by Kristie Cook
I slowly lifted my head to look up at him. “I hear a but in there.”
He closed his eyes, grimaced as though he didn’t like what he saw on the backs of his lids, and nodded before opening them. “We’ve been talking through things day and night, and Kami wants to try to make it work. Between us. Her and me, I mean.” His voice shook on that last bit, and he blew out a breath. “I have to try, Asia. I owe it to Connor. He deserves to have his father and mother.”
I pulled my hands from his grip and bit on my trembling lip, refusing to let any more tears fall in his presence. I nodded and said, “I understand. It’s the right thing to do, and I’d expect no less from you.”
With another exhale, he swiped a hand over his face, and then stood and walked over to the door, where he paused. He didn’t turn back to me, but spoke to the wall.
“I wish you’d been the one to come to New York for that party instead of her.” He dropped his head, pressing his forehead to the door. “This really sucks, and it’s going to be fucking hard, but we can’t see each other. At all. It’s not fair to any of us. You can’t be a part of my life, Asia.”
I understood what he meant, but that didn’t lessen the pain that stabbed through my heart as he walked out my door without another word. Even with all the crying I’d already done, the emotions of the last two days overwhelmed me. The agony in my heart and soul were too much to bear. I ran for my bed, pushed my way under the covers, and bawled until my pillow was soaked.
The irony of the entire situation was not lost on me. I’d come here to escape the nightmare my life had turned into the night I conceived, and I’d actually found happiness when I thought I never would. But here I was, sucked back into the horror story, reliving everything, facing the demons I thought I’d slain, and all because of the one person who’d completed me, who’d brought that happiness into my life. And I’d been the one to bring it all down. My sage wisdom that was supposed to help a young woman empower herself was the very thing that destroyed me. How appropriate.
As much as I wished Brock would come running back to me with a changed mind, I knew he never would. And I really didn’t want him to. This whole situation was not about me. There were many lives and well-beings at stake, including baby Connor’s. If Brock and Kami could grow to truly love each other and the three of them could be a happy family, my broken heart would be worth it.
I just didn’t know what to do about my broken soul. Would I ever feel that wholeness again like I did with Brock? Somehow I doubted it. I thought that was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. That kind of connection couldn’t exist with more than one other soul in this world. Ours just wasn’t meant to last. We weren’t Twin Flames, like Jacey and Micah in that book that now sat on the shelf in my closet. We’d be able to live without each other, and these last few months would eventually morph into nothing more than a fond memory. Brock would become some guy I used to know.
As much as I knew this all needed to happen so I could move on, my whole body ached with the thought of it. An actual physical pain throughout my joints and bones.
Time. Time will heal the wounds, and I’ll be fine.
It took exactly one day and night for me to realize I needed more than time—I also needed space. I couldn’t stay at Hope’s estate. Although Brock and I had been through this before, it felt different this time with another woman in the house. I told Hope while working that I didn’t want any details, but she insisted I knew that Kami was staying in one of the guest rooms. Of course, my imagination took that to mean that her stuff was staying in the guest room, but that didn’t mean her body was. The thought made me sick to my stomach. As I walked through the house toward the back door after work, I could hear the three of them as a family in the kitchen, and my soul throbbed. That night, long after Connor’s bedtime, giggling and laughter from the hot tub outside traveled across the yard and to my apartment, even though my door and windows were shut tight. My stomach heaved, and I had to run for the bathroom.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get away from them, and although I wanted to, it wasn’t exactly fair to ask them to avoid living their lives because of me. I was the outsider. The one who didn’t belong. The intruder. I was the one who had to go.
“I wish you’d change your mind,” Hope said the next evening as she stood in my bedroom, watching me pack. She plopped onto my bed and scowled. “I’d happily kick her out.”
I smiled. “You have to give her a chance. Whether you like it or not, she’s the mother of your grandchild.”
“I don’t like it. I like you. You’re the one who should be staying, not her. What am I going to do without you?” She threw her arms in the air with exaggerated despair.
“I’m not leaving you, Hope. I’m still going to work for you, remember?” I’d gone to her earlier with the news that I was moving out. We’d discussed my work and how I could do most of it virtually so I could avoid being at the house as much as possible.
“Where are you going to go?”
“I’m sure I can find a place. I already have an appointment set up for tomorrow to look at an apartment over on Palm Boulevard.”
She frowned. “That’s too far away.”
“It’s only eight miles.”
“Exactly. Too far away. I’m worried about you.”
“I’ll be fine.” I sighed. “Physically, anyway.”
“You belong here, though. And you belong with Brock. I haven’t changed my mind on that, young lady.”
“Well, he has.”
She waved her hand in the air. “He’s being a dumb male. I know what he’s trying to do, and it would be best for Connor if it actually worked, but it won’t. Connor doesn’t deserve to grow up in the disaster that’s waiting to happen.”
I glanced at her and was surprised to see her eyes glistening. She truly believed what she was saying.
“At least he’ll always have you,” I offered.
She nodded. “Yes, but he deserves more. Both of those boys do. You deserve happiness, too. I wish you’d stick around.”
