You can do this. You were around Bridger all the time.
After we get into my car, I drive onto the highway and steer us toward the beach, silence settling over us. Between that and the confined space, the situation is worse than I expected. Although, it’s not nearly as bad as when he caught me in his arms in the hallway. Maybe it’s because I’m more prepared for his despair now? Who knows? I’ll take any alleviation I can get.
Still, even with the reduced despair, my heart thumps maddeningly, begging to be put out of its misery. I silently tell it to shut up, that we’re doing this whether it wants to or not.
“You’re nervous,” Nico states, watching me intently.
“What? Me? No.” I force a laugh that sounds all sorts of wrong.
“It’s okay if you are. I just wish you’d tell me why. I might be able to help.”
I rub my lips together, daring another glance at him. He seems as if he’s being completely genuine. Still …
“I don’t really know you,” I reply, gripping the steering wheel.
He rests his elbow on the console. “Yeah, but sometimes talking about the problem can help.”
Okay, shouldn’t I be the one to give him that kind of advice?
“Um … Do you have any problems you want to talk about?” Grr … Why do I sound about twenty times lamer than he did?
“I’ll tell you what.” He twists in the seat to face me. “I’ll tell you one of my problems if you tell me why you’re so nervous around me.”
I chew on my bottom lip, mulling over his offer. While there’s no way I can tell him about my curse, I can offer him a bit of the truth.
“I’ve never been alone with a guy before,” I admit. “Well, outside of my family.”
I can feel him study me through the darkness of the cab. “You don’t need to be nervous. I’d never hurt you.”
“I’m not nervous because of that. I just don’t know how to act. I don’t get out a lot.”
“I think you’re doing great.”
“Give it some time. I’m sure I’ll say something weird.” I dim the brights for a passing car. “I usually do.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see his lips quirk again with an almost smile.
“Not from what I’ve seen. Usually, you’re completely honest. An admirable quality. At least, I think so.”
I bite back a smile. Seriously, never in a million years would I think Nico Everson, the known bad boy of our school, would use words like “admirable quality,” or admit that he’s seen me. I’ve always thought I was invisible, but apparently not.
“You’re different from what I expected,” I say thoughtfully, looking over at him.
He sucks in his bottom lip between his teeth. “You thought about me?”
For a moment, I lose my mind and stupidly stare at his mouth before I manage to tug my head out of my dirty thoughts and focus on his face. “Maybe a little bit.”
A smile tugs at his lips, but it never quite reaches his eyes. “I’ve thought about you, too.”
I look back at the road. “Really? Because I always thought I stayed pretty invisible. At least, I try to.”
“You’re not invisible. Not even close.” He reaches over and rests his hand on the back of my seat, inches away from my head. “And just to clarify, you’re exactly how I imagined you’d be.”
“Really?” I aim for a playful tone, but I’m too aware of how close he is, and it shows through my wobbly voice. Plus, with his hand that close, I can feel his pain piercing into my brain. “You’ve only been talking to me for, like, five minutes. Maybe I’m really crazy and just haven’t shown my true colors yet.” When his smile falters, I hurriedly add, “I’m just kidding. I’m not pretending to be sane or anything.” Face palm. “See? I told you I’d say something weird.”
“You haven’t said anything weird.” He erases the look and puts on a forced smile. “I was just thinking about something. Something that has nothing to do with you.”
“Oh.” I don’t know what to say to that.
“Can I ask you a question?” It feels like his gaze never wavers from me, though I try not to look while I drive, and his cautious tone makes me wary. Despite that, I find myself nodding. “Why were you late to the graduation ceremony tonight?”
Not what I was expecting at all.
“Um, well, because I left my house late and got stuck in traffic.”
“Why?”
I shrug. “I overslept.”
“Oh.”
I glance over to see him frown, seeming to be deeply perplexed about something.
“How come you haven’t been at school for the last few days?” he asks.
“You noticed I wasn’t there?” I’m shocked. I mean, sure, he already admitted to noticing me, yet I didn’t expect him to pay enough attention to notice my absence.
“I always notice when you’re not around,” he says, and I see a strange, almost pained look on his face.
I don’t know how to react to that; whether he’s feeding me a cheesy line or just being honest. From the sincerity in his eyes, I’m guessing—or maybe just naively hoping—it’s the latter.
I tear my gaze away from him and focus on the road, feeling dazedly confused. “I haven’t been at school because I’ve been sick and have basically been lying around in bed. And I missed the ceremony because I forgot to set an alarm, and I …” I trail off when I catch the look of horror on his face. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing …” He shakes his head, the terrified look vanishing. “It’s just that you said you were sick. I hope you’re okay.”
“It’s nothing contagious,” I quickly add. “I sometimes just get really tired and have to sleep it off for few days.”
“Do you know why it happens?”
“No.” I cross my fingers, hoping upon hope he can’t tell I’m lying and that his despair is what’s probably causing it.
He presses his lips together, as if hesitating to say something.
