The Guardian Trilogy: The Complete Collection - Guardian, Allegiant & Reborn

by Sara Mack

  I stare at the phone like it’s foreign. Garrett said Lucas wanted to give me some money. But thirty grand? That’s insane! I can’t believe there is that much money in my account.

  “What’s wrong?” Dane asks. “I said not to worry about it. If you need –”

  “No.” I shake my head and end the call. “I have enough money.”

  “You look confused.”

  “I am,” I say and slide my phone back into my purse. I grab my water glass again. “Lunch is on me.”

  Lunch turns out to be the best salad I think I’ve ever eaten. Dane knows better than to harass me about paying after the incident at Mario’s last summer, and when we finish our food and leave Gladys’, we have happy stomachs and much more energy. We head back out in the throng of tourists, and I find a small boutique that looks interesting. “Let’s stop here.”

  Inside we find racks of sundresses and swimsuits, t-shirts, hats and bags, scarves, and sunglasses. I immediately head to the swimsuits. I didn’t bring one and there is no way I’m not getting in that pool.

  I thumb through the rack as Dane heads to the opposite side. Everything looks so tiny. I wander down the aisle, looking for something with more material.

  “You should get this.” Dane smiles as he holds up what I think is a bikini. All I know is that it’s red and has three triangles.

  “Definitely not,” I say sarcastically. I continue to look through the suits until I stumble upon the men’s wear. I laugh as I pluck a fluorescent yellow Speedo off the rack and hold it up. “I’ll buy that if you get this.”

  He makes a disgusted face. “No man looks good in a Speedo.”

  Actually, I agree, but this could be fun. He wants me to wear skimpy clothes? “Oh, I don’t know,” I say and look at the suit. “Some men might.” I pretend to think. “Channing Tatum, for example. He would probably look good in this.”

  “Ugh! Not you too.” He gives me a dry look. “What is it with that guy? Is every woman in love with him?”

  I shrug. “Possibly.”

  “Why?”

  I shoot him a look like it should be obvious and tick the reasons off on my free hand. “Let’s see. His face, his abs, his laugh, his acting, he can dance – that’s a big one –”

  “Okay, okay, enough,” he stops me. “You’re running out of fingers.”

  I laugh and put the Speedo back. As I continue to peruse the suits, Dane asks, “Women really like guys who can dance?”

  I stare at him over the rack, completely serious. “Absolutely. Dancing is hot.”

  Eventually, I do find a suit, a navy blue two-piece with a top that ties around the neck and stops just below my rib cage. I also buy some flip flops and sunglasses before heading to the next store. It quickly becomes apparent that these small shops hold primarily touristy-type items, and I’m not going to find anything utilitarian, like pajamas. I manage to find two sundresses that are cute, and then call it quits. We head to the Kmart for groceries, and, I hope, shorts and pj’s.

  Luckily, the Kmart on the island is huge and has every department, including its own restaurant. I send Dane for groceries while I head to the clothing section. I quickly find shorts, collecting several pair, and t-shirts that don’t say St. Thomas Virgin Islands on them. I also grab two sets of pajamas, tank tops with sleep shorts. As I pass the lingerie department, my mind actually considers purchasing new underwear. My conscience immediately chastises itself, and I continue walking. There is no reason that I need new underwear. Absolutely none.

  I run into Dane as I head to the market section of the store, and I’m pleased to find that he has a cart full of actual food, not just Twinkies and Kraft Mac and Cheese. I see eggs, bacon, vegetables, milk, orange juice, lunch meat, bread, cereal, chicken, pork chops, and even steak. I silently hope he knows how to cook that because I don’t.

  By the time we arrive back at the rental house and get everything unloaded, it’s nearly eight o’clock. I put off the unavoidable task of lying to my friends and family by meticulously cutting off the tags of my purchases and trying things on. Everything fits, but really, I knew that. Eventually I shower, change into my new pajamas, and pick up my laptop and phone. I grab some grapes to snack on and head outside for two reasons: One is to enjoy the last rays of the day’s sun, and the other is to complete the inevitable task of contacting home, alone.

