Possession

  Sissy exhaled slowly, as if an echo of all his pain had gone through her chest, too.

  "I can't imagine being out in the world alone," she said. "You must have been Chillie's age--when having a paper route is a stretch of responsibility. What did you do? Where did you go after..."

  "The military."

  "They don't take people that young, do they?"

  He was not about to tell her that he'd been recruited into XOps because of the way he'd slaughtered the three men who'd killed his mother. Those murders had been so violent, they'd hit the national press--but he'd never been caught.

  XOps had put it together, though. And they had come looking for him.

  Sissy pushed her hair back. "You must have had a couple of years on your own."

  "Well, eventually, they accepted me." After he'd been properly screened for sociopathic tendencies--and found to have enough to qualify him. And then he'd gotten through a form of "basic training" that was so brutal, people had been known not just to quit, but keel over dead from it.

  "You and I have a lot in common," Sissy murmured. "Hell takes a lot of forms, doesn't it."

  "You're too young to know that."

  "Not young anymore."

  He was beginning to really believe that.

  "Do you want the rest of the story," he said gruffly. "Yours, that is."

  "Yes."

  Jim felt like he was sinking into quicksand again as he chose his words. They might as well finish this, though. "Devina came while we were here. My boys had to knock me out by force--they knew if they'd let me stay, I would have fought her and probably lost. It was early times for me--shit, it feels like a million years ago. But I did return. By then? She'd cleaned the place out. Everything was gone, even you." He rubbed his eyes like they hurt. "We found you later."

  "Where?"

  "The quarry."

  Sissy frowned. "The one out by--"

  "Yeah."

  "Dear Lord ..." she whispered. "My poor parents. My sister. My grandparents."

  Her hand went to her stomach and she made an expression like she was nauseated. Couldn't blame her.

  After a moment, she said, "When you were little, and you got punished ... did you ever picture yourself at your own funeral? Because I did--I used to imagine that my mom and dad were in tears, regretting every 'meanie' they'd ever done to me. That was such a wrong thing for me to do."

  She grimaced as she shifted around, and he was reminded they were on a cold, hard floor--except then she rubbed her belly as if it hurt.

  "Are you okay?" he said. "You want to get out of here?"

  "I feel like I have indigestion."

  "Why wouldn't you."

  Jim got to his feet and offered a hand. As she took it and he pulled her up, she grunted, and couldn't seem to straighten.

  "Sissy?"

  "My stomach ..." She lifted the hem of his shirt, pulling it up--"Oh, God! What is that!"

  He had no fucking clue, at first. But then, he knew: Across the flat, pale stretch of skin, there was a pattern in the flesh, a pattern that was glowing as if lit from within.

  Devina had carved it there as part of the ritual.

  "Get it off me ..." Sissy started rubbing. "Get it off me!"

  Jim captured her hands and bent down. That red illumination was all wrong, he thought. It was emanating from within her...

  He carefully lowered the shirt back into place. "Let's get out of here. And then we'll see what we can do about it, okay?"

  Sissy grabbed onto the shirt and held it in place, a look of stark terror distorting her beautiful features. "What if she's inside me?"

  Jim shook his head, even as the back of his neck tightened. "Not possible."

  And then he said the one thing that, later on, he would come to regret: "You're mine."

  Chapter

  Twenty-nine

  Cait spent the afternoon counting down the hours.

  After leaving her date with G.B., she went home, sat at her desk ... and checked the time about every twenty minutes or so. She did get some work done, however, although it was the difference between walking at the side of the road and being in a car going sixty-five.

  Forward motion, but only in a relative sense.

  She and Duke were meeting at six, and so, after some tense negotiations with her Guilt-o-meter, she decided to give herself an hour to get ready--which was outrageous, but seemed necessary. And then considering she needed fifteen minutes to drive into town, she was therefore allowed to get up out of her chair at four forty-five.

  Don't wear a bra.

  Putting her pencil down, she had to close her eyes as her body responded--

  Her phone went off next to her, ringing loud in her silent house. As she grabbed for it, her heart pounded. Please, please, let it not be Duke canceling...

  Unknown phone number. "Hello?"

  "... Cait?..."

  As the male voice sank in, she sat up in confusion. "Thom?"

  "Hi." Her old college boyfriend cleared his throat as the greeting came out funny. "Sorry, hi."

  "Well, ah, hi. How are you?" In her head she did the math. The last time she'd spoken with him had been about six months ago--and he'd been very sure that he and the girlfriend were pregnant. Three plus six equals nine.

  "I'm good, thanks. And you?"

  They were both stilted, but then, come on. They'd nearly gotten engaged--up until he'd cheated on her. And now he and the woman were pregnant--actually, had no doubt just had a healthy, beautiful boy or a girl.

  "Good, good, thank you."

  In the silence that followed, for some reason, Cait remembered exactly where she'd been sitting when he'd rung her phone for their previous call back in November. She'd been upstairs in her bedroom, ironing clothes, and she'd kept it together during the five-or six-minute conversation. Had also been honestly glad he was telling her in person before the news got out within their network of buddies.

