by L V Chase
I try to pull her out of the elevator, but she refuses to budge. The family sneaks by her, quickly heading to the west side of the building. They must be heading to the other elevators because they didn’t want to share this one with the psychotic conspiracy theorists. “I just want to know the truth. I deserve to know—”
I step onto the threshold of the elevator. With my hand still gripping her hand, I pull her closer to me. When I kiss her, it’s to silence her. I need to scatter her thoughts and this has always worked. But it works on me as well. Our lips collide, fighting for dominance. Her warm vanilla scent brings me back to all of the other times I’ve wanted her this badly, and she was just out of reach.
I pull away. Her eyes are dazed and distant, but they focus on me as I tug on her hand again. She follows me out into the hallway. She hurries her pace to keep up with me.
“You tricked me,” she remarks.
“Just some payback for trying to seduce information out of me.”
“Oh, sure,” she grumbles. She squeezes my hand. “So, if I tried a little harder to get information, would you have retaliated a little further?”
I glance over at her, catching the teasing tone in her voice at the last second. She smiles at me. I’ll do anything to keep that smile, and anyone who takes it away from her is going to live through my own version of the Hunt, where the trophy isn’t a woman, but a grave.
28
Sadie
We have a science project we haven’t worked on at all.
I try to keep my eyes on Leon Harrington’s face, but it’s difficult to bear witness to the bruising, swelling, and cuts disfiguring it, so I focus on other things—science projects, classic rock songs, and theories of how difficult it must be to construct hospitals. With all of the oxygen tanks moving in and out of rooms, you’d always have to be wary about fires not spreading. It’s a lesson I should have learned a long time ago—I shouldn’t just be looking for fire and smoke, but all of the accelerators.
It’s not just Leon’s face I can’t look at. I can’t look at Klay’s face either. He puts on an apathetic mask well, but I catch the tension under his eyes and the ripple in his throat when he swallows hard as he talks to his brother. I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but guilt tramples down on me. Klay and Roman’s tension seems to revolve around me, so in one way or another, I must bear some responsibility for this attack.
Klay looks back at me. He insisted on standing while I took the one chair in his brother’s hospital room. I would have expected the hospital owner’s son to have gotten the best room, but this one is the same as all of the others.
“Are you okay?” Klay asks me.
I raise my eyebrows. “I’m fine,” I say. “You don’t need to worry about me. Your family needs you. If you need me to take a bus home or—”
“No,” he says. “Everything is fine here. I’ll take you home.”
“No, you should stay here,” I say. “I’ll—”
“Hey, Sadie,” Leon says. His voice comes out like gravel, but he cracks a tiny smile. “I wouldn’t get in an argument with my brother. When we were kids, we could have sworn he was a Maxwell with the way he dominated every discussion. Then, he got into all of those fights, and we knew he was more likely to need a lawyer than become one.”
“Leon,” Klay says. “You have five fingers that aren’t broken. Don’t force me to change that.”
Leon chuckles, but it quickly changes into coughing. Klay helps him sip from a small styrofoam cup. He puts the cup back on the rolling table.
Klay turns to me. “Let’s take you home.”
“You truly don’t need to do that. I can find a ride home.”
“There’s nothing I can do for him here,” he says. “He’d much rather prefer one of the nurses to be helping him. Wouldn’t you, Leon?”
“God, they’re all nines and tens here,” Leon says. “I commend HR on their hiring practices, because I feel better every time one of them tells me I look good and puts their hands on me.”
“Dad is going to end up with a sexual harassment suit by proxy,” Klay mutters.
His hand settles on the small of my back as he leads me out of the room. As we walk through the hospital, nurses, doctors, and some patients move out of our way in the same way that people at school do for Klay. I’m certain it has something to do with his family, which should reinforce what my grandmother told me about the Harringtons, but with his hand on my back, I feel more secure than I have in a long time.
When we get into the Jeep and his hands are on the steering wheel instead of my back, the sense of protection remains. I still look at him and understand that he makes me stronger. Something about him creates a duality of war and peace in my chest, reminding me that I could fight, or I could walk away from everything, and it would all be fine.
He’s driving, and the world fades to the background. It feels like we’re racing away in a getaway car, escaping to a better place. I stick my hand out the window, letting the wind batter it until it’s so cold that when I press my palm against my leg, the chill seeps through my jeans to my skin.
Klay’s hand wraps around my chilled hand. My skin thaws underneath his. After a few minutes, he pulls away to shift gears. His hand hits against his keys, and he settles his hand back on the steering wheel. I watch his Green Mountain National Forest keychain sway. It was the first thing we’d talked about after I’d lost my memories. My grandmother had taken me to Vermont to continue the tradition my parents had started.
“It’s always weird,” I tell him. “I know my grandma means well, but the trip always feels like a memorial service. But I wanted you to have this. The trip is a wreck, but every time I go to the park, I wish you were there with me. I think you’d make it better.”
Klay’s hand wraps around the keychain. “One day, we’ll go together. I promise.”
“Pull over,” I say.
He frowns. “We’re in the middle of nowhere.”
