Kumbaya Much Read online

  Seffy sank onto the edge of her beige bedspread bed and wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to control the shakes. She stared at the ugly Linoleum floor. “Why do you keep asking me that?”

  “Fenn said it. And you freaked.”

  “I was freaked period.”

  He came to sit next to her, leaning his forehead against her shoulder. “I need answers, Sef. We have some serious issues to sort out around here.”

  Seffy turned to him, wanting to put her arms around him, but not daring. She settled for touching his fingers where his hand rested on her knee. For a moment, she relished his nearness. He was a man to lean on and God knew she couldn't stand on her own two feet—she hadn't been able to for, like, ever. Weak, pathetic, clingy...in spite of some incidental bad ass weapons training.

  She struggled to calm down. “So did you hear anything?”

  “In the last half an hour?” Trent said. “No. But I think we would've heard if Gareth had...taken a turn for the worse.”

  Inaction brought a fresh wash of tears to her eyes. She roughly swiped them away.

  “Sef,” Trent growled. “Answers.”

  “You answered your own question,” she said in a flippant tone. “My name is Seffy, short for—”

  “Persephone, I know.” He straightened and turned her chin so she faced him. “But I can tell you're lying. There are secrets buried behind those big brown eyes of yours.”

  She twisted her face from his hand. “You have your own secrets, Trent.” I can see them lurking behind those dreamy gray eyes of yours.

  He lowered his gaze and shrugged. When he looked back up at her, Seffy suddenly wondered if he was going to kiss her. Granted almost shooting a guy and passing out after escaping from a bloodbath wasn't the most romantic set up, but he'd been pretty keen on locking lips with her lately—regardless of horrific circumstances.

  “How do you look like that?”

  Her brows inched up. “Like what?”

  “With that wide-eyed innocence vibe.”

  “Like you said, my name is Persephone. It means innocent maiden—which in my case is actually pretty damn ironic.”

  He continued to stare at her, his expression calculating. “Or maybe you're just pretending, trying to use your feminine wiles—”

  Seffy let out a harsh laugh. “I don't have any wiles left, Trent. I'm stuck in a God-forsaken dump in the middle of the Montana desert. And I'm not pretending about anything. If you're going to accuse me of that, I'll start calling you Gareth.” Sending him a dark look, she jumped up and walked away from the bed.

  Trent leaned back on the mattress, bracing his arms behind him. “Persephone. Who would name their kid that? And speaking of Gareth. I mean, are you kidding? In fact all of you—Addison and Lani, too—sound like you have soap opera names. Like they're made up.”

  “Speaking of Gareth, I want to go see how he's doing.”

  He shook his head. “They'll never let you anywhere near him. At least not yet.”

  “Because I'm poisonous,” she said bitterly.

  “Because they think you're poisonous.” He stood. “Let's not change the subject.”

  She shook her head, wondering why he was suddenly fixated on their names. Or her manner of looking at him. “Why do you think there's some mystery here, Trent? Surely it can't be that I'm worried Gareth will die. That I almost killed your junkie friend—”

  “Sef.”

  “—and got a little rattled. No possibility there.”

  He got up and walked over to her, putting his hands on her arms. “We're going to have to be more honest with each other if we're going to salvage this relationship.”

  Seffy looked up at him, at the lean lines of his face, at his messy dishwater blond hair...at his very persuasive eyes. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “How many times do I have to tell you we don't have a relationship?”

  His response was to press a soft kiss against her lips. Closing her eyes, Seffy clenched her fists at her sides, steeling herself against wrapping her arms around his neck and holding on for desperate life. When he raised his head, his expression was shuttered. She looked at his lips, breathing hard.

  “What is this?”

  Seffy became aware of his fingers touching something on her chest. She looked down to see him lifting the rhinestone J pendant she kept around her neck since reclaiming it from Fiona. The pink stones sparkled in the low light.

  “Why isn't it a letter S? Or do you have some other name that starts with a J?”

  She tugged it from her grip, annoyed by his tone. “It's just the zipper pull from my Juicy suit.”

