Favorite Place

The days passed slowly. Lydia loved having her sister here with her, and understood the reasoning: they did, indeed, look identical. Anyone who didn’t know them well could easily confuse the two. She might even be worried for her older sister if Maddie didn’t live two hours north of them, in Illinois. Thankfully, she was too far away to be mistaken for Lydia, despite her somewhat similar familial appearance. She also had two children and a husband and a completely disconnected life, disinterested in social media and quietly existing outside of the city life. Maddie was the kind of person who took great joy in spending all day baking. She saw her children as gifts and had no qualms about her choices in regards to them. Because of the tangled web that was her own familial background, she pushed herself entirely into her husband’s family events, disappearing into Thanksgiving meal prepping, Black Friday shopping, and Christmas visits with her sisters-in-law and her cherished mother in law every year. Lydia was happy for her, truly, if also a bit envious.

No, Lydia thought wistfully. No one would ever confuse Maddie’s life for mine. She looked at her career, at her little house that she’d turned into a home- however untraditionally- and she felt a smidgen of pride. It wasn’t what she’d have picked for her future, but it was hard won and earned. Given her background, she thought she’d turned out okay. And the thought of both of her sisters also turning out okay brought a warmth to her chest and a quiet smile to her face.

            Lydia and Olivia had plenty of catching up to do, and they spent their days happily talking and taking long walks around the garden, cooking and watching movies together. Sandra and Michael and Samantha all made appearances here and there, but Ethan was present every evening. He sometimes wandered into the massive kitchen and leaned against a counter, feigning reading a magazine while Lydia and Olivia danced around to music and made cookies or muffins. Lydia suspected that the magazine was an excuse to look casual, as he always read the same one but never seemed to progress any further. Warmth crept into her face as she allowed the thought to process that he might be lingering there to be closer to her. Sometimes she would bring him a hot, fresh baked item and have him taste test it. He never complained, always humming in appreciation, and the low sound of his deep voice sent a responding thrum of pleasure through her core. Half of her attempts at baking anything at all were in the hopes that he'd be around to read his magazine and taste whatever she baked, solely for that moment when she got to hear the delicious sound of pleasure he emitted at that first bite.

Lydia tried not to think about his presence just across the hallway every night, but it was getting harder and harder to ignore. He’d inserted himself so easily into her life, taking part in movie nights and chats when it suited him and easily disappearing when he felt Lydia needed time with her sister alone. One night, after a particularly cutting comment about her 7^th grade haircut mishap, Olivia laughingly pushed her roughly to the side, and she ended up leaning heavily against Ethan on that big couch. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders so smoothly and easily that she leaned into him without thinking about it, as if her body knew naturally how to respond to his. The lights were dimmed and the movie playing was nothing compared to the drama Lydia felt in her own heart at his close proximity. They sat that way for the rest of the evening, Lydia using all of the twin brain power she could muster to try to tell Olivia not to do anything that would disrupt the easy pose. Her sister, however, seemed unaware of the heat emanating mere feet away, and she watched the movie with a disinterested stare. Ethan seemed comfortable and calm, and Lydia finally relaxed against him, settling into his side as if she’d done it a thousand times. It was the first of many such evenings when she found herself closer to him than should have been appropriate, and the fact that neither of them shied away gave her butterflies.

He seemed to have an intuition, able to read her moods without so much as a word, and that drew her to him more with each passing day. On days when she felt unsettled and frustrated, pent up and bored, he would inevitably bring her hot tea or ask her if she’d like to join him for a walk. When she was sad or grieving, he would hug her, the motion natural and friendly. When she was laughing and carefree- or as carefree as she could be in this particularly troubling situation-, he shared in her optimism, making plans for the future that both excited and troubled her. He told her he wanted to show her his favorite skating arena in Indy, and she wondered if he intended for the plan to be a date or just a casual social outing- and then chided herself for thinking too far into the remark. He both agitated and soothed her, and she didn’t always know what to do with herself in his presence.

