Light Unshaken (Unveiled #2) Read online

  “I started listening to them at the end of last year.” He kept his voice soft and his eyes on the windshield. “Guess it reminded me of you.”

  I toyed with the knob on the vent. My thoughts followed the wipers’ back and forth motion. There’d been plenty of times this summer when I’d retreated to memories of the way things used to be between us. I never imagined A. J. would have done the same. If he missed our friendship too, where did that leave us now?

  chapter fourteen

  Buoyancy

  Slim chance whatever held Jaycee silently amused the next morning had anything to do with the magazine she was pretending to read or the chocolate Pop-Tart she was devouring a piece at a time.

  I let go of the kitchen table. My chair dropped onto all four legs. The sharp noise didn’t garner so much as an upward glance from Miss Unreadable or shake the overzealous grin she’d been sporting all morning. One of her generous sips of coffee was bound to trickle down the corners of her mouth at any moment.

  I drew an invisible circle on the table with the bottom of my mug, silently trying to lure it out of her.

  So much for Trevor’s theory on us being clairvoyant. I chugged my tea and grabbed the nearest reading material within reach.

  Big mistake. Stuck with Bridal Guide in my lap, I tried not to regurgitate my breakfast onto the airbrushed models’ fuchsia bouquets.

  “So . . .” The word arced with a note of intrigue.

  I looked up at the first excuse to sever contact with the ghastly magazine. “So, what?”

  “So, last night? Complete meltdown, duking it out with A. J., crying in the rain . . . Ring a bell?”

  “You guys saw that?” Figures. I combed my fingers through my air-dried hair. “It was bad, wasn’t it?”

  No telling what everyone must’ve thought about the scene A. J. and I’d made.

  Jaycee’s scrunched expression said enough. “Maybe a tad on the dramatic side.”

  We cracked up at the same time. Jaycee flung her hand over her mouth, but it was too late. I got my wish. Coffee seeped all the way down her chin.

  I took in my best friend through a misty blend of gratefulness and humility. “Thanks for dragging me out last night, by the way. You were right. I needed it.” More than I realized.

  She towed her legs into the chair, seemingly uneager to voice the infamous I-told-you-so speech that I was more than entitled to hear.

  My back sank into the chair’s wooden slats. “I knew this time apart from Riley was going to be tough, but sometimes I feel like I’m drowning. There’s no way I’d make it without you guys.”

  She wiped a streak of coffee off her mug. “Sounds like A. J. was the real lifejacket last night.”

  “Maybe, but you’ve rescued me from rock bottom plenty of times. I don’t know how you do it.”

  “Girl, I’ve been taking diving lessons since the day I first met you.”

  I snagged the cushion from the next chair over and threatened to swat her with it.

  Laughing, she latched onto the table to keep from toppling over. “So, does this mean you guys are friends again?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Yeah, I think it does. Well, sort of.” I stared absently at the magazine cover. “I still sense there’s something left unspoken. Sometimes when he looks at me, it’s like I can feel this silent pain in his eyes. I don’t know how to explain it.”

  “You need to be careful, Em.”

  “Jae, it’s not like—”

  She sprang out of her seat and glared at the clock as if it’d committed some monstrous betrayal. “Shoot. Is that clock right? Shoot! Shoot! Shoot!” Her voice squealed in escalating octaves. “Professor Greaves is gonna kill me. I was supposed to meet him in the ETC at ten-thirty to set up for a presentation.”

  She made it to the bedroom and back again before I had time to set my dishes in the sink. I tossed her a banana right when she reached the door. “Something to supplement that imposter breakfast combo you had going on earlier.”

  “Thanks for looking out.” She slipped the banana into her purse and winked. “We’ll finish talking later.”

  “After work.”

  “Be careful,” she called behind her.

  A breeze from the stairwell coursed into the apartment and settled over my shoulders. Yet rather than stifle, the silence following me down the hall felt surprisingly like a friend. One I’d missed.