  “Why is it around your neck? Your other suits have them, right?”

  “This is the one from my first suit. Fiona stole it and then we ended up in the wrong universe. So just in case—” She stopped, feeling like an idiot.

  “Just in case you have a chance to go home, you want to make it to the right place.”

  Seffy turned away, still shaken by his nearness, by the events of the day. Heck, she was still shaken by the events of the last few months.

  No wonder she kept a zipper pull like a lucky rabbit's foot.

  In the next instant, Trent released her and headed across the room toward the door. “I'm going to find out who Sarah is...or was.”

  After he left, Seffy sagged onto the bed, unable to believe Fenn had used that name while staring directly at her. She frowned for a moment, then decided that the mumbled words of a zoned-out junkie were meaningless.

  Absolutely meaningless.

  Right now, she needed to figure out a way to find out whether Gareth was dead or alive.

  ***

  “Pssst! It's me. Let me in, Olga.”

  The door cracked and a wary blue eye stared at her. “What in the world are you doing, miss? You know you're not allowed to freely move about the compound.”

  Seffy rolled her eyes. “Since when has that stopped me? Now, can I come in or not?”

  A heavy sigh sounded from the other side of the door before it swung open enough to allow her entrance. Inside her nurse's compound residence, Seffy looked around at the Victorian décor, then back at the stout Finnish woman who'd nursed her back to health more times than she could count. And she was about the only person in the compound she could trust.

  “What do you want now? Are you trying to get me in trouble?”

  Seffy crossed the room and perched on the edge of an overstuffed armchair. “Ha. I don't cause the trouble around here.”

  “And yet you're always at the center of it,” Olga said tartly.

  She sighed. “I need help to see Gareth.”

  Olga turned and went into the kitchen.

  “He's...he's alive, right?” Seffy said, her voice cracking.

  “He's alive,” the older woman in a low voice from the next room.

  Seffy tipped her head back, squeezing her eyes shut against the building heat. Thank God. “You have to help me out here.”

  Olga returned with two glasses of lemonade, handing her one.

  Seffy sniffed the seemingly innocent liquid, earning an outraged stare from her about-to-be benefactor.

  “I resent the notion that you think I'd taint your drink.”

  “Sorry. It's become a habit around here. I don't like to eat anything unless it's shrink-wrapped, packaged, or otherwise factory-sealed.” She gingerly took a sip and willed her voice to not waver. “So, what's Gareth's condition?”

  “He's just out of surgery. Still stable, but serious,” Olga said. “Once again, I'm not in the loop, but I can at least get updates.”

  “What I need is for you to get me into his room.”

  “It's not even a possibility.”

  Seffy sighed. “It's an absolute necessity.”

  “They'll never let you in.”

  “I know. That's why I need to be in disguise. I need to borrow scrubs or a lab coat or something.”

  Olga shook her head. “They know what you look like.”

/>   “I was practically an actress back in my day—I'll blend in.” She leaned forward on the chair. “Please. Think of it as payback for all the yucky stuff I let you do to me. Remember the bugs?”

  “And remember what happened to them? Seffy, until we figure out why your blood is toxic, you should know better than to go anywhere near someone in Gareth's condition.”

  “I won't touch him,” she lied. “I just want to see him.”

  The nurse regarded her for several moments, then shrugged. “All I can do is tell you where the medical supplies are kept. There might be something you can use in there.”

  Seffy jumped up, sloshing lemonade all over her arm. “Thank you!”

  After Olga helped her clean up and gave her directions, Seffy left the residence and made her way to the room where the supplies were kept. She jimmied the lock with a screwdriver she'd found in a nearby janitorial closet. When she opened the door, Seffy had to press her hands to her mouth to keep from letting out a maniacal laugh.

  A Haz-Mat suit hung in a recessed alcove next to shelves full of scrubs in designated sizes.

  Not sure she appreciated the irony, she slipped into the suit. After placing the mask on, she gazed at her red-tinged surroundings with a slight shiver of dread. How many times had she been terrorized by nameless people in these suits? With their needles and drug cocktail mickeys?

