by Lynn Red
“My mate,” a voice that was too real to be a hallucination but too unbelievable to actually be real, said. “Not long, and we’ll be one... forever.”
A howl somewhere far off in the distance rattled me.
Then sleep took me, warm and safe.
Three
“Lily?”
A soft tapping sound, followed by another whisper, shook me out of troubled sleep. I rolled over and opened my eyes. “Dark! It’s... oh, the couch.” Pursing my lips, I wished that just for once I could wake up and not have a micro-panic to start the day.
Pulling my sweat-soaked shirt away from my chest – one of my other charming features was my ability to pour about four gallons of sweat during a night if I had a good enough dream – my eyes adjusted to the light.
“Lily?” Another knock. The voice was more urgent. “You in there?”
I sat up, board straight and looked around, front door, then back. No one was at either. Then I looked out the sliding glass door in front of me and screamed when a huge, looming figure with disheveled hair and a torn up jacket knocked again.
A gust of air from the fan hit my skin and shocked me with cold, which of course made my entire body bristle to life. I’m sure my disheveled visitor would’ve loved a glimpse of that, but I pulled my blanket around my shoulders and got a little closer.
As soon as I was able to process the voice I heard, my mind went in two directions. I’m usually pretty good about controlling my mood swings, but some people get me so worked up that my head gets all twisted up.
“Damon?” I said. “Is that you?”
My tentative steps got a lot quicker when I recognized my absconded ex-boyfriend looking like absolute hell on the porch landing. He was leaned on one of the chairs, heavily, as though he was supporting an injured knee or ankle with the chair. Both his pants legs were torn on the knee and one of them had a trickle of blood in the corner, soaking the cotton threads hanging down from the flap.
One of his jacket sleeves was ripped – no, not ripped, kind of split like it burst or something – and underneath his skin was scuffed with something akin to road rash. My first thought was that he was hot rodding like an idiot and wrecked the bike he just finished building. I should’ve known better though.
“Oh my God! Are you okay? What happened to you? Why weren’t you at graduation?” I reached through the door and grabbed his hand, pulling him inside. “Where were you? Everyone was asking about you, even my grandpa, sort of.”
He put his hands up like he was deflecting a punch. “Whoa, whoa,” he said with a laugh. “It’s... it’s nothing. How you doing, Lily? Long time no see, sort of.”
An easy grin spread across his bowed lips, just enough to make the dimple on his left cheek stand out.
“To tell the truth, I’ve had uh,” Damon looked down, indicating the laceration on his knee. “It’s been quite a time. Was Devin there? Devin Cline?”
I stared at him blankly for a second. “Well, yeah. Why wouldn’t he? Everyone was there except for you. Are they even gonna let you graduate?”
Damon didn’t answer for just long enough for me to get uncomfortable.
“Want some coffee?” I’d already started on my way to the kitchen by the time he called out that he’d love some.
There was a fresh pot. Full, too, probably not even an hour old. Grandpa’s keys weren’t on his pegboard and when I looked out the window, the Bronco was gone. It wasn’t like him to leave and not say anything, even if I was asleep. Hell, especially if I was asleep and it was late, which, judging by the sun, it was.
“That’s weird,” I said out loud.
“What’s up?” Damon said, coming into the kitchen behind me and putting a hand on my shoulder. When he touched me, his fingers seemed to burn through the flimsy sheet. “Somethin’ wrong?”
“I... no, no,” I said, pulling away from that weirdly wonderful thrill his fingertips sent snaking along my spine. Even as I did, I kinda wanted to stay right there and let it get the rest of the way down.
That got me giggling first, and then almost immediately after, started blushing like an idiot.
“Did I do something wrong?” he asked again, a little more pointedly. “I’m sorry if I’m bothering you,” Damon had a smile in his voice, a little bit of a laugh. He was mocking my being dumb, but in an indescribably friendly way. “Thanks,” he said, taking the cup of hot coffee out of my left hand – the one I got for myself! – and smiled as he sipped.
“Two things,” I said. “First, that one was mine and I’m pretty sure you knew that since you looked in the cup and saw how much cream was in it.”
That got another grin.
“And the second?”
“What?” I said, staring.
Damon’s shoulders shook with laughter. “You said there were two things and then—”
“Ugh! How do you always do this to me?” I put my foot up on the table and leaned back, very thankful for my covering blanket. “It was just like this when we dated too. You’d always manage to show up at exactly the worst possible times, and get me all flustered. Then, like five minutes later, you had me wrapped around your finger.”
“I’m sorry, Lily,” he said. His voice was lower and serious. “Really, I didn’t mean to get you upset. I’ve just... missed you is all, I guess.”
“The second thing,” I said, nipping that right in the bud before he turned me into a puddle, “is that you still haven’t told me why you’re here. We haven’t really talked in months, and the first time we do, you show up all scraped up. You wake me up at whatever time it is – the clock got stuck at quarter past three, I guess – and then you say a couple cryptic things and clam up.”
By the time I took a breath, it was a deep one, and let it out real slow.
“You done?” he asked.
“Yeah, why?”
Another smile, that son of a bitch, always ready with another smile. “Just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to need CPR.”