  I wasn’t naive enough to think things were back to normal between A. J. and me. If I were honest, they’d never be exactly as they’d been, but something broke last night. I sensed it.

  At the bathroom sink, I dropped my pressed powder, flexed my hands against the counter, and stared in the mirror. My chin still bore the mark left by that thug’s ring, but the dark circles under my eyes were gone. No imprint of restlessness to hide.

  How could one good night’s sleep reverse the effects of countless nightmares? The meltdown with A. J. must’ve had more impact than I thought. I felt lighter. Freer than I had in weeks.

  Jaycee’s sticky note train waved at me from under the ceiling vent. “I am courageous. I am not alone. I am loved. I will make it through.” Maybe I would. Even if I wasn’t fully whole yet, life seemed a little less broken today.

  A sense of assurance stayed with me all the way into Portland until I parked Riley’s Civic in my usual spot. Fresh graffiti defacing the bricks on the front of the building stared back at me.

  The agitation in my stomach grew into a slow boil. Dee. I yanked open the door and barreled across the street. He wasn’t getting away with this.

  I blew into the office. Little Brandon’s head popped up from Trey’s chair.

  “Where’s Trey?”

  Brandon lowered his feet from the desk. “Just missed him. Got a call, then hustled out. Said somethin’ about final signings.”

  The divorce. I couldn’t think about that right now. At least it’d finally be over.

  Basketball dribbles rang from out back. Still fuming, I stormed through the screen door and scanned the court. Dee sat on a bench with headphones on, looking like he was at home. Like he was one of us. Who did he think he was?

  “You.”

  He tugged his ear buds out before I could do it for him. His confused gaze bounced from me to the rest of the kids on the court staring at us.

  I towered above him. “What are you really doing here? You think this is some kind of game? That you can just stroll up in here and vandalize the place?”

  He tottered to his feet and backed into his book bag. “What?”

  “The graffiti. I saw the spray paint fall out of your bag the other day.” Did he think I was stupid?

  His brow creased. “I ain’t got nothin’ to do with that.”

  “Like you didn’t have anything to do with those guys who attacked me?” I clutched my elbows to box out the memories.

  What, their assault wasn’t enough? Now, they send some punk kid to find an inside way to finish off the place? Try to shut it down so they can get a hold over the kids? Not gonna happen. Not while I had fight left in me.

  Dee didn’t lift his focus from the backpack at his feet.

  My chest burned. “What are you hiding?”

  “I ain’t hidin’ nothing.”

  “Then open your bag.”

  He backed up. “No.”

  A. J. intercepted me before I could snatch it from the ground. “Em, calm down.”

  I tried to push around him, but he steered me into the office, away from the uncertain glances flitting around the court.

  He tossed Jamal a basketball. “Get a scrimmage going. Vests are in that tote. You know the drill.”

  The noise on the court resumed its flow but didn’t shut out the drumming in my ears. Inside the office, I paced, arms still holding my sides together. “Why are you letting him stay?”

  A. J. leaned against my desk. “It’s not my call.”

  Trey’s compassion might’ve overruled his judgment this time. Was I supposed to believe Dee
up and left his gang to come here for tutoring?

  Unbidden, the fatherly look on Trey’s face from that day in the hall rushed to mind and bled into the blindsided look on the kid’s face from a minute ago—both clashing with the questions knotting inside me. None of it made sense.

  I stopped in the middle of the room. “What’s he really doing here, A. J.?”

  “Making a mistake,” Dee said from the back door.

  A. J. and I both turned. Dee’s strained face held the same raw tenor that his voice carried. Shouldering his book bag, he hustled to leave through the front exit but collided with Trey coming in through the opposite side.

  “Whoa, slow down.” Trey held him by the shoulders and looked at me for an explanation.

  Between the hurt in Dee’s eyes and the question in Trey’s, mine turned glassy before I could stop them. Conflicting emotions backed me out the screen door and onto the court.

  The beginning of a game kept the kids’ attention diverted. I hurried into the utility closet to keep it that way. Out of view, I unclenched my fingers but couldn’t steady my breathing. The tension followed me in, rebounded off the tiny space, and balled up inside my chest.

