Don’t make up with him. I have to try.
He walks to the stones, climbing to the ledge on the second layer. He holds out his hand to me and I take it, his touch dancing through me, buzzing and warm. When I sit down beside him on the smooth white surface, he releases my hand, and I’m cold inside.
It’s silent.
The sky is clear and ribbons of stars sparkle against the black and the purple. The moon hangs beneath the trees, sending blinking slices of shadows and light.
“It’s beautiful,” I say and then cover my mouth. He’s not watching the sky. He’s watching me. I shrink under his gaze and tear myself away. There’s so much I want to say, want him to say. I wish he would touch me again. He looks down to the ground and rests his hands on his knees.
“There’s a legend about this place,” he says. “My dad always said it was just a story, but others say it’s true. Nobody really knows for sure or maybe they don’t remember. I imagine after hundreds of years, things just start to run together.” He doesn’t look up and my gaze follows his to the ground. His stare is hard as if all the answers lie beneath us, but all I find is dirt, branches, dead leaves from last fall. Cold air soaks into my skin, and I curl my numb fingers into fists and wrap my arms around my chest. It’s quiet, except for the thump-thump-thumping of my heart.
“This legend. It is about a Perseidian who fell in love with a human. These stones were created so she could contact him, at anytime, anywhere. I always thought it was a legend, until a few weeks ago.”
“When your mom brought you here. That’s what she was doing, contacting your dad?”
“Yes. And that means it’s true. It’s not a legend. And if that’s true, then the legend about the tree on the northern shore could be real too.” Hurt flickers across his face, and my heart squeezes.
“Adam, I—”
“Don’t,” he says. “Just don’t.” He leaps to his feet and paces, his fingers twisting in his hair. “I don’t get it. Don’t you trust me?”
“I do, Adam. Completely.” I leap to face him.
“Then why are you listening to him?”
“He saved us twice from the Nexians. I was planning on telling you about it, but he showed up first. I’m so scared right now. Very scared. And I would do anything or talk to anybody if I think they could keep me from losing you.”
He sits back down on the stones and closes his eyes. The air blows between us like a thick wall.
“There have been Perseidians here on earth for hundreds of years. They left families behind, loved ones, to find a power great enough to destroy the Nexians and free their planet. And they found that with the Nexus. But they need someone without Perseidian blood who can operate it and someone with Perseidian blood who can survive the return to Perseida to operate it.”
“And that’s you?”
“Or my brother. But until I can find him and convince him to go, or until I can convince my dad that I'm not capable of going, we need to be careful. There are Nexians, Perseidians and even some humans who would do anything to prevent me from going. Anything.”
“You mean Zane,” I say.
“He killed people. Why can’t you believe that?”
“Why did he save us then?”
“I don’t know.” Irritation is written on Adam’s features, and my stomach shifts. “Because he wanted to get your trust. Apparently, it worked. He killed people, Sage. Killed them and he doesn’t care. He’ll kill you too.”
I sit next to him and press my face into my hands. I’m numb and unable to think. Adam lets out a gusty breath, and his fingers curl around my shoulder.
“I’m sorry.” My voice is small, drowning in the vast forest surrounding us. Quiet follows, and we sit and sit and sit. The night and the animals and the wind passes around us, but we sit.
“Me too.” Adam breaks the silence. “I don’t want to fight with you anymore over this. It’s over.” His lips lift into a tiny smile. “Just promise me, Sage. Promise me you’ll tell me everything and stay away from him.”
“Okay, I promise.”
“You work tomorrow, right?” His eyes study me, his face cloudy with thoughts.
“Until noon.”
“Good. I’m picking you up.” His smile widens, and his arm is around me, pulling me close. I rest my head against his chest and listen to his heartbeat.
I inhale, smelling the pine, bark, crisp leaves, and his soap. And the ache, the burning ache paralyzing me inside. We’re okay in this moment.
I don’t want to think about tomorrow.
