All Amity Allows (Fall for You Book 2)

by Irwin, Michelle

  That didn’t stop Amity’s growing curiosity though. Or quell her desire to ignore the advice and just do what she wanted anyway. She was guided by truth, and it signaled to her like a beacon. In her mind, there was a great big flashing neon sign that hung over Becca and her cupid, but there was something blocking Amity’s ability to read the metaphorical lettering. That something could only be interference from one of her brothers. Given that Michael was the one to assign her this task, and also the one who’d forbidden her access to the couple, it had to be him who was withholding what must be a whopper of a truth.

  It would come out in time though—the truth always did.

  Despite the aching niggle to discover what was being hidden from her, she decided against visiting the cupid. It had nothing to do with Michael’s warning though. She wasn’t letting him walk all over her. Her motivation was simpler than that; she wanted to study Drew further. Wanted to learn what made him tick. Wanted to discover what was so special about him that she’d been directly assigned to his case rather than Heaven simply setting another cupid onto the task to set him up with someone new. Besides, the easiest way to work out what was being hidden was to sit back and watch—to wait for something to reveal itself. The truth will out, Amity thought, and she knew that better than most.

  The instant she reached a corridor that hid her from prying eyes, she cloaked herself and returned to where Drew had stood when she entered the hospital. Only he wasn’t standing and watching any longer. He was striding up the hall toward Amity with a long, purposeful gait that was clearly designed to increase the distance between him and whatever he was walking away from as rapidly as possible.

  Amity glanced around him to see the back of a woman with a ponytail full of dark curls disappear outside seconds before the doors closed behind her. Amity tried to get a read on the woman. The swirl of guilt that overpowered everything else in the woman’s head made it clear it was Becca.

  She frowned as she considered the essence she’d felt buried in the middle of the bones and muscle that made up Becca’s physical body. The soul she’d momentarily touched was familiar, but Amity couldn’t instantly figure out why. She could only assume it had something to do with Michael’s interference. Had he left a trace of his grace there?

  It didn’t seem likely, but Amity wasn’t sure what else it could be. Whatever she’d felt was a passing awareness, maybe there was some familial link. After all, Amity hadn’t worked in the trenches for over five decades, and the woman she’d seen wasn’t anywhere near that old, so she couldn’t have encountered Becca’s soul before. Unless . . .

  Amity pushed the thought of reincarnations out of her mind to focus on Drew, more than a little annoyed that once more, she’d been unable to witness his direct interaction with the woman who had broken his heart. It just left Amity with more questions than answers.

  As if he’d felt a change the precise moment Becca left the building, Drew paused and took a deep breath. The sound pulled Amity’s attention back to him and she fell into step behind his steady strides when he started moving again.

  She followed him through a number of corridors until he reached a small, tidy office. The instant he was through the door, he pushed it shut. The wood slammed closed an inch from Amity’s nose, but she just teleported inside, ensuring her cloak was still firmly in place. If it hadn’t been, and he’d found her in the hall, she could have simply pretended to have misunderstood directions she’d been given by the receptionist to find the Women’s Health Clinic. In the confines of his office though, when he thought he was alone and that the door hadn’t opened, it would be impossible to lie about her reasons for being there.

  Not that she was much of a liar anyway. In fact, she was downright terrible at it. It was all part of the whole Angel of Truth deal.

  Alone in his space—or at least thinking he was—it wasn’t long before Drew released the tension Amity knew he was carrying from the brief touches of her grace against his soul. He punched the side of a tall gray filing cabinet in one corner of the room, forcing it to slam into the plasterboard on one side, leaving a dent in the white paint. The force of the impact echoed around the space for a moment, like the ringing of a dull, out-of-tune bell. Caught up by the momentum of the shifting cabinet, the small potted fichus on top of the metal structure rocked back and forth dangerously as if it was contemplating pitching itself from its lofty home and onto the mottled gray carpet below.

  Drew kicked at the drawers with a growl before pushing himself off the innocent furniture, leaving the filing cabinet to lament the dents that now adorned its bottom drawer and once perfect side.

  Amity stepped into the void he’d left behind, lifting her hands to still the wayward plant before it could take the fateful fall.

  Instead of punishing any more of his office equipment, Drew turned his hands onto himself. He brushed hasty trails through his hair twice before fisting his fingers as deep as possible in the short brown mess and yanking hard.

  “Idiot!” he cried as he spun and kicked at the wall.

  It had been a long time since Amity had been in such close confines with someone going through such agony. The feeling of his emotions battering at her body made her take a backward step to press against the wall farthest from him. It was as if each negative feeling wanted to climb beneath her skin and strip away everything but the bare, bitter truth that resided within her. The feeling was a big part of the reason why she hadn’t allowed herself to be alone in such close quarters with a single human for such a long time. Better to spend time in large spaces, teeming with humanity. There, the multitude of individual emotions clashed together to become a background cacophony of feelings. In those places, nothing could permeate further than skin deep.

