Chapter 3: Strangers

**Kait**

My hands tremble as I pour him another round, the amber liquid sloshing painfully into the cup. The man, whatever his name is, doesn’t say anything but only looks on with those cool eyes.

I don’t know why I’m so nervous around him. I feel my heart beating a thousand times per second, my legs quivering, and my very soul vibrating with the energy I feel coming from this man.

Whatever psychic abilities I’ve inherited from Nan also let me sense the energy of people around me. I know it sounds stupid, but I swear it’s the truth. I can tell when someone is honest or how pure their soul is. Meaning I know when they’re up to something.

This guy gives me a warm buzzing feeling that leaves me dizzy like there isn’t enough oxygen in my brain or something. I recognize him. I know I do. Something about him just feels so familiar. It’s driving me crazy.

As he takes another sip of his drink, I see his adam’s apple bob up and down, sending a thrill through my spine.

STOP IT, I tell myself. GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF!

I feel like I’m in high school again, seeing my first crush in class and tripping all over myself.

He looks up at me as he sets his cup down, the corner of his mouth curling up ever so slightly, making me want to bite my own lip.

“I’m sorry,” he says. I look at him, confused for a moment before he continues. “I never properly introduced myself. My name is Jake. Jake Cunnington.”

He holds out a hand to me, his nails so perfectly manicured, I’m almost embarrassed by my own rough, stained, bitten-to-hell nails I offer him in return.

“Uh, I’m Kait Malone,” I tell him as he takes my hand in his. His hands are warm, the heat seeping into me and spreading up my arm. I stiffen when he bends down and gently kisses the tops of my fingers, his lips barely brushing the skin, but it’s enough to make me nearly faint.

“Nice to meet you, Kait,” he says, that small smile returning to his fantastically shaped, plump lips.

“Mmmhmm,” is all I can say. My tongue suddenly feels like it’s being held down with a ton of bricks.

“So, Kait Malone from everywhere, what brought you to Cumberland?” His voice is as smooth as butter. My brain melts at the sound, and I barely register the actual meaning of his words.

“I…uh…I was just looking for work, you know. I heard there were plenty of places hiring here, and it’s a big city, but not like any of the others I’ve been to.”

“Oh? How so?”

The gears in my brain turn for a second before my tongue finds the words.

“Well, despite how large and well-populated it is, it doesn’t seem to be on any maps,” I tell him.

He raises his eyebrows at that. “No, I don’t suppose it would be.”

I pucker my lips. “And why is that?” I question.

He shrugs, his shoulders so wide the movement is almost imperceptible.

“It’s not the kind of place we want on a map.”

“We?”

He stops drinking mid-sip and flicks his eyes to me, his brows furrowing.

“Yes, we. The people.”

“The people of Cumberland don’t want their city on the map?”

He nods.

“Then how are so many people here if no one’s heard of it?”

“How did you find it?”

“I told you, I heard places were hiring here.”

“So, if you heard of it, so did others.”

“Yeah, but I only heard of it when I was a mile away at a gas station.”

“Precisely.” He sets down his glass, his gaze moving over me, seeming to absorb me as they go.

“Precisely what?”

He places both palms on the softwood and pushes himself closer to me, so close I can smell his cologne.

“Cumberland is the sort of place you only find when you need a place to go, when there is no other place to go.”

Somehow, his words make perfect sense. So many people have talked about Cumberland as a safe harbor. It’s a place for outcasts that will accept you when no others will. It’s a refuge when no other refuge exists.

“Oh,” I say, glancing down at the counter.

“So,” he continues, “I ask again. What brought you to Cumberland?”

I look back up at him, though maintaining eye contact with him is harder than keeping your hand on a hot stove. They are so intense I can feel my emotions boiling over and about to spill out.

“It’s what I do. I move from one place to another. I’ve been to every major city, from here to California. That whole time, I was never looking for one place in particular. I just went and stopped wherever I landed.

“About a month ago, I just happened to land here.”

