WE ARE ONE: Volume Two

by Jewel, Bella

  Ace sighs, her head tipping back against the headrest behind her. “She wants me to teach her all I know.”

  “What?” Echo glances sideways. “You never told me that.”

  “Because I’m not going to. I have enough on my plate without worrying about the fate of a little wannabe car thief.”

  Echo snorts. “How jaded you’ve become.”

  With both girls occupied, I pull my phone out and tap a brief message to Fox.

  Me: The Porsche is delivered.

  He knows what to do from there.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Arcadia

  It’s Tuesday night, and I’m stuffing my bag with clothes for another boost and an overnight stay at Kelly’s.

  The scuffle involving the Porsche seems to be a one-off. We boosted two more cars the following week without incident. And another two the week after that. But Mason is growing more suspicious with each day that passes. He’s keeping a closer eye on my schedule and asking outrageously probing questions about my daily activities. I’m peppered with them whenever I return from being out. He’s not just asking where I’ve been, he’s following it up with questions about my subjects that day, and what did I learn, or what did you eat for dinner at Echo’s house … I’ve told him that’s where I’ve been staying because I still haven’t brought up the subject of Kelly. I just can’t. Even thinking about it makes my stomach knot.

  I’m stuffing my headphones in my bag when a tap comes at my open bedroom door. I pause and turn my head.

  Mason is there, his chin is jutting out, which means he’s prepping for an argument. “You’re going out?”

  I keep my voice light. “Yep.”

  “Where?”

  After zipping my overnight bag, I sling it over my shoulder and face my brother.

  “Let me guess,” he says before I can answer, sarcasm thick in his voice. “Echo’s.”

  I shrug, tucking my hands in the back pocket of my jeans. “Good guess.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “I don’t want an argument, Mason.” I leave my room, walking around his chair to get to the front door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  My hand turns the door knob.

  “Don’t you dare walk out that door!”

  His voice cracks through the room like a whip. I flinch, pausing to take a deep breath before I turn around. Mason is facing me, fury painting red slashes high on his cheeks.

  “Enough,” I bark. “I shouldn’t have to account to you for every minute of my day. You’re my big brother, not my warden.” My voice rises. “This house isn’t meant to be a prison!”

  “You’re right. You shouldn’t have to account for each minute. But ever since you met that Sentinel,” he spits with heat, “you’ve changed.” He waves a hand at me. “You have shadows beneath your eyes. You’ve lost weight. And you’re failing subjects.”

  “I’m not failing—”

  “You are!” he roars, wheeling toward me. “I opened your online university account and saw it for myself.”

  My jaw sets. “You’re snooping on me now?”

  “Yes! Because you don’t talk to me anymore. Your life is falling apart in front of your own eyes and you don’t even seem to care! Ever since he came on the scene. Are you still seeing him?”

  “Mason.” My voice catches.

  My brother stares at me, breathing hard, seeing the torn expression on my face. I can’t stand how we don’t talk anymore. That I have to hide parts of my life from him. Mason and I have always been close. Ace and The Ghost. Together we were wild and crazy. Now we’re just broken and estranged.

  “How could you?” he whispers.

  I swallow, miserable.

  He jerks forward on his chair, angered by my silence. “How could you?” he roars.

  My eyes drop, staring, my mouth falling open. “Mason.” Chills travel over my scalp and down my arms, tiny hairs rising in their wake. “Your toe.”

  “What?” His gaze lowers, seeing nothing. “What are you talking about?”

  I drop my bag, moving closer, staring like my life depends on it. “It moved.”

  “What?” he whispers again.

  Now we’re both staring. Several long moments pass.

  When he eventually speaks, his voice is flat. “You’re seeing things.”

  Maybe I am. Mason is right. Dark shadows rest beneath my eyes. I’m tired, but it’s almost a manic kind of tired. Kelly and I can’t keep our hands off each other. Along with planning and executing boosts, and trying to pay attention in lectures—not to mention study and work on assignments—I’m burning the candle at both ends.

