CHAPTER 9
The clicking of the calculator was a soothing sound as Mitchell punched in some figures, and it helped to ease some of the tension that had built up in him during the last twenty-four hours.
This was what he needed. To bury himself in work. Keep his mind occupied. Stay at the office. And away from Amelia.
“Amelia,” he breathed and rubbed at his face. Staying away was torture and he was sure that the pain it caused in his heart was worse than dying.
Mitchell sighed and forced himself back to work. He knew if he kept thinking about her, he would drive himself crazy and that wouldn’t do either of them any good.
In no time, he was back at it, buried in the mound of work before him. The tension was slowly easing away and he was starting to feel normal, at peace.
The peace was short lived. Suddenly, his office door swung open, cracking against the wall. “Yo, pops, you work too much,” Eric said, that stupid half grin spread across his face. His green punk style hair was sticking up every which way and he was wearing a gray tracksuit.
Mitchell groaned, annoyed at the disruption and leaned back in his chair. “What are you doing here, Eric?” And what were they thinking sending him? He assumed they probably figured he wouldn’t hurt Eric, but Mitchell wasn’t so sure. If he couldn’t trust himself with Amelia…
Pain flashed across Eric’s face. “Do I need a reason to visit you?” he asked, unsure of himself.
Shit, Mitchell thought, annoyed, confused and all-round pissed off at himself. “Of course you don’t need a reason,” he said, desperately trying to sound welcoming. He got up from his desk and gestured towards the empty chairs in the corner. “What’s on your mind?”
Eric plopped down, stretching his legs out and crossed them at the ankles. He was still so young and carefree. Mitchell wondered if Eric would ever be able to take his place. Not that Eric knew yet, but that had been Mitchell’s plan and Eric still had a long way to go before he was ready.
“What’s going on with you? Angelle told me you lost it on her last night.”
“It’s about time you guys learn your place,” Mitchell said sternly, and instantly regretted it.
Eric’s face seemed to crumple at his harsh words and his shoulders slouched. “Dude, did you really just say that? What the hell?”
Mitchell sighed, long and loud. “You shouldn’t be here, Eric. I…”
“Why are you doing this?” Eric asked. His looked so desperate, so unsure of himself that it pulled at Mitchell’s heart. Eric looked up to him, Mitchell knew that and dammit, he wasn’t setting the best example for his child. “She’s your soulmate. Why are you hiding from her?”
“It’s complicated. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Fine,” Eric threw up his hands. “You want to sit here and hide, then fine. But she’s really special and if you wait too long something might happen. Whatever it is, it pours from her and it is…” Eric licked his lips and a dreamy look clouded his face. “It’s going to attract the others and if you don’t claim her soon you might not get a chance to.”
“Eric, I know you think that I should be there but I just can’t," Mitchell said carefully. “And to be honest, it doesn’t really matter if I’m there or not. They won’t touch her and I won’t bite her.” He spoke with so much passion, that it almost seemed like he meant it. He wanted to mean it but…No, he did mean it. And until he was sure that he could trust himself, he would stay away. “She needs time. I can’t push this on her. I won’t.”
“Dude, she’s broken. What she needs is love. Not time. She needs a family. She needs friends,” Eric persisted.
Mitchell opened his mouth to speak but then stopped. He couldn’t explain it all. He didn’t even understand it himself. The connection between them was already stronger than he had ever imagined and he wasn’t even in the same house as her. If he couldn’t keep his emotions in check with his family, how the hell would he be able to do it with Amelia? He knew he would never forgive himself if he let things get out of control. It would only take a second and they would both regret it. He loved her too much to let that happen.
Eric glared at him in disbelief, got up from his chair and headed for the door. At the doorway he turned back to face Mitchell. “By the way, there was an incident this morning.”
A cold sweat broke out along Mitchell’s brow and his stomach clenched. “What do you mean an incident?” he asked, barely a whisper. Something had happened to her. It all made sense. That’s why they sent Eric.
