Chapter 3

"Chris, let's go," Annabeth said, ignoring her brother.

"Sure." He held out a hand.

"What?" asked Trent, feigning hurt. "No hug for me?"

She took Chris's hand, focused on his face. He saw the expression on hers, begging to escape, and wondered what Miss Eve could have said. Apparently her mother was curious as well, and it made her—uncharacteristically—speak up first.

"What did she want, Annabeth?" Karen sat primly in her chair.

Annabeth lowered her head and took a deep breath. Chris pulled her close and hugged her briefly. She looked up at him and nodded, then turned to face her parents. Chris stayed close enough behind her that she could feel his warmth.

"She wanted to discuss her will," said Annabeth. Now Ethan and Trent looked at her, interested. Everyone suspected Miss Eve had money squirreled away, and they thought it would come to them. Who else would it go to, after all?

"So what did she say, girl?" Ethan rumbled. She felt Chris's hands tighten on her shoulders, reached up and gripped them with her own.

"She wanted me to come back," Annabeth said, then rushed to get the rest out. "She was going to leave the house and the money to me if I came back. I won't. You'll have to find somewhere else to live."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Trent shouted, jumping up. Annabeth couldn't help but flinch although she stood her ground and met his eyes.

"She said if I don't come back, she'll turn you out. You can't stay." She took a deep breath. "That's what she said."

"You ungrateful little cunt," Ethan seethed. "Thinking you're so high and mighty. This how you get back at us? Put us out on the streets?" He lumbered up out of his chair. "I'll be damned if I let you do this to us. You're coming back to that house now if I have to tie you up myself."

"I'll help," said Trent. He leered at his sister.

"Get away from her." Chris's voice cut through them all. He fixed Ethan and Trent with a glare. "You take one more step, and I'll call the cops."

"If you want to be mad at someone," Annabeth said, finding some of her own anger again, "then talk to the old woman in the hospital room. This was her idea, not mine. For once in your excuse for a life, be mad at the right person."

Ethan started towards her but Chris pulled her behind him and stood before Ethan. Ethan was large, but it was all fat; Chris was taller, leaner and in better shape. Trent got up to stand by his father.

"Think you can take us both, Kincaid?" Trent taunted.

"We're leaving," Chris said, his voice icy calm. "If you take one step after us, I will have security on you so fast your head will spin." Trent started to take a step forward, but his father yanked him back. As the son turned on the father, Chris led Annabeth out of the hospital.

"Sit down," Ethan ordered his son as Trent made to go after Chris and Annabeth. Damn stupid idiot, Ethan thought. Doesn't know when to wait. Always wants things now.

"You're not going to just let her walk away," Trent spat angrily. "She can't. You know that old hag in there means it. Just like her to do something like that."

"I know," said Ethan with uncharacteristic calm, although the usual anger bubbled underneath. "But if you try to get her now, Kincaid's right. He'll call security and they'll call the police. Annabeth'll get out while we're tied up with the pigs. Keep it quiet and we'll take care of it later." Trent glared but sat back down.

Karen surprised them both. "I'll take care of it," she said quietly.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Ethan swung his hand almost leisurely and hit her shoulder hard enough to make her wince. "Since when can you take care of anything?"

Karen ignored the hit. "I'm her mother. She's my daughter. I won't let her put us out on the street. I'll take care of it this time, Ethan."

Ethan shrugged. "Fine by me. 'Bout time you did something to earn your keep." Annabeth would be staying, he figured, however it happened. If Karen could do it and keep the police out of it, so much the better. "You wait here," he told his wife. "She's your mother. Come with me, boy." Trent followed his father out.

"What?" he asked sullenly.

Ethan snorted. "I'm not going to sit in there and wait. Hell, no. Let the woman sit there, it's all she's good for. I want a drink." Trent brightened slightly.

x-x-x-x

Chris stole glances at Annabeth as he drove. She hadn't said a word and he wasn't quite sure where to go. At last he decided on the one thing that people did no matter the situation—he stopped for food.

"Come on," he said gently as he opened the car door. "At least let's go in and you can tell me what happened." She nodded and let him guide her inside.

