Blood Brothers

“You’re not nearly as predictable as you should be.” Watching him now, she pulled off her sweater, unbuttoned the shirt beneath it.

“I should be predictable?” Without bothering with buttons, he pulled his shirt over his head.

“Hometown boy from a nice, stable family, who runs a third-generation family business. You should be predictable, Caleb,” she said as she unbuttoned her jeans. “I like that you’re not. I don’t mean just the sex, though major points there.”

She bent down to pull off her boots, tossing her hair out of her eyes so she could look up at him. “You should be married,” she decided, “or on your way to it with your college sweetheart. Thinking about 401(k)s.”

“I think about 401(k)s. Just not right now. Right now, Qui

That gave her heart a bounce, even before he reached out, ran his hands down her bare arms. Even before he drew her to him and seduced her mouth with his.

She may have laughed when they lowered to the floor, but her pulse was pounding. There was a different tone from when they were in bed. More urgency, a sense of recklessness as they tangled together in a giddy heap on the office floor. He tugged her bra down so he could use his lips, his teeth, his tongue on her breasts until her hips began to pump. She closed her hand around him, found him hard, made him groan.

He couldn’t wait, not this time. He couldn’t savor; needed to take. He rolled, dragging her over so she could straddle him. Even as he gripped her hips, she was rising. She was taking him in. When she leaned forward for a greedy kiss, her hair fell to curtain their faces. Surrounded by her, he thought. Her body, her scent, her energy. He stroked the line of her back, the curve of her hips as she rocked and rocked and rocked him through pleasure toward desperation.

Even when she arched back, even with his vision blurred, the shape of her, the tones of her enthralled him.

She let herself go, simply steeped herself in sensation. Hammering pulses and speed, slick bodies and dazzling friction. She felt him come, that sudden, sharp jerk of his hips, and was thrilled. She had driven him to lose control first, she had taken him over. And now she used that power, that thrill, to drive herself over that same edgy peak.

She slid down from it, and onto him so they could lie there, heated, a little stu

“God, we’re like a couple of teenagers. Or rabbits.”

“Teenage rabbits.”

Amused, she levered up. “Do you often multitask in your office like this?”

“Ah…”

She gave him a little poke as she tugged her bra back in place. “See, unpredictable.”

He held out her shirt. “It’s the first time I’ve multitasked in this way during working hours.”

Her lips curved as she buttoned her shirt. “That’s nice.”

“And I haven’t felt like a teenage rabbit since I was.”

She leaned over to give him a quick peck on the lips. “Even nicer.” Still on the floor, she scooted into her pants as he did the same. “I should tell you something.” She reached for her boots, pulled one on. “I think…No, saying ‘I think’ is a cop-out, it’s the coward’s way.”

She took a deep breath, yanked on the other boot, then looked him dead in the eye. “I’m in love with you.”

The shock came first-fast, arrow-point shock straight to the gut. Then the concern wrapped in a slippery fist of fear. “Qui

“Don’t waste your breath with the ‘we’ve only known each other a couple of weeks’ gambit. And I really don’t want to hear the ‘I’m flattered, but,’ either. I didn’t tell you so you could say anything. I told you because you should know. So first, it doesn’t matter how long we’ve known each other. I’ve known me a long time, and I know me very well. I know what I feel when I feel it. Second, you should be flattered, goes without saying. And there’s no need to freak out. You’re not obligated or expected to feel what I feel.”

“Qui

“Exactly so. Nobody ever knows that, but we have more reason to worry about it. So, Cal.” She framed his face with her hands. “The moment’s important. The right-this-minute matters a whole hell of a lot. I doubt I’d have told you otherwise, though I can be impulsive. But I think, under other circumstances, I’d have waited for you to catch up. I hope you do, but in the meantime, things are just fine the way they are.”

“You have to know I-”

“Don’t, absolutely don’t tell me you care about me.” The first hint of anger stung her voice. “Your instinct is to say all the cliches people babble out in cases like this. They’ll only piss me off.”

“Okay, all right, let me just ask this, without you getting pissed off. Have you considered what you’re feeling might be something like what happened in the clearing? That it’s, say, a reflection of what A

“Yes, and it’s not.” She pushed to her feet, drew on her sweater. “Good question though. Good questions don’t piss me off. What she felt, and I felt through that, was intense and consuming. I’m not going to say some of what I feel for you isn’t like that. But it was also painful, and wrenching. Under the joy was grief. That’s not this, Cal. This isn’t painful. I don’t feel sad. So…do you have time to come down and grab some lunch before Cyb and Layla and I head out?”

“Ah…sure.”

“Great. Meet you down there. I’m going to pop in the bathroom and fix myself up a little.”

“Qui

“Now that is a very acceptable thing to say.”

She smiled as she strolled away. If he’d said it, he meant it, because that was the way he was. Poor guy, she thought. Didn’t even know he was caught.

A THICK GROVE OF TREES SHIELDED THE OLD cemetery on the north side. It fa

Qui

Now, there were only the markers here, the stones, the winter-hardy weeds. Beyond a low stone wall were the graves of the newer dead. Here and there she saw bright blots of color from flowers that stood out like grief against the dull grays and winter browns.

“We should’ve brought flowers,” Layla said quietly as she looked down at the simple and small stone that read only:

ANN HAWKINS

“She doesn’t need them,” Cybil told her. “Stones and flowers, they’re for the living. The dead have other things to do.”

“Cheery thought.”

Cybil only shrugged at Qui

“Maybe they knew, or believed, she’d be back. Maybe she told them death isn’t the end.” Qui

“This July,” Layla finished. “Another cheery thought.”