Page 77 of Under Locke & Key
I’m about to sink down onto the floor from the heft of my panic when I hear it—the tiniest inhalation, shaky with tears, coming from the couch. Rachel is curled up so tightly I missed her on my first frantic surveyance.
Her large eyes look up at me and my chest aches at the sight of her crying and the doubt there.
“Rachel, please talk to me.” I can’t let this ruin things. I’m sure this conversation will suck, if she even is open to one, but I need to sort this out now before it’s too late and she’s had time to dwell.
She wipes her tears away with the back of her knuckles and takes a fortifying breath. “So, that’s your ex?”
“Yeah.”
“What was she doing in Dulaney?”In the theatergoes unsaid but we both know what she means.
“She heard about the business from one of the bankers I spoke to initially and thought it was a sign to invade my life.”
“It seems like a lot of effort to track you down. It must be very important to her.” Rachel sniffles and her lips thin. She juts out her chin and I love that she’s trying to be stubborn even with the tip of her nose being red and her cheeks shiny with tears.
“I couldn’t care less about what is or isn’t important to her. This is about you and me.” I say and my voice shakes a little as fear climbs up my ribcage.
“About that. What exactly is this—you and me? We’ve been skirting around it for so long but the opening is here and my position was only ever to set Locke Box up. Where do we go from here? Because the prospect of being broke and unemployed in a few weeks is terrifying.” Rachel sits in the corner of the sofa, tucking her knees up to her chest and holding them there as if it will keep her together.
“What do you want it to be? I’m not good at this. I’ve had almost no experience with relationships outside of Stephanie and that imploded so I’m not about to follow that blueprint. I’ve been trying to take it a day at a time and give you the space to decide what you want because I’m scared I’ll make a mess of things again.”
“I don’t know. I’ve been freaking out for a while now and I just got an email from my old boss offering me the job that should have been mine in the first place. And all I am is confused. Do I go back, take back my lease, and follow the path that I’ve been on since I started college or . . . do I risk everything safe on something that isn’t guaranteed?” Her words fell me and that insidious voice that loves to whisper that I’m not enough, that I’ll never be enough, pipes up.
Why would she pick me? She’s got what she wanted. The validation she’d been missing is here and they’re eating crow.
Then again. Am I not in the same boat with Stephanie? Finally noticing me? Finally finding me worthy of her time? Somehow it lacked the luster I expected.
I know who I choose. What I choose. It’s this stunning woman that blew into my life when I was at my lowest and now I want to share every joy with her. Maybe she could feel the same.
“I know it’s scary. Trust me, I do. I know that thing in there with Steph looks bad. I know it must be incredibly gratifying to have your old boss have to reach out to you, to come crawling back to eat crow. But if the only thing holding you back from taking the risk is whether or notI—we—are guaranteed, then don’t let it. I’m in this if you are. If you want to keep working at the escape room, great. If you want to look for something else, great. Just do it in Dulaney. Do it with me.”
Rachel rises from her spot on the sofa, approaching me carefully. Those big brown eyes swallow me whole and all I can do is breathe, words hanging between us.
“You’re right. I am scared. But I’ve been scared for months. It’s just finally come to a head and I don’t want to . . . I don’t want to make the wrong move and lose everything I’ve worked for. Because it feels like I will. Whatever I choose there will be consequences. It all comes down to what I’m not willing to let go of,” Rachel says.
“I’m not going to rush you into any choice right now. I just wanted you to know that nothing has changed for me. I’m still the same person I was when I woke up beside you this morning. Stephanie doesn’t change that. She doesn’t affect my choice. Please, take the time to think it through so you’re totally sure of what you want, but at least come to the opening. You put in just as much work as I have. You should celebrate it too. Don’t let whatever questions and fears sit between us deprive you of enjoying the culmination of these last few months.” I pull it off. Even though telling her it’s okay if she chooses something other than what I desperately want to share with her makes me want to throw up, I manage. Because it’s the right thing to do.
Because if I push too hard she’ll retreat. Rachel’s been beholden to too many other people and their opinion of what she should or shouldn’t do. Sheshouldget a specific degree. Sheshouldbe grateful for the job she had in D.C. because there are others who would kill for it if she’s too ungrateful. Sheshouldn’texpect a promotion she’s earned because she’s a liability. Sheshouldn’tthrow away years of hard work and studies to run off to some town in Maryland to shack up with someone just as lonely and scared as she is.
“I’ll come. I’ll be there.” Rachel nods emphatically. Whether she does so to convince herself or me is unclear.
She’s right in front of me now, staring up into my face with tear tracks glistening on her cheeks and her skin strangely pallid, devoid of the blush that I relish whenever I kiss that one spot on her neck.
I content myself with something a little less risky. My hand cups her cheek, wiping away the evidence of her distress and I place a soft kiss against her swollen lips.
She tastes like salt and the best summer of my life, and I hope to whatever entity might be out there listening that she feels the same. Because I want so much more than just six months of working together and dancing around how great this could be if we let it.
I pull away, quicker than I’d like, and she’s got her face tilted up toward mine. Her eyes are still shut, her lips slightly parted and it takes everything in me not to dip back down for more.
“Goodnight, Rachel. I’ll see you at the opening.”Please come. Please ask me to stay. Please let what I have planned and kept to myself be enough to show you that I love you and I want this—whatever you’re willing to give.
The trip down the stairs is far less frantic than the one that preceded it and I make it home, a little shaky. Pulling up to the drive, a huge box is leaned up against my parents’ front door.
“Give us a hand over here!” My dad calls through the window beside the front door and I rush over to hold onto it. Once I have a good grip, he opens the door and we slowly ease it inside.
Laying the box on its side, I tremble in anticipation and trepidation.
My father holds out the Swiss army knife he keeps in his pocket constantly—the one that’s gotten us into trouble at more than one metal detector—and I slice through the tape holding the box together.