“We’ve been through this. I can’t be around them.”
Her finger jabbed into the air. “Mark my words. Kami’s little honeymoon won’t last long. Brock will be miserable—he already is—and Kami will end up leaving them anyway, abandoning Connor once again.”
“But I can’t be the reason it doesn’t work for them.”
Hope grabbed my hands and held them between hers as she looked up at me. “Oh, Asia, honey, you always were the reason.”
Chapter 17
6 Months Ago
I rolled over on what I assumed to be my bed, the movement taking every bit of effort I had. My body felt heavier than an elephant’s, as though it were made of metal and a giant magnet was implanted in the mattress, holding me down. My head felt even more massive, and I could swear oatmeal replaced my brain in my skull. I didn’t even remember falling asleep, but I’d apparently been dead to the world. What time was it anyway? I heaved my arm over and reached for my phone on the nightstand. I studied the numbers, my mind unable to make sense of them: 10:49.
It was still night? I tried pushing away the cobwebs filling my head to reorient myself. I’d been packing, I remembered. Hope had been here. I couldn’t remember anything else. Had I passed out on her? I didn’t remember her leaving. She must have thought me to be a basket case. No wonder she worried.
Before I could remember any more of my miserable life, I put my phone back and rolled over again, hoping to fall right back to sleep and stay that way until morning when I’d wake up clear headed. Right now, I just wanted to shut my brain off … and my heart. As my eyes began to close, I noticed the light slipping in between the curtains. I squinted harder.
That was daylight seeping in.
Oh, my god! I bolted upright, suddenly and immediately aw
ake with a pounding heart. It was 10:50 in the morning? How long had I slept? More than the standard eight hours, but I still felt so tired. I glanced at the clock on my phone one more time, and then fell back against my pillows. It was almost 11 a.m. The appointment for the apartment had been at ten.
I shuffled out to the kitchen and made my coffee, then called the rental manager to reschedule. I told him work had tied me up; he told me the apartment had been rented to the people who showed up when I didn’t. Great. That meant at least one more day here. A glance out my window showed both Brock’s and Kami’s cars gone. At least that was a bonus for the day.
Hope had already given me the day off so I could apartment hunt, as much as she protested the idea. But I couldn’t summon the energy to even shower and dress, so I camped out on my couch almost all day, dozing off and on. I couldn’t help but wonder if I was getting sick again. The last thing I needed was to become as ill as I’d been in Chicago. A little after three in the afternoon, I forced myself outside for some fresh air. As I was about to walk out, the leather-bound book on my coffee table caught my eye. How did that get there? Had I pulled it out last night and couldn’t remember that either? I supposed that was possible. For some inexplicable reason, I grabbed it on my way out the door. I didn’t have a destination in my mind, but my feet carried me to the beach, where I fell to my butt, needing a rest. What was wrong with me? I’d been working out with Brock and had become pretty fit. How could I be so exhausted from a two-block walk?
After only a few minutes of staring at the waves, listening to them crash on the sand, and inhaling the salty, humid air, my body grew restless. Dead-ass tired, but jumpy at the same time. I felt all wrong, like I was in the wrong place, doing the wrong thing, feeling the wrong feels. The book. Based on nothing more than intuition, I felt like the book had all the answers. I pushed it in front of my folded legs on the sand and threw it open. My fingers flipped through the pages until I found what I was instinctively looking for: Jacey’s drawing of a mansion.
That’s where I need to be.
I didn’t understand the sudden desire—no, need—to go to this mansion in a book that Brock and I had deemed fiction, but it came strong and urgent. And oh, so very real. My fingers skimmed over the sketch, and I felt as though a hook had lodged into my gut and something reeled me in toward the picture. I didn’t know how long I sat there staring at the drawing and wondering how to get to it, but long enough for the sun to begin burning my skin. I rubbed my hand over my arm and clamped it around my wrist. And then I realized the burn came from the inside out.
I looked down as I slowly peeled my fingers away from my forearm, and gasped.
“No fucking way,” I muttered under my breath. Goose bumps swept over my skin.
I had a mark on my arm just like Jacey and Micah’s in the book.
Although I had to squint, I could see the formation of a flame showing through on my skin. I pushed the pages of the book back to the beginning and began skimming the story, refreshing my memory. Still, the mark on my arm made no sense. Neither did the pull to the mansion. How could I possibly be like them? They couldn’t even be real!
I shut the book, my heart pounding. Wet sand dusted the front of it. I hadn’t realized I’d been so close to the water—that enough time had passed for the tide to come closer. I tried to brush the sand off, but most of it just moved around. As my fingers swept harder, little symbols around the image embossed on the front cover began to glow a silvery-blue. Only for a moment and then they disappeared, barely noticeable etches in the leather. But the glowing marks remained like a vision, and although blurry, I somehow knew what they meant.
The Tree of Hope
The Phoenix Guardians
Seven … something.
