by Maegan Abel
“You can ask me anything you want, but I may not have or be able to give you the answers you’re after. And I won’t keep secrets from Gavin about you. I respect him too much,” he said hesitantly.
“You’ve known him a long time,” I said, not exactly a question, but he nodded anyway. “And you’ve known me a long time?” I asked, that one an actual question, though I wasn’t sure I really wanted to know the answer. This was all rather overwhelming.
“Yeah, Evie. I’ve known you a long time. And the same goes for you. I won’t keep secrets from you for him either. But there are some things you’ll need to talk to him about,” he said, his expression soft.
“Okay, so, do Gavin and I always end up together?” I asked, figuring that was the easiest way to determine whether it really was just some weird subconscious nightmare.
Dom watched me for a moment and then shook his head slowly. My heart dropped. “I’m not going to answer that.”
I huffed, frustrated because I thought he was answering. “Why not?”
“Questions about you and Gavin should be answered by him,” he said, his voice firm. “It’s better that you talk to him about that stuff.”
“I don’t want to talk to him,” I muttered, back to petulant apparently.
“Bullshit. Ask yourself why you’re really out running at six in the morning and you’ll know it’s because of this distance you’re creating. You feel it. You always do in one of these cycles.” He pushed off the car and leaned in, putting his face close to mine. “The thing I will say is he loves you in a way you can’t even imagine. Life after life after life, you complete him. You’re all he needs. And even this version of you who fights it, he loves.” I tried to drop my head at his words, but he reached out, cupping my face with both hands. The move should’ve worried me, he was practically a stranger, but at the same time, he wasn’t. His eyes held mine and his whole face showed the sincerity of his words. “He fights for you with everything he has because you’re all that there is for him. That kind of complete devotion, it’s hard to resist. And it’s not a curse. Not to him. Not to me. And not to you if you really stopped and thought about it.” With that, he kissed the top of my head, undeterred by my sweaty hair, and dropped his hands to squeeze my shoulder. All of this was done with a smile. I couldn’t move. How had this whole talk turned on me? I just wanted to tell him to stay away from Cara. “Stop thinking about it so much. Let yourself feel it.” He gave me a playful shake before releasing me and heading toward the back door to the building.
“Dom,” I called, waiting until he turned to look at me. I had every intention of telling him I still wanted him to back away from my sister, but that wasn’t what came out. “All that, is that what you feel for Cara already?”
He lifted his chin, watching me closely as he reached up to rub the back of his neck. He looked almost embarrassed. “All that is what I’ve felt for Cara forever. Even before I met her.”
My breath came out in a rush as the depth of what he said hit me. I wanted to respond but, really, what the fuck could I say to that?
I didn’t sleep worth a shit. The second I walked out of the restaurant last night, the ache started in my chest and I knew what that meant. Fighting with Ev sucked, but not fighting with her was worse. Leaving things unresolved was worse. Not knowing what the next step was going to be was worse. I’d gotten up early and turned a five mile run into seven as I tried to get some clarity. Unfortunately, it hadn’t worked.
Normally, when I ran, it was without music. It was a time to clear my head and I didn’t like the distraction. This morning, I realized that was a mistake. My head was all over the place and being alone with my thoughts only made it worse. The ache continued to expand and I hated it, but I was going to have to make a point to see Evie. I needed to apologize. Not for all of it, only for breaking her trust by telling Dom.
The second I walked in the door to the house, I heard my phone ringing. I jogged over to where I’d left it next to the coffee pot and saw Dom’s name.
“Yeah?” I asked, answering it on speakerphone so I didn’t drench it with sweat while heading toward the shower. It was out of the ordinary for Dom to call this early, but after last night, I was almost positive he would need to vent.
“You’ll never guess who I just had a conversation with outside the store,” he said, but I knew the answer by his tone.
“Ev was there?” I asked, my chest tightening a bit from just saying her name. I rubbed my hand over my collarbone and shook away the feeling.
“She was out for a run and spotted me when I was getting out of my car,” he said. I hated phone conversations. I couldn’t read someone as well from their voice as I could from body language.
“What did she say?” I tugged off my shirt, using it to wipe the sweat from my hair. I needed to make an appointment to get it cut, but Ev liked it shaggy. She proved that the other night with the way her hands fisted it while I took her against the door. Just the memory was enough to make my cock twitch. I had to push the thoughts aside in order to focus.
“She told me to stay away from Cara.” He chuckled. “And she was asking questions about you.”
I froze, worrying for a moment, but if she was asking questions, then at least she was still on the fence.
After last night, I hadn’t been so sure.
“What did you say?” I asked, hesitant. I was glad Dom had taken Evie going to him about Cara so well, being able to laugh about it, but my focus was more on the gut feeling. Infinity, the way it bound us, made us more aware of one another. I could actually sense what she was feeling in some cases. Especially strong emotions.
“Told her the same thing I always do, that questions about you needed to be answered by you. I’m willing to bet cash she’ll show up in person within the next twenty-four hours.”
I laughed. “I think you’re forgetting about her stubbornness. It may take a few days.”