  “Try doing it again,” I say.

  “Do what again?” he says, his voice rising. “Wriggle my toe? Because I’m trying to wriggle it, Ace. You standing there staring at it isn’t helping!”

  “There!” I point at it. “You moved it again.”

  This time he sees. After a charged silence, he lifts his head. His hands are gripping tight to the arms of his chair, and his lower lip wobbles. “Ace,” he whispers.

  Suddenly it’s just the two of us again. Ace and The Ghost. And then we spring into action. “Right, you call your doctor,” I tell him.

  He’s already wheeling toward the dining table where his phone sits. “On it.”

  “I’ll get the car.”

  “What car?” he asks distractedly, his eyes on the screen.

  “Echo’s.” I open the front door, scooping my bag up as I walk out. “She left it here yesterday. We can go in that.”

  The minute I step outside, I’m on my phone. Kelly answers after two rings.

  “Babe.”

  “I can’t go tonight. I have a … a thing.”

  “What thing?” he asks as I jog down the porch steps.

  “It’s nothing.”

  “It’s not nothing if you aren’t comin’. We’re supposed to boost another car tonight. It’s all planned,” he points out as if I didn’t know.

  “It’s just … Mason moved his toe.”

  He sounds incredulous. “And that’s nothing?”

  “It’s not nothing. It’s just …” I open the back passenger door and toss my bag in.

  “It’s just what? He doesn’t know the two of us are seein’ each other so you feel like you can’t talk to me about him?”

  My sigh is heavy as I shut the door and move to the boot, popping it open in readiness for Mason’s chair. “Maybe a little.”

  “Then he needs to know.”

  “I’m pretty sure he already does.”

  “And?”

  “And nothing! We were arguing about it and then his toe moved. So now we need to get to his doctor and get him checked over.”

  “Ok. Was that so hard to tell me?”

  “Yes!”

  “Jesus, babe. Ok. Go do your thing. Echo and I will deal with the car.”

  Surprise hits me hard in the chest. “You need to cancel our plans. You can’t do this without me.”

  “Yes we can.”

  “No.”

  Mason exits the front door, looking happier than I’ve seen him in over a year. He turns his chair and starts wheeling down the ramp.

  “I have to go,” I hiss into the phone. “Do not steal that car.”

  “We’ll be fine, babe,” he says and hangs up. I’m left with dial tone in my ear and a sense of foreboding in my belly.

  After helping Mason into the car, I stow his wheelchair in the boot and slam it closed. “Where are we going?” I ask, reversing out the drive.

  “The hospital. My doctor’s there on call. He said to come straight in to the ER and they can page him.”

  I take one hand off the wheel and reach blindly for his, giving it a squeeze. “Mason.”

  He squeezes back. “I know. But it’s just my toe and it hasn’t moved since … so don’t get your hopes up, okay? I remember what you were like during my physical therapy. It wore you down to a shadow.”

  “You never worked hard enough,”
I mutter.

  “Maybe I didn’t, but you can forgive me for being a little bitter. I’m working hard now.”

  I let go of his hand and return it to the wheel. Maybe it’s time while we’re both feeling positive. “About Kelly—”

  “Not now.” He holds up his hand, cutting me off. “One thing at a time okay. Let’s just do this, and later, when we’re home, you can try and explain why you’re with a man who’s ruining your life. A man whose biker gang shot me in the back.”

  “Mason—”

  “Later.”

  “That’s unfair,” I mutter.

  It’s not until we’re inside the ER that things go pear-shaped. Mason and I are by the front reception of the emergency department. His doctor has been paged and we remain by the counter, waiting patiently. It’s busy for a Tuesday. Most beds appear occupied. Doctors and nurses scurry, moving beds or pulling curtains. Potential patients sit in waiting room chairs, their expressions either pained or miserable.