  After she'd hung up, though? She'd turned off the lights, gotten into bed, and cried for about six hours.

  Next day she'd joined the nearest Bally Total Fitness.

  "I just wanted you to know ... that we had the baby. Early last night."

  As she reclosed her eyes, her first thought was that she was thrilled she was meeting Duke in about an hour and a half. To hear this news without having her date to look forward to probably would have resulted in another day under the covers.

  Her second? Was that, as before, he didn't come across as if he were gloating, or showing off his good fortune. No, Thom seemed almost apologetic, just as he had when he'd told her about the pregnancy--he was clearly trying to do the right thing in a difficult situation.

  "I'm so happy for you." She couldn't bring herself to say the other woman's name. That hadn't changed even with Duke on the horizon. "I really, truly am."

  "I wanted you to know before, well, everyone else does."

  "What's his or her name?"

  "We've named him Thomas, after me."

  "That's great. You must be so excited."

  "I am. I mean, this wasn't planned, but ... sometimes life is like that, you know?"

  Tell me about it, Thom. "Yes, I know. When's the wedding?"

  Because surely he would marry the woman now.

  "Not for a while. We have to get through the first couple months with him--well, Margot does. I'm working around the clock."

  "Wall Street will do that to you."

  "Sure does." Pause. "Are you okay?"

  Cait bristled at that. What, like she'd been sitting around pining after him forever?

  Okay, maybe that had been true for a little while. "You know what? I really am. I'm in a good place, work's fantastic, and my personal life is ..." She didn't finish that part with any details. Seemed too much as if she were trying to prove something. "... going well."

  The relief that came across the connection was palpable. "Oh, I'm so glad to hear that."

  And you know, it was funny; she believed that was true
for him. In this moment, sitting with the phone squeezed to her ear and the awkwardness on both sides making her want to end things quickly, she realized ... Thom was a good guy.

  "Can I ask you something?" she blurted.

  "Anything. I mean that, Cait."

  "When you met ..." Okay, time to man up. For God's sake, at this point, the pair of them had been together longer than she and Thom had. "... Margot, was it a love-at-first-sight kind of thing? Like, an overwhelming, no-going-back free fall?"

  She was, of course, thinking of Duke. Even though that probably didn't make a lot of sense. She barely knew the guy, after all.

  Thom cleared his throat. "Are you sure you want me to answer that?"

  "Yeah, I really am. Although maybe this is not the right time. You're probably still at the hospital, right?"

  "No, no, it's okay. They're both sleeping, and the parents have all gone home for showers."

  She could just picture him in some kind of white corridor, leaning a shoulder on the wall and crossing one loafer or wingtip so that it balanced on the toe.

  Thom blew out a long breath. "I saw her in the library, across a distance ... and I can't explain it. I just stopped dead, right where I was. It wasn't in my nature to have that kind of reaction, and still isn't--and just so you and I are clear? I walked away. I didn't talk to her, I didn't ask anyone about her, I didn't take a seat and stare at her for hours. I just turned right around and left."

  He was correct--that sort of struck-dumb hadn't been typical of him. Thom had always been just like her: measured, careful, focused on studying rather than people.

  In fact, their friends had always said they were the perfect couple, and when they'd broken up the spring of senior year, the split had been a major topic of conversation. Looking back now, she imagined it had been easier in some ways to be on her side of things, i.e., the victim, the one who had been deserted--although that certainly hadn't been a party. At least their social circle had pitied her, though, rather than gotten all snarky in her direction.

  "It must have been a surprise for you," she said.

  "It wasn't what I wanted. Not at all."

  "When did it happen, you know, her and you?"

  What a crazy time to be finally asking these questions. When he'd told her he'd found someone else, she hadn't wanted any details--just a cardboard box to pack up the things he'd left in her dorm room.

  "A year later."

  Cait recoiled. "You two dated for a year?"

  "No. I saw her first a year, maybe a year and a half before I ... you know. It was fall our junior year. Cait, I was going to marry you. I was committed to you. I wanted to be with you. The last thing I ever considered was that somebody else would get in the way. After I saw her, I stopped studying in the library. I left parties--do you remember that Super Bowl party at Rich's? The one where he got arrested afterward? I said I was sick--but it was because she was there. I didn't want to be anywhere around her."

  Cait eased back in her chair. "God..."

  "You were always working, Cait, especially our senior year--and that is not to put anything on you. That was the way we were. It's just ... you were always so busy, and I was busy, and then one night ... you went to visit your parents for Presidents' Day weekend because they were finally home for a little while? I was sitting in our quad, Teresa was out, Greg was gone ... and I don't know what ... exactly it was, but I got up and put my coat on, and I walked across campus at ten o'clock at night. I went to the library that night, and she was there. And that was ... what happened. About two weeks after that was when I spoke with you. Margot and I had not been together by that time, but I knew where things were headed, I knew that ... Christ, Cait, the last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you."

  "I believe that," she said hoarsely. "I do."

  "And you know, the reason I called you before we announced, and why I'm calling you now? I've embarrassed you enough. I don't want you to ever be on the receiving end of unexpected news again--at least not that has to do with me. Even though it was how many years ago, I've never gotten over that whole thing with us, Cait. It was a blessing to meet Margot, but a curse, too. She's my other half, but I had to hurt ... you."