“I don’t care. Pull over. You said we could talk when we left the hospital. We’re going to talk.”
He pulls over. As he parks, I undo my seatbelt. He turns toward me.
“Look, the explanation is hard to—”
I cut him off, kissing him softly, then harder. His mouth crushes against mine before softening at the last second, making his lips the wound and the salve. We kiss frantically, our hands moving just as fast. We’re colliding, coaxing, cursing each other as we shed our clothes and undress each other.
As he unclips my bra and the silk falls between us, a ghost of a memory falls between us, too.
We’re in a section of the hospital that’s being remodeled. Burning candles emit the scent of pine trees, maple, and vanilla. He told me the pine trees and maple were to remind me of Vermont. He burned the vanilla to bring himself closer to me. And then we got closer.
His hands are greedy, moving over me like a river moves over stones. I’m all of his in this moment, and he’s all of mine. As his hand cradles my breast and his mouth subdues my mouth, I slip into another memory.
It’s pouring out, the rain coming down so hard it acts like a sound barrier as I recline on Klay’s bed. His father is working, his mother is floating in a drug haze, and his brothers are in NYC, celebrating one of their friend’s birthday. Usually, our time together in his house is rushed, but Klay helped to convince his father to let his brothers go on this city trip. It’s just us here at the house today, along with his sedated mother.
He told me about the Society. He told me their insidious control of everything from the shadows. He told me about his future, where he was meant to seduce a woman under the Society’s depraved rituals, and that if he won her over, they would be bound together forever. I didn’t let him explain any farther than that. That’s when I ran out the door into the rain, insisting that he’d made up the whole thing in order to get me to break up with him. But he told me he loved me, he kissed me, and I knew it was all true.
The world doesn’t bend to
our will, but as his hand trails down my thigh, I know I will bend to his.
I try to get on his side of the Jeep again, but he stops me with one hand on my shoulder. He pushes me towards the back of the Jeep. I crawl back, settling on the bench seat. He steps out of the Jeep and gets back in through the door. When he slams the door shut, I barely feel the rumble move through me before he’s pressing down on top of me, his arousal hard against my thigh. The scent from outside followed him in, but the damp odor is overtaken by his woodsy scent and that touch of leather that must come off his jacket every time he wears it.
My thighs splay out. My breath sharpens as his length touches my entrance. He could ask me to do anything right now, and I’d do it. But he doesn’t say anything. The sound of our breathing swells in the Jeep.
He pushes into me slowly. After a few inches, he leans over me. Our hands clasp together over my head. When he moves inside me, I’m burning bright, and his body is adding enough friction to turn me into a wildfire. We crash together, desperate and overwhelming. His hands slip into my hair, gripping close to my head, adding a layer of sensation that pulls me toward the edge.
You’re more than I can take, but I’ll take you every time. I love you. He wrote that to me once, and I understand it now. He’s more than I can take, making every one of my cells shiver and burst, but I’d come back to him every time.
I know he’s restraining himself, but the way he takes me turns the anticipation in my body into a devout desperation.
We can’t go to Vermont together yet, so I thought I’d bring it to you, he told me in that surgical room. Potted pine trees had been scattered in the room. I recall now walking in and thinking about how it was a fire hazard to have those pine trees and the candles so close to each other. That’s the first time I’d wondered about hospital construction and the dangers of fire. But I stayed with him because the risk of fire was worth it.
His thrusts switch from being carefully deliberate to ruthlessly wild. I arch my back. Every time he pulls out, I need him back, and he’s quick to oblige. His hands have moved down from my hands, pinning down my wrists. When we’re like this, my body belongs to him, and his body belongs to me. I’m more than happy to give myself over to him because I know when he returns me, I’ll be god-like.
In the hospital, in my memory, we’d clawed at each other like animals, our hips slamming against each other with a shameless gluttony. My fingernails had dug into his shoulders, leaving ten reminders of a girl who loved him, and he had rewarded me with ten bruises on the curve of my hips.
As I let out a ragged breath, I find ourselves in the same position. My toes curl up, my left knee rising as far as it can underneath him as he lets the weight of his lower body settle down on me, barely moving as he looks down at me.
“I love you,” he says.
I taste the words, smooth but sharp like whiskey. I open my mouth, but before I can respond, he pulls me closer and starts thrusting into me so hard that my head slides up against the Jeep door. His ribcage is heaving. My thighs press against his waist. He drives into me, avoiding my eyes now.
“Klay,” I say.
He glances away from me.
I say it more firmly, “Klay.”
He looks down at me, sweat creating a glean on his angular face.
“You don’t need to say anything,” he says. “I know you don’t remember. It’s fine.”
“I love you too,” I say, my right hand coming up to his jaw.
His body stops moving for a moment. He turns his head, kissing the inside of my palm. He gazes down at me before starting to move inside me again. His thrusts get faster and more aggressive. I rock my body against his, barely notable against his own mania, but I’d do anything to get closer to the edge he’s pushing me towards. My heart thrums, heat rising under my skin, and my need filling every cell, expanding me until I’m ready to combust.
