Eliza Jane - In Too Deep

Colt comes through the door with my laptop and stops when he sees me holding the picture of his mother.

He swallows and steps closer to me, slowly, tentatively. He holds a hand out for the picture frame, offering me the laptop instead.

“What’s her name?” I ask before parting with it.

“Elaina.”

I hand it over.

Once I have my laptop, I go back to Colt’s bed and sink against his pillows, propping the computer across my lap. 

I watch Taylor move around my room. She sits down in the center of my bed, scooting up until she can lean back against the pillows. She opens her laptop and begins typing furiously as she studies the screen. Fresh tears spring to her eyes, and she presses her lips together, forcing them away.

I watch her work for a few minutes, unsure of what to do. In this moment the only thing I know for certain is that she is beautiful, and that I hate my father even more than I thought.

I could quite literally kill him right now. I’m itching to track him down and raise hell, but the only thing keeping me here is Taylor. The look on her face when she saw that news footage felt like someone had punched me in the gut. I hate to see her cry.

I’m not sure what made me follow her out into the hall and drag her up here, I just didn’t like the thought of her alone and crying in the hall. It reminds me of that time with Samantha. I still feel guilty as hell over her catching me with another girl, the same night I asked her to hang out. Guilt was a strange feeling. New for me. Taylor was invoking all kinds of new feelings in me. I both liked it and didn’t.

I set the picture of my mom back on the shelf. If anyone else had touched this, it would have bugged me. But not her. I look over at her and watch her sink back against my pillows. Something tugs in my chest. I take a breath, flexing my forearms and move closer to her. Confusion, anger and something else I can’t identify swirl around inside me.

I sit down beside her, the bed dipping under my weight. “I told Tate you wouldn’t be in class this afternoon.”

She looks up meeting my eyes.

“What else can I do?” All my concentration is on her. Making her feel better. Helping her. Just like at our last assignment gone wrong. I remember getting her in the bath, feeding her, kissing her. My head swims with the memory.

She turns away from the screen, momentarily at a loss for words. “Why did you bring me here? Why do you even care?”

Her words sting, but given my track record, I suppose it’s a fair question. “I thought I made that clear. We’re friends Taylor. And I know better than anyone the shit McAllister is capable of.”

“Friends?” she chides. “Friends who go on dates and kiss and then run away from each other?”

My palms itch. Why do I have the urge to hit something? Damn, this girl challenges everything I do. I release a breath slowly through my teeth. “I thought I explained why I ended that date.”

She blinks up at me.

Fuck. She’s going to make me say it. To admit to her again how I feel about her. I’m quiet while I consider her question. The silence in the room hangs heavily around us.

I sigh and run my hands through my hair.

She bites her lip, still waiting, still blinking up at me with those big blue eyes that are at least no longer wet with tears.

“Let’s not get into this right now.” I meet her eyes, my voice firm.

Her face tightens, her forehead creasing.

“We have more pressing things to figure out, don’t you think?”

I resist the urge to reach out and touch her, to comfort her again. She seems to be doing okay now – which means I need to keep my hands to myself.

She nods in agreement, letting me off the hook. For now.

“What have you found?” I nod to her computer.

She turns it to me, setting it on the bed between us then presses play on a news video.

We listen in silence to the segment, which doesn’t offer up many new details. But she breathes a sigh of relief and her shoulders visibly relax when she hears there were no causalities and the crew made it safely off the ship.

“Are you worried they’ll trace this back to you?” I ask once the video ends.

“Of course. But honestly I don’t think they’ll be able to. It’s more the gravity of what I’ve done. The damage I’ve caused.” She looks down again at the computer screen, which shows images of silty black water slick with oil, and brown waves crashing against a rocking shoreline, leaving the thick deposits in its wake.

“I just don’t understand…” She looks lost. “Why would he do this? Why give me this assignment? He had to know right?”

I look down. Of course he did.

She inhales, fighting off the emotion in her voice. “I thought our assignments were taking down bad guys, the criminals. I thought we were on the good side of the law. McAllister said I’d work with the government, that I’d be helping. That’s why I stayed – that’s why I’m here.”

“I know,” I say, softly, reassuringly. “That’s why I’m here too.” Our eyes meet and lock on each other’s for a moment.

“Why would he make me do this? What’s his motivation?”

I shake my head. “He’s just hungry – he won’t say no to business. Running this place is his entire life and I don’t think he has any moral compass outside of seeing his company succeed.”

“Is he married?” she surprises me by asking.

“He was. A long time ago.”

“How do you know so much about him?”

“I just do.” I clear my throat. “I’ve been here for three years trying to keep him in line.”

She nods, accepting my answer without question. If she knew the truth, I doubt she’d be sitting here right now, so calmly discussing this with me.

Taylor goes to another news site and clicks on an article about the major cleanup effort that will likely last several months. She leans forward, reading it with interest, desperately trying to piece this all together.

“Enough.” I close the screen to her laptop.

She looks up at me blinking her beautiful eyes, her pink lips parted.

“It’ll just upset you,” I explain.

Taylor stays with me until dinnertime when I make her go downstairs to eat with her friends. The sooner she moves past this the better. I don’t want her dwelling on it. We can’t change the past, and I know she’s now working out her future here.

I can’t argue with her about staying again, not after this.

He must have known that. Is this a punishment for that botched assignment? Can he tell I like her and doesn’t want her getting in the way of my work here?

When Taylor slips off to dinner, I decide to pay a visit to McAllister, my palms itching as the need to pummel something returns in full force.

Taylor spends the entire next week reading every single news article she can find, tracking down any connection McAllister could have to this ship, yet we’re still no farther along in understanding McAllister’s motives behind this deliberate oil spill than we were before.

It’s no longer enough for me to hang out with Taylor during her independent study, she also comes to my room every night after dinner and we read the news articles together, even though I know it’s not healthy.

I’m thankful when after several days; the media attention about the oil spill has died down.

“I’m going to throw this laptop out of the window if you don’t get off of it soon,” I threaten.

Taylor’s lying across my bed on her stomach, deep in thought, staring at the screen. She looks up at me and smiles. Actually smiles. It’s heaven. I can see the tension slipping from her day by day.

Taking her good mood as a cue, I join her on the bed and close the laptop, sliding it away from her.