  I needed to move. Needed to do something—anything other than stand still. I rifled through the shelves in search of a bucket and something to use to scrub the wall.

  A shadow stretched in from the doorway. I looked behind me. “I’m fine, A. J.”

  “I know.” He strolled in and tinkered with the clutter on the shelves. “Just thought you might want some help. You know, with being fine.”

  His dimples fought to garner a smile from me.

  “Thanks, but I’m good.” I shouldered past him and stopped at the spigot to fill the bucket.

  Trying not to douse my pants, I waddled toward the front of the building. Bolded streaks of black spray paint caught the sun’s glare and laughed at the sight of my little scrub brush. I set the bucket at my feet and rolled up my wet shirt cuffs anyway.

  A glimpse of a wooden ladder peeked out from the side of the building, followed by A. J. rounding the corner. Apparently, “I’m good” hadn’t translated.

  “What are you doing?”

  He eased the ladder off his shoulder and propped it against the wall beside me. After dusting off his hands, he shimmied an oversized sponge out of his back pocket. “Oh, just releasing some energy. You?”

  I shook my head, a grin breaking through. I dipped my fingers in the bucket and flicked water at him. “I can do this myself, you know.”

  He steadied the bucket with one hand, soaked his sponge with the other, and met my eyes. “You’re not alone, Emma.”

  His sincerity almost unleashed the tears I’d stifled in the office earlier. I faced the bricks and dragged my brush over the part of the graffiti I could reach from the ground.

  One wall at a time.

  He worked beside me, no need for words. Clouds drifted in. Minutes drained with the murky water running down the sidewalk into the storm drain. But no amount of scrubbing blotted the vulnerable look in Dee’s eyes from my mind. Was I wrong about him?

  Fingertips like prunes and nails darkened around the edges, I pushed back my hair with my sleeve.

  A quick glance caught A. J. wiping a paint-tinted smear of sweat across his brow. He was sowing as much into the center as I was. Same as Trey.

  “I’m sorry,” I said slowly. “For acting like I’m alone in all this.”

  “That’s a lot to load on your shoulders.” He wrung out his sponge.

  I slumped against the wall. “I know. Guess I’m just used to doing things that way.”

  “Makes it hard to pretend to be fine all the time.”

  A laugh snuck through my tight lips. “Didn’t buy that, huh?” At least he hadn’t pushed. “Thanks.” I dragged the tip of my Converse sneaker over the pavement. “It’s nice to have someone who understands.”

  “Any time.” His soft voice followed his chin to his shirt.

  Sometime amidst scrubbing, the sky had turned gray. I closed my arms over my body to block a damp breeze blowing in. A text notification dinged into the silence. I pulled my cell from my back pocket. Riley’s face lit up beside the message.

  Been running around all day. Will you be up after 11?

  I thumbed a quick reply, pocketed my phone, and kicked off the wall.

  A. J. folded the ladder. “Things that bad?”

  Of course he’d notice. “Just hard.” I dumped the rest of the water down the drain.

  “Nashville not turning out the way he planned?”

  I tossed the brush into the empty bucket. “No, it’s great. You should hear him. He’s alive there. Energized. And he should be. He’s falling right into where he belongs.”

  A. J. hooked an arm through the ladder rings. Rather than press, he simply waited.

  I stared at the water stains spreading up my pant legs. “I’m just not sure how to compete with that world.”

  “Thought it was a world he wanted to share with you.”

  “It’s easier to share it with some skanky manager hanging on his side every day.”

  A. J. angled his chin at me, mouth slanting. “Skanky?”

  “You didn’t see the pic of her riding a mechanical bull. Trust me.”

  His laugh faded into a look of sobriety. He shifted the ladder and his tone. “Doubt he’s stupid enough to give up what he has.”

  But what if something better came along? “I keep wondering if I should’ve gone with him.”

  He shrugged. “Part of your heart’s here.”