For a crazy moment, I wonder if he knows about my curse. How the hell would he know that? No one does, not even my own family. Then I think of another reason someone would stay in bed for three days straight.
Maybe he thinks I’m depressed.
“I’m not depressed,” I feel the need to say.
“Okay.” His hand brushes against my hair as he shifts his weight, and those damn butterflies go wild again. “You can tell me if you are.” His fingers touch my hair again, and that’s when I realize he’s doing it on purpose.
I peek at him out of the corner of my eye and find him watching his fingers move through my hair with a look of fascination on his face.
“It’s so soft,” he mutters, combings his fingers through the strands again.
All this touching is making me anxious, miserable, confused, and kind of excited.
When he notices me watching him, he tenses, but he doesn’t pull his hand away.
“I’m sorry. I’m probably making you even more nervous, huh?”
I hesitantly nod. “A little. But it’s okay. I’ve just never had a guy play with my hair before.” God! Why do I keep telling him things that make me sound so lame?
See? This is what happens when you shut yourself out from everyone.
But what else am I supposed to do? Float in a sea of misery for the rest of my life? The only reason you’re here right now is because you’re worried he’s going to try to do something like Bridger did.
“Can I ask you something?” I ask as I turn into the parking lot beside the beach then kill the lights. Darkness surrounds us, except for the moonlight and the bonfire just a little ways down the beach. “I should warn you, though, that it’s kind of a personal question.”
Wariness creeps into his eyes as he unravels his fingers from my hair. “Sure.”
“Are you …? Are you okay? I mean, back at school, when I was driving away, you looked … sad.” Sad might be an understatement. Tormented, the epitome of anguish—those seem more fitting.
He stares out at the ocean, at the waves lulling against the sand, as the moonlight highlights the pain in his eyes. “Isn’t everyone sad sometimes?”
“Yeah, I guess so.” That doesn’t really answer my question, though.
He turns his head toward me, and our gazes meld. In the flash of a second, I see him decide something that makes him both unhappy and happy.
“Let’s go for a walk.” With that, he opens the door and hops out.
I grab my phone and car keys before nervously hopping out after him. Normally, I wouldn’t consider going off alone with some random guy, but there’s something about Nico, a pull I can’t quite describe, that makes my body need to follow him. And the feeling only increases the more time we spend together. At the same time, with all the despair radiating off of him, I know I’ll probably pass out for days again when I get home.
I hope this is worth it.
We make our way toward the sand, walking side by side but not quite touching. When we reach the water’s edge, he glances at me with such intensity pouring off him that I nearly step back.
“You said you don’t get out a lot,” he says. “Why not?”
With how intense he looks, that was not what I expected him to say.
I lower myself down onto the sand, too tired to stand any longer. “I don’t know.” I draw circles in the sand with my fingertips, keeping my head tucked down as I admit, “I don’t have a lot of friends, so when I go out and do something, I go alone. I used to do stuff with my brother. I’m not sure if you remember him. Bridger? He was a year older than us, but he …” My voice cracks. “He died a year ago. Before he got … sick, he used to encourage me to get out of the house. Then he got too sad and things changed. And then he was gone, and I didn’t have a reason to go out anymore.” I swallow hard. “I’m sure you know what happened to him. Almost everyone at the school talked about it.”
Rumors floated around, speculations about why he did it, how he did it. People I barely knew came up to me and started asking for the details. It was probably one of the first times in my life I considered punching someone, especially when Zayne, one of Leo’s friends, came up to me and said, “Is it true? Did your brother really slit his wrists, and you were the one who found him?” Without waiting for me to respond, he added, “Whoa, that must have been so fucked up. I bet it really messed with your head.”
Thankfully, I managed to keep my hands at my sides, though a tiny part of me wanted to release my anger on him and break his straight, perfect nose.
“Yeah, I heard about that.” Nico sits down beside me, so close our legs and hips are a sliver of an inch apart.
His pain crashes against my own, causing a hurricane to swirl between us that sucks the air from my lungs.
Move over, I command myself. Put distance between him and you before you faint. But it’s been so long since I’ve been this close to someone, and I realize just how lonely I’ve become. I want to stay where I am and suffer for a few minutes longer.
“I’m so sorry that you had to go through that. I really am.” He stretches an arm out behind me, resting back on his hand. “I can’t even imagine how hard that was for you—before and after you lost him. Your brother must’ve been in a lot of pain.”
I stare out at the waves rolling in, fighting back tears I’m not even sure belong to me. “He was … It was hard to see him so sad all the time. When he was younger, he was so happy. But when he got older, he started getting really depressed. Things got progressively worse and, by the time he reached high school, he barely came out of his room anymore.”
I slip my hands in the sand to hide their trembling. “I had to beg him to go to school. Sometimes he wouldn’t go for weeks, and social services would stop by our house … I thought we were going to get taken away and never see each other again. I guess that happened, anyway …” I trail off, rubbing my hand over my chest. Strangely, the weight normally crushing my lungs is reduced a tiny bit. This isn’t what tonight was supposed to be about, though.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I don’t know how I turned this conversation into a pity fest. Everyone’s been through stuff. The last thing you need is me piling my sob story on you.”
