Page 55 of Under Locke & Key
I slip her hand from my knee, twining our fingers together so I’m holding it.
“You push yourself, likely because you feel the need to prove your worth through what you can produce or show externally. You have a carefully constructed image, professional but friendly. I’ve never seen you ruffled even though I know for a fact this has to have been hard for you,” I say.
Her fingers tighten around mine and if I don’t get this out now I won’t have the courage again. Something about being in the cocoon with her . . .
“No one has seen all the sides to you. Ángel probably most but not all. As if you’re keeping some things just for you, protecting those parts and yourself. I know you want to make your parents proud and prove you belong, as if you’ve never really felt comfortable anywhere you couldn’t show yourself useful.”
Lifting her hand in mine, I plant a kiss on the back of it. “I don’t want that from you. There’s nothing to earn with me. You see me as a person, not a faceless name on the payroll, not a trophy or doll to move around within your life to your satisfaction. These past couple months with you have brought me so much light and I can only hope that I’ve given you even a fraction of that.” My throat tightens as I speak, the confession getting dangerously close to being too open.
“You’ve given me peace,” Rachel responds before I can spiral. “Safety. I know it sounds stupid and I know no one wants to hear that they’re solid or safe but that’s something I’ve always had to be for others and I’ve never been able to justbreathe. When the burden of keeping everyone around you happy falls on you, there’s no time to fall apart. With you, I feel like I could.”
Stephanie’s words from months ago spring to the surface, weaker now, less hurtful. She called me a dining room table, spitting my attempt to be dependable and stable back into my face. Hearing that Rachel appreciates something Stephanie made out to be a failing fills me with something I’m not ready to examine too closely.
“I hope that makes sense. Being in Dulaney, being with you, doing this”—she gestures at the general area around us and I know she means what we’re building—“It’s made me feel like myself for the first time. You’re right about me not knowing where I belong, trying to be the ‘right’ version of myself so that I might—for the first time in months the need to present, toperform, isn’t there.”
Her big brown eyes are shimmering with unshed tears and she worries her bottom lip between her teeth when she’s done talking.
“I don’t know where this is going, or if you think you might want to stick around Dulaney once we’ve got the business going, but if you did . . . if you stay, I’d be here to catch you if you fall. Think about it.” I smirk, hoping she picks up on the second meaning there.
I don’t want her to fall apart, and I’m careful to phrase it that way.
“Is that a dig at my potentially risky behavior and balance issues? Because if so, that’s not very nice.” She sticks out her tongue but there’s no heat behind her words.
“Catching you that day . . .” I take a breath, amping myself up to go for this, to lean into the flirting. “Nice wasn’t exactly on my mind with you in my arms.”
Her eyes dart from mine down to my lips and it’s ridiculous how desire can make me go from panicked to desperate in a wholly different way mere minutes later.
“Care to share?” It’s cheeky but breathless, her words giving her away and letting me know she’s just as on edge about it as I am.
Coming off of my panic attack, the adrenaline still clinging on slightly, or perhaps that’s just my latent fear needing to be redirected, I take another risk. Leaning toward her, my hand cupping her jaw as I approach, I wait for her to stop me.
She doesn’t and our lips meet. Not as tentative as it should be. Something about Rachel tips me over from sane and level-headed into something different—a stranger in my own skin. Want and fear twist in my stomach, both begging to be freed, clawing up my chest. As much as I ache for her, this broom closet is not the time nor place.
“Let’s get out of here and I’ll show you.” I barely recognize my own voice, the intent behind my words, a gravel I’ve never used on anyone.
“Challenge accepted.” Rachel’s grin is wicked, that dimple cutting into her cheek and I’ll never tire of seeing it, knowing I had a part in it being shown off.
We rise to our feet, her body brushing against mine and it’s torture, knowing I can’t indulge right now no matter how much I want to. Not while my anxiety is barely contained and Rachel’s fanning herself because the heat is getting to her. I’m not far behind. Stuck in this little closet, no air, on the hottest day of the summer so far is a sure recipe for disaster. If we don’t get water soon we’ll overheat and dehydrate.
“We can’t shove it open. The handle is useless. What other options can you think of?” I muse aloud and Rachel barks out a laugh.
“What’s so funny? We’re stuck.”
“Exactly!” She giggles and I’m worried that the heat is getting to her head. “We need toescapethe storage room. This is too perfect. If we’d been bad I’d say it’s borderline Karmic but you’re good and I’ve been on my best behavior here in Dulaney. So that’s not it.”
Itiskind of ironic. “Huh.”
Rachel waves the phone flashlight around, searching the shelves and I do the same.
“Okay. I found a hammer, a screwdriver, and a bunch of old rags.” Her haul is on the shelf at her eye level.
“I’ve got the paint stripper you were looking for.” We both chuckle, and then her list of items permeates the haze of my brain. “Wait. I have an idea. Shine your light on the actual door.”
Although it’s heavier, not a hollow door that we’d be able to brute force down, the hinges are on the inside and I give her a smacking kiss against where I know that dimple hides. “You’re brilliant.”
“What are we doing?” Rachel asks.
“We can take the door off the hinges by dislodging those pins. We can knock them out with the hammer and screwdriver and then theoretically we should be able to get out.”
