I nodded. Rafe was blocking me fully. I couldn’t hear his thoughts, and I couldn’t even gauge his mood. It made me very nervous.
“You had an eventful day on Monday,” he said, taking a bite of his pizza slice.
I raised my eyebrows. “How did you know?”
He finished chewing and swallowed. “Sam called my grandfather Monday night, filled him in. Plus, you know.” He shrugged. “Small community. We hear things.”
I didn’t know how to react to that bit of information. So Rafe had known about my close call with Marica. He hadn’t called; he hadn’t tried to see me. I knew it was wrong, but a part of me was hurt and a little outraged. I tried to hold it in, but I couldn’t.
“So nice of you to call and make sure I was okay.” Sarcasm oozed out of every word.
“I didn’t think you’d want to see me. Not after the hospital.” Rafe finished his pizza and pushed away the plastic plate.
I fiddled with my water bottle. “Did Sam tell you why I was there—at Marica’s?” I glanced down at the other end of the table, but the junior girls were absorbed in their own conversation.
“Yes.” Rafe wadded his napkin into a ball and tossed it onto the plate. “So you ditched all your bad habits this week, huh?” His eyes met mine at last, and I saw the hurt.
“Rafe, I-” I wasn’t sure exactly what to say to him, but I didn’t get the chance anyway. He stood up and stalked out of the cafeteria.
I waited for a minute before I grabbed his trash, tossed it away and followed him.
“Rafe, will you please wait? Can we talk?”
He sighed and shoved his hand through his hair. “Haven’t we done this, Tas? Like. . over and over again? I push, you retreat, I pull back and you can’t handle it. I thought Monday was the end.”
I thought about what he said. He wasn’t wrong, and that was something I had to remedy.
“I did mean what I said that day, Rafe.” I spoke slowly and thoughtfully. “I don’t think we’re good for each other. I haven’t been fair to you. What you just said—you’re right. I’m really sorry, Rafe.”
“Yeah, me, too.” He stood with his hands in his pockets, looking down at me. And then he reached out just one finger and caressed my cheek. My breath caught for a moment before I brushed his hand away.
“See, Tas?” He spoke low, barely above a whisper. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe we’re not good for each other. But don’t lie to yourself. It’s more than just me pushing, more than you. . feeling sorry for me. There’s a spark. You might not like it, but don’t pretend it’s not there.”
I swallowed hard and nodded. “I want us to be friends, Rafe. But if that’s going to be too hard, you need to tell me.”
He didn’t answer, and I turned to leave.
“Tas.” I stopped but didn’t face him. I wasn’t sure how much more either of us could stand.
“How long did it take? For you to call Michael?”
I bit my lip. “I—I didn’t. I sent him an email.”
“Ah.” There was a load of ironic humor packed into that single syllable. “And how did that work out for you? Are the dynamic duo back together?”
“I haven’t heard from him yet.”
“I’m sure he’ll call soon.” I felt his hand brush over the back of my hair. “But if not...you know where I live.”
I heard his departing footsteps. It took all of my budding new willpower not to turn around and go after him.
The rest of the afternoon was quiet, and so was the next day. I went through each class on autopilot, trying to find my normal again. There were whispers now about the mysterious disappearance of the chemistry teacher, but no one in King was going to miss Marica Lacusta.
Getting back to normal, I decided, was not unlike adjusting to a new school and town. It felt as though I was relearning everything, establishing new habits and boundaries.
I called my mother to check in the minute I walked in the door every afternoon. At dinner every night, I shared each detail of my day; I was so anxious for them to know that I wasn’t keeping any more secrets.
They never asked me if I had heard from Michael. I think they knew that if that happened, it would be the first thing I’d tell them. They were being tactful, but their sympathy was nearly my undoing each evening when the phone was silent.
I was struggling, too, not to use the powers that I’d been so carefully cultivating over the past months. It was hard to keep a stopper on the emotions that threatened to let loose a windstorm or make things fly around the room. I wondered if I needed some kind of de-tox program: Magiks Annonymous?
On Thursday afternoon, I stopped to see Amber before coming home. It was late afternoon by the time I walked into my empty house, and out of habit, I carefully locked the door behind me before settling down to some homework.
I had just opened my French book when I heard the doorbell. I frowned, wondering who it might be and trying not to think of whom I wished it were.
I was very surprised to see Caroline Brooks standing on my front porch. In her elegant suit and heels, she looked out of place although completely at ease.
I invited her inside and offered her a chair and some tea. She accepted the first and declined the second.
“Tasmyn, I’m sure you didn’t expect me this afternoon, and I’m very sorry to drop by without calling.”
“That’s okay,” I replied feebly, not sure of what to say.
“I’ll be brief. Please rest assured that I am not here to plead my grandson’s cause with you. I love Rafe dearly, as I am sure you know. He is an extraordinary young man. I also know that he has fancied himself in love with you since he arrived in King.”
I blushed and tried to formulate an answer. Mrs. Brooks held up one hand.
“No need to say anything, Tasmyn, dear. I know that your heart belongs elsewhere. I could tell that from the moment we met, but I will admit, I did hope. . well, that perhaps with time, you would be able to love Rafe, too.”