            But by the time November arrived, Lydia was getting restless. She’d agreed to this set up for a matter of days, and it had been weeks. She missed her quiet street and her neighbors, her favorite coffee and her jobs. She’d finished her stories and then taken a leave of absence, unsure of what the future held and feeling awkward interviewing people about mundane things from the protection of a fortified safe house. As nice as these clothes were, she even missed her own somewhat outdated but well loved closet full of clothes. Most of all, she missed her little yellow house, her home. It felt so unfair that she could work so hard for something only to have it taken from her the moment she settled into it.

            She hadn’t always been someone with a home, after all. Her father was an alcoholic who spent all of the money he earned before any bills were paid, and her mother died when she was two. She and her sisters had spent plenty of cold nights sleeping in tents before her grandfather finally had enough and took them all in. He’d found them huddled in the back of his car early one morning when the wind had pierced through the tent they’d been sharing. Their father was gone, and not knowing what else to do, they’d snuck over to their grandfather’s house. They didn’t know him well: there were a lot of arguments whenever they did encounter the man, and Lydia was old enough now to recognize that her father had probably been in the wrong during most of them.

            Their grandfather took full custody of them at 78 years old, and the three years that they’d lived with him, sharing one of the two bedrooms in the apartment, had been the happiest of Lydia’s childhood. They’d had little wiggle room, and holidays were sparse, but the apartment was clean and their grandfather was kind to them. He even restored an old chair with lovely blue fabric when he saw Lydia pining after a much too expensive one in a similar color, and the gift that Christmas broke her heart. The work he’d put into it, when she knew his bones ached and his hands shook, made the chair the most precious gift she’d ever received. When she and Olivia were 16 and he died of heart failure, Maddie managed to take over the lease and Olivia and Lydia got part time jobs to help out, but the girls eventually parted ways: Maddie to marry Christopher, Lydia and Olivia to share an apartment before splitting off on their own in a fit of poor communication.

            Lydia, seated on her own private balcony overlooking the front driveway and the woods beyond, sighed inwardly. She missed that blue chair, and the reminder that it gave her that, once, she’d been so loved.

            She climbed to her feet and grabbed her coffee cup, determined to get out of this house. As luxurious as it was, anyone would want to escape after weeks of stagnation. She’d written short fiction stories and non-fiction proposals; she’d cooked and laughed with Samantha until she felt like she had a new best friend; she’d played tennis and bested Michael in pool at least once fairly and twice in what she was pretty sure was a thrown game. Michael had kind eyes like his brother, and she thought that more and more lately Michael was taking it easy on her out of some twisted sense of pity. This place was amazing, and she was thankful for the creature comforts, for the newfound strength in her relationship with her sister, and the protection and the mini vacation and, yes, the new friends.

            But enough was enough.

            She walked across the hallway and rapped on Ethan’s door, careful not to spill her coffee.

            He answered, shirtless, and Lydia caught her breath.

            Something changed in their dynamic in the moment he looked at her and saw her taken aback at the sight of him, barefoot and relaxed in his workout sweats. He reached out and, wordlessly, gently, grasped her hand and pulled her forward, into his room. He closed the door behind them.

            Lydia wrapped both hands around her mug and looked at the room, washed in the light streaming in from the opened double doors leading to the balcony. A cool breeze floated through, but the temperature outside was in the mid-60’s and the atmosphere was cozy and inviting. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, steadying herself, and then turned to face Ethan, aware that things were somehow different now, and aware of what that could mean.

            He was watching her, reserved, and when she held his gaze for longer than normal, when she didn’t look away, she saw his reservation melt away, and his expression became one of such openness that she ached to see it. He was searching her face for acceptance to a question he hadn’t dared to ask. He was asking her permission to change things between them before it was too late to go back.

            She nodded her head, once, and he stepped forward and took her mug from her, setting it beside him on a side table without taking his eyes off of her. He leaned down and softly touched the tip of his nose to her nose, the tips of his lips to her lips, in a soft kiss. She closed her eyes and leaned her head up, reaching for him.

            It was all the encouragement he needed.

            He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer to him, crushing her to his chest as he deepened his kiss, firm lips on hers and then, tentatively, a searching tongue. She answered him with her own passionate response, pulling his head down further and pressing herself against him, and he turned her around and pressed her against the wall, cushioning the back of her head with one hand while the other wrapped around her hip.

