Oh I was making such a mess of things. I wiped the tears off my face, angry with myself for crying in the first place.
"No. Yes. I don't know. I like you, I do. I love spending time with you. You're funny and you make me laugh and you get me out of my own head and I'm terrified of losing that. But I'm not ready for whatever this is. I think you were right about my needing to take things slow. Like, glacial slow or let’s-work-on-being-friends-first slow." A tear slid down my cheek, and I stared at my hands, feeling like a world-class jerk.
"Hey," he said, lifting my chin with his thumb and forcing me to look into his eyes. "It's okay. I told you that you were worth waiting for and I meant it. I'll take what I can get, and if that means going slow and taking our time, then that's okay." He pulled me into his chest, his arms wrapping around me, and somehow he was soothing me.
"I'm sorry." I felt horrible again. I knew that this wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but it was the best I could do. I didn’t want to lose him, but I didn’t want to encourage him while I was so uncertain either.
"There's nothing to be sorry for," he said quietly. "I can do the friend thing. For now. I meant it, Cassie. I'll wait until you're ready, whatever you're ready for. But I'm not going to give up. So we can go as slow as you need to for however long it takes. You are something amazing, and I’m not going to rush it and risk losing you."
He was amazing, and I didn’t deserve him.
“Thanks,” I said, pressing my lips to his cheek.
“Don’t thank me, Cassie,” he smiled. “I’m in this for me too, you know. Let’s finish watching the show.”
I nodded and tucked my head against his chest, selfishly letting him hug me and wishing I could figure out what I wanted and be decisive about it. Instead, Dom pushed play on his remote and I curled up on his couch with my head in his lap and pretended to watch another episode of Supernatural when, in reality, I was castigating myself for being too selfish to let Dom go completely.
I stayed for another hour watching television with Dom until my nagging conscious and his silence became too oppressive and I made my excuses to leave. He hugged me tightly and reiterated his intent to wait for me, brushing his lips lightly across mine. No matter how pleasant it was, there was no fire there and it made me sad that the one thing that should have been so easy for me wasn’t.
I dragged myself home and went straight to my room, not in the mood to rehash my day with Becca. She knew something was up as soon as I walked in the door and she saw my red swollen eyes and my tear streaked cheeks. She was convinced that Dom had done something to hurt me and threatened all kinds of creatively violent retribution. I shook my head at her, told her Dom hadn't done anything, and begged for a few hours to myself. She agreed after I glared at her, but I had the distinct feeling she was humoring me. I couldn't hole up in my room forever. I would eventually have to tell her what I had done and hoped that she could help me to untangle myself from the seemingly impossible situation I had created.
Locking myself in my room, I powered up my laptop and got to work trying to fix my essays. Professor Davies had been right to grade them so poorly. It wasn't like me to put in so little effort on an assignment, but that was exactly what I had done. So not only was my personal life a shambles, my academic life was as bad, and both situations were entirely of my own making.
I buried my face in my hands and let the tears fall from my cheeks. I didn't like the new weepier me, and I inhaled deeply, resolving to stop being such a victim. I had created my messes and I would clean them up. Starting with my homework. It was easier to redo a paper than it was to figure out a muddled love life, so I dove right in, trying to make sense of the travesty that was my essay on fate and free will in Elizabethan literature.
Several hours later, I came up for air, starving and nursing the beginnings of a headache. Too many tears had been spilled that day to think that I could escape without a monster headache brewing. I rummaged in the medicine cabinet for a bottle of aspirin and went to find Becca. I couldn't tell her everything, but Becca knew me better than anyone. She would know how to fix my messed up pseudo-relationship with Dom, and I hoped that this time she wouldn't push me to patch things up with him. I couldn't force an emotion to exist by force of will. Not even a will as strong as Becca's.
Becca was sitting on the couch watching television, and to my surprise, Miguel was in chair next to her, Ray on the floor between his legs. I frowned at the three of them. Becca had that tight line to her mouth that said she was about to go full-on mother hen and there was no stopping her.