She was silent as they were seated and Chris ordered coffee for himself, tea for her. He called his mother and quickly brought her up to date, then held Annabeth's hand across the table, waiting patiently until she was ready to speak. After the server brought their drinks, she mechanically added milk and sweetener, then took a sip. She made a sour face.

"I never did like getting tea in restaurants," she said, and Chris was relieved to see her break out of that shell she'd been in since leaving the hospital. "The water's never hot enough. It doesn't taste quite right."

"I'll treat you to a margarita," Chris offered, and she relented and gave a small smile. "That's better," he said, squeezing her hand. "You ready to tell me what happened in there?"

"With the voodoo woman, you mean?" she asked, but there was no bite to the sarcasm.

"I didn't buy that," Chris said. "I always figured she was just into straight black magic. Upside down crosses and pentagrams and such."

"Might as well have been," said Annabeth with a sigh. "She was..." she shook her head. "It's hard to explain. It took me many counseling sessions to figure it out, but everything came back to her. She had everyone under her thumb, even me for a while. I figured it out, subconsciously at least, and rebelled in my own little ways." She took a sip of the tea. "She egged Ethan on, and Trent, too. I never knew why and I didn't care to. Still don't."

"So she was on a power trip," Chris said.

"I suppose she was." Annabeth sighed. "How pathetic is that? Just hiding in that house—and the ones before that—playing her little mind games and moving people like chess pieces."

"And she's still trying to do it."

"Yes, she is." Annabeth studied her drink, then looked up at him. "You know all those rumors about her having money?" Chris nodded and sipped his coffee. "Well, apparently it's true. She says it is. The money and the house can all be mine—if I come back and stay in the house."

"You can't," Chris said instantly.

"No," she agreed, "I can't. She said she'll let the house rot if I don't take it, and I don't know what will happen to the money or to Ethan and the others since I won't take it. I can't bring myself to care." As she had with Lorna, she looked at Chris and asked, "Does that make me a bad person? Is this my way of getting some kind of revenge, by saying no and knowing Miss Eve means it, that she'll throw them out if I don't agree? Do I owe them anything?"

"Nabby," he said, covering her hand with his, "you are in no way a bad person. You are an amazing person who was surrounded by pathetic excuses for parents. You've made your choices, and they've made theirs. You don't owe any of them anything. You are in no way responsible for what Miss Eve might do, no matter how she tries to make you think so."

"Thanks," she said, her voice slightly choked. "Thanks for saying that." She pressed fingers to her eyes to hold back the tears. I'm going to dehydrate if I keep going like this, she thought in frustration.

"You know, I could see it in her eyes," Annabeth said when she recovered her voice. "She told me, and I thought about what she said, and she was so sure I would do it. So sure I'd be lured back by the money. She wanted me under her control again. I couldn't do it. I just couldn't."

"She misjudged you," Chris told her. "They all did. You're stronger than they could ever be, and they won't understand that."

They sat quietly for a few more minutes, then Chris asked for the check. "Let's go," he said when it was paid.

"Where?" she asked absently.

He smiled. "It's a surprise."

x-x-x-x

"This was a good idea," she told him. They sat by the pond, watching the waning moon reflected in the water.

"I have good memories of this place," he said. She turned to look at him. "I always beat Pete at rock skipping here," he explained. He laughed at her expression, then kissed her lightly on the nose. "And, of course, you and I had a memorable experience."

"Is that what it was?" she mused as she looked over the water. "Yes, I suppose it was." Could she now, twelve years later, tell him it had been so much more to her? That it still was?

"Nabby," he said quietly, and turned her face to his. "It was much more than that." He brought his lips to hers, pressing softly.

Oh, God, he hasn't changed at all, she thought. He's still perfect. She brought her arms up around his neck and shifted so he could pull her closer, which he did. His tongue touched her lips and she parted them, welcoming him into her, savoring the taste and feel of him as she'd done all those years ago.

"Well," Chris said when they broke the kiss, "it's just like old times." He gently nudged her head down to his shoulder and she didn't resist.

"That was the best time," she said softly. "I think about it a lot."

"Do you?" He pressed his lips to her forehead. She nodded. "I do, too." She drew back to study him.