            She pulled away and laughed quietly. “So you can be gentle,” she whispered, and he smiled.

            “I’ll always be gentle with you,” he said, his voice raspy.

            She bit her lip, and his eyes darkened and moved to her mouth, catching the motion. “Maybe not always,” she said, and he kissed her again, sliding his hand out from behind her head and caressing her face. His other hand still held her hip, and his thumb found its way under her shirt’s hemline and swept back and forth, softly stroking the skin there.

            “I will be whatever you want, whenever you want,” he told her, and she murmured, a throaty sound that came from somewhere deep in her chest.

            She found herself reaching up, cupping his face in her hand. His whiskers were sharp and his skin was warm, and she felt butterflies in her stomach, touching him this way. She’d stared at this face every day for weeks now, and she’d wanted to reach out and touch him for so long. He turned his face into her hand and closed his eyes, the creases in his forehead disappearing as if her very touch relaxed all of the stress out of him. He kissed her palm, and then leaned down and kissed her lips once more. As the kiss deepened, Lydia felt herself responding to him in a way that surprised her. She was attracted to him, of course- with that chiseled chest and those broad shoulders, how could she not be? But the way he kissed her, the way he touched her and the way his fingers ran so softly over her skin, sent electrical jolts down to her very core. She wanted him to keep teasing her, stroking her skin with barely any pressure, and at the same time, she wanted him to push himself into her with all of the strength that radiated inside of him. She knew that he was holding himself back, being careful with her, and she watched the muscles rippling in his arms as he reached down and lifted her up, pressing her back against the wall. She straddled him, feeling the pressure of his arousal through his sweatpants. She ground her hips against him, welcoming him into the hollow between them, and he pushed against her in response, pressing his forehead to her forehead and looking down into her eyes before kissing her again.

            She arched her back, pressing herself against him harder, wanting to break the fabric that separated them from each other. He dug his hands into her butt, lifting her and pulling her as he ground against her, kissing her more passionately. He moved his head and trailed his tongue down her neck, and she turned her head, exposing more of her neck for him to lick. His tongue was like a hot streak of desire, and everywhere he touched sent shivers down to her core. She let out a low moan, and she could swear she felt him grow even bigger at the sound.

            “I need you,” she said, moaning again as he brought his lips back to hers. “Please-“

            He pulled her away from the wall, carrying her as if it were effortless, and laid her on the unmade bed, coming to rest lightly on top of her. Her legs still wrapped around him, she arched her back and dug her heels into his thighs, begging him with her body to enter her. The need that she felt for him was almost unbearable, and she moved her hand to the space between them to give herself some relief. Instead, she found herself grasping him, holding on to his member through the cotton fabric of his pants.

            “Take them off,” she said, and he nodded his head, leaving her for just a moment to pull his pants down. She glanced at the part of him that had been hidden from her only moments before and gasped. He was large, smooth, and his erection was curved just slightly upward. He saw her looking and he reached down and stroked himself slowly.

            “Your turn,” he said and, still touching himself, he used his other hand to untie her knit pants in one swift motion. She lifted her hips and slid the pants off, and he stood over her, staring down at her most private parts. The thought of being self conscious never even flitted across her mind- he looked at her with such desire that she knew he liked what he saw. She spread her legs a little wider, and his eyes got bigger, his hand slowly working himself.

            “My God, you are beautiful,” he said, still staring at her. She reached down and touched herself, and he let out a low groan. “Please, let me,” he said in a low voice, and lowered his head to her center. “You are dripping wet for me,” he mumbled, his voice muffled as he put his mouth on her. She arched her back and let out another involuntary moan as his tongue found the outer edges of her, teasing her and licking her in slow, unpredictable motions. She’d expected him to drive his tongue into her center, as hungry as his eyes had been, but he held himself back, teasing her gently and making her want him even more.

            The sound of gravel flying interrupted their embrace. Lydia’s eyes opened wide as Ethan pulled calmly away from her. Something had shifted behind his eyes, and while his hands still grasped her thighs, his head was turned and he was alert, listening, the moment lost.

