Capture (Elements of Chemistry #3)(39)
Author: Penny Reid

CHAPTER 14

Nuclear Chemistry

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I shook my head and blew my nose.

It was stuffy.

I’d been crying.

But I wasn’t crying now.

Yet my nose was still stuffy.

“No.”

“At least tell me what happened!” Sam shook her fists at me in frustration, grumbling, “I’m dying here. You have to give me something. Do I need to take a hit out on Martin Sandeke? I will, you know. I have some Russian cousins who need an outlet for their aggression.”

I gave a pitiful laugh and shook my head. “No. It’s not his fault. I just…I just said something stupid, then regretted it, then left.”

“Oh.” Her eyes moved over me. Sam seemed to be planning her strategy as I pulled off the shoes she’d loaned me and placed them next to the bed.

After escaping from the restaurant I flagged down a taxi six blocks away, started to cry, then paid the exorbitant cab fare, and started to cry even harder.

I snuck into the apartment. Sam didn’t hear me as she was singing loudly in the shower, then lay on my bed and cried. I cried into my pillow, quietly, just like old times.

Despite my carefulness, Sam heard me and came to the door dressed only in a towel.

Now we were in my bedroom and I was a pitiful mess. So much for trying to be strong on my own.

“I never want to see him again,” I said to no one. “Just thinking about the possibility makes me want to join the Peace Corps and fly to a far off third world country. Hopefully they’ll have closets.”

“What did you say? It couldn’t have been that bad.”

“I told him I was still in love with him.”

“Oh…oh!” She gripped her towel tighter, her eyes large as saucers. “Holy shit. What did he say?”

“Nothing. He ordered an appetizer.”

“What?” Now she sounded pissed.

“So I got up and excused myself for the bathroom, but I left instead. He was probably relieved when he figured out that I left. God, I am so stupid.” My chin wobbled again and I held my forehead with my fingertips.

Yes, I felt remorse and the pain of rejection, but I also felt relief. At least now it was over. At least now I knew for certain. Despite the clumsiness of my confession I’d finally freed myself.

Now I could move on and stop wishing. I could pick my crumpled heart off the floor and stop stepping all over it.

Sam took a deep breath and was possibly about to give me some words of wisdom, but a pounding on the front door interrupted her.

We both sat up straight and stared at each other.

Then we heard Martin’s raised voice.

“Kaitlyn, open the door. I know you’re in there.”

I stood abruptly, my hands balled into fists, a thunder bolt of white hot mortification slicing through me. I was suddenly sweating.

“Oh my God. What do I do?” I whispered, which was silly because he wouldn’t be able to hear me all the way in my bedroom.

Sam looked at me, stunned. “Open the door…?”

I shook my head frantically. “No. No, I can’t. I can’t face him. Please don’t make me.”

She gave me a sad look. “Oh, Kaitlyn—”

“I mean it. Open this door,” he bellowed from the hall. He sounded really, really angry.

“I’ll just tell him to go away, that you don’t want to see him,” Sam offered.

“No. That won’t work. I have to hide.” I nodded at this thought because I was crazy. “Tell him I’m not here.”

“You want me to let him in?”

“Yes. You get the door. Tell him I’m not back yet. He’ll…well, he might want to wait for a bit, but you tell him to leave. He won’t stay in the apartment if you—”

“I’m going to count to ten and then I’m going to break this door down.”

We both jumped at the sound of his threat.

Sam shook her head, her mouth curved in a frown of knowing better. “He won’t be able to break the door down,” she whispered, “it’s reinforced steel.”

“Okay, I’ll go hide—”

“One.”

“—in the front closet.”

“Two.”

“You let him in.”

“Three”

“Tell him I’m—”

“Four.”

“-—not here, not back yet.”

“Five.”

“He’ll leave.”

“Six.”

“Then—”

“Seven.”

“—we’ll be all clear.”

“Eight.”

She nodded her understanding and I tiptoed out of my room, running as lightly as possible. Sam loitered behind.