  Once, long ago, she’d have been ready and willing to play counsellor to Drew’s heartbreak, slowly coaxing him from pain to pragmatic acceptance. That was before it all went wrong though. Now that she was so out of practice, it was all she could do to even stay in the room with the negativity rolling off him in attacking waves. It was an all too familiar reminder of her very last case. The assignment that had shattered the final grip she had on her sanity and which had sent her packing her bags before rushing off without notice on vacation as far from her brothers’ influence as she could possibly get.

  Years ago, humans had been relatively carefree and easy to understand. They’d loved and lived without the bitter twisted core that she now believed resided within each and every one of them. She couldn’t exactly pinpoint the moment the change happened, or when she’d first noticed it, but she felt certain it had sprung up around the same time all of the new rules and religious dogma arrived. It had been enough to drive the desire she had once felt to help mankind with gentle, prompting, methods completely out of her system. Since then, humankind had marched ever onward into the future and the bitter edge only seemed to grow. Phones replaced physical contact, email replaced phones, and then a whole new phone took over once again. The more electronically connected humans became, the less they emotionally connected with one another, and the more they lied to themselves.

  To protect her heart, and her grace, from further injury, she wanted to just yell at Drew to stop already—to just give up the anger and move on and be one step closer to acceptance. Eventually, he’d realize that everything happened for a reason and that even though it might not seem like it at that particular moment, the break-up was for the best. The relationship, and its end, would help him discover life lessons that he might have missed otherwise. Both he and Becca would be better off apart. At least, that was what Amity needed to force him to believe.

  Amity looked down at her hands, debating whether to hit him with a concentrated dose of the truth; a small zap of her energy, something to push him past his anger and drive him that much closer to acceptance. It was poised in the tips of her fingers as soon as the thought crossed her mind. All it would take was for her to brush her hand against his skin and then she’d be able to dig around for t
he truth and reveal it for him. It would be like a sledgehammer to his brain, a harsh shot of reality, and it would hurt at first. But that was her style these days—wham, bam, thank you, ma’am. It was easier than dealing with the messy fallout of actual human emotions and it largely removed the complication of free will. True, it left a mark on the soul—a scar that would never fully heal, and that could cause the receiver to be constantly open to the bitter truth. It could also force the receiver to cope with the truth a little quicker than some people could handle. Given the nature of free will, that could result in unpredictable outcomes. She’d misjudged it the last time, and she didn’t want to do that ever again.

  Still, she reasoned, it was quicker and easier than any other option. Her obligation to her brother would be met and she could be gone again before nightfall. She wouldn’t have to deal with another moment of the agony of being stuck in close confines with so many negative emotions.

  When Drew dropped into the small office chair and then slumped forward to bang his head against the desk repeatedly, Amity stepped closer and lightly grazed the pads of her fingertips against the back of his neck. She didn’t even dare to breathe as she touched him, unwilling to give him any reason to suspect that there was anything unusual going on.

  Michael had stressed that it was imperative that Drew didn’t suspect otherworldly involvement. He couldn’t learn about the existence of angels or cupid. That Becca knew the reality was bad enough; the last thing Heaven needed was half a town running around with that sort of knowledge. Even without her brother’s warning though, Amity knew it was a bad idea to reveal her true nature to humans. Without fail, humans shown her grace either desired to do her kind harm for some perceived wrong or fell to their knees in blind worship of things which Amity herself didn’t even believe in anymore.

  Despite her care, Amity’s soft touch had an immediate effect on Drew. He dropped his forehead against the desk once more before leaving it in place. Then a silent sob shook his chest and a shooting pain echoed back up Amity’s arm.

  “No.” The word was a barely uttered breath, but it had torn past her lips without her consent. It was more than just his human emotions that had caused her to back away with one hand cradled in the other. She’d brushed against an image. She’d seen two faces from her own past, faces of those she’d failed. She never thought she’d see either of them again. It was a truth she’d thought was long buried. The name of the cupid, Evan, rang in her mind. She had to stop herself from crying out again. There was no way it could be back to haunt her now . . . could it?

  The force of the reverse energy flow had been almost enough to unseat her grace from her human shell. The shockwave disarmed her and she stepped away from him before she could unearth and expose the truths she’d planned to show him. She’d ripped into his heart—into his very soul—and left him open to the raw, bitter truth. She couldn’t leave him the way he was, but with her hands still burning, there was no way she was going to touch him again so soon.

  She stumbled away from the doctor until her back smacked into the wall with an almost-but-not-quite-silent thump. If Drew had heard it, he showed no indication. For the first time in a long time, Amity was forced to examine her choices, her mistakes. She had to reconcile the result of the emotions she’d brought to the surface in those she’d tried to help with her original goals. The buzz of Drew’s emotions within her was like a mirror held up in front of all of her flaws and faults. She didn’t like it, not one little bit. She turned and fled, teleporting herself as she walked so that by her second step, she was back at her car.

  I need to get away from here, she thought as she jumped behind the wheel before deciding it would be quicker and easier to forgo the vehicle altogether.

  Chapter Five

  A quiet knock on his office door snapped Drew out of his thoughts. He was almost relieved for the distraction that pulled him away from a wave of sorrow and rage, which had simultaneously infected him, rendering him motionless. He pushed himself upright, rubbing blindly at the spot where his forehead had rested against the desk—certain there would be a telltale red mark branded across his skin from the weight of being pressed against the hard surface.