            He kissed her knee before standing, pulling her to her feet.

            “Something’s not right,” he said, his voice low. “This might mean trouble. Go ahead and get dressed-“ his eyes flickered over her half naked body regretfully- “and throw an extra outfit in a backpack. Go now.”

            Lydia grabbed her pants and slid them on quickly. She ran across the room and out the door to her own room as Ethan peeled back a curtain edge, watching whatever was happening outside.

            She found a bookbag in the closet and shoved her new laptop into it, followed by a clumsily chosen array of clothes and under garments. She put on socks and shoes, her hoody, and ran to the hallway just as Ethan was opening his door. He nodded at her once and motioned for her to be quiet, pushing her behind him as he guided her down the hallway.

            He pulled her past the main stairway and toward the end of the hall, through one of the unused bedrooms, and into the bedroom closet. Lydia, full of confusion, followed him silently, trusting in his plan, but as he closed the closet door quietly behind them she frowned, waiting on an explanation. She knew there’d be one; it was Ethan she was running with, after-all.

            “Our safe house is blown,” he whispered. He pushed aside a rack of clothes that seemed heavier than usual, stopping their sway abruptly once he pushed them aside, and Lydia’s eyes widened with understanding as Ethan pulled away one of the intricately designed panels- it looked the same as all of the other detailed panels in this closet, but it was hiding an escape route, and Lydia almost laughed at the absurdity of it all.

            But she didn’t laugh. The house around them was alarmingly quiet, and this house, full of such a large cast of characters in and out all of the time, was never quiet.

            “Go ahead,” Ethan said, nodding to the opening. “I’m right behind you.”

            The opening wasn’t quite as tall as she was, but it was wide. She ducked down and stepped over the lip of the cutout and took two cautious steps forward, leaving room for Ethan to come in after her. She couldn’t see and didn’t know where to go next.

            He pulled the clothing back over the opening and Lydia watched as they stopped moving again, unnaturally still. They must’ve been weighted for exactly that purpose, she thought. She mourned the loss of such a specifically designed safe house, so secure that nothing had been left untouched by some thought or reason or purpose.

            Ethan pulled the panel back into place with a small, satisfying clicking noise, and then they were pitched into darkness. In the dark, he pulled her close to him and put his lips next to her hairline. “We’re okay,” he whispered, giving her chill bumps with the warmth of his breath on her ear. “I’m going to get us out of here. We’ve planned for this.”

            She nodded against his chest, and he kissed her temple- a gesture so tender that the tension she’d built up in her shoulders slowly relaxed.

            “We’re just going to wait here for a moment until-“

            Just then, dim lighting came on, tracing the outline of a small hallway. “Perfect,” Ethan said, that determined look returning to his face. He grabbed her hand and pulled her along after him. The walls were bare and gray, the floor was bare, and the ceiling was tall here- the hallway had to be three feet across and eight feet tall, with a downward slope. Lydia pushed aside the shock at a home so large that entire hallways could be seamlessly hidden away in the walls without notice.

            She pulled up short just before the slope became more steep. “My sister-“ she said, but Ethan was already pulling her hand again.

            “She’s taken care of,” he said. “Protocols.”

            She kept pace with him, hurrying down the hallway, but said, “Who? Who is getting Olivia?”

            “Michael,” Ethan said.

            The hallway turned a corner and suddenly ended, and Ethan pressed an invisible button along the seamless edge of the wall in front of them. The lights dimmed even further and then eventually turned off completely, and Lydia moved in closer to Ethan in the dark. The only sound was that of their mutual breathing. Ethan squeezed her hand reassuringly.

            The wall in front of them opened, and Sandra’s face appeared for just a moment before she stepped aside, giving them room to enter the area beyond.

            Lydia stepped through a similar passage way as the one they’d entered upstairs, this one opening not to a closet but to a small, windowless room. Sandra ushered them through and then replaced the door. There were no weighted clothing items or anything else hiding this entrance. This room was the destination- the safe haven within the safe house; a last resort when things went all wrong.

