A Deep and Dark December(71)
Erin closed her eyes and focused all her energy into what she knew to be real—the feel of Graham’s lips on hers, his body covering hers. And slowly the sounds from the other bedroom faded away, replaced by the sound of Graham’s rough breathing as he broke the kiss. She opened her eyes again to find him hovering over her, his face creased with concern.
“Finally,” he said, collapsing against her. He held her tight, mashing her arms to her sides and whooshing the breath out of her. Just as suddenly he released her, searching her face once again, making sure she was really in the here and now. “Say something.” He smoothed the hair back from her brow. “Erin…”
“I’m here. I’m…back.”
He crushed her to him again, this time not as hard. “Thank God. I didn’t know what to do. I was about to call for an ambulance.”
“How long…?”
He released her. “Twenty minutes, half an hour. I don’t know. I tried everything I could think of to get you back.”
“Kissing? What am I? Sleeping Beauty?”
“You can joke when I’m nearly hoarse from yelling your name?”
She sat up and realized her nightgown and the bed around her was damp. “Why am I wet?”
“Cold water. Ice. Warm water. I tried it all.”
“And only the kiss worked?”
“I was desperate.” He adjusted his position, sitting across from her. “Where did you go?”
He asked the question as though she’d made the choice to leave. As though she’d left him on purpose when it was him who would leave her. She wanted to get defensive with him, blame him for all she’d seen as though he’d only just done it. But she was the only one at fault here. She’d purposefully focused on Patricia, drawing herself into that last scene. She had wanted to know more about the woman and the events that would haunt Graham from within like some parasitic specter.
What had happened between him and Patricia that had led to the events in that apartment and her death? Graham still carried the guilt over it, would carry it for years, dragging it into his and Erin’s future lives together. She wanted to ask him about it, grill him for every detail, but she’d made a promise to her father a long time ago that she wouldn’t ever talk about what she saw in her visions. Talking about someone’s past with them before they could tell it themselves would change the natural course of things and might somehow alter the future.
The future. The future was a monster she could confront but never vanquish. She hated it. Hated the knowing and yet not knowing enough. And now he wanted to know what she couldn’t tell him.
So instead she looked him square in the eye and lied. “I went back to when I was a child.”
“Uh huh.”
He didn’t believe her. She pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged her legs, rocking a little. She’d have to give him something here. Maybe if she did, he’d give her something in return. “My mom…” She cleared her throat and started again, but the lump in her throat stuck. “My mom left when I was eight. I’d had a vision about it a week before. I told my dad about it. I wanted him to stop her, to do something to keep her from leaving us.”
“But he didn’t.”
She shook her head. “He got mad at me for telling him. He told me that he wouldn’t be stopping her from leaving. I think I told him I hated him. I don’t know.” She looked away, hiding sudden tears. She hated that she still cried over a woman who never gave her a backwards thought. “He forbade me from looking at the future ever again and he said that if I told my mom what I’d seen that she’d probably only leave sooner. So I kept my mouth shut and got an extra week with her because of it.” Her voice broke as the tears spilled over.
Graham reached for her, but she pulled away. She didn’t want his pity. She wanted his truth. Swiping at her eyes, she continued. “I never looked at the future again until the day my boss handed me the Lasiter file and I accidentally saw Greg dead.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“No. I’m sorry that you’d rather dig up an old, painful memory than tell me the truth.”
Erin looked at him with haunted eyes. Graham was sorry about that, too. Sorry she didn’t trust him enough to tell him the truth. She’d offered up that story about her mother too easily. What could she possibly have seen…?
Oh, shit. Patricia. He could see it on her now, the questions piling up behind her beautiful eyes. She didn’t want to ask. She wouldn’t ask. She’d divulged that story about her mother to get him to confide in her about Patricia. How much had she seen? How far back had she gone? What did she know? How in the hell could he tell her any of it when he couldn’t bear to look at it himself?
She’d tried to trade a part of herself for a part of him, an ugly memory for an ugly memory. Except his past transgressions ran colder and more dangerous than childhood heartbreak. He’d betrayed someone who’d trusted him, someone he loved and who had loved him in return. How could he possibly explain the reasons why, when he hadn’t fully accepted them himself?
She was already looking at him differently. The worry and fear he’d felt for her during her episode boiled over. His breath came harsher, his heart thundered in his chest. The edges of his vision hazed red and still she sat there, silently pleading with him to tell her everything. She’d gone behind his back and riffled through his past, looking for what?