by Ramona Wray
She nodded, indicating somewhere behind me. When I looked, there was Ryder, with his back turned to us, waiting by my own car, which, unless I’d suddenly been taken over by amnesia, I was sure I’d left at home. He was on the phone, gesturing wildly. His bike was nowhere in sight.
“Call me later,” J said, “to tell me what happened. Good luck.”
I mumbled something that hopefully passed for consent and glided to him, my feet barely touching the asphalt.
“I don’t care if you have to fly over!” He was shouting into his phone in a harsh tone I’d never heard before. “I need those papers tonight. No, absolutely not! Under no circumstances! I do not care how,” he hissed. “Get it done!”
He snapped the cell shut, still cursing softly under his breath as he spun around and caught sight of me.
“Hi, baby,” he greeted me, and that softness I was familiar with crept back into his voice. Maybe he only talked to me like that?
“Aren’t you supposed to stay off school grounds?”
I was enfolded in his arms a second before the blue tendrils started yanking at me again. Lucian was close by, too, I gathered, and decided not to care. Ryder was warm and soothing, all around me. He’d taken a shower; his hair was still damp and his leather-and-pine scent was mixed with a trace of citrusy soap. He smelled like everything I needed now, familiar and calming, and I melted into the embrace.
When he reluctantly disentangled us, the first thing I noticed, and was shocked by, was the smoothness of his golden skin. Not a single scar marred his face, not even a bruise. Stranger still, in the sunlight, even his eyes gleamed amber, like those of a wolf. Yet he looked tired.
“I went by your mom’s shop,” he said, fingers slowly trailing my cheek. “She gave me the keys to the house so I could pick up the car. I thought we’d have a picnic.”
He forced a smile, one I could tell required an effort. There was something between us, a thickness in the air, an avoidance in our eyes. Like a silent scream or a black hole.
“A picnic? What about work? And I’ve got a research paper that’s due —”
“Please, Lily,” he asked, in such a strangled voice that my eyes stung with tears. “We need this! I need this.”
The tendrils pulled at me harder. How could electricity be so soft? Obviously, I was losing my mind.
“Um, yeah … okay, sure.”
I bit my lip, both dying to speak and to keep my mouth shut. Wanting to know and wishing I never did. Lucian’s pull increased a notch and my body reacted to it by giving a small shiver. But he wasn’t anywhere that I could see.
“Are you cold?” Ryder asked in a smothered voice.
In an instant his face drained of color. If I’d said yes, it would’ve knocked him off his feet. Oh, this was bad! This was bad with a capital B.
“No.” I let it linger. “What does the cold mean, Ryder? Why are you so scared of it?”
He inhaled raggedly. “Doesn’t matter. Please, let’s just go! Let’s make the best of this day.”
Was it me, or did that really sound like a condemned man’s last request?
He wanted to drive and I didn’t mind. On the backseat, a basket chock-full of food and drinks sat next to a folded tartan blanket. This was incredibly sweet, I thought; so why did my mouth taste so bitter?
I almost sat on the book he’d left on the passenger’s seat, a battered copy of What Dreams May Come. I picked it up and held it close to my face. It smelled of him.
“Tell me about this story,” I asked softly, staring out the window because it hurt too much to look at him right then. I wasn’t sure why.
He coughed, as if to mend his voice, and it seemed like such a strange, grown-up thing to do. “It’s about a man who, after dying in a car crash, wakes up in heaven and learns that, in the meantime, his wife killed herself and she’s in hell.”
“I thought you said once that this was about love.”
“And sacrifice. And being unable to live your other half. The things we do for love and the unlikely rewards we may reap as a result.”
I gulped uneasily. “Go on.”
“The main character, Chris, wants to rescue her from hell. So he descends and tries to convince Ann of what’s going on. See, she doesn’t know she’s dead. She has no idea she’s in hell. She doesn’t remember …” His voice broke.
With a sharp snap, my teeth clenched shut. The heroine couldn’t remember, just like I couldn’t remember. Was there a connection? Was this why he liked the book?