Chapter Forty-Four
Adam drops me off on the road in case Mark is still awake. His jaw tenses and his lips mash together, and I know he’s not happy about leaving me here.
I cling to the shadows beneath the trees and move in silence. I’m inches from the house, when hands twist my arms and push me up against the siding. Face to face with Zane, his fingers touch my lips, begging me to be silent.
I shake free and thrust my hands into his chest and a fist into his jaw. “What the hell—?”
“What the hell are you doing?” he asks pressing fingers to his jaw. “I gave you such simple instructions. Now you’ve gone and screwed everything up.”
My fist stings from hitting him, and I rub my knuckles.
“No,” I say. “I never agreed to this. Now stay away from me, or I’ll call Adam.”
He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Yeah, I’m really, really scared.” He steps back and shrugs. “If that’s how you want to play it though, then good luck to you. You’re going to need it. And watch out for that boyfriend of your mom’s. He’s still awake.”
I shake my head, turn my back on him, and tiptoe until I can peek around the house. The front is empty. I’m about to sneak to the door when warm breath tickles my neck. Turning, I find Zane’s face in mine. He’s close enough that I can feel his heat on my skin and hear his heartbeat.
“I thought you were leaving,” I hiss.
He lifts an eyebrow and gives me a half-smile. “You were supposed to stop me.” There’s almost a desperate hint to his voice. What kind of game is he playing?
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you’re supposed to realize how stupid you’re being.”
“Maybe I’m not being stupid,” I say. “Maybe telling Adam was the smart thing to do. And I’m starting to feel like you want to help us more than I want you to help us. What do you want so badly from Adam’s dad?”
There’s a flicker of something in his eyes. Sadness. Regret. He looks away and blinks, before looking back at me, the I’m-too-cool-for-this glint back in his eyes. “So, how’s Adam’s little tree plan working? Has he even got to the tree yet?”
“No, but he says he will. And I believe him. He’s been my best friend for half my life and I believe him.” I forget about Mark and the volume of my voice increases to a roar. I clamp my hands over my mouth and peek around the corner again. Empty.
“You’re wrong.”
“You’re not going to change my mind. I believe Adam. I’ve known you for like ten minutes and you expect me to believe you’re right and he’s wrong. I don’t think so.”
“I’m not saying he’s wrong.” Zane’s voice drops to a whisper. “I’m saying you’re wrong.” He leans in so close our noses nearly touch. I lose myself for a moment in his eyes; they’re so much like Adam’s, a mixture of both amusement and wonder at the world. They change like the lake, only his are a cloudy day, while Adam’s reflect the clearest skies.
I break from his gaze and peek back at the house. The light’s still on in the garage. “So, he is right about the tree?” Shivering, I turn back to Zane and cross my arms squeezing against my heart flopping in my chest.
“Possibly. There’s been a lot of interest from the Nexians and Perseidians in that tree for it just to be a tree.”
“So he is right. See, even you’re saying he’s right.” I shake my head at him and wrinkle my nose.
“Yeah, for
all the good it does him. Laris isn’t going to let him near it.”
“He’s going to figure out a way.”
“No, he’s not.”
“He will.”
“No, he’s not.” He presses his hands on my shoulders, his fingers digging into my back. “Laris isn’t going to let him near that tree or anywhere else. He’s not going to let him stay here. Adam is too valuable to Laris….too valuable to Perseida. Adam’s going to need help if he wants to stay.”
“Well, he’ll find the help.”
“Who? The Nexians? They’ll make him use the Nexus till it kills him and you and whoever else gets in the way. Perseidians? They’re not about to go against Laris.”
“So you’re his only hope?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t believe this,” I shake my head and blink, turning from him. More like I don’t want to believe this. Any of this. I don’t want to believe Zane. Why am I even standing here still listening to him?
Because I do believe him. For some strange, inexplicable reason, I completely believe him. But I can’t admit that. Not to Zane, not to Adam, not to myself.
“I don’t believe you.”