"Oh, mija, you look awful," Miguel crooned as he jumped out of the chair and hugged me tightly.
I stood awkwardly, disgusted with him and glaring. "You look great too, Miguel," I retorted. "Appreciate the confidence booster. I'd ask you what you and Ray were doing here on a date night but something tells me I already know."
I shot Becca a dirty look and she stared back, denying nothing.
"Breakups require commiseration and ice cream and chick flicks, in whatever order you feel like. That's what friends are for, Cass. You've done it for me often enough." She held her arms out to me, and my lip trembled, overwhelmed by the magnitude of my love for my friends.
“I didn’t break things off with Dom exactly,” I admitted, and Becca clapped her hands excitedly. “I asked him to take things slow and work on being just friends for now and see where it goes later.”
“Good!” Becca cheered. “I should have warned him you’re like a skittish colt. One wrong move and you’ll bolt.”
I glared at her. “That’s not true. Okay, that’s kind of true, but still. Whose side are you on?”
“His,” all three of them trilled at the same time, and I picked up a throw pillow from the couch and tossed it at them.
“You guys are sucky friends.”
“We’re great friends,” Miguel grinned and nodded at Ray.
"We brought you some stuff," Ray said quietly, handing me a white shopping bag.
I arched a brow at him and took the bag, an involuntary laugh escaping when I saw its contents. Miguel and Ray had bought me a pair of fuzzy pink pajama pants, a teddy bear, and a flash drive. I held up the flash drive and gave them a questioning look.
"It's a breakup angry-girl mix," Ray explained. "Becca said you had a breakup and we figured you can't have a proper breakup pity party without Alanis Morissette and Adele. And there's a gallon of Moose Tracks ice cream in the fridge. Miguel said it was your favorite."
"It is," I smiled.. "Thanks, you guys. You didn't have to do this."
"Of course we did," Miguel said. "How many times have you done this for Becca? Or me? You sat through two Tyler Perry movies and Waiting to Exhale with me last time I had a bad breakup. The least I can do is bring you some ice cream and re-watch a few seasons of Supernatural with you."
Score more points for my human life. I crawled on the couch and leaned my head on Becca’s shoulder. I’d be lost without my friends, and the more I realized that, the sadder I became.
Chapter Fifteen
"Grow, you stupid little light!" I growled, my teeth clenched as I glared at my hand.
I had my hand in the pool of dreams, trying my best—and failing spectacularly—to summon my light in the palm of my hand. The dreamer wasn't having a nightmare yet, but the dream was becoming increasingly hostile and Aleksander had thought it would be a good way for me to ease into dealing with nightmare landscapes. I had wanted to give it a shot since he’d taught me how to manifest my light in the first place, but my head wasn't in it today. Of course the light knew it because it was refusing to cooperate and I was left with my hand stuck in the gelatinous water, feeling like an idiot.
I let out a string of frustrated profanities and was rewarded with a small twitch near the corners of Aleksander's mouth and a strangled noise that sounded suspiciously like amusement. He was laughing at me, and that made my mood even worse. I glared at him and tried not to think about how much I was letting both
of us down.
"You have to relax, Cassie," he said soothingly, his hand resting between my shoulder blades and rubbing a small, calming circle. I felt some of the tension coiled in my stomach unwind and relax. "You have to think positively. We draw our light from our love, from our joy. If you're tense or angry or frightened, you won't be able to access those feelings and pull the light the way you need to. Now close your eyes and concentrate on something positive. Something that brings you joy."
I took a deep breath and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to concentrate on my friends, on the feel of Aleksander's hand on my back, on my family. I could feel the heat tingling in my palm as I pictured my mom’s face. Her sweet, soft eyes. Her kind mouth frowning as she got my report card full of F's. My father's face when my student aid was revoked because Professor Davies thought I was on drugs. Ugh. I couldn't believe I’d let that woman make me cry. Thankfully Dom had been there to rescue me. Then that made me think of Dom's face when I pulled away even though he had done everything right. I was such a schmuck. I could almost feel my dark thoughts strangling the light in my hand, the heat replaced by an icy despair that made tears of frustration sting my eyes.
