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Authors: Su Williams
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out of the corner of my eye squatting next to Eddy and scratching his belly. The ghost of a sad smile twitched on my lips. He gave me a weak smile when he caught me watching him. I’d have to ask Nick what was going on with him.
It always circles back around to Nick. I was frustrated with the lengths this man was intertwined in my life, and still grouchy about his duplicity. A groan grumbled its way over my vocal cords. It was true Nick had lied by omission. But I was beginning to understand why it had been so hard for him to fess up as time went by. The closer our relationship got, the more he had to lose once the truth came out. And I had to take into consideration his oath to my father. He was from an age when a man’s word was his bond. It was true that Nickolas Benedetti the Dream Weaver loved me. And some deep, aching part of me still loved him. But the truth had come from a liar, not Nick’s own lips. And that truth was serrated and barbed—destructive in the most painful ways. I wanted to ask Sabre why Thomas had to be the one to tell me that my dad and Nick had been friends. But I already knew the answer: fear. Nick was afraid of losing me. In the end, he almost lost me forever anyway. That much, as yet, was undecided.
The crunch of gravel drew my attention to the shop door. Nick stood with his hands shoved in his hip pockets, shoulders slumped and eyes avoiding mine. I froze and let the heavy bag bounce against my shoulder.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey back,” I said, deadpan and stoic.
Sabre snarled from behind his workbench where he was tinkering with some new Sabre-contraption. “Give her a lesson on the speed bag. She needs to work on reflex and dexterity.” As usual, Sabre didn’t ask anything. He made his expectations clear with no room for argument.
Nick shuffled over and waved me to the suspended punching bag. “You can print the bag, or I can give you the workout. Whichever you prefer. We should tape your hands and wrists too.” He picked up the tape from the counter and stood before me. “I’ll do it this time. Then you’ll know how and can do it yourself. If that’s okay.” I nodded. He took my hands and wrapped them in criss-crossing layers of tape. As his fingers grazed my skin and worked deftly on the tapes, the realization of just how much he did for me boiled to the surface of my thoughts. He’d become my savior and protector, my confidante and friend. I wondered if he also realized the roles he’d taken in my life, and maybe, if he was trying to teach me to be more independent. But why? Was he going somewhere? Pain clashed inside me at the thought. I growled at myself under my breath. Get a grip, Sweets! I had to admit, the soft touch of his fingertips sent my pulse into orbit. Still. But I didn’t want it to. Stupid, stupid heart! “There. That should protect your hands.” His fingers lingered a moment on my skin, as though he couldn’t let go.
I recoiled as a desire to pummel his face darkened my vision. Instead, I stepped up to the speed bag and rendered the training from its surface. It was frustrating at first. The bag was fast and a little unpredictable. I couldn’t get into a rhythm. And Nick’s aimless wandering around the shop was distracting me.
Could you hold still please? I can’t focus on the bag.
He didn’t respond, just ambled over to Eddy sprawled out on an old chair and plopped himself beside the pup. Eddy gazed up at Nick, eyes at half-mast, then dropped his head back to the cushion with a deep sigh.
As I finally fell into a rhythm and beat on the bag, memories of the fight with William and Thomas in and around this garage bombarded my mind. Those psychical
It always circles back around to Nick. I was frustrated with the lengths this man was intertwined in my life, and still grouchy about his duplicity. A groan grumbled its way over my vocal cords. It was true Nick had lied by omission. But I was beginning to understand why it had been so hard for him to fess up as time went by. The closer our relationship got, the more he had to lose once the truth came out. And I had to take into consideration his oath to my father. He was from an age when a man’s word was his bond. It was true that Nickolas Benedetti the Dream Weaver loved me. And some deep, aching part of me still loved him. But the truth had come from a liar, not Nick’s own lips. And that truth was serrated and barbed—destructive in the most painful ways. I wanted to ask Sabre why Thomas had to be the one to tell me that my dad and Nick had been friends. But I already knew the answer: fear. Nick was afraid of losing me. In the end, he almost lost me forever anyway. That much, as yet, was undecided.
The crunch of gravel drew my attention to the shop door. Nick stood with his hands shoved in his hip pockets, shoulders slumped and eyes avoiding mine. I froze and let the heavy bag bounce against my shoulder.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey back,” I said, deadpan and stoic.
Sabre snarled from behind his workbench where he was tinkering with some new Sabre-contraption. “Give her a lesson on the speed bag. She needs to work on reflex and dexterity.” As usual, Sabre didn’t ask anything. He made his expectations clear with no room for argument.
Nick shuffled over and waved me to the suspended punching bag. “You can print the bag, or I can give you the workout. Whichever you prefer. We should tape your hands and wrists too.” He picked up the tape from the counter and stood before me. “I’ll do it this time. Then you’ll know how and can do it yourself. If that’s okay.” I nodded. He took my hands and wrapped them in criss-crossing layers of tape. As his fingers grazed my skin and worked deftly on the tapes, the realization of just how much he did for me boiled to the surface of my thoughts. He’d become my savior and protector, my confidante and friend. I wondered if he also realized the roles he’d taken in my life, and maybe, if he was trying to teach me to be more independent. But why? Was he going somewhere? Pain clashed inside me at the thought. I growled at myself under my breath. Get a grip, Sweets! I had to admit, the soft touch of his fingertips sent my pulse into orbit. Still. But I didn’t want it to. Stupid, stupid heart! “There. That should protect your hands.” His fingers lingered a moment on my skin, as though he couldn’t let go.
I recoiled as a desire to pummel his face darkened my vision. Instead, I stepped up to the speed bag and rendered the training from its surface. It was frustrating at first. The bag was fast and a little unpredictable. I couldn’t get into a rhythm. And Nick’s aimless wandering around the shop was distracting me.
Could you hold still please? I can’t focus on the bag.
He didn’t respond, just ambled over to Eddy sprawled out on an old chair and plopped himself beside the pup. Eddy gazed up at Nick, eyes at half-mast, then dropped his head back to the cushion with a deep sigh.
As I finally fell into a rhythm and beat on the bag, memories of the fight with William and Thomas in and around this garage bombarded my mind. Those psychical
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