Second Sight (10 page)

“
Avoiding me isn’t going to
make this go away,” Griffin says, hovering a few feet behind
me.

“
Acknowledging it isn’t
going to make it right,” I counter, sitting in the deck chair,
ready to close my eyes and take in the warmth of the
sun.

“
I’m trying to help, to do
whatever is best for you.” He walks closer and sits in the chair
next to mine. It’s clear by his fresh pair of khaki dock shorts and
white polo style shirt he’s already had a shower. His gold watch
gleams in the sun.

“
And how would you know
what’s best for me?” I’m trying to stay neutral, but the anger and
hurt are like rising waters pouring from a funnel into my stomach,
and when I get full, there will be no room to breathe, so I close
my eyes, and try to focus on the sun.

“
Whatever will keep you
from self-destructing is best in my book—or don’t you get that?” He
pauses for a moment, probably wanting me to look at him, but I
won’t. “Lizzie, I wouldn’t care if you believed Lev was an angel so
long as you didn’t get hurt. But the lengths you’re willing to go
to get Lev back scare me. Please look at me.” His tone is soft and
pleading, leaving me no choice.

I open my eyes and see him frowning, but
deeper than that is fear. He swallows hard, and the slightest pool
of tears shimmers at the corners of his eyes before he blinks them
away. He reaches for my hand and his fingers skim the back of
it.

“
I know you trusted me, and
you think I let you down. You don’t think you can believe in me,
but you can. You think nobody understands the depth of the pain you
feel, but I do. Losing my mom wasn’t the same thing, but the way it
feels is, and if you think for one second I’m about to risk letting
you hurt yourself for Lev or anyone else, you’re wrong.” He closes
his eyes and takes a ragged breath. “I can’t risk losing you,
because if I do, I won’t bounce back. You’re like a sister to
me.”

A lump forms in my throat, and I tell myself
just to focus on breathing. I don’t know what he wants me to say.
Right now, no words come. I sit up to take a drink of the juice,
but he’s watching me. I feel the pain in his gaze, and I wish I
could drive it away, but I can’t even do that for myself.

“
I’m sorry, Lizzie. Every
day I wish I had been quicker in getting to Maguire. Every day I
blame myself for Lev dying, but that doesn’t bring him back.
Nothing will bring him back. The only thing I can do is take care
of you and hope someday you’ll forgive me.”

He’s looking at the ground, not at me, but
his voice has been destroyed by a guilt I never knew was eating him
alive. Here I thought Lev’s death was my fault; I blamed myself
without realizing that Griffin fostered his own guilt. Now, for the
first time, I wonder if maybe nobody was to blame. Is there such a
thing as a no-fault death—just bad luck, bad timing, and bad
circumstance? No, not no-fault. Maguire pulled the trigger. But
then, he’d been after me, not Griffin, not Lev. That brings it all
back to me again.

“
You did your best,” I
whisper. “That’s all Lev asked of anyone.” Although his arms aren’t
expecting me, I slip into them. At first, he just sits there like a
stone. Then he embraces me so fiercely it takes my breath away.
Part of me wants to let all the tears come and wash away this pain,
but I know that won’t solve anything. Crying never does. All it
does is make me weak, and there will be more tears. There’s no end
to them, and right now I can’t afford to soften. It hurts too much.
I slowly disentangle myself and sit back down.

“
I hear you have an
appointment tomorrow,” Griffin says, taking a cleansing breath. Now
he can face me, but the weight lingers in his eyes. “Looks like
I’ll be driving you.”

“
Yeah, I know.” I think
about revealing Jimmie’s newest hobby, but I can’t seem to bring
myself to it. As long as I can remember, it’s been just me and
Jimmie; now there’s someone in the middle. Maybe there isn’t
anything wrong with her. To tell the truth, I wouldn’t know either
way—I’ve not spent any time with her. But just knowing there’s
someone waiting in the wings is a threat in itself, especially
now.

Maybe Jimmie loves me, but what if he falls
in love with this woman and she doesn’t like me? Jimmie has never
so much as dated before. It’s never even been an issue until now,
and now is not a good time, considering how my behavior must seem
to him.