            In the still dim lighting, Lydia took in her surroundings. Sandra was there with her own bookbag slung over her back, and Sam was standing in the corner with three other people who were familiar to Lydia but not entirely namable. The room wasn’t very large- maybe large enough to hold two cars side by side, but there was a couch and a small kitchenette and enough creature comforts to provide someone a few days of security.

            “Olivia isn’t here?” she asked, scanning the small room once more.

            “Not yet,” Sandra said, laying a comforting hand briefly on her shoulder. “But the escape route lights were activated again just now. Someone else entered the tunnel. It’s likely her.”

            Lydia spun around and watched the door, as if staring at it could make the inhabitants hurry along faster. Then, a thought occurred to her.

            “What if it’s not her?” she said aloud. “What if it’s- who are we running from?”

            Sandra shared a glance with Sam and then turned back to Lydia. “The Huntington family has found us, it seems,” she said. “But we’re going to be fine. We have an out; we just have to get all of our team safely here and then we can make our next move.”

            “What if it’s not Olivia? In the tunnel?” Lydia repeated.

            “It’s very unlikely it’s anyone else,” Ethan said. “That passageway is very well hidden. No one ever uses that room except for Mom, just to keep it in rotation. No one knows about the passageway except for us. There aren’t any blueprints with any clue as to what’s hidden in these walls.”

            Lydia nodded her head, choosing to take the offered comfort in his words as they waited to see who would emerge from the door in the wall. She didn’t, however, miss the fact that Sam’s companions all had their weapons at the ready, and Sam herself held a steely look in her eyes as she watched the door with everyone else.

            A small light that she hadn’t noticed before flashed next to the door, and she held her breath once more as Sam stepped forward and opened it.

            “No need for alarm,” Michael said, stepping through and pulling Olivia along behind him. Lydia offered her sister a tight lipped smile and grabbed her hand, squeezing it in a silent acknowledgement that this insane situation just got much more bearable because they were once again together.

            “Our team is accounted for,” Sam said, looking around the room. “Time to enact Red Bill Protocol.”

            Lydia felt Ethan’s hand firmly on the small of her back, pushing her forward. She fell in line behind the others, all of them apparently heading toward the far wall. The front row of people stopped, the rest following suit, and for a moment, they all faced the blank wall, silent and unmoving.

            Lydia thought she might be losing her mind.

            The wall lifted like a garage door, but faster, and the people around her rushed into motion. Ethan grabbed her hand and pulled her behind him. She had only enough time to briefly note the four nondescript black vehicles in the small, underground garage before Ethan opened the passenger door of one of them and she ducked inside. When he was in the driver’s seat, she whirled around, searching for Olivia.

            “She’s in that one,” Ethan said, pointing to the vehicle right next to them, an identical version of their own. “With Michael.”

            “He better take care of her,” Lydia said. She remembered who Michael was, and her shoulders relaxed.

            “They’ll be okay,” Ethan said. “Together. They seem to do well… together.” He looked at her knowingly, and she tried not to acknowledge the flutter of emotion she felt low in her belly.

            “Are we all going to the same place?” She knew better than to ask where they were going. She knew that he wouldn’t- couldn’t- tell her.

            “No,” he grimaced, turning the key in the ignition.

            Lydia looked through the glass of the other vehicle, trying to see her sister, but the windows were too dark. As if she willed it with her mind, one of the windows rolled down, and Lydia rolled her own down in response.

            “You’ll be okay!” she shouted out, seeing the worry in Olivia’s face.

            “You will, too,” Olivia called back. “I love you,” she said quietly.

            “I love you more,” Lydia said. “Be careful. Call me. I’ll call you. I don’t know how. We’ll figure it out. Stay safe.” She felt as if she were barking orders, but she didn’t know what to say, and she wanted to say something- anything- to her sister before they parted.

            “You, too,” Olivia answered.

            “Sorry, Lyd, we have to go,” Ethan said, and Lydia waved as the car pulled into motion, first in line to exit this place. Olivia blew her a kiss, and Lydia turned around in her seat, rolling the window back up.

            The exit angled down for half a mile, and then up, and she squinted into the light as large garage doors slid up. They emerged in the middle of the woods on a gravel road- a hidden getaway, half a mile from the safe house.

