Page 55 of Villains Are Made

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“You know I don’t.”

He stops chewing and then nods. “That’s right. But maybe if we do it together, it won’t be so bad.” He returns to eating his pasta. “Anyway, we’ll stay here at the manor until we find a new place. But I was thinking I’d call the agent and have us fly into Seattle tomorrow to meet with her. Maybe we could have her show us some houses. Start the process.”

“Okay…” This all seems so unlike Apollo, but I will not question a good thing. I always hated that house. Apollo wanted it. Not me. “What kind of house do you want? Do you have a neighborhood in mind?”

He shrugs again. “What do you want?”

He’s never asked me that question before. I had always just assumed I should be grateful that I had a roof over my head and was no longer living in a shack with no power on the Eastside of Heathens Hollow.

“The truth?” I ask as I place down my fork.

His brow rises at my question. “Of course. Why would you ask that? I always want the truth from you. Always.”

I take a deep breath and decide to confess something I told no one. “When my sister and I were old enough to explore the island and beyond without being questioned, we took the ferry from the island to Seattle. Well…actually, we snuck onto the ferry since we didn’t have any money. We had been so excited because it was our first trip to the city. We lucked out when we got there because the busses ran that day for free, so we didn’t even have to pay for that.” I pause and take a sip of water, pausing to see if Apollo tries to stop me or rush along my story. But he only stares at me, giving me his full attention. I decide to continue on. “We didn’t know our way around the city or where anything was but decided to get on the bus and see where it took us. We ended up getting off in the Queen Anne district, and I instantly fell in love with the houses. The old craftsmen homes were everywhere, and I loved the neighborhood with all the landscaped and perfectly groomed yards. But there was this one house in particular that stood out to me. It had beveled windows with a large stainless glass heart hanging in the center. Plants lined up along the sill and you could see into the dining room from the street where we stood. There was a simple four-person table with a chandelier hanging above. Not an overly fancy one, but a fixture with clean lines and casting warm light below. I had imagined myself sitting in that house, at that table, and fantasized what it would be like. I promised myself that I would someday live in a craftsmen house in the Queen Anne district.” I take another drink of water. “I was a big dreamer as a kid.”

“Then the Queen Anne district will be our first stop,” Apollo says simply. His smile is so warm that I’m tempted to reach out and hold his hand. For some odd reason, I long for the connection.

“When I suggested it before, you said the area is for upper middle-class people. It was beneath us.”

Apollo grimaces, swallows hard, and stiffens his spine. “You must have caught me on a bad day. I apologize.” He places his fork down on his plate, dabs his mouth with his napkin, and adds, “I’d like to explore the district with you. I like the idea of a craftsmen as well.”

Excitement shoots through me. “Really? You mean it?” The thought that a possible dream of mine could actually come true seems unreal.

“If the idea makes you smile like that,” he stands from the table and walks over to me, “then I’d love to see what actually walking inside of them will do.” He lowers his mouth to mine and gives it a quick peck. “I’ll go make the call now and set it up. I then have some more work to do. Will you be all right for a bit without me?”

“Apollo,” I say softly, hating to break thissweet,and very uncharacteristic of Apollo, moment. “Can I ask a favor?”

“Yes, what?”

“Do you mind if I use the phone to call my sister?”

“Call your sister? Of course.” His eyes darken at the mention of her, and I know why. He’s waiting for the signal for him to act. A signal I’m not sure when I’ll be able to give.

“I haven’t touched base with her in a long time. I don’t have my cell phone though.”

“Sure,” he says, as he reaches for his phone and then gives it to me. “It gets the best signal in the main room, but it works great from the study too. Do you want me to work in another room so you can use the study for privacy?”

“Oh, no,” I say, bolting toward the door. “I’ll go in the main room. Thank you.”

ChapterTwenty-Eight

Daphne

My sister and I had spent our entire lives mastering the ability to communicate through code. Ani was only two years younger than me, so we had always been close. We only had each other. My memory of my mother is very limited, and Ani’s is non-existent. But we both remember my father and always will. He was an awful, abusive man who we had the misfortune of having to live with. Our only way to survive was by creating a secret code language so that we could communicate in times that we didn’t want him to know what we were saying. A tug of an ear meant beware. I braid of our hair meant dad had over five drinks and was approaching the stage of drunk where he’d pop us for no reason. Biting the lip meant one of us found food so we could sneak a meal in and not starve that night. And a yawn meant for us to get out of the house as fast as we could and meet at a lean to shelter we had built. But once my father died, I never imagined we still needed to speak in code. But we do.

I let the phone ring twice and then hang up. It’s the code needed for Ani to feel the vibration in her pocket and then to go find a place she can speak in private without Mark knowing of her secret phone. I wait five minutes and call again, hoping she’ll pick up, which isn’t always a given. This time, she does.

“Hi,” she says, but I hear sadness in her voice. It isn’t the first time I’ve called and heard the tone.

“Are you all right?” I ask.

There’s a pause. “No.”

She’s never said no. She’s never said anything other than trying to convince me that everything is fine when I know it’s anything but.

Alarm bells are going off. I force myself to take a seat so my knees don’t buckle. “What happened?”

There’s another pause. I can hear her breathing. I hear a sniffle.


Tags: Alta Hensley Romance