  He cleared his throat to dislodge the lump that had sprung up when the unexpected influx of emotions had struck him. Then he swiped at his eyes, ensuring there were no telltale tears within. Not that he could have possibly been crying over Becca of course.

  “Come—” he cut himself off when his voice issued in a high squeak. He cleared his throat once more. “Come in,” he said more firmly.

  Pushing the door open tentatively, and leading with two Styrofoam cups that were sure to contain fresh, hot coffee, was Cathy. Becca’s best friend, but also a nurse at the hospital. Drew wasn’t sure which role she was filling on this particular visit.

  She seemed to take the fact that he didn’t immediately demand that she leave the room as a positive sign and she smiled, kicked the door closed, and moved to his desk before placing one of the cups on his desk.

  “I thought you could do with a coffee,” she said needlessly. It was clear she felt obligated to fill the yawning silence that otherwise occupied the space.

  He could see there was a deeper motive to her action, one that seemed to be dancing just on the tip of her tongue, but to her credit, she didn’t come out and ask. Although the fact that she didn’t just blurt it out, as she normally would, set Drew on edge anyway.

  “What do you want?” he asked, resigning himself to the fact that there was no point in delaying the inevitable. Dealing with Cathy would be a hell of a lot easier than having to face Becca—maybe he could get some of the answers he needed without having to suck up his pride completely. The last thing he wanted to do was fall to his knees and beg Becca to love him again, which was exactly what he was seconds from doing every time he saw her.

  “I just wanted to see how you were doing,” Cathy said, sitting on the corner of his desk and taking a sip from her own cup.

  He barked out a hard laugh. “Oh, I’m just fan-fucking-tastic. How do you think I’m doing?”

  She chuckled in response, but looked contrite. “Yeah, there were probably better ways I could have worded that, huh?”

  He snorted as he nodded. “You think?”

  Cathy shifted into the seat across from him and cast a level stare at him over the top of her coffee. “Look, I know I’m Becca’s friend, and I know you probably don’t want to talk to me about all this just because of that fact alone, but if you ever need an ear, mine is free. I like to think I’m your friend too.”

  He flinched, reminded by her harsh appraisal of his appearance to Becca over lunch.

  “Am I really that pathetic?” he asked.

  “It’s not that.”

  At her words, he lifted a questioning eyebrow, hoping to silently remind her that he’d heard her conversation with Becca.

  “Okay, it’s not only that. I’ve seen the way you look at Becca, Drew. I know the way you felt about her in middle school. I also know that none of this can be easy for you.”

  His jaw ticked with the pressure he was exerting on it. A throbbing ache built in his temple with the blood pulsating through him. He made a mental note to have his blood pressure checked at the earliest possible opportunity.

  “Not as easy as it is on her, that’s for sure,” he said.

  He hadn’t intended to give the words a voice, but they’d slipped out anyway, as if glad to be freed. He’d been keeping them pent up for almost eighteen hours, ever since he’d been dumped. Eighteen hours and Becca was already strolling around looking like a love-struck schoolgirl. The sound of his teeth grinding even harder at the thought filled the silence that his words had left in their wake.

  “That’s . . . that’s not really fair,” Cathy said with hesitant caution.

  He started to wonder whether he’d made a mistake not throwing her out right away. She spoke again before he had the chance to act on his regret though.

  �
��I’m not going to defend what she did. But I don’t think she ever intended to hurt you. She really does care about you, you know.”

  “She sure has a damn funny way of showing it.”

  “Maybe. But that doesn’t make it less true.”

  “Just not the same way she cares for him though.” Drew was surprised by the bitterness in his voice.

  Cathy shrugged. “No. I guess not.”

  “I should have done more,” Drew admitted, more to himself than to Cathy. “I knew that asshole was trying to get into her pants and I didn’t do enough to be sure he never got the chance.”

  After his tongue had started moving, it didn’t seem to want to stop. It was acting independently of his brain and spilling secrets he hadn’t wanted to admit to anyone—let alone Becca’s best friend.

  “What could you have done? Banned her from seeing him?” Cathy snorted. “That would have gone down like a lead balloon. The thing is I honestly don’t think either Evan or Becca understood their feelings for each other until they suddenly did, if you know what I mean?”

  He didn’t know. He didn’t care to know. He was sick of hearing Becca’s name, and he was doubly sick of hearing that other fucker’s. “I’m sorry if I don’t exactly find that knowledge comforting.”

  “No, I guess it wouldn’t be.”

  “Thank you for stopping by, Cathy.” He hoped his tone conveyed the finality that he intended it to have. He didn’t want to spend the next few hours locked in a conversation which could only lead back to his ex over and over again. It wasn’t helping his resolve to not break down over something as stupid as a break-up. True, it was his first time on the receiving end of one, but he’d initiated enough of them to know that they weren’t always driven by hard feelings and cruel intentions. The fact it was Becca—the woman he’d set as the bar to measure all other potential relationships against—who’d been the first to break his heart was as agonizing as it was fitting.