            “There are no ends to these surprises,” she muttered, and Ethan glanced in his rearview mirror before speeding up.

            “My mother has a very vested stake in protection people,” he said. “She has been protected, and she wants nothing more than to help. She’s somewhat of a saint.”

            Lydia smiled at him and pocketed his kind words about his mother. She’d save those words and deliver them to Sandra later, when the moment seemed right. She was sure the older woman would love to hear them, and she wasn’t so sure that Ethan had ever said them to her face.

            The trees began to thin, and they finally emerged on a paved road. The black vehicle immediately behind them followed them as they turned left, and the two others turned right. Another mile down the road, and Lydia watched as the vehicle carrying her sister exited right. She pressed her hands together between her legs, resisting the urge to press them to the glass, and watched the car for as long as she could before it disappeared from view. Her sister was gone again.

            They were alone.

            “How long is the drive?” she asked, forcing herself not to cry.

            Ethan put a hand on her thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Three hours and change,” he said.

            Lydia nodded and rested her head on the headrest, watching as the colorful trees raced by the window. Every now and then, another car would pass going the opposite direction, and she marveled at the thought of a normal life- someone going to get groceries, picking their children up from sports practices, running to the pharmacy or to get an evening cup of coffee. All while some maniac was desperately trying to kill her- and for what? A story? It made no sense.

            The trees gave way to flat Indiana corn fields, and then to small towns scattered around the Midwest. One town had a run-down gas station with tired old men sitting on a sagging bench just outside of the store, all of them in dirty overalls, all of them spitting tobacco. The dirt seemed dryer there, and the potholes deeper. Ethan swerved to avoid them. Another town had buildings that all matched, the grocery stores and the pharmacies and the business buildings all in the same shade of dark red brick. The roads were new and roundabouts ensured the ease of traffic; the landscaping was impeccable and the other vehicles freshly washed. The in-between towns held homes that were made of tan and white siding, lawns somewhat overgrown next to carefully mowed yards with children’s toys on the porches and leaf piles scattered around. They passed a home with a lamp in the window, the warm yellow light casting a welcoming glow on the family inside. Lydia caught them in a moment of movement, a child running and laughing as his sibling or friend chased him, and then they were gone from her life. She thought of one of her favorite words: sonder. Everyone in that home was living a life to which she’d never again be privy. She was merely a background character, her vehicle casting lights through the window as she and Ethan passed.

Eventually, they entered another wooded area, and Lydia sighed as she watched the trees crop up around them once more. They emerged half an hour later in front of a small wooden cabin, set back behind a scenic pond with a circular driveway separating it from the home.

            Another safe house. She sat up in the seat, taking in the surroundings. This one seemed less fashionably esoteric and more modern, lowkey, approachable. She grabbed the bookbag at her feet and went to open her door, but Ethan stopped her with another gentle squeeze.

            “I’m just going to check the place out,” he said. “Stay here. Keep the doors locked. Don’t get out until I come back.” She nodded, and he left her sitting in the car, waiting. She didn’t have to wait long; Ethan walked back out and gave her a nod, and she met him halfway to the door. She paused to stretch and take in the views.

            “Not bad,” she said, and he smiled.

 “This is my favorite place in the world,” he said, and she laughed.

“Surely not,” she said, eyeing him. “Have you been to… anywhere else? I mean, this is a lovely plot of land, but we’re still in the Midwest. Haven’t you been to Paris or Rome, London, maybe? Have you ever-“ she stopped mid sentence and gasped at the smirk on his face. “Is this your place? Not family land or a family home or some kind of business dealing but actually yours? Your home?”

“Now you get the picture,” he said softly. “All mine. Purchased with my own money, before I joined in with the business. Before I had anything to my name.”

Lydia eyed the land once more, this time with an appreciation that she’d lacked before. “I know that feeling,” she said, watching the sunset reflected in the pond. “My home was… mine. Just mine. I know that feeling.”

He gently took her hand. “We’ll get it back,” he said. “For now, please, Lyd, come inside. Make yourself at home.” He smiled at her, inviting and warm, and she followed him.