  Dane looks away from the TV as I open the sliding door. “What are you doing?”

  “Heading out to lie to my instructors and my family,” I say and nod toward my laptop. “Wish me luck.”

  I make my way to one of the lounge chairs by the pool and sit down. I turn on my computer, set it in front of me, and cross my legs to wait while it loads. Once it’s ready, I open my email and read through what’s there, saving what’s important and deleting the rest. I sigh when I’m finished and begrudgingly compose new messages, one to each of my instructors. I blatantly lie, telling them an unexpected family emergency occurred which has called me out of town for the rest of the semester. I ask for their permission to submit my remaining assignments online and attach those that I have already completed as proof of my good intentions. I finish by asking them to send me any remaining exams via email, with the full understanding that they do not have to go out of their way for me. If I can’t take the tests, hopefully my homework and existing grades will allow me to at least pass each class.

  Once the emails have been sent, I turn the computer off and pick up the phone. The family emergency excuse won’t work with Shel and my parents. I stare at my cell as my mind spins. What can I tell them? What would suddenly pull me out of town, especially through the holidays? My mom is going to flip out when she learns I won’t be home for Thanksgiving or Christmas.

  I lie back in the chaise and hold my phone to my chest. Think, think, think. Where else could I be? What might they believe?

  A thought jumps into my brain. I dial Shel’s number first.

  The phone rings and rings. No answer. It’s Saturday night; she’s probably out with Matt. When I get her voice mail, I try out my excuse for the first time and attempt to sound excited, not fake. “Shel, it’s Em. Guess what? Western chose me for a study abroad trip! I’m leaving tomorrow for…” I hesitate. Where in the heck am I going? I pick the first place that pops into my head. “Ireland! I’ll be in Ireland for the rest of the semester, maybe longer.” I decide to create more lies. “They told us cell reception is spotty over there, but call me when you get this. My email works, though, so you can email me too. Actually, email is probably better.” I pause to think. “I’ll give you the details when we talk. I have to get off the phone and start packing. This happened so fast! Take care of Matt and let him know too, please. I’ll miss you guys and I’ll talk to you soon. Bye.”

  I hang up and breathe. I don’t know how good of a job I just did. I hate lying. I’m awful at it. Lying to my parents is going to be worse. I let my pounding heart calm a little before I dial home. Maybe my parents are out too, and I’ll get the answering machine.

  No such luck.

  “Hello?” It’s my mom.

  “Hey, Mom.” My voice wavers and she can hear it.

  “What’s wrong?” she immediately asks. There’s no fooling her.

  I try to sound upbeat. “Nothing’s wrong! Actually, I have some pretty exciting news.”

  “You’re pregnant,” she says in a dry tone.

  “What? No! Mom! Come on!”

  “Well?” I can hear the smile in her voice. “Something’s up. I’m your mother, I know these things.”

  I take a deep breath. “I’ve been selected by the school for a study abroad trip.”

  “That’s great!” my mom exclaims. “How’d that happen?”

  Oh boy. More lies. “Um, a student that was supposed to go couldn’t, so my advisor nominated me.”

  “Where are you headed?”

  “Ireland.”

  “Really?” She sounds impressed. I hear movement against the phone. “Dale, guess
what? Your daughter has been selected to study abroad in Ireland!”

  I can hear him say something in the background. It sounds like “Wow. When?”

  My mom comes back to me. “Yeah, when? Next semester?”

  “No, mom, actually…” my voice fades. “I leave tomorrow.”

  I can picture her frown. “Tomorrow?”

  “Well, the trip’s been planned for awhile and I was just added. I’ll be gone for the rest of the year.” At least.

  Her tone turns suspicious. “Why would the school plan a trip in the middle of the semester?”

  “I don’t know.” I shake my head against the phone. “I’m just taking advantage of the opportunity.”