“So, in a way, you had nowhere to go?”

I smile at him, unsure what to say other than, “Yeah, I guess.”

He chuckles, but I’m not sure at what.

“What’s so funny?”

“Well,” he says, swirling a finger in his drink. “There’s just something about you I can’t quite figure out.”

“Really? What’s there to figure out?”

He stops swirling his finger and moves his gaze back to mine. “Out of all days, why did I just happen to stumble into the very bar where such a breathtaking woman like you happens to be?”

If I had been drinking anything, I most surely would have spit it out. I blink at him, beads of sweat now trickling down my forehead and blood rushing, yet again, to my cheeks.

“What? Me?” I say, not really believing that ANYONE would say something like that to me, of all people.

“Yes, you. Who else?”

I look around the room. There’s Trace, still passed out, the young couple, a man and woman too googly-eyed at the other to even notice us, and then two men playing cards in the corner.

“I…uh… I don’t know.”

The laugh he gives me then is like a thousand little bells going off in my mind, sending me into a state of pure bliss.

“Kait Malone from everywhere, I like you.”

I half laugh, still not believing this is actually happening. I tuck my hair behind my ears and smile, hoping to come off as casual as possible.

“Thanks,” I tell him, returning to my cleaning, or, at least, trying to.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see his smile fade, and his eyes return to his glass. I notice then a small signet ring on his pinky. It’s a little big, which is surprising, seeing how large his hands are.

He said his name was Jake Cunnington. I think back to the signs I’ve seen posted up all over the streets. Isn’t there a lawyer or some real-estate guy named Cunnigton?

“Cunnington?” I say suddenly. His head perks up when I speak. “As in William Cunnington?”

He nods slowly, still frowning.

“So, your dad’s William Cunnington? The real-estate guy?”

“Uh, yeah. He was.”

I screw my eyebrows together, confused. Was? Then, it hits me.

“Oh, no,” I say. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay. Not many people do yet. It just happened this morning.”

“Holy sh*t. Are you okay?”

I don’t know what comes over me, but I instantly grab his hand, holding it tightly while looking into his eyes.

He looks at my hand on his but doesn’t move.

He says nothing for several beats but then quietly says, “No. I’m not.”

The rest of the night, I drop everything, closing the bar early, and listen to him speak as he tells me about his dad, about everything they’ve done together, about his childhood and the death of his mother. He tells me how his dad pretty much raised him after his mom died.

His dad was a major business owner and didn’t have a lot of time. He relied on others to help care for his son, but Jake didn’t mind. He understood.

Now, though, he wishes he could go back and spend more time with his dad.

I can see the hurt on his face. He is just as confused as I was when I found Nan dead, feeling defeated, hopeless, and alone.

I hold his hand the entire time, comforting him though I barely know him.

When he finally finishes speaking, his soul finally purged from the grief he’s held inside, and I find my own story spilling out, most of it, at least.

I tell him how Nan died when I was sixteen, and I was left alone. I tell him about my emancipation and my travels, all the cities I’ve been to, and how tired I am. Finding Cumberland was like a much-needed vacation, a place to build roots for a time.

When the night slowly becomes day, both of us having expelled all the torment we’d bottled up inside, I realize that meeting him randomly is just what I needed. It’s like I found another half of myself in this crazy existence we call life.

As the sun slowly creeps over the horizon, we find ourselves seated on one of the benches, all the customers long gone, and the air nice and cool.

Jake slowly leans in, and my heart rate spikes, heat flooding my body. His lips find mine, and the air rushes out of my lungs, all feeling leaving my body.

But before I have time to savor the moment, his phone rings in his pocket. He pulls back and gives me an apologetic smile.

“Sorry,” he says, looking at the caller ID. “I’ve got to take this.”

He answers the phone, and his face quickly sours, his eyes looking grim.

“I understand. I’m on my way.”

He ends the call and stands up. “I’ve got to go,” he tells me and rushes out the door without another word.