"I can't do this," I insisted, my frustration souring my tone. "I don't know how to shove all my crappy thoughts to the side and focus on this. I'm trying, Aleksander, I promise I am, but it’s not working. My joy is kind of broken today."
I tried to ignore the feeling of despair building at my inability to produce my light. What if he was wrong? What if the reason I couldn't produce it was because I wasn't meant to be a Fae after all? Could I have been stressing myself out over a life I wasn't suited for anyway?
"Don't worry, Cassie," he said reassuringly, reading the turmoil on my face. "Even the oldest Fae can have trouble doing this when their minds are elsewhere. Nobody would expect a Síofra to be able to do it right away. Maybe talking about the things that are bothering you would help clear them from your mind?"
I grimaced and ran the list of everything that had gone wrong in my head. I didn’t even want to think about the things bothering me, but if anyone was in a position to help me sort through my muddled thoughts, it would be him. He had already been through this and made the choice. I hoped he had some advice to make it easier.
"I'm stressing on this whole choice thing, I guess," I told him, blurting everything out. "I feel like a jerk for keeping secrets. I've never had anything that I couldn't talk to my best friend or my mom about. I know you didn't say I had to keep this a secret, but I don't see how I could without them trying to medicate me. It feels wrong. Especially when it's something that would take me out of their lives forever. I mean, I get why Caroline is ready to make her choice now when she doesn't have a good relationship with her mom or anything making her want to stay. I do though. I have friends and I have my family and all these great things I don't know how to leave behind. I have a good life there.
"Don't get me wrong. I love it here too,” I continued. I couldn’t stop the words from falling out of my mouth if I tried. “I feel deep down like I belong here. I think about being here all day. I sit in class and I think about the moons and colors the dreams tint the water and—" I cut myself off. I had almost said and I think about you, but now was not the time to address my undefined feelings toward my Caomhnóir.
"And?" he prodded, his eyes soft and kind, the heat of his hand on my spine sending my heart racing.
"And the other Fae," I answered lamely. "Like Caroline and Erik. Does that happen a lot? That kind of relationship? They seem so happy."
He smirked and gave a small laugh, running a hand through his hair and looking down at the water. "It shouldn't, but it does," he admitted, and I struggled to keep my face impassive and not betray the reason behind my questionings. "The assignments are made by Titania. She knows the soul of every Fae and every Síofra, so she tries to match them with a Caomhnóir they will connect to. If you have a good relationship with your Caomhnóir, then you have a higher likelihood of choosing to stay here. I'm sure the preference is for a relationship of mutual respect such as I have with Jackson. If it happens to be something deeper than that, such as what Caroline and Erik share, the Court chooses to look the other way. After all, despite the obvious danger of heartbreak to him if she decides to stay a mortal, the chances of her leaving are slim now that she is emotionally invested as well."
I frowned, my mind a whirl of questions. Did that mean that my attraction to Aleksander was real or that it had somehow been placed there by the Seelie Queen as a way to try to trick me into staying? It had been one thing when I was confident that my feelings were organic and my own, but the thought of being emotionally manipulated was off-putting.
"But Caroline didn't have anything to go back to anyway," I pointed out. "I do. I mean, don't get me wrong. I like you and all, but I don't think I could say goodbye to my whole life for the sake of a good Síofra /Caomhnóir relationship. That's a lot to ask someone to give up, even for something as amazing as this."
"I understand," he soothed. "The cost is very high. That is why our numbers are dwindling. I can’t fault the Queen for her methods when she's trying to safeguard the future of the Seelie Court. Most Síofra now find it too much to ask and choose to be mortals. But the reward is as great as the sacrifice, Cassie. Or at least it was for me."
"Was it hard for you too?" I asked, wanting to know more about him. He never spoke of his life before the Fae, and I was desperate to know more. "Did you leave anyone behind?"