Eric must have noticed his panic. “Chill out. It’s not what you think,” he blurted out. “Millie went for a run at like 5:00 this morning and she claimed she ran into a little girl. It sounded like Kandi.”
“But she’s okay?” Mitchell asked, holding his breath. It couldn’t have been Kandi. They wouldn’t think of coming back here. Not after the last time.
“Yup, Officer McLean found Amelia and brought her home. I had to make up some stupid story about the curfew and break-ins.” Eric’s expression turned serious and Mitchell held his breath. “Dad, come home. Please. If you won’t do it for her, do it for me. I can’t stay away from her and I need your help.”
Mitchell felt like he had been slapped in the face. Eric hadn’t called him “Dad” for over a hundred years now and the term of endearment pulled on every single heartstring he had. But even though he wanted to cave in, he forced himself to stay strong on this, knowing he would be no help to them by coming home. And maybe this could teach Eric some much-needed restraint. Yes, this is a good thing, he told himself. “I know you won’t touch her, Eric,” Mitchell said, encouragingly. “Have a little more faith in yourself.”
Mitchell thought Eric was going to argue with him, but then that goofy grin spread across his face again and he ran his fingers through his hair, making the leafy green strands even more disheveled. “Sure, you’re probably right.” And then he slipped out the doorway.
CHAPTER 10
There was no sign of Eric or Luke when they got home. Mabel had left a note on the table letting the girls know that dinner was on plates in the fridge and all they had to do was heat it up, but Amelia wasn’t hungry. She was too tired and, extraordinarily, too wired to eat.
Angelle helped lug all her new treasures into her room. It took nine trips between the two of them. They unpacked the fifty-eight bags, spreading all the items out on Amelia’s bed.
Angelle perched on the edge of the bed and started folding a t-shirt. “Millie?” she said, looking up, the beginnings of frown lines were appearing on her forehead. “I know we just met. You’ve been through a lot and you probably won’t believe me but…” she paused briefly, looking at Amelia with sad eyes. “I want you to know you can trust me. I mean it. I’m really sorry for the way I acted earlier. I was rude and there’s really no good reason. It’s just that, it’s really hard to explain but I feel connected to you somehow. It’s like I’ve known you forever, like we’re sisters. When Erin came up to you I… I don’t know… I guess I just feel really protective of you.”
Amelia didn’t know what to say so she picked up a stack of pants and started putting them on hangers. She knew what Angelle was talking about. It wasn’t just Angelle though, Amelia felt connected to all of them. It was like she was finally home.
Amelia finished hanging the pants and sat down beside her on the bed. “I know what you mean,” she said faintly. “As soon as I met you I felt the same thing.”
“So I was thinking,” Angelle mused, the frown creasing deeper, “you look like you need someone to talk to and well, you can talk to me… if you want to.”
They stared at each other for a long, hard moment. Amelia hadn’t meant to say anything. At least nothing that really mattered, but once she started, she just couldn’t stop. It poured out of her like water gushing through a broken dam. She talked about her parents, about the murder, and about how she had been tied to a chair, bound and gagged, and forced to watch as they bled to death. Amelia cried about
the guilt, about how she couldn’t do anything to help them. She even confessed to the dreams, and told about how she had fallen in love with Mitchell.
When she finished, Amelia felt faint. She had never told the whole thing to anyone—at least not anyone who wasn’t a doctor. What was Angelle going to think? Would she treat her differently now? Would she look at her with pity all the time?
“Oh, honey,” Angelle said. She had tears in her voice as she pulled Amelia into a hug.
“It’s okay.” Amelia pushed her off and got up, picking up a top and putting it on a hanger. “Really. I don’t want your sympathy. It’s not going to bring them back. It won’t change anything.”