“Nope.” He didn’t sound as light now. “She was out at the crack of dawn looking like she’d been running for hours already. She’s not on the best path,” he warned, but I’d already figured as much.
“I’m working on it.” The words came out tight. It was confirmation I didn’t need, but it dug a little deeper hearing it.
“Just wanted to give you a heads up,” he said.
“Thanks, bro. Talk later,” I replied, hitting the button to cut the call. Fucking hell. I was going to have to figure out what the next step was and quick.
I jumped in the shower, my mind filled with thoughts of Evie. Calling her right now would more than likely just push her farther away. Dom was convinced she would come to me soon, so maybe waiting for her was the better option. I rushed through my routine, hoping I’d exhausted myself enough to get a few more hours of sleep before I had to work tonight. When I climbed out, I dried off quickly and yanked on a pair of cutoff shorts. I felt her before the knock came. That same sense of relief that stole over me whenever she was close told me who was at the door before I even opened it.
When I did, I caught her pacing.
“Hey,” she said, but I didn’t speak. I took her in, her hair in a messy knot on top of her head, strands of it sticking to her face and neck with sweat. She had on a pair of tight shorts and one of those tank tops with the crossing straps in the back that exposed her shoulders. And just like yesterday morning, she looked like perfection.
I stayed put, keeping my face neutral as I waited to see why she was here. Her eyes scanned my face and a brief flash of something—fear, maybe—showed through before she swallowed and shook it away.
“It was raining.” That was all she said, but I continued to stare, confused by her words. “You warned me if I severed it, it couldn’t be fixed in that life and I did it. I was terrified when it was gone, though. It hurt so much, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I begged you…” She watched me, waiting for me to react to her words, and it took every ounce of willpower I had to remain impassive. “Did that happen?”
“I’m not going to answer that,” I murmured. The response would piss her off, but it wasn’t the time. The honest answer was yes, it happened. That was the last life she chose to send me away. The fact that she’s remembering that night, or saw it in a dream, whatever the case may be, meant she was close to making that same decision last night. That was how it worked. The closer she got to me, the more she would start to remember. What she remembered varied, but it usually came based on her mood at first.
She was leaning toward severing. Unsurprising. Still hard to hear. I couldn’t let it consume me. That was the mistake I made last time. I got desperate and made too many rash choices in how I handled things.
Her eyes narrowed on me. “You said I could ask you anything.”
“I did. And you can. I told you I would answer honestly and that is the honest answer. I won’t give you an answer to that. Not right now at least,” I said, trying to keep myself calm. I didn’t need her angrier, but I also wasn’t going to force a decision from her out of fear. “Ask something else. Ask questions about Infinity, the process, almost anything else. I’m not going to answer that one.”
“Why not?” she asked, aggravated. I understood that feeling. I just stared at her. “Why not?” she snapped, taking a step to put herself closer to me. Did she even realize she was doing it? Could she feel her body’s natural response to be near me? Did she see what was happening to her?
“Because you’re scared. You can’t make this decision out of fear. I won’t let you. That’s not fair,” I said, sighing. I hated that I couldn’t just leave her questions unanswered. I hated that I felt this inherent need for her to understand what was happening. I hated it, but at the same time, I didn’t, because it meant she was in front of me. It meant I still had a chance this time.
“Like any of this is fair. Like I actually have any real choices,” she said, the irritation winning out.
“You have a choice. You still have free will, Evangelie.” The words came out through my teeth. My carefully controlled expression was long gone. I hated it when she implied this was forced on her. Like I was forced on her. “Stop treating me like I’m the villain in your story.” I turned, heading into the house. She could follow or not, I didn’t care. I was done with this conversation for now. Her hand wrapped around my wrist and I closed my eyes. It was unbelievable the way the simplest touch from her affected me.
If she only knew the power she held, she’d never second-guess this.
“Do we always end up together?” she asked, and I shook my head, my eyes still closed. I could answer that. I didn’t necessarily want to, but I did. “So, that could happen?”
I turned to her, letting my eyes take in every inch of her face. “We’re almost always a fixture in each other’s lives.”
“What does that mean?” she asked, her brow furrowed as she stepped closer. Her face was open, her eyes curious. I couldn’t deny her answers when she was genuinely interested.
“It means we’re important to each other,” I said, dispelling the urge to pull her into my body. She was so close, yet far enough away the distance was palpable.
“But we’re not always together?” She stressed the word. “Is it like that? Either we’re together or the bond is broken?”
“No. There are a lot of ways it could go.” I sighed. I wasn’t intending on having this conversation this morning. Or, possibly, ever. But at least these questions I could try to spin to help my cause.
“Do we end up with other people?” Her question, while innocent on her part, ripped through me. The onslaught of memories from that cycle was overwhelming for a moment.
Normally, I did my best to keep those memories from getting in too deep. Her standing in front of me, with the very real thought of her walking away or severing us, it was almost too much. I looked away, closing my eyes as I waved a hand to motion her farther into the house. Her eyes cautiously watched every change in my face as she entered and I shut the door behind her. I pressed my palm to it, forcing the thoughts of her with someone else away by remembering how she sounded moaning my name right here…how it felt to connect with her on that level.