“In the end, he gives up heaven altogether, choosing to stay in hell instead. To be with her.”
“He does?”
“Yes, though he never gets to follow through. Because of his sacrifice, Ann is reborn back on earth. So Chris returns to heaven.”
“Oh! No happy ending … sort of bittersweet.”
Like us.
“On the contrary. Think about it; they start off with one in heaven and the other in hell. Like oil and water, they can never mix. But when Chris rescues her, he changes it. Ann is reborn on earth and, toward the end of the book, he’s also about to be born again, which puts them both on the same plane. They’ve already been in each other’s lives many times before, so chances are they’ll find each other again.”
I smiled. “Subtle. Hope.”
“Yes, that’s exactly why I love it. It’s a great story of hope. Chris’s quest, his resolve, the willing sacrifice … to me, that’s love. So … absolute that it breaks unbreakable bonds. It’s hopeful. It gives me hope.”
Hope. A word he kept repeating. Was he trying to tell me something?
We hiked part of the way, hand in hand. And, of course, Ryder could carry a picnic basket and still pull off the cool, nonchalant look without breaking a sweat. Even now, after dating a while, my breath often caught when I glanced at him and my mind usually became a misty place. One smile from him and the world faded away. Nothing mattered but Ryder. He was all I knew.
“I love how you look at me.”
We’d stopped next to a creek and I was already lazing on the blanket, watching him spread out the feast. Salads, cheeses, crackers, blueberry pie, strawberries, and fresh cream. Quite the decadent blowout.
“And how’s that?” I asked, blushing on cue.
His lower lip curled in that mischievous way it did.
“Like you’re having a hard time deciding between my lips and this blueberry pie. And I know nothing comes between you and this pie.”
I giggled. “Very observant. Wonder which one will win?”
He lowered himself onto the blanket. Slowly, giving me time to grow aware of his lean, long muscles bunching and stretching under the black T-shirt. There was so much mischief in that sinful mouth alone! It made me groan in resignation. It was hard to remember how to breathe, let alone the list of questions my mind was supposed to supply.
A hand slipped under me and he pulled me against him, his eyes never leaving mine. So gentle, so heartbreakingly gentle. Around us, the sounds of the forest were slowly dying away. The wind rustling the leaves, the water tinkling on the rocks, the birds chirping their songs, everything was scattering. Everything was dissolving, until there was nothing but silver eyes. And my own breath.
He tasted my lower lip slowly, teasing me with teeth and that wicked tongue until I moaned and whispered his name again and again, like a prayer. It broke me up inside and pieced me back together all at once. My sadness, the doubt and anger, my fear he simply took it all. He made me forget.
“Aw, Lily. You taste like one of those lazy summer days, sweet with the scent of ripe peaches, baby.”
He pulled back, eyeing me so intently I trembled.
“I love you. Always and forever, never forget that.”
“I love you, too,” I answered, but even as I said it a hole gaped in my stomach.
He set my head in his lap and began feeding me small bites of food. There was something so delicate and tender about his gestures, it shattered me inside all over again.
It pushed me over the edge, to where I couldn’t put it off any longer.
“But I will forget, right?” I whispered, watching his eyes emptying of life. “I mean, that’s the point. I will forget. You, us, today, I won’t remember any of it.”
“You can never truly forget your home. And believe me, Lily, I am your home. You belong to me. Just like I belong to you.”
He wasn’t looking at me anymore, but into the forest, somewhere far away. Nothing moved in him. Did his heart still beat? At first glance, he seemed almost cold, unfeeling, but it was just veneer, keeping what lay under the skin together. Because inside, beneath that stiff façade, he was falling to pieces. How did I know it? How do you know to breathe? You just do.
“Why do I get cold?”
I pulled myself up and crossed my legs under me. But I couldn’t go too far from him; my knees still touched his thighs. He was leaning back, propped up on his arms, beautiful and still as a sculpture. Sunbeams danced in his dark hair, splashing it with sapphire flickers and making his bronze skin gleam softly.
“It’s a sign. A bad one.” He shuddered.