“It’s not sympathy,” Angelle said and shifted her gaze towards the bed. She picked up another top to fold before continuing. “This is going to come out wrong, but I don’t feel sorry for you. Everything happens for a reason and, well, even though what happened to you sucks, it’s all part of life. It’s the cold hard reality. We all have loss and pain, some more than others, but it’s made you the strong person you are. So I don’t feel sorry for you, but I am sad for you.”
Wow. No one had even spoken to her like that. It felt cold and harsh, but it was also… nice—honest. The last thing Amelia wanted was more people walking on eggshells around her. She had had more than enough of that over the last five years to last her a lifetime.
Angelle continued, “You be careful with all that guilt though, it will eat you up if you let it.” Angelle met Amelia in the eyes. “You want to hear a secret?”
Did she? Of course. She had just bared her soul, spilling her deepest secrets. The thought of hearing someone else’s was just too tempting to pass up. “Do you even have to ask?”
“You’ve got to promise not to tell anyone,” Angelle said. “Especially not the boys.”
“Duh…” Amelia replied, rolling her eyes and plopping back down on the bed. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
She shoved her pinky at Amelia. “Pinky swear?”
Amelia locked her finger with Angelle’s and repeated, “Pinky swear.”
Angelle smiled, but there was something forced and sullen about it, nothing like her usual dazzling smile. “When I was sixteen, I was fat and really awkward. No one liked me. Even my parents shunned me.”
“Yeah right,” Amelia laughed. “Not even possible.”
“Seriously,” Angelle continued, shooting her a look that clearly said ‘shut up and listen’. “I hated high school. Kids can be just so vicious. Anyways, that’s not the point. I had an imaginary guy, too. Just like you and the dreams. His name was Derek and for two years, I pined over him. For awhile the dreams were more real than life and I just lived to dream.”
That peaked Amelia’s interest to a whole new level and a happy little voice inside her yelled out, you’re not alone and you’re not as crazy as you think. She needed to know more. She had so many questions, but she wanted to play it cool so she asked, “So what happened?” as casually as possible.
Angelle shrugged. “I slimmed down, had a growth spurt and became popular and the dreams just stopped. I guess I just didn’t need him anymore and then life just sort of happened.”
“Huh.” Well that wasn’t what she had hoped for. And it really wasn’t all that reassuring. Amelia was eighteen. She wasn’t going to have a growth spurt and become beautiful over night. She would never be popular because, she had to face it—she was a bookworm and kind of a nerd—and nerds were never popular. And if she told herself the truth, she didn’t want the dreams to stop. She might have said that she did last night, but she really didn’t mean it. Life without Mitch was not something that Amelia thought she could deal with.
Angelle must have read it on her because she continued, looking distant, as if recalling a great loss. “It was hard for awhile. My life revolved around him and to tell you the truth, I still miss him sometimes.” Then she smiled another sad and fake smile. “But hey, look at me now.”
“Why are you telling me all this?”
“I don’t know. I guess I just wanted you to know that you’re not alone.” Angelle picked up the stack of clothes she had folded and set them on a shelf in the closet. When she came back out, her normally bubbly disposition had returned. “Enough of this serious crap, you still hot for Eric?”
Amelia blushed—a bright cherry red—and flung a pillow at Angelle. She dodged it, and snagged it out of the air just before it hit the ground and then threw it back at Amelia playfully. It hit her square in the face and they both burst out in laughter and collapsed in a giggling heap on her bed.
They talked for hours—strictly girly girl talk. They divulged their most embarrassing moments, trying to one-up each other (Amelia won by a landslide with a story involving two foster brothers, a bar of soap and a shower curtain malfunction). They chatted about their favorite romantic movies, and remembered their first kiss. Angelle grilled Amelia on fashion, a subject on which she was clueless, but Angelle promised to whip her into shape.
The hours slipped by, and the yawns kept emanating from Amelia no matter how hard she tried to keep them in. She had stopped adding anything valuable to the conversation, because her sleepy brain was no longer forming any thought that was even remotely comprehensible, and before she knew it, she had drifted off to sleep.