"Yes and no," he replied, his voice strained as he kept his gaze on the waters below us. "I had to say goodbye to many people I loved, but I felt I didn't belong there anymore. Becoming a Fae was an escape for me from a life I could no longer bear."
"There had to be good parts though if it was hard to leave," I encouraged, confused by his sudden melancholy.
"Of course," he agreed with a small smile. "It was hard to leave my little sister Anne Marie. She was a couple of years younger than I was, but she was always so cheerful. She could light up a room just by walking into it."
"My mom's like that. She's always so happy you can't help but be happy with her. No matter how bad things get, you can always count on her to find a way to make you smile and make you believe that everything will be okay."
"My mom was that way too, but mostly when she was with my dad," he replied. " He worshiped her. You could see it in the way he looked at her that the sun set and rose on her. They acted like newlyweds even after two kids and twenty years. I'd always wanted that for myself, wanted to love someone so much that life was incomplete without them."
I blinked at him in surprise. I had never seen this side of him, and it made heat creep up my neck in a pleasant manner. Aleksander was a secret romantic. Who would have thought?
"And did you find that?" I prodded, curious and terrified to hear his answer at the same time.
His face darkened as he shook his head, his lips pulling into a thin, tight line as if he were in pain. He looked like he was moments away from crying, and I felt the urge to hug him, silently berating myself for upsetting him.
"I tried to," he said. "I tried to love someone like that once, but love doesn't work that way. When I realized I couldn't force it, I tried to let her go but I only hurt her instead. My carelessness destroyed her, and I'll never be able to undo the damage. Some people don't deserve the kind of love my parents had. I'm one of them."
He squeezed his eyes shut and took a shaky breath. I mimicked his earlier action and rubbed small circles between his shoulder blades. Somehow we had switched roles and now he was the one needing comfort, except I didn't know where to start.
"You can't force love. It has to grow on its own," I said, thinking of Dom, of how I probably could have tried harder to reciprocate his feelings, but even if I had, they would be wrong. Artificial and forced, and Aleksander was right. "She deserved to be with someone who could really love her, and I'm sure that's all you were trying to give her. You can't punish yourself for
ever. Everyone deserves love, no matter what they've done."
"Not those who have squandered it," he argued. "I let her love me when I knew I didn't feel the same way and she suffered for my mistakes. Afterward, I knew that eventually life would go on and I would forget and move on and that, deep down, I didn't deserve to. So when Jackson offered me my choice, I took it. For me, it was a chance to atone for the mistakes I'd made. I can spend eternity safeguarding mortals from the things that stalk them and then maybe one day I'll have earned forgiveness, but that's not any time in the foreseeable future."
I stared in the water, watching the dreams flashing past and feeling incredibly awkward. I wanted to comfort him, to soothe him and make him smile, but the words wouldn't come.
"Do you miss your family?" I asked, "Your sister and your parents?"
"Of course," he said sadly. "Not a day goes by that I don't think of them and wonder I”f they're okay.”
"Do you ever watch their dreams?" I asked hesitantly, wondering how my parents would feel if I chose to stay here. "I mean your family’s dreams. Does it help at all with missing them?
He shook his head and looked back at me, his eyes shining with unshed tears, and I felt that desire to comfort him swell again almost as strongly as the urge to kick myself for asking all these depressing questions.
"No I don't. It would be too painful for me. And some are beyond those realms now anyway," he said, his voice raw with regret. "When you walk away, it is often easiest to cut those ties altogether. After all, we are immortal and they... They're not."
"Wait, what?" I sputtered, taken aback. "We're immortal? Like ‘never die’ immortal?"
The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, and I could almost see him jump at the change in subject.
"For the most part, yeah. We don't get sick, we don't grow old, and no poison can harm us."
"Yeah, that would have been nice to have a couple days ago," I muttered darkly. He snorted in response, and I saw his mouth twitch as he tried not to smile. "So what can hurt you?"
The Changeling (Book One of The Síofra Chronicles) Page 12