“Great, Damon. Real great. Ha-ha, you’re just about as funny as a knot in my toast.”
He cocked his eyebrow.
“Anyway,” he mercifully said, “yeah, about what happened. It’s a long story, and not one I’m really sure I can tell you. It’s a little unbelievable.” Damon opened his mouth to say something else, but reconsidered.
The red on his jeans caught my attention again when a drop fell from the cotton strands and hit the tile. “Oh we need to get you cleaned up. Stay there,” I said, running off to the bathroom.
Moments – and just enough hissing and wincing to make up for his poking fun at me – later, his hand was back on my shoulder, right where it was before. He gave me a little squeeze, just a tease of a massage, right where my neck turned into my shoulder.
“Why did you come here?” I said, barely above a whisper.
He didn’t answer for a moment, just left his hand there, squeezing gently. “I had to,” he finally said. “Had to see you again. I can’t explain it exactly, but something made me come here, to you. I woke up this morning and, well, you can see what sort of state I was in.”
“Did you have a wreck or get drunk or something?”
“No, it’s nothing like that. I almost wish it was.” Damon was clearly worried, and also clearly not telling the whole truth. It was like he was protecting me from something.
I didn’t want to be protected. I wanted to do whatever he needed me to do.
“I don’t know why I’m saying this, because it’s totally not like me at all.” I took a much bigger sip of coffee than I intended to take, and swallowed it with a gulp. “Whatever you need, you tell me, okay?”
“I will, I promise.” He pinched his fingers on the bare skin of my neck. “Right now though, I just needed to see you. I can’t explain it, I really can’t. Is that okay?”
What aren’t you telling me?
“Yeah, of course,” I said softly, tilting my head so he could massage deeper. I put my hands on his knees and look
ed up. “I think you’re all cleaned up. Cut was... it looked worse than it... that feels really good.” My hair fell over my shoulder. He brushed it away and kneaded his fingers deeper, then started on the other side. “I’ve really missed this.”
He chuckled softly. “Yeah, I imagine so.”
“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” I protested, but I wasn’t stopping him. Back and forth I rolled my head, until I finally let it fall forward.
Damon dug deeper, his thumbs tracking along my shoulders, dipping down just below my sheet-toga. They slid up my backbone then spread out along the bottom of my skull. It was one of those massages where all the nerves along my whole back, even way far away from where he was touching me, flared up and tingled.
“God,” I groaned in a drawn-out way. “I needed this more than I knew. It’s like as soon as you started with that, cricks I didn’t even know I had started going away.” Every word I said probably came out all muffled and funny with my chin sitting on my chest.
The soft sound of his fingers sliding against my skin, rasping gently over the hair on the back of my head, was all I could focus on. All I wanted to focus on. At least until he suddenly stopped.
Bending over and kissing the top of my head, Damon said, “I gotta go.”
“You haven’t done that since like three months before we broke up.” I was blushing furiously, and so relaxed that it took a concerted effort to lift my head up enough to look at his deep green eyes. “Wait, did you just say you have to go? Why?”
“Because...” Somehow, even with his clothes all torn up and his leg bleeding again, his short, wavy, brown hair fell right back where it was. Once again he opened his mouth and closed it right away.
“Come on, Damon,” I urged. “You’ve got me nervous with all this double-talk and avoiding questions. What kind of stupid tease is this?”
He stood up and helped me to my feet. “It’s not a tease,” he said. “I’m sorry. I really am, but... I just can’t... I gotta go.”
Quickly he moved to the door and put his hand on the knob. “Lily?”
“Yeah?”
He turned and was back next to me much faster than he should have been. Before I knew it, Damon’s arms were around my waist and he pulled me close, pressing his lips against mine and kissing me so deep and sweet that it took the breath right out of my chest.
Clutching me, holding me tight, he kissed me over and over, his tongue parting my lips and exploring my mouth, then swirling against my tongue before he pulled away. When he did, we were both breathing hard. Damon’s heart pounded so hard in his chest that I could feel it, and those thick, strong arms held me right against him.
Right where I’ve always wanted to be... apparently?
“Why...” I swallowed. “That’s the first time you’re the one who started the kissing.”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Lily, you don’t deserve this. You really, really don’t. I can’t say anything else. I shouldn’t have come here, but I just couldn’t stop myself.”
Damon’s head slumped forward and I put my hands to his cheeks, pushing it up and looking him in the eye. “Don’t apologize for coming here,” I said as stern as I could manage. “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been thinking about you, too.”
He had a look of such passion, such power and gratefulness in those green eyes that it almost made me cry. Almost.
“Thank you for... for the coffee, and the Spongebob band-aid.” He had to laugh, and I went along with him. His breath caressing my neck where his hands had been, his kiss still sweet on my lips, I craned my head up toward him and tasted him one last time.
“Are you sure?” I asked as he pushed me to arms’ length. “You’re sure you can’t tell me anything?”
“Y – yeah,” he said, and separated from me.
Suddenly, something snapped. “Then you know what? Get out. Get out right now.” My voice was a low growl that I barely even recognized.
“What?”