  My mother pauses for a moment then throws out my entire name. “Emma. Lynn. Donohue.”

  Shit.

  “You mean to tell me that you are leaving the country tomorrow without any notice? You have to have time to plan; you need a passport!”

  “I have a passport,” I lie.

  “Since when?”

  “Since last year.”

  “So your father and I won’t get to see you before you go? You’ll be gone for Christmas?”

  I can barely find my voice. “Yes.”

  “Emma, I don’t like this,” my mom says, irritated. “We hardly get to see you as it is, and now you’ll be gone for the holidays?”

  “I don’t like the timing either.” I try to defend my false story. “But this is a once in a lifetime chance. The school’s paying for everything; how would it look if I said no? I was nominated.”

  She sighs loudly then silence is heavy over the phone. When she breaks it, what she says crushes my heart. “I feel like you’re lying to me.”

  That’s because I am, my mind responds. How can I put her at ease? “Would you like to talk to the advisor?” I ask. Dane will do an impersonation for me. “I can have him call you tomorrow when we leave. Will that help?”

  She doesn’t immediately respond, and I don’t know what else to say. She doesn’t deserve to be fed this silly story, but the truth is unbelievable and out of the question.

  “Can we call you while you’re gone?” she finally asks.

  “Of course. And you can email, too.”

  “What time do you leave tomorrow?”

  “Early. Six a.m.”

  “From Kalamazoo?”

  “Yes.”

  “I still can’t believe you waited until now to tell us,” she says. “When did you find out?”

  “Yesterday,” I whisper.

  “Yesterday?!” She sounds upset. “Emma, what in the world is going on?”

  “Mom, please,” I almost beg. “Support me in this. I promise you it’s the best decision for me to make right now. I need to get out of here.” It’s time to play the James card, even though I didn’t know I had a James card to play. “This campus, the memories, what was supposed to be…I’m suffocating. I need to finish school, and I will get credit for this trip. I need to graduate and get the hell out of here.” Normally, I don’t swear around my parents, but maybe my curse will relay the seriousness of what I say. All of this is true.

  “I knew you shouldn’t have gone back there so soon,” she says with regret. “Honey, why didn’t you talk to me about this sooner? We could have made arrangements; you could have taken a semester off. It’s not like your dad and I were kicking you out of the house.”

  “I know,” I say, holding back tears. “Listen, I really have to go. I need to pack.”

  “What about the cat?” she asks. “Who’s watching LB?”

  “My neighbor Garrett’s taking her.”

  She sighs again. “I’m worried about you. You know that right? I want you to call and email me every chance you get.”

  “I will,” I promise.

  “Starting with tomorrow. I want a phone call when you land, got it?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I almost smile. “I’m going to miss you.”

  “I’m going to miss you, too. I already do,” she says. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  “Do you want to talk to your father?”

  I don’t think I can handle anymore right now. “No, Mom, I’m already emotional. Tell him I love him and I’ll miss him – and I’ll drink some authentic Irish ale for him. Tell Mike, too.”

  She manages a small laugh. “I will.” She pauses for a moment. “Take care of yourself, Em. I’m serious. If that means you come home early, you come home early. I’ll fly over there and get you if I have to.”

  “I know you would,” I say as a tear travels down my cheek. I wipe it away and clear my throat. “I have to go. I love you. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Tomorrow,” she reminds me.

  “Yes, tomorrow.”

  “Okay. Have a safe flight.”

  “I will, Mom. Bye.” I hang up before she can keep me any longer. I drop the phone onto the chair and stare out past the patio toward the ocean. The tears I was holding back trail silently down my face. I want to be home for Christmas; I want to be home for Thanksgiving. I want to be home now.

  “Hey.”

  I look over my shoulder and find Dane standing a few feet behind me. I wipe my cheeks. “How long have you been there?”

  “A minute,” he says with a sad expression. He walks over to where I’m sitting and kneels beside me. He reaches out and wipes a tear from my chin. “I hate it when you cry.”