“
Lizzie?” Griffin leans
toward me and waves his hand in front of my face. “Earth to
Lizzie.”

“
Yeah, what?” I blink and
shift, trying to drive away the uncomfortable thoughts rattling in
my head.

“
You all right?”

“
Yeah.” It’s not exactly a
lie, I tell myself. It’s something to hope for. I just don’t see it
happening any time soon.

“
Don’t be angry at Scott.
He means well.”

“
Yeah?” Immediately my
hands touch the places on my arms where he grabbed me. “Why don’t I
believe that? Do you have any idea what it felt like to be pinned
like that? Do you?”

“
No. I just know what it
felt like to watch you hold a knife against your wrist and draw
blood.” The color drains from his face. “He didn’t have any choice.
I would have done it, but he was closer and faster. We both know
that.”

“
I wasn’t going to hurt
myself.” My voice is quiet, so quiet. I don’t have the strength for
this.

“
Maybe not,” he concedes.
“But given all you’ve been through in the last six months, how
could we really know your intentions? Or should we have just let
the chips fall where they would? Everyone gets tired, Lizzie, and
everybody has a breaking point.”

“
It was just a ploy,” I
say. “Not that it worked.” I keep thinking back to Scott telling me
Lev was gone, and half of me wonders if he said that as an angel or
just the cop trying to diffuse the situation. I guess I’ll never
know.

C
hapter Seven

“
What are you thinking?”
That’s the question that Griffin has been wanting to ask the whole
ride to Knoxville and my “therapeutic intervention,” and up into
the last mile, he’s tried to curb his curiosity. I guess my silence
has seemed too great a temptation. Is that a male thing, to need to
understand silence? Or am I just lucky?

“
Nothing. Just getting
ready to be shrink-wrapped.” I toy with Lev’s bracelet. I could
tell him Jimmie came home late again last night, and although he
tried to talk to me, I could see the distraction in his eyes, which
really creeped me out. This isn’t like Jimmie. Still, I guess I
shouldn’t gripe. Wasn’t I the one who wanted him to forget about
me?

“
I know you’re not thrilled
with this.” He can’t look at me as much as he usually would because
we’re in the middle of traffic and he’s trying to find the
address.

“
And tell me you’d want to
talk to some stranger about your mom and what it’s been like to
lose her.”

He stiffens, not expecting me to have taken
that course. “It’s not the same thing, Lizzie.”

“
No, not at all. I mean,
you aren’t seeing angels or anything, right?”

“
Come on, Lizzie, don’t.”
His tone is soft. Then, as if he can’t believe how lucky he has
gotten, he sees the sign for Riley’s Youth Center just ahead. His
shoulders sink in gratitude, and mine stiffen in anticipation.
Without realizing it, my fingers cinch the seat, and I wish I could
run away, but that would only result in Griffin chasing me
down.

So I just keep focusing on my breathing,
hating Knoxville more and more by the minute as Griffin veers into
the parking lot and slips into the first open space. All too
quickly, he plucks the keys from the ignition and nods to me. “You
ready?”

“
Sure.” I open my door and
get out, realizing as I scan the lot, how out of place Griffin’s
expensive car is here. Griffin places his hand on my back and
guides me toward the red brick building ahead. As the structure
looks different from those around it—weathered and forlorn—I’m
guessing it’s been here a while. And that sure doesn’t make me want
to go in there any quicker. But then again, Griffin’s not about to
move his hand or let me change my mind. He’s even opening the door
for me. What a swell guy.

The minute we step inside, two things become
very clear: Scott is here, and I’m not the only one he bullies.
Although I only catch a glimpse of his profile as he stands, hands
on hips, in front of a girl probably about my age, I’d recognize
his golden hair anywhere. Too, he’s at least a foot taller than she
is, and, okay, well, I know she’s wearing a black goth outfit and
her make-up seems a little heavier than it should be, but that
doesn’t mean he should be giving her such an intimidating look.
What is he going to do? Put her in a choke hold? For what?