I took a deep breath and turned to face her. “Kind of,” I said, knowing it wasn’t much of an answer.
“What does that mean?” she asked again, and I hated how curious she was being. Well…not really. Not entirely, anyway. I hated it and loved it. Just like so many other parts of this.
I walked to the kitchen to start some coffee, needing something to keep myself busy and any excuse not to look at her while I admitted this was welcome. “I’ve watched you fall in love and marry someone else. I’ve been at your wedding as a guest.” I shook my head and swallowed, the choking sensation almost unbearable. It was a completely different experience to live one of those cycles than it was when she broke our connection. When we were severed, any time we separated, it was more like being lost and hollow. It hurt, it was a pain I feared so much more than I was willing to admit, but it was so different. It had been several cycles since the time she married another man in front of me, but I could still feel it. That sense of absolute betrayal wasn’t something I could forget. Of course, I couldn’t forget any of it. “This isn’t my favorite topic.”
Her shock resonated through the quiet of the room while I continued the process of making coffee. I couldn’t imagine what it must be like for her to hear something like that and not be able to remember any of it. If she chose that path, she would start to remember. She could be happy in that life. In some ways, it was a much better option than severing. At least I could know she was okay. I needed to know she was happy.
I felt her approach, but she didn’t touch me this time. Instead, she pushed herself up to sit on the counter directly beside me as I stared at the coffee maker like it held the answers to all the questions in the universe.
“What about you?” she asked in a quiet voice. I glanced up at her.
“What about me?” I mirrored her voice, taking in the concern etching lines beside her eyes.
“Have you ever ended up with someone else?” she asked, and I shook my head, my eyes immediately returning to the coffee maker. “Never?”
“Never,” I confirmed.
“Why not?” she asked, and I really hated that she was pushing so hard this morning. “If I can choose to be with someone else, then shouldn’t you get to be happy? Isn’t that unfair?”
“It’s…different for me,” I admitted, grabbing two coffee mugs while hoping she had enough answers for one day.
“How so?”
Of course, I couldn’t be so lucky. Apparently, this morning was going to be the morning it all came out. “I remember.”
“You…remember?” She didn’t sound sure of the question. She ran her hands down her thighs, shaking her head a little like she wasn’t sure what else to say.
“Yeah,” I answered, keeping my voice low.
“All of it?” she barely whispered.
“Yes.”
“Every time?”
I sighed, pressing my palms against the edge of the counter and hanging my head while I gave in. “I know small details early on. I can’t always focus on them though. It’s almost like they’re fuzzy. I’m not sure if our appearances change or not, but we always have the birthmark. The longer we’re together, the more we’re around each other, the more details come back to me. But, yeah, I remember.”
She studied me for a second, a tiny crease forming between her eyebrows. “Birthmark?”
I lifted my left hand, showing her the darkened mark on my palm. It looked like nothing more than a small freckle, but she eyed it before opening her right hand and looking down at the matching one.
She was silent again, her fingers grazing over the mark as one heel slowly tapped against the cabinet below her. I wasn’t sure what she was thinking, but I didn’t figure it was anything good. I poured us each a cup of coffee and turned, moving to lean against the counter across from where she sat. She lifted her head and her
eyes narrowed to focus on something behind me. Before I had a chance to look at what had her attention, she spoke. “Are those your parents?”
My eyes moved to the fading snapshot partially hidden under a magnet on the side of my refrigerator. I stared at it for a moment before letting my eyes slip back to Evie. “Yeah.” She slid off the counter, making her way over to where it was. Her fingers came out, almost as if she was going to touch it, but she pulled them back.
“How old were you here?” she asked, still studying the image rather than looking at me.
“Four. That picture was taken right after my birthday party.” I tried to keep my voice even, but talking about my parents wasn’t easy.
Her gaze landed on me, letting me know I didn’t pull off the attempt to sound unaffected by the topic. “Are they…” she trailed off, swallowing, but her question was clear. I shook my head.
“My mom lives in Charleston. My dad is here in Hawk Bay.” This should be an easier topic than us, but it’s still too fresh, even after two full cycles.
She stared at the picture again before moving back to sit on the counter. Grabbing her coffee, she held it between her hands like she was trying to soak in every bit of the warmth it provided, even as her hair stuck to her neck with sweat. “So, your parents aren’t Infinity?” There was a note of genuine interest in her tone.
“They were,” I answered, hearing the tightness in my voice. It mirrored the tightening in my chest, so that made sense.
Her brows furrowed as she looked back at the picture. “I don’t…so they…”
Sighing, I put down my mug and crossed my arms over my chest, more for my own protection at this point. “They decided a few cycles ago to end it. Permanently.” Her eyes widened, but she didn’t speak. She didn’t understand the ramifications and by the look on her face, she might not have even known ending it permanently was an option. Perfect. I was giving her more fuel at this point. She deserved all the facts, so I continued. “They still exist in my cycles, but they’re not…them. Not anymore. They’re different. When they made that choice, whatever it is that makes us Infinity, our souls or that part of us…it left. They moved on to whatever comes after this.”