“I do love him,” I murmured. “But just not the way he wants me to.”
She smiled. “I understand. But as I said, that’s not why I am here. As I think Rafe told you, Sam Lawrence shared with us the details of your unfortunate encounter with Marica Lacusta.” She shook her head. “I’m terribly sorry that things ended as they did. I was afraid—well, I think I warned you. I blame myself that I wasn’t more specific or perhaps even clearer about the danger. I’m very glad that you’re all right, dear.”
I smiled. I liked Rafe’s grandmother, and I knew that no matter how strident her warnings had been, I wouldn’t have heeded them. “Thanks, Mrs. Brooks. It was my own fault. Rafe tried to tell me—I just wasn’t in a place to listen.”
“And that is precisely why I’m here. I know that you went through a very difficult time. It occurred to me that you might benefit from talking to someone who could help you make sense of everything you experienced—and who could help you learn some balance.”
I knit my brows together. “Are you saying—do you mean you?”
“Oh, no.” She shook her head. “No, I’m not qualified for such a thing. I know a little about this and that, but I couldn’t give you what you need.” She drew something from her purse and handed it to me. It was a small cream-colored card. Written in flowing script was a name and telephone number.
“This woman has experience with cases such as yours. She’s from one of the original King families, and she understands things—well, things that are out of the ordinary.” Mrs. Brooks smiled at me. “I promise you, Tasmyn, she is very discreet. Trust me.”
“I’ll have to talk it over with my parents,” I said, looking dubiously at the card.
“I would urge you to do that. I am so relieved that you aren’t keeping secrets from them any longer. You know that can tear families apart.” She looked so prim as she said this that I almost laughed. It was hard to believe that she was descended from one of the most mystically connected families in this whole crazy town.
“Is this a local number?” I asked her, looking curiously at the card again.
“No, it’s not. Actually, Aline practices a little north of here. Quite near Perriman College, in fact.” She arched one brow meaningfully at me.
I quickly tamped down the flare of hurt. “Why would that matter?”
She smiled again, and reached toward me to touch my cheek, so like Rafe that I cringed a little. “Time will tell. Have a little faith.” She rose, all business again as she turned toward the door.
“Thank you, Mrs. Brooks. I appreciate you thinking about me. And please-” I struggled to find the right words. “Take care of Rafe. I hate that I hurt him. And I miss him. But don’t tell him that.”
Her smile this time had more than a touch of sadness. “I know, Tasmyn. But don’t worry. He’ll recover. As will you.” With a little wave over her shoulder, she slipped through the door.
I puzzled for a few minutes over her last cryptic words. As will you? What was I going to recover from? Did she mean Michael? Or was she referring to my feelings toward Rafe?
I went back to my homework, but my mind remained preoccupied with everything Caroline Brooks had said.
I came home from school on Friday with a heavy heart. It had been three days, and I hadn’t heard a word from Michael. It didn’t make any sense to me. Why would he call me every night for months while I ignored him, and then stop the minute I reached out?
The house was silent. My mother and father were both still at work; when I called to tell my mom that I was home, I could tell she was busy, and I didn’t keep her on the line. I had considered stopping to visit with Amber as I had the day before, but I decided I wasn’t in the right state of mind. When I had told her the whole story of Marica, Rafe and Michael, she had listened patiently and nodded wisely.
“You did the right thing,” she told me. “I mean with Rafe. He’s not a bad guy. He’s just not the one for you.” She smiled encouragingly. “But the one—your one—don’t worry. It’s going to work out.”
I arched a questioning brow. “Have you heard from Michael?”
She shook her head, but the serene smile never wavered. “No. But I don’t have any doubts. And you shouldn’t either.”
I was trying. I thought that maybe he had needed time to come to terms with everything, to think about what he wanted to do. But now I was beginning to fear I really was horribly naïve.
Why would he want me back, after everything I’d done to hurt him? He didn’t even owe me the courtesy of a reply. It was all on me, completely my own fault.
I took a deep breath and blew it out. So what did I do now? I flopped on my bed for a few minutes, staring up at the ceiling. I thought about the future.
Senior year was nearly over. It had been like nothing I’d ever expected. I remembered the plans Michael and I had made. He was going to come home to take me to my senior prom, which was coming up in a few weeks. And then after graduation, we were going to drive up to Perriman so that I could attend freshman orientation. We were going to spend the summer working together at the nursery, and in August, we would drive to college together. And we wouldn’t have to be apart again.
A tear trickled down the side of my face, and angrily I wiped it away. I was so sick of crying. I jumped up from the bed and opened a dresser drawer, looking for the file I kept with all the college information Perriman had sent in the fall, after my early acceptance. I had never changed my admission there, and I hadn’t looked at any other schools either. I guessed I could always attend the local community college. It was close; I could live at home, if Perriman wasn’t an option—and I couldn’t imagine going there. Seeing Michael every day or knowing he was that close would kill me.
I shut the drawer and pulled open another one. Smiling a little through my sniffles, I took out the picture of Michael and me and put it back in its place on the dresser. And then I carefully lay the half sand dollar on top of my jewelry box.