  I shrug, defeated.

  “Move over,” he says and picks up my laptop and phone to set them on the ground. I slide over against the armrest of the lounge, and he takes a seat next to me, stretching out in the chair. It’s a tight fit. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me over him, against his chest. I tuck my head under his chin and weave one leg through his, so we have enough room. As my tears continue to wind their way down my face, he rubs my back.

  “I don’t want you to be miserable,” he says quietly. “Tell me what I can do. I’ll be whatever you need.”

  “You can’t,” I mumble against him.

  “Try me.”

  “Can you be my home?” I ask into his chest. It’s a silly request and one that doesn’t quite make sense.

  He squeezes me tightly and doesn’t even question it. “Absolutely.”

  Chapter 25

  Inevitably, time passes. One week later, I sit at the dining table swirling the remains of my cereal around in my bowl. I need to get motivated; I have two tests to take today.

  Thankfully, all of my instructors responded to my email in a positive way, save one. Mr. Carlos will allow me to submit my assignments online, but not take the tests. He says it wouldn’t be fair, since I have access to my materials, but don’t have access to a “secure testing location.” Whatever. My other teachers are working with me, and three out of four ain’t bad. I should have no problem passing this semester with at least a B average.

  The door to the garage opens and closes behind me. “Morning.”

  I look over my shoulder. “Good morning.” I unfold my legs from under me and slide off the chair. “Do you want breakfast?”

  Dane walks toward me, pulling off his sweaty shirt. “What are you making?”

  “Frosted Flakes,” I say and hold up my bowl. “It’s a very complicated procedure.”

  He pouts. “Aww. I was hoping for real food like an omelet.”

  I roll my eyes as I walk into the kitchen. “You’re on your own.” I reach the sink and turn on the faucet to rinse my bowl. “How was your run?” Dane was big into cross country in high school and he’s decided to take it up again, now that he has nothing better to do.

  “Great,” he says as he stands opposite me across the breakfast bar. “You should join me. It’s cathartic.”

  I’m the biggest wuss when it comes to any kind of endurance sport. “I told you before; I won’t even make it half way. You’d have to carry me back.”

  He places his hands against the countertop and leans forward. “And that would be bad why?”
r />   “Shut up.” I shake my head and place my bowl in the dish drainer. The day wouldn’t be complete without some sort of smart comment coming out of his mouth.

  I leave the water running and decide to wash the few dishes that remain in the sink. There’s not many, just a few glasses and the bowl that held the popcorn. Last night was movie night. 21 Jump Street was on TV. I blush as I remember the constant ribbing Dane gave me over watching Channing Tatum.

  He walks around the breakfast bar and opens the refrigerator, pulling out the orange juice. He sets it on the counter beside me and then places his hands on my hips from behind, making me jump. “What are you doing?”

  He leans around me to grab one of the glasses I just washed out of the dish rack. “Getting a glass.”

  “There’s a whole cupboard of clean glasses behind you.”

  “I know,” he grins.

  I shoot him a condescending look. “Do we need to have a conversation about good touch, bad touch?”

  He places an innocent kiss on my cheek. “Touching you could never be bad.” He picks up a glass and steps to the side, removing his other hand from my hip. As he pours the juice my face flushes. He’s upped the ante on the innuendo today.

  I finish washing the popcorn bowl and turn off the faucet. “Are you headed to the shower or do I have a few minutes? I want to get dressed before I take my tests.”

  He swallows. “You know, the beauty of online classes is that you can take your tests in whatever you have on.”

  “I feel more prepared when I’m presentable.” Actually, I just want to get out of my pajamas. I’m feeling particularly vulnerable all of a sudden.

  He tilts his head. “Yes, right now you are a complete mess. In fact you are so unpresentable, I think you need a shower.” He sets down his glass. “I’ll join you.”

  My mouth falls open. “What has gotten into you?”

  He laughs. “I just had a good run, that’s all.”

  I give him a wary look. “I’m going to get dressed.”