  We turn from the depressing scene when Doctor Edie arrives, an elderly man in his mid-sixties who’s seen a lifetime of patients like my brother. They chat for a moment, catching up while I pretend to pay attention. My mind is on Kelly. He shouldn’t be doing this. He’s going to mess it up without me. I need to call him again.

  “Ace?”

  My eyes refocus. Doctor Edie and Mason are moving toward a hall that leads away from the emergency department.

  “What?”

  “I said did you want to just wait for me in the cafeteria? You should go get yourself something to eat.”

  “No, I’m good.” I start toward them. “I’ll—”

  The entrance doors to the ER burst open behind me. A groaning patient is being stretchered in by paramedics, along with a doctor and nurse. They converse in urgent bursts, yelling stats and moving fast. My eyes shift to one of the paramedics. I jolt in shock. It’s Lee. Sentinels Lee. Kelly’s friend Lee. I didn’t know he was a paramedic. Actually, I don’t know anything about Kelly’s friends. Or his life. Suddenly it seems imperative that I find out.

  Lee looks at me. I know he wants to nod an acknowledgement of my presence because it’s in his eyes. But I see his gaze shift to Mason in the hall. It comes back to me and then it moves on. Moments later they’re gone.

  It’s all over in a split second.

  “Actually, I think I will grab something to eat,” I tell my brother.

  He appears relieved. They disappear out of sight, and I pull out my phone, dialling Kelly. He doesn’t answer.

  Me: Dammit. Answer your phone.

  I try calling again. Nothing. Ten fidgety minutes pass. I try again. Nothing. So I dial Echo, who always answers. Nothing. My panic ramps up a notch, my sense of foreboding reaching greater heights.

  Lee and his partner burst out of the back doors, wheeling an empty stretcher. His eyes return to me. Then they look for my brother. When he doesn’t see Mason, he gives me a nod.

  “Lee.” I put a hand on his arm, pausing their momentum. “How are you?”

  “Busy.” Then he must realise how abrupt that sounds because he offers a brief smile, one that hints at concern. “You okay?”

  “Well … It’s just … I can’t get hold of Kelly.”

  His eyes zero in on me. “You worried?”

  I am, but I can’t tell him why. I don’t know what Kelly may or may not have divulged. “Yeah.”

  “You got good reason to be worried?”

  Lee’s radio crackles to life. He holds up a finger, pausing our conversion to listen. It’s static noise to me. I don’t know how he hears it properly.

  “… car gone over cliff … rescue chopper … extraction. Need you onsite.”

  Lee replies. “On our way. ETA ten minutes.”

  “What car?” I mutter, swallowing bile. “What car, Lee? What car?”

  He gets back on the radio and asks.

  “… Firebird … smashed …”

  My knees give out. I lean back against the ER counter behind me, taking slow, sickening breaths. Were we planning on stealing a Firebird tonight? I’m too panicked to remember.

  “Ace?” Lee sees my struggle and takes my shoulders, standing close enough that I can’t look anywhere but in his eyes. “You are not okay. What’s goin’ on?”

  Kelly’s friend seems so big and capable, and caring. It’s almost enough to have me falling apart all over him, but then my phone comes to life in my hand, saving me from an embarrassing display. It’s Kelly. Oh my god. My eyes burn and the sudden relief leaves me shaky.

  “I’m fine. Kelly’s fine.” I gulp in air and force a smile, showing him the ringing phone so he can see that Kelly is calling me.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure, Lee. I’m worrying over nothing. You should go.”

  He grasps my chin and lifts my face, looking in my eyes as if he needs to make sure I speak the truth. Then he nods, appeased. “Take care of yourself.”

  “You too,” I reply as he steps back toward the stretcher behind him. I answer the phone, watching as Lee and his partner push through the entrance doors, and then they’re gone.

  “You’re okay.”

  “I’m fine, babe. What’s the matter?”

  I go to answer when I’m hit with an earth-shattering realisation. The Firebird was the car that we caught Racer trying to boost for us. After that night, we’d told him we’d since taken care of it, which we hadn’t because it’s now sitting in the too hard basket. We told him the matter was closed so that he would leave it alone.