I heard a sound at the front door and looked up in alarm. It was going to take a while for me to learn to relax again, not to always be on guard, expecting to see Marica around the next corner.
There was another rapping sound, and I shook my head, annoyed at my own skittishness. Marica was under lock and key, and no one was going to try to hurt me.
I glanced out the side window, but I couldn’t see anyone on the porch. Probably just a package delivery, I reassured myself as I opened the door.
Michael stood in the doorway. I sucked in a breath and stared while my head spun and my heart galloped.
Everything I had imagined saying to him, all the words, the explanations and apologies had disappeared from my head. I couldn’t utter a single word.
He held open his arms, and I fell into them. As he held me against him—so close, and yet not close enough; it would never again be close enough for me—I heard his wonderfully familiar thoughts exactly mirroring my own mind.
I’m home.
Hopeless
A Rafe Short
I don’t believe in hell or even purgatory. Or at least I didn’t until the end of my senior year of high school.
Like most everything else, I went at it backwards. I lived hell for two months before I graduated to limbo. Lucky me.
Because, yeah, being with her every day, seeing her, feeling her near me, yet knowing I no longer had the right to touch her, to talk to her—that was hell. Watching her struggle back from the edge she’d dangled over—and knowing I wasn’t allowed to help—excruciating. Overhearing her talk about him—about being with him—give me eternal fire any day.
Each morning I dreaded getting out of my car, and each afternoon I came home and shut myself in my room. Or ran. I ran a lot.
My grandparents didn’t say anything, and I loved them for that. I might have been able to feel their compassion, but they didn’t try to offer me words. They just stood back and let me go through it. Because I didn’t have any other choice but to put my head down and bull through it.
When graduation day finally arrived, I was almost giddy. The guy who sat next to me thought I was drunk. Nope, that would come later. I knew relief was just within reach. After that day, I’d never have to see her again. Wouldn’t have to hear her voice, that sweet voice that still tore up my insides and made me want to drop to my knees and keen. Wouldn’t have to feel her presence—and her power--before I turned a corner in the school.
Yeah, thinking things through was never really my biggest strength.
Because it hit me, sitting there at graduation, listening to some school board member drone on about endings and beginnings and shit like that. I wasn’t going to see her again. After today, she would be completely beyond my reach. Unless we happened to run into one another—which I was going to make damn sure didn’t happen—this would be the end. The end of us.
Like there had ever really been an us.
For a few months, I had hoped. That night at the town green, listening to a half-decent band while we were out on a date I’d tricked her into, I had dared to hope. When she rose up on her knees next to me and kissed me, I had more than hoped. I’d dreamed. I’d believed.
I could make her forget him. I was more than enough for her. We were the ones who were supposed to be together. It might even have been part of that stupid King destiny crap I’d hated my whole life.
Okay, so I was delusional.
But for months, I let myself think it was possible. I kissed her whenever I could, I couldn’t keep my hands off her. I tried to pull her away from that she-demon. I wanted to save her life, because part of me thought if I did, she could be mine forever.
Yep. Delusional.
So now here we were at graduation, and it was hitting me that today was my last chance. No more do-overs. If I could get her alone, even for a second, just remind her how good we were together—maybe there was still a chance.
Once the first notes of that stupid graduation march began to play, I booked it out of the gym. I pushed and shoved and almost knocked pe
ople off their chairs, but none of them cared, because they’d just graduated high school, and weren’t they the shit?
All the new graduates were streaming onto the lawn outside the school. Some of the people who had been closer to the front than me were already there, and I used my height to scan the crowd until I saw her.
Amber reached her before I did and grabbed her into a hug. I slowed my steps, hoping someone would distract the other girl, pull her attention away and give me my chance.
But I couldn’t seem to stop walking toward her. I dodged other people in robes and kept my eyes fastened on her.
Her back was to me, but I knew it was only a matter of time before she felt me near her. I’d been blocking my thoughts from her ability to hear them since that day when she’d nearly killed Amber—and then destroyed me, just by accident. But I couldn’t block my feelings. Not effectively, anyway. I saw her stiffen and her hands clench as I stood just behind her.
She turned, and I could nearly touch her. The same longing and pain rolling through me were echoed on her face, but I knew it was only that—an echo. It wasn’t what she really felt, which was probably more like pity and regret.
I cleared my throat. “Congratulations, Tasmyn.”
She sucked in a quick breath, her chest rising beneath the robes. She glanced away, licking her lips. Desire like nothing I’d felt for months almost dropped me to the ground. I wanted to grab her, kiss her until she realized again how right we were. Push her to test those boundaries with me. I wanted to take her, right then and there, with all the graduates, teachers and school board looking on.
She took a step backward, away from me, almost staggering. Her hands shook. Yeah, she was still tuned into my feelings. No doubt.
Amber, who had been standing by without saying a word up to now, did what she always did best. She smoothed over the tension between us and stepped up to me, wrapping her arms around me in a tight, brief hug.
“You, too, Rafe.”
King Series Box Set Page 74