“But what does it mean?”
His eyes fixed on me, changing color so fast it was mesmerizing.
“That we’re running out of time.”
My pulse moved to my throat. “Us? Or just me?”
A spent smile peeked briefly at the corners of his mouth.
“If there was ever a ‘me,’ Lily, none of this would have happened. But there is no ‘me.’ Only ‘us.’”
“I don’t understand.” Understatement.
“I know. I wish I could explain better.”
I pushed my fingers through my hair roughly, grunting my frustration out loud.
“Okay. Let’s try this a different way. Am I in danger?”
“You were in danger from the moment we met.”
No hesitation. No flinching. He’d given it to me as straight as it comes. My mouth went dry.
“From you?” I asked in a small voice. “Am I in danger f-from you?”
He didn’t hide from my very explicit question, but his eyes turned muddy gray, shadowed and deeper than a patch of midnight darkness.
“We always hurt what we love most.”
My reaction came in fractured, lurches and surges, like puzzle pieces that didn’t quite fit together. Didn’t quite fit in my head. Emotions whipped through me too fast to grab hold of just one. I jumped to my feet, shaking, my hands balled into fists.
“Okay, you know what? That stupid saying comes from a lame 1940s song by Doris Fisher and Allan Roberts, and it means exactly squat!” I was babbling again. ’Cause you could count on me to do that at the worst possible times. “It ain’t freaking rocket science! Either you love someone or you don’t, you can’t do both. So, which is it?”
He’d gotten up, too, and was staring at me with a calm that was so much more alarming than my blow-up. What was going on, for crying out loud?
“I have never loved anything else.”
Well, that cleared it all right up!
And, to top it off, his face grew harder, his features smothered under that tragic air he wore every so often.
“Don’t brood! I’ve had enough of the tortured, brooding-Ryder. Just spell it out. What’s going on? The cold? Lucian? You two performing Cirque du Soleil stunts and walking away with your bones intact? What does it mean?”
With one heavy breath, his shoulders fell. My heart sank, too, as if our bodies were linked in some way.
“See? This is exactly why I stayed away for a whole year. Because he’s right, all I ever bring you is pain.” He paused, then asked very softly, “If I could tell you, don’t you think I would?”
I stood there, watching, with my mouth open.
“All those flashes and the déjà vu feeling I get when I’m with you, they’re real, aren’t they? And the way I can sense Lucian, that electric string pulling me to him, that’s not in my head, either. It’s all real! Ryder, where does it come from? Why can’t I remember either of you? How are we connected?”
“You feel pulled to him?” he whispered, not mad, but blanching. Crushed, he was crushed like a piece of ripe fruit brutally stamped on.
Tender knots clogged my throat. “I don’t want him,” I said quietly. “You’re the one I care about.”
He didn’t pep up. The strands of windblown hair covering his forehead couldn’t hide the hard lines crumpling it. He was mad and sad. Hopeless and steely. Something bad was about to swoop in on us and he was wrestling with that knowledge. From where I was standing, it looked like he was losing the battle. It didn’t make sense; you can’t be a loser and a winner. And I don’t care what that stupid song says, you can’t deliberately hurt someone you love. Very conveniently, I chose to ignore the voice inside my head shouting, Get real, Lily! People do that all the time.
“Remember what I told you about the one crucial event in people’s lives? How it sets the course of everything that happens from then on? The ripples that follow?”
I nodded. Of course I remembered the cryptic speech he’d given me back at the beach house. I’d spent many hours since trying to crack its code. I was now ready to report that translating an extinct language had to be infinitely easier.
“It’s why I like the book, why I find it so hopeful. Because the character actually changes it. He sets a new course for his wife’s life.”
Lightheaded, that’s how I felt. Tired of his brainteasers, of all the double entendre and the mystery. Being stuck in this cursed rut wore me out.
“Our lives today may seem like more than ripples, but trust me, they always lead to the same bottom line. You think things aren’t written in stone, but you’re wrong, Lily.You cannot change what has already happened! You can only make the best of what you’ve been dealt. And if you’re lucky, maybe one day you’ll take that road to hell and somehow wake up in heaven.”