  Maybe he didn’t believe us.

  Maybe he went to check for himself and found out we lied.

  Maybe he took the car.

  My anxiety rockets through the roof of the building. I can’t get any air.

  Racer.

  “Nothing. I just … nothing. I’ll call you back,” I tell him and hang up.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Arcadia

  I call up the contact for my grandfather with trembling fingers.

  Please answer the phone. Please answer the phone.

  The chant runs through my head as I put the device to my ear and listen to it ring.

  “Ace?”

  He answers the phone. My eyes flutter closed, and once again I sag against the reception counter behind me with relief.

  “Hello? Is everything okay?”

  I clear my throat. “Yes, Grandad. Sorry. I think I butt-dialled you.”

  “Young people these days,” he complains. A slight hysterical chuckle escapes me. “The only time I ever hear from my disrespectful grandchildren is when I get butt-dialled!”

  “I call you all the time,” I protest.

  “Never. And I never see you anymore.”

  That’s true. I can’t remember the last time I attended a Sunday family dinner. “I’ll see you this Sunday,” I vow. Racer may be fine, but the thought of almost losing him makes me realise how important it is to spend time with him. My grandad isn’t getting any younger.

  “I’ll believe that when I see it, lassie.”

  We talk for a bit more. I mention Mason’s big toe, and he sounds cautiously optimistic. He tells me his garage has finished it’s rebuild. He’s joined the structure to the house so now he can access the space from inside. He’s also getting the builders back on Saturday to help build a greenhouse in the yard for his vegetables.

  We end the call and I walk on unsteady legs to the waiting area, moving past the ill and the bored without seeing them at all. The adrenaline from tonight’s events has worn off, and I need to sit down. I find myself a quiet corner and curl up in the seat like a turtle retreating to its shell.

  My hands are still trembling, and my stomach is churning. I can’t remember when I last ate. I can’t remember when I last had a normal day. My life is a rollercoaster, and I want to get off. Let me off.

  Anxiety is an insidious emotion. One that lingers inside of me like a virus. It slowly wanes as I breathe through my belly, staring out through
the automatic glass doors of the ER entrance while I wait for Mason. There’s not much to see. Just an acre of concrete with a few leafy trees dotted in between to decorate the urban jungle.

  “Ace?” I turn my head. My brother is in front of me. “I looked for you in the cafeteria.”

  “I got held up talking to Racer on the phone,” I croak and clear my throat. “How did you go?”

  He shrugs and backs up his chair as I rise. We start toward the exit together. “He wants to increase my physical therapy and do more scans. There might be more surgery in my future.”

  Initially we were told that Mason’s recovery would be a long road, but they never told us the road was endless. The idea of him dealing with months back in hospital makes me ache.

  We reach the Ford. I take a breath. The urge to crouch so I can meet his eyes properly is strong. I resist because he finds it demeaning. “We’ve got this, Mason.”

  “No, Ace. We don’t.”

  “That’s unfair.”

  “Not being able to walk is unfair.”

  “You’re right. It is unfair. You saved my life that night, Mason, but the price you paid was painfully high.” My voice wobbles. “And I’m so sorry for that.”

  “Damn straight I saved your life. And now you’re pissing it away on a Sentinel,” he spits.

  “Mason—”

  My brother turns his head, his mussed hair ruffling in the breeze. He’s giving me the silent treatment. I’m a little relieved. I can’t argue anymore. It’s been a long day and my tank is empty.

  I open the car door and wait, allowing him his independence. Watching him struggle to slide inside a car when it was something he used to do with joy is so hard. It’s so hard.

  * * *

  It’s not until I climb into bed that night that I remember my essay on national and foreign markets is due the next day. So Wednesday finds me in the quad on campus, seated at an outdoor table in the sunshine near my lecture hall because the library tables are full, furiously typing on my laptop. I can’t fail another assessment. It will mean failing the course, making this entire semester a complete waste.