He’s wearing his navy police uniform, and I
see the black grip of his gun, which creeps me out so much I stop
walking. I hate guns. I hated them even before Maguire tried to
kill me; that just gave me a good reason.

“
Look, Sarah, I know this
is hard. But you’re not listening.”

“
Bullshit!” She folds her
arms across her chest and looks away. “You don’t even know
Colin.”

“
He’s bad news.” He reaches
toward her, but she jerks away and rushes past me toward the
door.

“
Don’t touch
me!”

Scott whirls, intending to go after her, but
instead comes face to face with me.

“
Why don’t you leave her
alone!” I snap, purposely blocking his path. He tries to get around
me two or three times before giving up. “She’s got enough going on
without you adding to it.”

“
Lizzie,” Griffin warns,
trying to move me out of the way. “Let him pass.”

“
Why? So he can harass her
the same way he harassed me? Is he going to throw her down,
too?”

Scott stiffens and takes a deep breath.
“Still angry, I take it.” He takes off his hat, runs his fingers
through his hair, and then sets it back on his head. “You don’t
even have a clue what’s going on with Sarah.” He levels those blue
eyes at me.

“
Let me guess. She’s gotten
herself in the middle of a drive-by? Almost got herself
killed?”

“
No.” He takes one step
closer, and I take one back. “Gangs aren’t really her style. But
that doesn’t mean she’s not headed for danger if someone doesn’t
change her course.”

Griffin makes a big show of looking at his
watch. “Hate to break this friendly conversation up and all, but
Lizzie is supposed to meet Emily.”

Scott points to the hallway to the left of
the open gym area where we’re standing. For the first time, I
notice a few guys shooting hoops half the court away. The thud of
the balls against the court unnerves me, probably because I’m
standing so close to Scott and that damned gun of his, so when
Griffin just sort of ushers me along, I don’t fight too hard.

As Griffin and I head down the hall, I feel
Scott’s weighted gaze resting on me. He’s still watching when we
reach the door labeled Emily Wertz, Director. Griffin glances at me
and quickly realizes I’m not about to knock, so he does it for
me.

The woman who opens the door is tiny, blonde,
and beautiful--nothing like the therapist I figured would be
standing there. Oh, and did I mention she also has a sort of aura,
just like Scott? The jeans and t-shirt accentuate her small
frame.

“
May I help you?” She
glances from me to Griffin.

“
I…I’m Elizabeth Moon.”
Without realizing it, I’m hedging toward Griffin, wishing I could
do anything but enter this room. I’d even go prod Scott’s ego a bit
more if I thought it would get me out of here.

“
Ah.” Realization dawns on
her. “Yes, I spoke to Mr. Abram.” She steps to the side to allow me
entry. “Please come in.”

I reluctantly enter, but Griffin stays put
and gestures down the hall. “I’ll wait out here, Lizzie. Give you
two a chance to talk.”

The breath catches in my throat, and I try to
beg him with my eyes, but he looks away. Then again, I know he’s
right. Whatever I might or might not say doesn’t need an audience.
I stand perfectly still as she eases the door shut and gestures for
me to have a seat.

Scowling, I stride to the chair, figuring the
quicker we get this started, the quicker we can get it over with.
Emily sits behind the desk across from me and opens a file on her
desk. Part of me wants to laugh because I’ve actually generated a
need for a piece of manila cardstock with my name at the top. What
a problem I have become.

“
So, Elizabeth, what brings
you here?”

“
Someone twisting my arm?”
I offer a surface-level smile and start looking around at all the
certificates on her walls and the framed pictures scattered
throughout. There’s more than one of her and Scott, for some
reason—and Scott, for the most part, according to these photos,
seems to live in his uniform. In other photos, I see lots of
teenagers.

“
You and Scott must be
close.” I say. I guess it’s a way of voicing my distrust without
seeming to be combative. “All these pictures.”

She nods. “Yes, we’ve known each other for a
long time. Is there something that bothers you about him?”

“
He’s a bully.” I fold my
arms across my chest and stare at her defiantly, waiting for her to
defend him.