That symbol faded in my mind too quickly to decipher, but I’d become focused on one particular mark anyway:
An’bris
I knew that name. I knew it was a name. But how? Following my instincts again, I turned to the inside of the back cover. There, faint, barely visible in the glow of the late afternoon sun, was a list of names. Ja’mai, followed by Jacquelena and Jeremicah, and under each of those more names, ending with Jacey and Leni on one side and Micah and Jeric on the other. After Ja’mai was An’bris again. My eyes stopped there, where it listed Broderick and Anastasia. That had to have been us. Right?
“Oh, my god!” I shrieked out loud. “We’re somehow like them.”
I didn’t know what it all meant. How we were like them. What we were supposed to do about it. Even as I stared at the page with the names—including mine and Brock’s!—the ink faded again, all of them disappearing.
The sky overhead suddenly fell dark as though a storm cloud had passed over the sun. I looked up, and sure enough, a dark gray cloud churned. A figure down the beach about twenty yards caught my eye. He wore a dark hoodie and dark jeans and had spiky blond hair. All I could think about was Jacey’s Billy Idol wannabe in the book. More figures in dark clothing dotted the beach. Were they closing in on me, or was that my imagination? Could they actually be the Shadowmen from the book?
I wasn’t about to find out. In a nanosecond, I was on my feet and sprinting for home. I ran the whole way, sure they were after me, and with each step, the truth settled further. We were meant to receive this book and read it. We were somehow tied to it. Brock and I were in some way like Jacey and Micah. I had no doubt.
As I flew for the driveway, something small and white streaked toward me. A squeal jumped out of my mouth when it flew past, and I glanced over my shoulder. A cat. It was just a cat. But a man in dark clothing still ran after me, and the feline ran at him. He suddenly stopped down the street, on the far side of Hope’s property. The cat stopped too and paced back and forth. I paused at the gate that crossed the driveway. The man’s head turned toward the house, down at the cat, then back to me. And then he spun and ran off. I didn’t take it for granted. I punched in the numbers for the people gate, ran in, hit the button to close it, and ran for my apartment.
Not until I was inside did I look back through the window to check the driveway. None of the dark figures remained, but I knew they’d been chasing me. Were they Shadowmen? A chill ran down my spine. Nobody’s cars were in the driveway except mine. Hope parked in the garage, but Brock, Kami, and I all parked outside. They were gone.
I tossed the book on the coffee table, grabbed my phone, and dialed Brock’s number. It went straight to voicemail. Was it turned off, or was he avoiding me? I called Hope next.
“Do you know where Brock is?” I demanded as soon as she picked up. “I seriously need to talk to him.”
“It’s about time,” she said. “Unfortunately, he’s tied up at school. There’s some issue with his classes, I guess.”
“Crap.” I glanced at the clock on the stove. It was nearly six o’clock. He couldn’t be there much longer, and the rational thing to do would have been to wait for him. But rationality had disappeared as soon as the mark on my arm had appeared. Another look at it, clearly defined and growing brighter, only made me freak out more. “I have to find him, Hope. I can’t wait any longer. Something’s going on, and I have to see him. Do you know where I should go?”
“I’ll take you.”
“What?” She’d hung up, though, and a minute later, a horn was honking from the driveway. I peeked out to see her car parked next to my Camaro.
“Come on,” she yelled out the window.
I grabbed my purse and ran out the door.
“I could have driven myself,” I said as I slid into her passenger seat and reached for my seat belt.
“He has Connor with him, and the two of you need to talk. I’ll take the baby so you can have some alone time.” She glanced down at my arm. “Nice tat.”
I rubbed my hand over the mark on my skin. I didn’t have the time or inclination to explain that it wa
sn’t a tattoo. I was simply grateful that she was driving, because I realized now I probably couldn’t have. I was seriously freaking the fuck out.
We pulled into the Lot F on Brock’s college campus at the same time he was crossing toward his car with Connor in one arm. He glanced over and cocked his head at the sight of his mom’s car as she drove in the direction he walked. We found his Audi and parked behind him two seconds before he reached it. Hope threw the transmission into park, jumped out of the car, and jogged up to Brock while I could only sit there and stare. I reached over and turned the car off, and then climbed out, but stayed on my side, watching him, my whole body shaking. What if he wouldn’t talk to me?
“Give me Connor and your keys,” Hope ordered. Brock looked at her like she’d lost her mind.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Time’s run out. You and Asia need to move it.”
What? I’d only told her we needed to talk. Where did she want us to go?
“What are you talking about, mother?” Brock demanded. “It’s been a long day. The school’s lost all of my records. They don’t even show that I’m a student here!”
My breath caught.
“All the more reason,” Hope said, reaching for Connor, and I about choked on the air stuck in my lungs. I clamped my hand over my mouth as I stood there stupidly, staring at them. Hope snuggled the baby close against her chest and held out a hand. “Your keys. Now.”
“Mom—”
“Don’t argue with me, Brock! You’re running out of time!”
He dug his hand into his jeans pocket, but didn’t pull his keys out. He glanced over at me and quickly away. “I can’t. I made a promise to Kami that I wouldn’t see her any more.”
My heart rolled and sank, and my stomach dropped to my knees. He referred to me as though I were the devil. The weight of his words crushed me, and I wanted to drop to the ground, curl into a ball, and never get up again.