  Seffy headed out of the supply room, reminding herself to walk with purpose—not the guilty gait of a skulker.

  From Olga's scribbled directions, she found Gareth's hospital room moments later. A couple of guards stood near the door, talking. When they saw her, they waved her in. Silver head held high, Seffy strolled past them and through the door into the hospital room. When she saw Gareth's still form, hooked up to tubes and monitors, she nearly cried out. Lani and Addison sat next to his bed, their faces anxious.

  They looked up at her entrance. Lani's blue eyes widened. Addison's green ones narrowed.

  “Who are you?” Addy asked, ruder than usual. “Why are you in that suit?”

  Seffy stepped close the bed and checked behind her to make sure she couldn't be seen by the guards. She yanked off the mask, her hair damp against her forehead from sweat.

  Lani gasped. “Seffy!”

  “What are you doing here?” Addison hissed. “You can't be anywhere near him!”

  “Try and stop me.” She tore off the silver gloves and gingerly took Gareth's hand in hers. His dark hair was mussed and his body seemed diminished under the thin bed covering. Hot tears welled up as she gazed at his precious face—despite the fact that they'd argued the last time they'd talked. Seffy leaned down and brushed her lips against his forehead. His skin felt cool to the touch.

  “Get away from him. You'll make him sick!”

  Seffy straightened and glared at Addison. “You know that's not true.”

  “I only know because of you he almost died!”

  “Don't blame Seffy,” Lani whispered. “It's really not her fault.”

  “Then whose is it?”

  Lani gulped. “It's—”

  “Addison, give me a break,” Seffy said in a steely voice. “You know Fiona was fiddling with time travel crap. She's the reason we're here. She's the reason I'm sick and Gareth was harmed.”

  The redhead looked away, her expression stormy. Seffy glanced at Lani, who stared at her hand, tears dripping from her eyes. Seffy realized there was nothing more she could do. Addison would cause a fuss to get her kicked out. What was important was that she got to see Gareth for a few moments —even if he did think she was a broken loser.

  ***

  After her visit to Gareth's room, Seffy stuffed the Haz-Mat suit in her closet and took a long, hot shower. Then, she dressed in the familiar comfort of her Juicy Couture tracksuit and collapsed across the bed. Seeing him had brought more despondency than comfort. While she was thankful he was alive, she wished he wasn't so unhappy with her. She still couldn't reconcile the difference in their relationship from just a few months ago—pre-compound.

  Add to that all they'd been through followed by finding him shot.

  Then everyone blaming her...getting kicked to the curb by Addison and the compound staff...stealing a gun to kill Fenn. She sighed. Maybe Gareth was right. Maybe she was broken, like the Humpty Dumpty dude, except that she wasn't an egg. Or a dude. Fatigue weighted her bones, making her want to curl up and sleep the sleep of the dead.

  The sound of a door easing open made her sit up slightly. Trent walked through her closet. “Hey,” she said without emotion, “I thought I said the secret passageway was off limits.”

  Trent's lips lifted in a tired smile. “Sorry. Habit.” He pointed to the silver suit hanging next to his head. “I'm guessing this is how you were able to see Gareth.”

  Seffy leaned back and nodded.

  Trent joined her on the bed, stretching out and tucking his hands under his head. “How is he?”

  “Alive.”

  “How did the others take it?”

  “You mean Addison and Lani? I don't think they liked me being there. I just wish I knew why I'm the bad guy all of a sudden.”

  “They're probably just scared and lashing out at the nearest person.”

  Seffy rolled on to her side and stared at him. “Are you sticking up for them?”

  “Just trying to be empathetic.”

  “Well, just empathet your way back to your own room.”

  He turned his head and regarded her. “How are you doing?”

  Seffy grimaced. “Before or after my homicidal episode?”

  “You've been under a lot of pressure.” He reached out and touched her shoulder.