"Really?" she asked. A spark of hope flared to life.

"Really," he said. Then he sighed. "I wish it was different, Nabby. I wish everything was different for you. To come back here to all of this when you have a good life somewhere else—it must be hard."

"It's not such a good life," she said suddenly.

"What do you mean?"

A dam broke inside her and all of the things she'd meant to hide a bit longer came out. "I'm lonely," she said, "and scared. I like my job but I'm still so nervous around people. I have nightmares. I sleep with my front door locked and bolted and I even lock my bedroom door and put a chair in front of it. I sleep with a light on. I'm scared I'll open my door and find Ethan or Trent standing there. It's a stable life, Chris, but it's empty." A few more tears fell out, but she'd shed so many up to this point that she had almost none left.

"Shhhhh, baby, shhhh," he murmured, holding her and rocking a little.

"I'm sorry." She wiped at her eyes. "You thought I was so strong and I just couldn't let you keep thinking that when it isn't true."

"Shhhh," was all he said.

"I should get back to my hotel," she said after a while. "Your mom must be worried about you."

"She's fine," Chris said. "I called her earlier." He had decided he wasn't leaving Annabeth alone tonight, even if he had to sleep on the floor. He kissed her gently. "Come on."

Back at the hotel, Chris watched as she double-checked the locks and his heart went out to her as she placed a hand on the desk chair, then stood there undecided. He came over to her and said, "If you feel better with it there, that's fine."

"Will you stay?" she asked suddenly. She hadn't meant to ask but found she was terrified at spending the night alone. Ethan and Trent were both out of jail, and she had no doubt they could find her if they tried. Chris had insisted on informing the manager about them, so he would know to call the police, but fear wasn't rational. Her fingers clutched at her arms as she crossed them in front of her, waiting for his answer.

"I'm glad you asked," he said, pulling her close. "It saves me the trouble of convincing you to let me."

"Thank you, thank you." She held him tightly. They were quiet for a moment and then she pulled reluctantly away.

"I need a shower," she said, and her voice was rough. "I feel ... unclean..." She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. "There's something about them, there always was. I used to scrub myself at the sink for ages after Ethan or Trent hit me, sometimes if they'd just touched me."

Chris's stomach twisted at her words. She was thirty now, or nearly, and even so he could see the young girl from high school standing at a sink rubbing her skin raw with soap and sponge. Anger that had been simmering began to boil and when Annabeth turned to him again, she gasped and stepped back at the look in his eyes.

That hurt worse than her words. Chris closed his eyes and took a deep breath, ran a hand through his hair. "Nabby," he said softly, carefully, "I'm not angry at you. You have to know that." He took a cautious step forward, and when she didn't retreat, put a hand on her arm. "It just kills me to know what they did to you."

"I'm sorry," she said, rubbing a hand over her face. "I know you're not mad, at least not at me. It's just ... oh, God, it's just all these habits ingrained from so long ago. Duck and cover, that's how I thought of it." She took his hands in hers, stared into his eyes. "But I know that's not you. I know you wouldn't hurt me."

"No, I wouldn't," he agreed, and lowered his head to kiss her. "I couldn't," he whispered against her lips. She let him kiss her, sinking into the warmth of his mouth, the steady feel of his hands on her shoulders. There was no pressure, just comfort.

She pulled away just slightly. "That feels wonderful," she said with a little smile in her voice, "but I'm tired and I need that shower. Just being around them makes me feel like I was coated in something greasy."

"I could help," Chris said. His voice was teasing but his eyes weren't.

Annabeth bit her lip, considering. "I'd like that."

In the shower, she was soothed by both the hot water and Chris's body so close to hers. For long minutes, she stood under the spray while he held her close with one arm and rubbed her shoulders with the other. At last she pushed her soaked hair out of her face and turned to him, laying her head on his chest, listening to his heart beat.

Chris held her tightly, swaying slightly in the small space. Holding her felt so right, just as it had that night over ten years ago. He didn't see how he could let her go again. He remembered that night, played it in his mind, and then gently put his hands on her shoulders and stepped back as best he could.

"What is it?" Annabeth asked, puzzled; she was suddenly acutely aware of being naked and blushed.

