biting my upper lip. “Okay, but I’m going up by myself. I’ll explain the situation to him the way I want. You finish up anything you can to help the others, in case we can leave soon.” He nodded with a triumphant grin and disappeared back into the kitchen.
 

I tapped on the door and waited, but no one answered. I knocked again, then nudged the door to open the rest of the way. “Hello? Gavyn?” I called into the stairwell.

“Come on up.” His distant voice was light and raspy.

“Hey, sorry to bother you, but I need to talk for a minute,” I said calmly while ascending the stairs. The stairwell was dark except for the dim light at the end, barely seeping out from the apartment above me.
 

When I reached the top, I stepped into the welcoming space and admired the simplicity of Gavyn’s home. The living area and kitchen combined, creating a large, open floor plan. A royal blue futon acted as his couch, stretching the length of the wall across from me. A low, steel-framed table squatted on a black shag rug in front of the futon. Three magazines spread haphazardly over the coffee table’s glass top. One was folded backwards at the spine, open to display a Ford Mustang with a scantily clad blonde perched on its hood.
 

I walked farther into the apartment, running my hand along the brass-studded edging of a black club chair offering a seat just right of the futon. As I stood behind the chair with my hands resting on its back, massaging the soft leather beneath my fingers, I gazed in the opposite direction. One, beautifully plain, bay window in a stark-white frame opened the room to a view of our busy block and the building next to ours. It nearly took up the entire wall. The late afternoon sun shined in through the streak-free glass panels, illuminating the room in a pale gold. I imagined the nighttime view of twinkling lights from our neighboring businesses was probably just as wonderful.
 

I spun around and leaned against the chair, wondering if Gavyn wanted me to find him or if he’d come out to me. I examined the small kitchenette, smirking about the small mess Gavyn had left there. The small sink contained a few dirty dishes, and a neglected pot of coffee sat on the counter. He wasn’t as meticulous up here as he was in the café.

“Gavyn?” I called out, letting my eyes wander over the little details of his home: loaded bookshelves, retro knick-knacks, and several pictures of a giggling boy playing or posing lovingly with a man in his forties.

“Hey, yeah, I’m in here. Come down the hall.”

I followed his voice down a hallway that separated the wall behind the futon from the kitchen. Several feet in, on my right, I looked into a bathroom matching the one downstairs, except it had navy curtains instead of crimson. A little farther down, on the left, was another doorway.
 

“Gavyn?” I stepped in, and my jaw dropped. Shocked to see my boss’s bare chest, I turned my head away, fighting the heat reddening my cheeks. “Oh! I’m so sorry!”

“Nevaeh, it’s okay. I was just changing shirts. Jason thought it would be funny to throw a bucket of cold water on me. He’s lucky I don’t fire his ass.”
 

In my peripheral, I caught Gavyn taking two quick strides toward a tall dresser in the far corner of his room. I let my gaze chase his movements, impressed with how gorgeous he looked free of the loose fabric he normally wore. My eyes widened and my pulse raced, responding to the seductive body I saw. Those few seconds were all I needed to soak in every detail. Time seemed to move in slow motion just for me.
 

His medium build was composed of the kind of muscle you were born with or acquired through hard, laborious work, not by spending night and day in a gym. Slight ripples undulated under his skin as he fumbled with his shirt. Each steady breath he took caused thick pectorals to bunch and stretch over his torso.
 

His faded jeans hung a little loose, slipping down just enough to hint at the streamlined “v” underneath and accentuate smoothly defined abs when he moved. Seemingly without thinking, he hiked them back up then opened a drawer in his dresser. The denim drifted down again. My mouth watered. Gavyn was more appealing than I ever would have thought. Even the dark-brown hair that climbed the path to his perfect belly button was alluring.
 

As he rummaged through a drawer, I marveled at the strong, fluid movements of his broad shoulders and muscular back. A gradual rounding of his backside began just before the edge of his pants and continued generously under the heavy fabric.