“Fine. Be that way. But when he’s gone in two months and you never see him again, don’t come crying to me.” He runs fingers through his hair and across his forehead. He paces while pink creeps into his neck and face. He stops in front of me, and his stony eyes capture mine.
“I am your only hope of a future with Adam. I’ll stick around for now in case you change mind, but don’t wait too long. This offer ain’t good forever.” He turns his back, walks into the trees and disappears.
Chapter Forty-Five
Adam waits for me when my shift is over. He leans against the register, a small smile dancing on his lips. “I thought we should do something fun. Like how we used to.”
“Yes.” I’ve been struggling to keep Zane out of my head all day. We’ll find a way without him. We have to.
“Good. Now here’s the only rule. For the rest of the day, no talking or thinking about this alien stuff whatsoever. Got it?” He bangs his fist against the counter as if he’s a judge with a gavel and I laugh.
“I think I can handle that,” I say, smiling until I see the crowd behind him. “Oh crap.” Brianna stands in the doorway, her friends surrounding her like they’re ants at a picnic and she’s the watermelon. Her face breaks into a sugary smile when she sees Adam. She walks in our direction, opens her mouth and calls his name.
I have but minutes.
Make that seconds.
Adam turns at her voice, and I grab his hand and pull hard, dragging us across the restaurant and through the back doors. I laugh and run, and he runs with me. We dart through the kitchen, past a waitress and cook and down the dim, narrow hallway past the freezer and sinks and bathroom.
We’re in the break room with the round table and mismatched chairs and microwave that rarely works. It’s empty, so I shut the door and lean against it. Adam and I erupt into quiet giggles and airy laughter. “She sure is persistent.”
“Shhh.” Adam presses a finger to his lips, and his eyes grow heavy, and fireworks begin to explode beneath my skin. His hands press against the wall as he surrounds me and his lips reach mine. We kiss. It’s like hot honey, a sweet warmth storming my veins. I wrap my hands around his neck and curl my fingers into his hair. I pull him closer, push myself into him. Somebody knocks on the door. We pull away, and I press my fingers to my swollen lips and breathe. Adam steps back from the door, and I open it expecting Liz or one of the cooks or even Brianna.
I jump when I find Vin filling the doorway. He glances at Adam and nods. My eyes dart to Adam looking for answers, but he’s looking at Vin. They seem to be speaking their own undetectable language.
“Just to the ferry dock,” he says, and Vin nods.
“What?” I ask Adam. “Where are you going?”
“It’s where we are going.” He smiles and holds out his hand. We lace our fingers together. Vin is behind Adam, and he lays his thick hand on his shoulder. Adam leans into me, his breath dancing across my earlobe. “You’ll see,” he whispers.
We’re engulfed in white light, and I’m spinning. I’m light and dizzy and floating, like I’m made of thousands of tiny carbonation bubbles. I can’t feel Adam’s hand. I can’t see him or hear him or touch him. Only light. My heart starts to race, and I open my mouth to call for him when the light begins to fade. As the world returns around me, his fingers tighten on my hand, as if they had been there the whole time.
We’re in front of the entrance to the Mackinac Island Ferry, nearly three hundred miles from Star Harbor. Vin lets go of Adam, and they exchange a knowing nod.
“I wanted to take you further,” he says. “To the ocean or Paris or somewhere you’ve never been. But this was as far as my dad would let me.” He’s still holding my hand and his fingers squeeze mine. “Vin’s staying here, so it’s just the two of us on the island.”
We buy tickets and board the ferry. The sky is clear, only wisps of cotton-wide clouds drifting across. The boat is half full, and we find a bench up top. “Do you remember the last time you were here?” Adam asks, and I smile at him. The summer before eighth grade, Stella drove us both out here for a day. We rode bikes and ate fudge until we were sick. And laughed. So much laughing.
“I remember that ferry ride,” he says. “I looked over and you were laughing, the wind in your hair. I couldn’t breathe. You were so beautiful. I think that’s the moment I fell in love with you.” His gaze sears my skin. I’m swimming underneath the flood of emotions his words bring.