  As tears welled, it wasn't from grief. More from a sense that in reality, they had both hurt each other, in their own ways. And though she had never wished him ill per se, the idea that he hadn't waltzed away into the arms of some hot new love free and clear made her feel like it was more equitable, somehow.

  "I'm really glad you called," she said. "I truly am."

  Thom exhaled long and slow. "I've wanted to explain myself for a long time. But not from a self-serving point of view, more because I honestly still care about you. And I always will."

  Cait smiled sadly, remembering how the two of them could spend hours studying side by side. They had been the perfect companions, and she'd been looking for stability back then. But was that true love?

  Not like he'd found with Margot.

  "You take care of yourself, Thom."

  "You, too, Cait."

  As she ended the call, she stared at her phone.

  It was good to know he was as decent as she'd thought he was. He'd avoided his truth for a good year ... and then it had just been his time, she supposed. And yes, the whole thing had been heartbreaking, the trauma of losing what she'd planned her life to be, that artificial structure she had created herself but called destiny, absolutely crushing. But she had always wondered whether or not he had been the man she'd assumed she knew.

  He was.

  The only thing that could have been worse? Learning that all along, through the course of their relationship, he had been nothing but a lie.

  Plus, now that she had met Duke? She understood what Thom meant. Sometimes ... you just crossed paths with someone irresistible, and depending on your circumstance? It could be devastating.

  In her case? She was single, and that was a good thing. How would she have felt if she'd run into the likes of Duke ... and been in a relationship?

  On that note, Cait glanced at her clock. Four thirty-nine.

  For most of her life, she would have forced herself to sit still for the remaining six minutes. Now? Screw that.

  It was time to get ready.

  Shutting down her workstation, she headed for the second floor, and it was as she threw on her shower and let all her clothes dump on the floor again that she realized ... yes, in fact, she was probably going through exactly what had happened to Thom.

  For years, she hadn't been prepared to cut him any slack. And when he'd called to say they were pregnant? She had turned to her diet and the gym to crush all the emotions that had come up.

  But now? After talking to him downstairs?

  A weight had been lifted off of her, and the relief she had been seeking in all kinds of other outlets settled through her, a balm that ushered in with it the sort of peace that had seemed impossible to achieve.

  Interesting. She and her mom and dad disagreed about a lot. But if this was the forgiveness they advocated? It was freedom from your own pain.

  And that was a very, very good thing.

  Cait tried not to be on time. Unfortunately, old habits died hard, and she was three minutes early. After eyeing the Riverside Diner's parking lot, she decided to drive on by and waste some time going around the block for a while.

  Six ten. That was her sweet spot. Not too early, not too late.

  At the allotted moment in history--not that she was blowing this out of proportion or anything, she pulled her SUV into the parking area and found a spot. It was kind of a surprise to be so nervous as she looked around for his truck.

  Not in the lot: From what she could see thanks to a combination of streetlights and the fading glow of the sunset's last gasp, there were ten or twelve vehicles and a couple of motorcycles. No trucks.

  Maybe he was fashionably late, too.

  Getting out and locking up, she headed for the entrance, her stomach doing that butterfly thing she'd
heard about, but never experienced before. And like her brain didn't want to be left out of the flutter-party, all sorts of random nonsense were jumping through her head, none of the thoughts sticking, her skull like a child's bouncy castle filled with balls.

  Pulling open the doors, she walked into a traditional fifties diner, red Naugahyde booths going down one side, a counter with stools across the aisle, a serving setup and flap doors into the kitchen behind that.

  Duke wasn't in the booths, although several men looked up at her arrival and did a double take--something that had happened on campus today as well. Yup, blonds definitely got more attention, but she wasn't sure about the fun, especially if tonight's date ended up not happening. Which would be two evenings in a row. Although at least there was a good chance she wouldn't get chased into an elevator--

  There he was.

  Through the arches that led into the other dining room, he was at a booth by the back exit, facing out, staring right at her.

  He didn't smile. Or wave. Or sit a little straighter.

  But his burning eyes ate her up, the impact of that stare flushing away everything that was between them--the tables, the waitresses, the other patrons, the distance across a red carpeted floor.

  It was just as it had been when they'd looked at each other in the cafe parking lot.

  As Cait walked over to him, she found that her body moved differently, a sensual feeling infusing her legs and hips and breasts with a slow-boil heat that she wanted to turn up.

  "Hi," she said, her voice deeper than usual.

  "You look good." His eyes dipped down her. "Really good."

  "Thanks. You, too." Although he could have been wearing a seventies lounge suit and she probably would have drooled over the polyester.

  Sliding in opposite him, she took off her coat and was acutely aware of the way her breasts moved against the fine material of her blouse--and so was he. Now he changed positions, moving around as if impatient.

  Or maybe uncomfortable thanks to an ... um, yeah.

  And that was totally hot.

  Without further conversation, he extended his hand across the tabletop, palm up, and in reply, she put hers on top of his immediately.