And then I’m on fire.
My nails are digging into his skin. My arms are hooked around him, and my thighs are squeezing him too tightly. This is beyond endorphins. This is madness, the kind that causes people to run around, oblivious to any other emotion than joy. This is when my mind breaks, and all I have left is delirium and Klay.
A low, guttural groan rumbles out of Klay as his body goes rigid above me and he pulses inside me. Hot fluid spreads inside me, nearly igniting me again.
As my thoughts fall back into place in my mind, I remember how Klay and I finished in the hospital, tangled together just like this, our bodies pressed so tightly together, but I knew our thoughts were less compatible.
I saw his family as a heavyweight that would only pull him under the tidal wave that was coming. Vince, Leon, and his mother didn’t deserve to suffer, but Klay didn’t, either, and he didn’t need to martyr himself for people who didn’t appreciate it. His brothers were devoted to the Society. His mother was consumed by opioids. If any of them was strong enough to leave, it was Klay, but he was too immersed in the idea of being their savior.
I know now that my intentions were good, but I should have accepted that he’d never let them go. His loyalty was one of the best parts of him.
“The Society…” I say.
He’s lying down on top of me, but his weight is on his arms. He looks down at me, his eyes widening.
“You remember?”
“Not all of it,” I say. “But most of it. The Hunt. You had to compete with two other sons—I’m assuming Roman and Ethan. Your father found out about us. He decided to give you the advantage by manipulating the other families into thinking I’m a good choice. Something happened after that. I feel like we already went through the Hunt.”
“We did. Your…we had to erase your memory again. I’m sorry. I told you everything, and my father went crazy. The only way to save you from making a choice—from ruining the rest of your life—was to get everyone to agree to erase your memories again. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“I know you did what was best for me,” I say. I blot out a bead of sweat on his shoulder.
“What do you want to do now?” he asks. “You had trouble acting like you didn’t know in front of my father last time.”
“I don’t want my memory erased again,” I say. “I understand that we had to do it last time, but…I hate this. I hate being in the dark. I hate forgetting about you. I hate what happened to my grandmother. It’s all…I don’t want to keep replaying the same parts of my life. I want to move on. And, Klay, I want you to win. You should win. I know you can.”
“The rules changed,” he says. “They mixed things up. In order for me to win, you’d have to be willing to sign your life choices over to a conservator. They’d be able to have complete control over your life, because any time you’d want to make any major choice, they would be able to consent or deny it for you. They’d have control of your money, whether or not you could travel, your medical decisions, where you live, whether you’re allowed to go into any legal agreement including a marital one or leasing. They could prevent you from going to college, and they would be allowed to control who you interact with. And they could get you to do anything they wanted under the threat that they’d rip your life out from under you. It would be hellish. It’d be like blackmail but worse. And legal.”
“That’s fine if it’s you,” I say. “That’s great. Last time you said it was a medical procedure. This is better than I thought. We could—”
“I’m not the conservator,” he says. “My father is.”
Oh.
Oh, God.
His eyes are searching mine. He must see the panic torpedoing through my eyes. I blink several times, licking my lips to prepare myself for what I need to say.
“I still want you to win,” I say. “If that means your father has to be my conservator, I’d prefer that over forgetting you again.”
“You don’t know what you’re agreeing to,” he says.
I look back at him. “You’re the first person who truly thought I was smarter than most peo
ple. Don’t think that I don’t understand exactly what I’m agreeing to,” I say. “But I meant what I said. I don’t want to forget you again. And if you try to do anything that will make me forget you again, I won’t forgive you. I’ll remember this, and I’ll remember that you didn’t respect what I wanted.”
He pulls away from me. “I don’t know if I can do that.”
His body is a stunning piece of architecture, all of the smooth lines, the symmetry, and the way it evokes a sense of safety. If I could exist beside him or in the palm of his hand, I would find happiness in even the worst disasters.
“I love you,” I say.
He gives me a smile that breaks through the stone of his structure. “I love you, too.”
I pull him back toward me. I let him construct his foundation over me, so we can build something new, even when the ground is on a fault line.
29
Klay
Sadie sits beside me on my family’s leather loveseat in the living room. She’s wearing a red turtleneck and a pair of sweatpants. I assume she’s trying to be less attractive, but it’s barely working. Her discomfort wafts over me like the odor of gasoline.
Across from us, my father sits in his leather armchair. His smug face surveys us, barely hiding his smile.
“Sadie has agreed to sign the contract,” I say.
Sadie nods once. My father glances between the two of us.
“And you’re good with this Klay?” he asks.
“It’s what Sadie wants,” I say. “She doesn’t want to go through the Hunt again. She doesn’t want to lose her memories, or for her grandmother to be affected by this. Her decision isn’t what I want, but it’s what she wants, and I need to ensure my future and my family’s future.”
“The contract is in my tablet,” he says. “If you—”
“I already took it,” I say, taking it off the side table.
I slide it over to him. He picks it up.
“I’m going to read through it and ensure nothing was changed. That won’t be a problem, will it?” he asks, studying my face for any sign of deception.
