Touch (Denazen #1)(56)

Kale was lost.

My shirt now on the couch next to his, Alex nibbled a trail from the underside of my chin, down to my shoulder.

My mom was lost.

Alex hooked his fingers through one of the belt loops of my damp jeans, peeling them down. I rose onto my knees, letting him slide them farther. When they’d gone as far as they could, I leaned to the side and kicked them off.

Brandt was lost.

Taking my bra strap between his teeth, he tugged it down.

I’d lost hope.

Warm lips traced a path from my neck to my shoulder.

I’d lost myself.

No.

I wasn’t a quitter! I reigned as Queen of the Stubborn. If it was a lost cause, then all the better. I loved proving people wrong—especially myself. I thrived on it.

Finally, reality began to ooze back, and I pulled away. Sure, kissing Alex felt good. Best of all, it felt. But it wasn’t what I wanted. Not deep down. When I’d told him no last night, I’d been torn. He’d been right—I still had very real feelings for him—but it wasn’t enough. Maybe it was because of what happened between us, and maybe it wasn’t.

Kale was unlike anyone I’d ever met before. He made me feel happy. Alive. His simplistic way of looking at things, along with fierce enthusiasm for life, was something I couldn’t see myself living without. Regardless of the damage Denazen had done to him, and the past Alex and I had, I knew who I wanted.

What I wanted.

I wanted the strings.

“I’m sorry,” I said as I pushed him away. I didn’t need to explain further. I could see it in his eyes. He understood. He wasn’t happy, but he didn’t yell.

He backed away, grabbing his shirt, and climbed to his feet. Something was off about his smile. Something that scared me. “We’ll see.”

§

The phone rang fourteen times before he picked it up. An all-time record as far as I knew. Dad was a strict third ring person.

“Marshall Cross.”

“Dad, it’s me.”

A pause. He’d probably looked at the caller ID. “Deznee? Where are you?”

“I’m in town. I need you to meet me at The Blueberry Bean.”

“I’m working at the moment. It will have to wait.”

“It can’t wait—and it is work. I’ll meet you there in twenty minutes.” I hung up. I could almost smell the steam that had to be billowing from Dad’s ears. It made me smile. Warm fuzzies all the way.

“We set?” Alex asked, holding his hand out for the phone. I gave it back, and he stuffed it into his back pocket.

“I think so. You ready? It won’t take him long to get there.”

“I just gotta hit the john.” He held out the keys. “Go start the car, I’ll meet you down there.”

§

As promised, twenty minutes later I sat under one of the large umbrella tables outside The Blueberry Bean, our local haven for coffee addicts. The rain still fell, but the umbrella would be large enough that we didn’t get wet—not that it mattered. My clothes were still damp from this morning.

I glanced casually down at my wrist—there was no watch. “What took you so long?”

“I’m not amused by this, Deznee.” Dad approached, cup in hand and filled with what I’d bet was black coffee with a double shot of espresso. Dark sunglasses and a deep brown trench despite the warmth in the air made him look like something from a secret agent movie. Another time, I would have mocked him. His buttons were so easily pushed when it came to wardrobe. I never understood it.

“Well, that’s good, Dad. I didn’t mean for it to be amusing.” I smiled and leaned back, trying to pull off nonchalant. After the day I’d had so far, it took conscious effort. “So I took some initiative today.”

He pulled out the seat across from me and sat down. “Oh?”

I crooked my finger at Alex, standing right inside the coffee shop. I’d been a little surprised when Alex still insisted on helping me after last night, and then again this afternoon. The old Alex had been selfish. When things didn’t go his way, he packed up his toys and went home.

He stepped around the corner and out the front door. Without a word, he pulled out the chair between mine and Dad’s and flipped it backwards. Straddling it, he said, “Hello again, Mr. Cross.”

Face impassive, Dad said, “Mr. Mojourn. What an unpleasant surprise.”

Alex smiled and leaned forward against the back of the chair. “Likewise, sir.”

While we’d been dating, Dad and Alex had never been what you’d consider close. In fact, Dad had threatened to cut specific parts from Alex’s anatomy and mount them on the living room wall on several occasions.

“Anyway,” I said to Dad. “Alex is a Six and he’s looking for work.”

Alex flicked a long finger at the saltshaker from across the table. It rocked forward, and teetered on the edge for a moment before tumbling over the side.

I could tell Dad wasn’t the least bit impressed. Maybe Kale was right. Alex’s gift was a dime a dozen. “I’m fully aware of Mr. Mojourn’s status. A telekinetic. How rare,” Dad said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Wait—fully aware? You knew he was a Six?”

Dad sighed. “Of course. It’s my job to know.”