  She stared at him, trying to figure out his angle. “You know, I almost prefer Mean Trent again. I'm not buying the concerned version of you.”

  “You once said you liked me nice, so I'm being nice.”

  Seffy wanted to believe him. She really did. She needed a friend. An image of Gareth wavered in her mind. But even friends let you down eventually, so what's the point? Seffy studied Trent's features, the craggy lines, the parts that creased when he smiled, the parts that were softer than they looked...

  That he was appealing wasn't in doubt, but she couldn't allow herself to be swayed by his hotness factor. Despite all the times he'd rescued her from one scrape after another, she still wondered at his true motivations.

  Inside of his arm, tiny faint scars caught the low light. She looked up at him. “Seeing the needle...and the juice there in the bathroom...did it make you want it?”

  Trent's gray eyes appeared black in the shadows of the room but she saw something flicker in them while his expression remained impassive.

  He licked his lips. “I want you more.”

  Seffy looked away, not expecting that answer.

  He sighed. “You said I had secrets. Well, I do.”

  Her eyes widened as she wondered what he was about to confess. Could she handle any more shock today?

  “Sef, when I implied I saw you for the first time in Malone's safe house, that wasn't completely true.”

  Seffy frowned, her heart kicking into high gear. She thought back to waking up in the desert and being rescued by the survivalist. The next day, more survivors found their way to his safe house—one of them Trent. “What does that mean?”

  “I saw you...before the apocalypse thing.” His gaze searched hers as he continued. “Where you worked at the oncology clinic.”

  As faintness assailed her at his words, Seffy answered her own question. She was so not able to handle a shock like this. She scooted away from Trent.

  “You didn't see me, but I saw you,” he said quickly. “You were with a patient at the desk. I knew your hair was dyed and your eye color wasn't real, but I didn't care. The way you talked to the patient, the way you smiled...there was genuine kindness in your eyes—the kind you don't see much of in L.A.”

  Seffy sat up, shoving her damp hair from her face. “Were you there to talk to the doctor abou
t your addiction?”

  His brows lifted. “Yes.”

  “And when you saw me, did I give you...the inspiration to stop your drug habit?”

  He snorted softly as he raised himself to a sitting position. “Okay, this is freaky. I'm supposed to be telling you what happened. Not the other way around.”

  She swallowed. “When we were in that tangent universe back in WeHo...I asked Gareth how you and I met. He told me the story you're telling me now—except his version was a bit more sarcastic.”

  Trent's eyes widened at the ramifications. “God, Sef, do you know what this means? I think we're meant to be together.”

  Seffy rolled her eyes. “I don't believe in that fate crap.”

  “Maybe it's not fate—just that you and I, no matter when or where, will always need to be together.”

  “Um, that's called fate—which I repeat—I don't believe in. Anyway, you're seriously milking this thing.”

  After a moment, he said, “Did you know about the part where I thought you were an angel sitting behind that desk?”

  “You did not think that.”

  “Yes, I did. Even if it sounds cheesy.” He leaned toward her. “The doctor was a friend of my family and I wanted some advice on what step to take to kick my habit. But when I saw you there, for the first time I wanted to be clean.”

  Seffy snorted. “Yeah, I was so pure that you couldn't wait to corrupt me.”

  Trent twitched his lips.

  She sighed, still disbelieving. “Well, I was never pure—that goes without saying. And now that your blonde haired, blue-eyed 'angel' is au natural—”

  “I think you're even more beautiful.” He touched her hair, the weird shade she hated that he called 'whiskey-colored'. And she missed her blue contacts—they had made her eyes so much prettier. Without them, she felt...exposed.

  Trent's hand moved from her hair to her cheek. “And I did start treatment after seeing you.”

  His caressing tone surely hid something dark. She frowned. “You said you went through the methadone program.”

  “I did. Thinking about you kept me going.”

  “You didn't even know me.”

  “I planned to—after I got clean. I made you my goal. Once I kicked the habit, I was going to ask you out. In fact one of the reasons I was at that sushi place was because that's where I'd planned to take you on our first date.”