Sweet Soul (Sweet Home #5)(8)

Reaching down, I picked up the necklace, noticing an old tarnished cross dangling from old scratched wooden brown beads. It wasn’t a necklace; it was an old set of rosary beads.

I held it up to the light, turning it in my hand. A small smile etched on my lips. Although old, they were beautiful.

Laying the rosary on my lap, I delicately ran my fingertips over each scratched and worn out bead, down to the cross at the bottom. There, in heavy silver, was the image of Jesus dying on the cross. I didn’t know why, but the sight of this obviously well used rosary brought tears to my eyes, and a harsh sting to my heart.

Instinctively, I lifted my hand to the locket hidden well beneath my hoodie and took a deep breath. This, my simple gold locket, was all I had left. The only link I had to her, to my past. It was my most treasured possession. The only possession I had.

The image of the boy in the locker room sprung to mind and my stomach instantly fell. This was his rosary. I’d taken his rosary; something that probably meant a great deal to him.

Leaving the rosary on my lap, I opened the wallet again, and there in the clear center pocket was the boy’s face. Pulling the driving license from the wallet, I read his name: Levi Carillo.

Levi Carillo.

My thumb ran over his serious face and, even in this cold, my cheeks filled with heat. He was beautiful. Rich and handsome—he had it all.

As I went to put the card next to the rosary, I noticed something else had fallen out with the license.

A photograph.

With cold fingers, I lifted the old faded picture from the sodden blanket and raised it up to the light. My heart clenched as my eyes beheld a picture of a beautiful brunette woman balancing a young boy on her lap. A boy that looked no older than three or four. Her arms were wrapped around his waist, and she was smiling down at him so big. The young boy was shy in front of the camera, but his sweet bashful face was filled with a timid ghost of a smile.

But it was those eyes, those big bright gray eyes standing out like moonbeams from the boy’s tanned skin; they linked him to the older boy I’d stolen from today.

Levi Carillo. Aged twenty. Seattle.

Sighing, my head rocked back gently against the wall of the deli. As I smelled the food cooking inside, my stomach ached and growled in starvation. Holding out my hand, I stared at the dirt-ridden skin covering my fingers. Fingers that used to be full and healthy, now all dull skin and mostly bone.

I jumped when the back door of the deli opened. Huddling into the dark shadow of the corner, I watched from under my hood as a worker from the deli emptied a trash can into the dumpster. The man startled when he looked my way. With a look of distain on his face, he slammed the dumpster shut and re-entered the warm deli.

Picking myself off the cold hard floor, I got to my feet and quietly made my way to the dumpster. Using all the strength I had, my forehead now ice cold, my body racked with convulsing shivers, I opened the dumpster and peered inside. My heart dropped when I saw most of what was being thrown away was unsalvageable or inedible. But relief hit when underneath used white coffee filters, was a half eaten baguette. Reaching inside, I pulled out the stale bread and hurried back to my corner.

Minutes later, and tucked underneath my blankets, I forced myself to eat the hard bread. By the third mouthful, nausea from my fever began to take hold. I dropped the baguette and helplessly fought the rush of tears.

It was no use.

They flowed thick and strong, melding with the pelting rain.

My bones ached with coldness, but regardless, I reached into my jacket and pulled out the small notebook and pen. Sheltering against the wall, with the blanket over my head to protect the paper from getting wet, I opened the page and let my words spill forth.

These words were all I had.

They were my peace.

They were my voice.

As the dark clouds rolled above, hiding the rising moonshine, I pressed pen to paper and let my thoughts pour:



Light devoid, no silver-hued moon,

Shadows claim my soul too soon.

With silence strong, I’m left alone,

With aching bones and heart forlorn.

The cold seeps in, an evil embrace,

My only warmth: her face.

Her face.





Chapter Three


Levi


I pressed ‘save’ on the Word document just as a knock rapped on my pool house door. A smile pulled on my lips when I knew who it would be.

“Come in!” I called out.

In seconds the door opened and Axel walked in. My older brother was dressed all in black—black shirt, jeans and boots—his long dark hair was pulled back in the topknot he always wore and his tattoos covered every inch of his skin. He’d only been gone for nine months but, having only had him back in my life for a short time before that, it felt like I hadn’t seen him in a lifetime.

As soon as Axel laid eyes on me, his lip hooked into a smirk and he flicked his chin. “Get the f*ck here, kid.”

Rushing across the room, I smashed myself into his broad chest. Axel’s arms wrapped around my back and he kissed the top of my head.

“Fucking missed you, kid,” Axel rasped out.

“I missed you too, Axe.”

Axel pushed me back, his eyes checking me over. “You doing good?” His eyes drifted to the desk I was always at. I saw a wash of pride fill his face. “You still sticking in at school?”

Ducking my head, I put my hands in my pocket. “Yeah.”