"Last time, I..." he struggled with what to say. "That night, the night we made love, I saw the bruises. They were right here." He gently traced his finger under her breasts, over her ribs, and her muscles quivered. "You don't have them any more. I wanted to see for myself that they were gone."

"They're gone," she said in a shaky voice. "Most of them, at least." Despite the water running down her face, Chris could see the tears forming in her eyes.

"Oh, Nabby," he whispered, pulling her close. He held her for a few more moments, then took the shampoo and began washing her hair. She let him, enjoying the competing sensations of comfort and arousal. While she rinsed her hair, he took some gel and a washcloth and gently rubbed it over her. This is better than any spa could possibly be, she thought dreamily. She let the water rinse the soap away, then took the cloth herself to drag it over his body.

Chris watched her and it was hard not to falter under his intense gaze. He stepped carefully past her to stand under the shower, tilting his head back to let the water run through his hair. Annabeth watched the brown locks turn almost black as they got wet. He was just amazing, she thought. Without thinking about it, she reached up and slid a hand into his hair, tugging his head down until she could meet his lips with hers.

Chris held onto his self control by a thread; only the fear of scaring her kept him from crushing her body against his own. For now, he satisfied himself with the kiss, and especially with the fact that she'd initiated it. It wouldn't satisfy him for long, but it helped. He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her to him as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

After long minutes, he reached back and switched off the water. "We should move to a larger space," he told her. She nodded and they stepped out of the tub, reached for towels. "Let me," he said. Annabeth said nothing, just closed her eyes as he patted her dry. He shook his head when she moved to do the same for him, so she wrapped the towel around her hair to get the excess water out.

"You feel so soft," he said dropping his towel and bringing her to him again, this time more urgently. Another kiss, harder and filled with need on both sides. Before she could protest, he scooped her up and took her to the bed. She felt delicate and fragile to him, although he knew the strength that ran through her.

Annabeth whimpered softly as he laid her on the bed, shivering from both the cool air and the heat of his body. She met his tongue with her own, holding on to his shoulders and involuntarily moving her hips against him. As his lips began to trace down her neck, she was struck by something she wasn't sure how to say.

"Chris," she said, her voice a near whisper. He murmured something, kept kissing her. "Chris," she said, a little stronger now, "wait, wait, please."

He lifted his head to meet her eyes, concerned. "What is it, Nabby?" He stroked her cheek.

"It's just ... it's probably silly but..." she swallowed and continued, "there have been ... others." She bit her lip and waited for his reaction. He smiled in amusement.

"Nabby, I hardly expected you'd been celibate all this time." He smiled, then said more seriously, "I haven't been. There haven't been many, but there have been a few." She nodded.

"Not many," she repeated. She gripped his shoulders. "None of them were who or what I wanted."

"What did you want?" he asked, his voice a bit darker.

"You," she said. "Just you."

"Good," he said, and kissed her hard. "Because I'm here and I've only ever wanted you." Now he did crush her beneath him, unable to hold back. He held her tightly, pressing his body against hers as his tongue streaked into her mouth. It was true, he realized. It had been twelve years with no contact except updates from his mother and her brief notes, but he'd never wanted anyone else.

Annabeth tried not to think. Too many questions, too many doubts would flood her mind if she did. She'd come to see her grandmother out of some unexplained need or duty, and it was done. She had no reason to stay and every reason to go. Except that Chris was here and she didn't want to leave, at least not yet. So she pushed those thoughts away and clung to him, letting the sensations from his hands and lips erase anything else that tried to intrude into her mind.

"Oh, Annabeth," Chris sighed as he kissed her forehead, her eyes, her lips. "I wish our first time could have been like this. Inside, on a bed." So gentle, she thought. No one had ever been as gentle with her as he had.

"I liked it," she told him as she ran her finger tips along his sides. He shivered and she couldn't suppress a smile. "It was wonderful."

"This will be better," he promised. His lips found hers and she could feel the urgency in him. She tangled her fingers in his hair to keep him close so the kiss wouldn't end. She didn't ever want it to end. It did, but when his lips slid over her shoulder and down to her breast, she couldn't complain.