  His eyes held mine. Heat pricked the tops of my cheeks. He didn’t think . . . ?

  Smiling, he nodded to the building. “The center.”

  Right.

  A steady drizzle speckled my forehead and cooled my skin.

  A. J. faced the sky. “Guess that’s our cue.”

  A black and tan SUV rolled up to the curb. Some suit dressed to the hilt strutted out and jogged down the side of the building with a briefcase over his head. He probably didn’t even see us standing there. A. J. and I exchanged a glance and hustled behind him.

  Shaking off the rain, we filed into the office in time to see the businessman extend a hand toward Trey. “Jim Brake from the Success Foundation. I believe we spoke on the phone.”

  What? Why didn’t he tell me he’d heard back from them?

  “Trey Williams.” He returned the guy’s handshake and tipped his head toward me. “And this is Emma Matthews. She sent in the proposal.”

  Hiding the bucket behind my back, I scrambled to dry my wrinkly fingertips. A. J. eased beside me and snuck the bucket out of view.

  “Thank you,” I mouthed to him right before Mr. Brake turned to face me.

  “Of course. Miss Matthews.”

  I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Hope you don’t mind me popping in. We like to do things in person.” Mr. Brake set his briefcase on the nearest chair, wiped the water off, and snapped open the brackets.

  Pulling out a folder, he straightened. “Here we are.” He handed Trey some kind of packet. “It’s only a provisional endorsement at this point. We’d like to monitor the center for a while before committing.”

  Hadn’t the notes I included in my grant proposal convinced them they wouldn’t find a better investment?

  Trey angled his glasses to read the document.

  Mr. Brake waved a hand over the top page. “It gets a little heady. Legal jargon.” He peered across the office. “How about you show me around first?”

  Expressionless, Trey didn’t miss a beat. “Why don’t we start in the classroom? Maybe the rain will taper off in a while, and A. J. can show you out back.”

  “Perfect.” Mr. Brake grabbed his briefcase.

  Trey motioned for me to follow.

  While A. J. and I had been out front, Trey’d managed to transform the earlier group of rowdy teenagers into a composed classroom of students attending to their assignments.


  From the front of the room, my gaze braced over Dee again. Trey must’ve convinced him to stay. At his seat, he alternated between the eraser and sharpened side of his pencil as many times as he alternated looking out the window and poring over the paper on his desk.

  The second he caught me staring, the enjoyment on his face recoiled behind the same unsearchable expression he held that night on the street corner.

  Trey nudged me forward. “Emma, why don’t you help Dee with the essay he’s writing?”

  I knew that tone. He was up to something. And with Mr. Success there, I couldn’t turn him down. I fabricated a compliant smile and headed toward the last person in the room I wanted to approach.

  Dee must’ve seconded my apprehension. Squirming in his chair, he jammed a paper into his textbook, shielded his eyes with his hand, and didn’t look up even after I reached his side.

  I peered back at Trey. Following a quick nod at me, he turned to talk to Mr. Brake.

  I faced Dee again and cleared my throat. “Mind if I take a look at your essay?”

  Not a single movement. For a minute, he looked dead set on refusing but then flicked his wrist toward me.

  I did a double take at the heading across the handwritten page. “‘An Endless Night.’ What class is this for?”

  Dee sent a sharp glance around the room from one desk to the next. Tugging the bill of his cap down, he sank in his seat and mumbled, “Creative Writing.”

  “Creative Writing?” I had to have misheard him.

  “It was either that or band,” he said, as if he’d chosen the lesser of two evils.

  “Right. Well, how about we take a look at what you’ve got so far.” I pointed to the empty chair beside him. “May I?”

  He didn’t have to answer. The look on his face made it loud and clear he doubted he had a choice. I frowned at Trey. Me neither, kid.

  It didn’t take long to read the two pages Dee had written. Though short and choppy in a few areas, the essay demonstrated a strength I hadn’t expected to find. “You have a great imagination.” If he focused on word painting instead of vandalism, maybe he could actually go places.

  Dee peeked up from under his hat. “You think so?”