“You’re fine, I promise. I just wish you didn’t have to go through that. Losing your brother …” His haunted eyes stare out at the ocean. “No one should ever have to experience that kind of pain, and no one should ever have to feel like death is the only choice left.”
I swallow hard as his despair wraps around me. “Have you … ever felt that way before?”
“Sometimes,” he confesses without looking at me. “But don’t worry; I’ll be okay.”
I’ll be okay. My brother used to say that to me all the time.
“Maybe you should get some help,” I suggest quietly. “I tried to get my brother to talk to a psychologist, but he had it in his head that no one would understand what he was going through. He kept saying he was different than everyone. I tried to explain that he wasn’t different, that other people suffer from depression, too, but he was so convinced he had something else other than depression.”
Nico looks at me with his brows dipped. “What did he think was wrong with him?”
“I have no idea.” I pause, giving myself a moment to gather my emotions before I end up bursting into tears. The truth is that I sometimes wonder if perhaps my brother suffered from what I do. I was too afraid to ever ask, and I will always hate myself a little because I never did. “Have you ever thought about talking to someone about how you feel?”
His lips pull into a small, sad smile. “I am right now, aren’t I?”
“Yeah, but I think maybe you might be better off talking to someone who knows what they’re doing. And someone who didn’t …” I stop myself, the words I was going to say echoing through my mind. Fail their brother.
“Hey, don’t go there.” He reaches for me and cups my face, splaying his fingers across my cheek.
His fingers tremble.
My heart races.
My skin blazes everywhere.
All oxygen is ripped from my lungs.
Smothering. I’m being smothered by his agony. By my agony. By what feels like the entire world’s agony.
“You didn’t fail your brother,” he whispers, his breath trembling from his lips. “I saw you at school. I saw how much time you spent with him. You were always there for him. You did everything you could.”
“Then why isn’t he still here?” I choke out. “If I did such a great job, if I did everything I could, then why did he choose to leave me?” Hot tears spill down my cheeks as I fight to catch my breath. Never have I uttered those word out loud. Have I thought about them before? Yes, all the time. Every second of every hour of every day since my brother took his own life. But admitting my guilt to someone, and a stranger for that matter …
God, he must think I’m crazy.
Yet, nothing but compassion fills Nico’s eyes as he moves his hand to my waist and pulls me toward him.
“It’s going to be okay,” he whispers, his fingers shaking against my hip as he scoots us closer.
Is it?
The feel of his fingers on my waist is both wonderful and horrible. I can’t remember the last time someone touched me with a need to comfort me. I can’t remember the last time someone touched me at all.
A conflict of emotions battles inside me. Despair, peace. Despair, peace. My body trembles. So does his. I want to move back. No, I want to stay.
Stay. Pull away.
Stay. Go.
I don’t know what I want anymore.
I’m not sure I ever did.
Chapter 7
Nico
Tonight wasn’t supposed to end up like this. Honestly, I just wanted to talk to her for a bit so we could get comfortable around each other. Then, when she ran away from me, I sank to the ground, buried in the gods’ despair and my own. My first try at getting to know Everly, and I’d gotten nowhere. I felt like I was failing alr
eady—failing again. Then she came back and asked me to go to the beach with her.
If the gods could see me now, I’d probably be struck dead. Fortunately, Evan’s magic allows me to keep up a very powerful shield. So, for the moment, Everly and I are living in our own little bubble where I can do anything I want, even wrap my arms around her and comfort her when she cries. And the moment I spot tears in her pretty eyes, that’s what I do. I just wish I was a Balance and could siphon out her pain. A pain she doesn’t deserve.
“I’m sorry for crying,” she whispers, leaning toward me, almost resting her head on my shoulder but not quite. “I just miss him so much.”
“I know you do.” I tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, and my entire body trembles. It’s been too long since I touched someone. Too long since I felt this calm. No wonder the gods didn’t want me to go near her. Because, right now, I feel nowhere near as much despair as I normally do.
She cries soundlessly for another minute or two before sighing exhaustedly. Then she wipes the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand and peers up at me through her eyelashes. My heart tightens in my chest at the sight of misery in her eyes.
“Do you ever wish you could do things over?” she whispers. “And do a better job the second time around?”
“Sometimes,” I admit, thinking about my time on earth away from my family. If I could go back in time, I would make sure I didn’t fail against taking down the gods. I need to make sure I don’t fail the second time around.
“Sometimes I wonder if we can. Change the past, I mean. Like maybe there’s some kind of magic out there that allows someone to go back in time. Maybe that’s just wishful thinking.” She chews on her bottom lip. “I probably sound crazy right now.”
I shake my head. “Not at all. Unfortunately, I don’t think that kind of magic exists. We can’t erase the things we’ve done; we can only try to do better next time.”
She cracks the smallest smile, and for some reason, my heart feels like it’s swelling inside my chest.
Captivate (Unearthly Balance Book 1) Page 5