He paused, dithering, unsure if he should come closer or not. The worst thing was that I felt just as confused.
“I can’t promise you heaven, baby, but I swear to you I’ll do the best I can. Until the day I die, I’ll never stop trying to do all that I can. But, please … understand! My choices, same as yours, are very limited.”
To keep from bursting into sobs, I clenched my teeth hard. Why was this happening to me? Why couldn’t I just be like stupid Rosalie Miller, just this once? An idiot, sure, but a blissfully normal one. But no, I had to be magical. So magical, in fact, that I couldn’t be around people. And special! But not in a juvenile-genius, or even in that lame most-likely-to-become-a-model, way, no.
I had to be freaking Harry Potter in a world that treated Harry Potters like the plague.
Just when I thought the powers-that-be were giving me a break and letting me have Ryder, wasn’t it just like my pathetic life that he’d turn out to be potentially dangerous? That he could, apparently, love and hurt me all the same? I hated that dumb song! Hated, hated, hated it!
“Not good enough,” I whimpered.
But I didn’t walk away. I chose not to. Because, newsflash: real life sucks. It’s not like in the movies or the books, not at all perfect. More like perfectly flawed. And since my life had no intention of cutting me some slack, I decided to do that myself. In the end, we’re all so busy thinking, analyzing, and trying to make things fit that we forget to just feel. As it happens, I didn’t feel like going anywhere.
“I know,” he agreed quietly, and this time there was no more hesitation. He closed the distance between us and I let him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered in my hair.
And he was, I knew that with every pore of my being. But even as his arms surrounded me, my mind was wondering, Am I inside a shelter or a trap?
Until I shut it out. I was in Ryder’s arms. Just Ryder’s arms. The boy I loved to bits: the good and the bad, the awesome and the weird. The whole enchilada. The same way he loved me.
We spent the rest of the day the way he’d asked me to, enjoying it. Laughin
g and kissing and eating and fooling around like children. The bad? Yeah, it was still coming.
But it wasn’t here just yet.
Chapter: Thirteen
It was twilight by the time he pulled up in front of my house. No lights were on inside, so Mom was still at the shop. The drive back had been a quiet one, and now that we stood face-to-face at the foot of the porch, the silence grew almost awkward. Typically, this would’ve been the moment when I asked him to come in. It wasn’t because I had homework and house chores to deal with that kept me from it. I would’ve happily blown everything off for a few more minutes with him; I usually did. Normally, we got home just before Mom did and spent that little time, when the sounds of the world became hushed, fading together with the drowsy sun, just lying on my bed in a tangle. Not moving, not making out, not talking. Just being with each other. Nothing would’ve made me happier right then.
But …
I hadn’t said much on our way home for a reason. The chill was back; I had been wrestling with it for the past thirty minutes. So far, so good, in the sense that, after shuffling the various energies inside me, I’d managed to contain it. I kept it from spreading. However, my smoke screens were wearing thin and I knew it would be only a matter of minutes, if that, before my teeth started chattering. Just as I knew that if Ryder saw me like that, if he understood how bad the cold had become, he’d suffer a pain far worse than mine, chill or no chill.
“Don’t frown, baby,” he pleaded quietly, running his fingertips over the worry lines my forehead must’ve shown.
I forced a joke. “Worried about my future wrinkles?”
His eyes flashed with something akin to despair.
I stiffened, losing my grip on the chill, and the first shiver rocked my body slightly. To cover it, I wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing my lips to it and my body against his.
But he was millions of miles away.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized, unfocused eyes sweeping my face cursorily. “I can’t come in tonight. There’s something I need to handle.”
It should’ve filled me with relief. I wanted him gone while the chill passed, didn’t I? But he was doing more than leaving; he was pulling away somehow. From me. I sensed it, but as the second streak of quivers blasted through my inner shields, I was forced to admit that now wasn’t the time to get into it. I had to let him go and run inside before my carriage turned into a pumpkin.