CHAPTER 11
On Saturday morning, Amelia slept in. She was usually up at the break of dawn but this morning she just couldn’t pull herself out of bed.
Lying on her side, curled up in her king size bed, she stared at the alarm clock, watching the glowing red digital numbers change…8:30…8:31…8:32. Maybe if she just stayed in bed and closed her eyes, she would fall back asleep and he would be there.
It was sad and it made her feel a bit sick, but some part of her had secretly hoped that Mitchell could be real. But of course, he wasn’t real.
The words of her psychiatrist echoed loud and clear through her mind. “Mitchell is a figment of your imagination. It’s all very normal Amelia. You have created a fictional character, an imaginary friend if you will, to help you deal with your loss.”
That was the logical explanation. And Amelia was usually all about the logic. But if Dr. Roth was right, then that meant Mitchell wouldn’t be with her forever. Sooner or later, she wouldn’t need him anymore. Maybe that’s why she hadn’t dreamt of him last night. Maybe it was because she actually had real friends now. Maybe this was her psyche trying to tell her that she no longer needed him. Maybe she would never dream of him again.
The thought of never seeing him again hurt, sticking her like a knife through the heart. She shivered as a prickling sensation enveloped her skin as if she had lain down on a pincushion. Wow. This is just sad, she thought. Pull yourself together. Look around you. You have friends who actually care about you and you live in a castle. You are following your dreams and going to University. You even have a housekeeper.
Life was finally starting to look up. She was finally starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel. So why did she still feel so empty? So alone? It was as if something was missing, something important. There was a void inside her that seemed to stretch out forever, leaving her filled with misery.
Her eyes started to sting and she squeezed them shut, willing away the tears that threatened to spill. She sucked in a gasping breath and got out of bed. She craved fresh air and yearned for exercise. Running was like her coffee. It woke her up, giving her that jolt of raw energy she needed to start the day. And it was late enough that the curfew was over so that meant it was safe. Right?
In about two minutes, Amelia had pulled her hair up into a bun and slugged her way into her yoga pants and hoodie. She snagged her water bottle off the table and frowned when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She looked like crap. And what was the dark, puffy circles under her eyes about? She poked at the saggy looking skin and sighed. It looked as if she hadn’t slept in weeks and she wondered if she could sneak out of the house without her stunning roomma
tes seeing her. Probably not.
A tantalizing whiff of pancakes, maple syrup and freshly brewed coffee drifted from the kitchen. Amelia’s stomach rumbled, but she didn’t want to eat because if she ate, she would have to sit at the table and smile and pretend that everything was fine. Right now that seemed like way too much work.
Trying to stay as quiet as possible, she inched her way down the hall, hoping to avoid her roommates. But, of course, it was just her luck she ran into Angelle in the hallway, just outside of the kitchen. She was in pink today—a frilly, hot pink mini skirt, matching hot pink camisole and a light pink open cardigan. Her hair was tied up with an assortment of pink ribbons and her lips were painted in a soft pink shine. For most people, it was just way too much pink, but on Angelle it was somehow perfect.
Hit by a sudden twinge of jealously, Amelia wondered if there was anything that wouldn’t look good on Angelle. She instantly felt guilty for the thought and fire burned in her cheeks; she blushed, embarrassed. She wasn’t one of those catty girls and she wouldn’t start now. Nevertheless, seeing her drop-dead gorgeous roommate looking so spectacular did not help her sour mood.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Angelle chirped in a bubbly voice and if Amelia hadn’t been sour before, she definitely was now because no one should be that happy in the morning. The cheerfulness surged through her like nails running down a chalkboard.
“You’re way too perky for this early in the morning,” Amelia groaned.
Angelle’s big brown eyes widened and her lips curved into a playful little smile. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed I see.” Amelia rolled her eyes and slid past her into the kitchen.
Mabel, who was busy loading the dishwasher, gave her a warm, motherly smile. “Oh, you’re up. Did you want breakfast now? The rest just finished.”
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