“That was four years ago.” I whisper the words and I wonder if he can hear them, if anyone can hear them, over the sound of my heart.
“I’m a little slow.” It’s a deep growling laugh, and I feel his breath in my ear. “I want to kiss you right now.” Heat presses against my skin, and I feel the eyes of the tourists on the bench across from us. The announcement that the boat is about to dock breaks the moment.
But Adam doesn’t let go of my hand. Not when we get off the ferry. Not when we get caught in the throng of tourists on our way into town. Not when we stop to rent bicycles.
It’s only when I’m ready to climb on mine that our fingers release. “Race you,” I say, pressing the pedals forward before he has a chance to respond. He’s a blur, rushing for his bike as I maneuver my way onto Lakeshore Road.
Minutes later he passes me, and I laugh, speeding up. And I’m passing him. The wind blows through my hair and across my face, and I’m smiling. The ache that’s been living in me for weeks disappears, and it’s just Adam and me and this place. We leap-frog around the island, stopping at the arch rock.
Lake Huron is a kaleidoscope behind us when Adam leans in joining his soft lips with mine. He tastes of chocolate and warm sunshine. I could kiss him forever, but we’re interrupted by a large noisy family with half a dozen kids, so we take off on the bikes, racing our way back into town.
We eat fudge, play arcade games and eat more fudge. We fly kites and dodge horse manure and ride a buggy through town. And we laugh.
I’m happy, so happy.
We’re coming out of our third fudge shop when the sight of a couple in the middle of the street glues me in place. She wears silk and lace and an ivory veil. He’s in a dark suit with a contagious grin as he sweeps her into arms and bends her over for a kiss. There’s a photographer nearby, snapping picture after picture, but they don’t notice. They’re laughing and smiling and caressing each other’s faces. They’re staring into each other’s eyes.
“I want to get married here.” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. I cover my face with my hand as the heat creeps in. I want to run. Run for the dock or the ferry or the lake. Dive beneath the water. I’m seventeen, and I just mentioned marriage to the boy I’m in love with. Oh my god, I did not do that.
Adam is next to me and he is silent. Too silent. I can’t look at him. Can’t turn i
n his direction. I can’t move forward or back or anywhere. My heart pounds with adrenaline and fear and this endless space between our words.
Then he breathes and his fingers take mine. His voice is low, a quiet whisper, but his words are clear. “Me too.”
The ache returns on the ferry ride. As we near the shore of the mainland, it builds. Steadily stealing my breath.
“Promise me we’ll come back soon,” I say. But his nod is short, and his gaze doesn’t linger on mine. Instead it trails to the water, and he stands up, walks to the railing, leans over. His jaw flexes and he bites his lips. The casual peace we had found evaporates and a distance grows between us.
We don’t talk about it. We pretend to stay in the bubble of happiness we found on the island. But I feel it when Vin finds us, and we’re in the light again. I taste it when Adam kisses me goodnight. And I see it in his eyes. The uncertainty. The fear.
He doesn’t know if he’ll be here. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever see a wedding day. Or if he’ll even see the fall. I clench my fingers and bite my lip and try to still Zane’s voice in my ears. I am your only hope.
When Adam’s gone, I call into the dark. I hide on the edges of the woods, circle our yard and call his name. He doesn’t appear at first. It’s only me and the night. I’m about to give up, to sneak back into my house and crawl beneath my covers and lose myself to my tears.
“Zane, please,” I whisper one last time. Then he’s there, raising an eyebrow and smiling smugly. I want to smack him.
“Just admit, I was right.” He crosses his arms and scratches his chin.
“Just tell me what to do.”
“Admit it,” he says. “Admit it first.”
“Fine,” I say. “You were right. Now please, will you help me?”
“Hah.” His smirk could reach the other side of the lake. “You made this mess. You fix it.”
One Starry Knight: A Scifi Alien Love Story (The Starry Knight Saga Book 1) Page 21