“Nine.”

Sam called out, “Just a minute, Sandeke. I was in the shower. Hold your ball sack!”

I went to the hall closet where I’d been hiding earlier and shut the door behind me, pressing myself backward into the folds of the coats. My hands were shaking.

“Ten.”

I heard the door swing open.

I heard his steps thunder into the apartment.

I heard Sam shut the door.

I heard her follow him, shouting, “What are you doing?”

“Where is she?”

“Who?”

“Sam…” His voice sent a shiver down my spine. He was really mad. I didn’t think he’d be angry.

“What?”

“Where is Kaitlyn?”

“Why? What did you do to her?” Sam was also angry.

They sounded faraway, so I guessed they were in my room. I also noticed Sam was trying not to lie if at all possible.

“I know she’s here, Sam.”

His steps came closer then farther away. In my mind’s eye I saw him marching into Sam’s bedroom, coming up empty, then moving on to the bathroom, kitchen, then living room.

“If she’s here, then where is she, Martin?” Sam was staying on his heels. They walked past the closet again. It sounded like he was going back to my room.

There was quiet and I held my breath, clutching my hands in front of me. Then a really terrible, terrible thing happened. It made my blood run cold and my entire body freeze.

“If she’s not here, Sam…” his tone was glacial, beyond incensed, “then why are the shoes she was wearing earlier next to her bed?”

Sam said nothing. I covered my face with my hands and closed my eyes. I was such an idiot. In the dictionary next to the word idiot was a picture of me. But it didn’t matter. Nothing really mattered because he was going to find me and then I was going to expire from a broken heart and embarrassment.

Embarrassment, mortification, chagrin, unease, discomposure… GAH! The synonym game wasn’t helping!

I heard footsteps.

He was coming.

I heard a hand on the doorknob.

He was there.

I heard the door swing open.

It was him.

I heard the light click on.

I couldn’t open my eyes. I’d exhausted my courage earlier in the restaurant. I had none left.

But when I heard the door shut, I dropped my hands and I found myself face-to-face with a very irate Martin Sandeke.

That’s right. He was in the closet with me and he’d just closed the door. I stared at him. I knew I looked panicked because some of his irateness ebbed and became cautiousness.

At length he said, “Parker.”

“Sandeke,” I responded automatically.

“What are you doing?”

“Uh…” I released the breath I’d been holding. My eyes darted to the door behind him and I betrayed the truth of it. “I’m hiding in the closet.”

His brow was still furrowed, but his gaze relaxed slightly. When he spoke, he spoke very slowly, like he was trying not to frighten me. “Why are you hiding in the closet?”

“Why does anyone hide in a closet?” My voice was very small, my chin wobbled, and as new tears flooded my vision, he began to blur a little.

Martin lifted a single eyebrow and stalked closer, raising then showing me the palms of his hands. He was less than a foot away when he gently wrapped his long fingers around my upper arms.

“Do you hide in the closet often?” His voice was soft and his eyes moved over my face, likely taking in the smudged mascara and resultant raccoon eyes.

I realized abruptly that we’d had this conversation before. Except it was in a chemistry lab and I’d been unable to scratch an itch. Maybe I hadn’t made as much progress as I thought. Maybe all these months of trying to be someone different, better, stronger, more passionate had been futile.

Or maybe it was Martin. Perhaps I’d always be the girl hiding in the science cabinet, hiding from Martin Sandeke.

“Sometimes.” I choked on the word, my jaw clenched, and I willed the tears to recede. Instead one spilled down my cheek. His eyes followed its progress then moved back to mine.

“Is this an everyday thing?” he asked in a near whisper, his thumbs brushing lightly over the sleeves of my dress.

He was confusing me and I heaved a sob, my chin falling to my chest and said, “No. Only on special occasions, like when I make an idiot of myself and tell Martin Sandeke that I’m still in…in…in—”

I didn’t finish because he slid his finger under my chin, lifted my face to his, and kissed me.