“You heard me. You come here and act all fucking lovey-dovey with me, like you knew I wanted a year ago, and then what, you’re just gone? You can’t tell me why, you get to act all mysterious? Huh?”
I shoved him. I’ve never shoved anyone in my life, but I put my hands on Damon King’s chest and pushed him toward the door.
“No, no, Lily that’s not it,” he protested, but kept backing toward the sliding door as I shoved him, popping my hands against his chest harder and harder. “Really, I, I didn’t mean to—”
“Yeah, I’m sure you didn’t. I’m real sure you didn’t mean to do whatever it is you did. I’m real sure you didn’t just show up and rub me and get some long-overdue kisses and you totally didn’t expect it to hurt me! What a surprise! What a dumb, idiot thing to think, that your ex-girlfriend, who only dumped you because you wouldn’t make any moves on her, would be hurt when you finally did.”
He opened the door, still backing away slowly. “All I can say, Lily, is that I never meant to hurt you. I really didn’t. I hate this more than you can know. But I can’t drag you into this. Seeing you made me realize that I couldn’t.”
Damon started to shut the door, slowly sliding it closed. I finished it for him, a lot harder than I probably needed to, but it felt good. “Get out.” I clenched my teeth so hard it hurt.
I guess all that stuff about never knowing which version of Lily you’re going to get is true.
It rolled around in my head, all the stuff people said about me at school for so many years. That I was two people in one body. Well guess what? They didn’t understand. They didn’t get what it was like to have two dead parents and live in a town you hated with your grandpa who you loved more than anything in the world.
Not my friends, not the assholes who made fun of me for having hair that ranged in color from bright blue to black and purple. They didn’t get it.
I sat down, hard, back on the couch where my sweat reminded me of the dream I’d had right before Damon showed up. Damon, king of the assholes, king of the people who hurt me without even thinking about it, broke my heart for the second time.
“Leroy?” Grandpa Joe called from the living room. I hadn’t even heard the door close. “You awake?”
He came into the room and beheld me in all my sweaty, mussed up glory, just as I was sniffling. I had something in my eye.
“Wh – what happened? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, grandpa,” I said. “Thanks for the coffee. I saw Damon.”
“You did? When?”
I shrugged, trying to act like I didn’t care. Because that works so well when your cheeks are puffy red and your eyes are bloodshot. That look just says ‘cool’. “He just left, came by all messed up, looking really tired and like he got in a wreck or a...” I trailed off.
A fight? No, that’s ridiculous. Damon’s never fought anyone before, not since he moved here anyway. Devin, sure, he’d fight anything that moved, but Damon’s different.
“He did? I didn’t see him.” Grandpa sat down and put a wrapped up bacon and egg sandwich from the deli down on the table. “All I heard was the door slam, no car or anything. And I sure didn’t see him.”
“You must’ve just missed him then, because... wait, did you say you heard the door slam?” I opened my sandwich and stared at it. Even in my rage, the thing was glorious. Thick, perfectly scrambled egg, crisp bacon.
Grandpa nodded. “Yeah, door slam, then nothing.”
I sat there in silence for a moment, wondering if maybe I’d imagined the whole thing. I thought maybe it was one of those ultra-real hallucinations people have. I looked over at the kitchen. “He was drinking that coffee over there, so unless I poured them both, drank them both, and then slammed the door, I’m not imagining it.”
“Huh,” he grunted as he stood up and slapped his knees. “Well, I’m old, I’m sure I just didn’t notice him. My eyes aren’t what they used to be. Eat that thing before it gets cold and the fake cheese stuff they put on it you seem to like so much turn
s into jelly.”
I didn’t have to hear him a second time. The first wedge of sandwich was halfway in my mouth. I sank my teeth in, thick, buttery toast, and the sharp bite of whatever it was they called garlic-cheese at the deli.
Perfect.
“You’re sure he was here?” Grandpa was shaking his head, hands on his hips. “Hmm.”
“Yeah,” I said around a mouthful of egg. “Whatever though, fu – forget him.”
I blushed, and grandpa chuckled. His eyes though, the pinched look on his face, it told a different story. A worried one, though I didn’t know what it was about.
“Something wrong?” I said, crunching down on some bacon.
Grandpa smiled with the left corner of his mouth, but his down-turned eyes told a much less happy story. “No, I was just thinking back. Old man reminiscing about long-gone times. Anyway, you enjoy that sandwich. I’ll be out back.”
I barely even heard him say ‘out back’ before I took another bite.
I don’t care. I don’t need him, don’t even want him.
I took another bite with lots of egg.
And if I keep thinking this stuff, eventually it might even be true.
Four
“Who is this?” A tiny, almost inaudible voice tittered through my phone. The person on the other end said something about an article, but it took a minute to register.
It was almost a week since that weird visit from Damon, but I was still feeling kinda wonky about reality.
Everything had been so stupid crazy that I’d completely forgotten about the pitch I sent to the New York Times three months before. I sent them this long, rambling abstract about a story idea based on all the whacky stuff my grandpa tells me all the time – about the werewolves, and the ghosts or whatever they are that wander Fort Branch in the darkest hours of the night. Real spooky stories some of them, but it’s all based on old folk tales, ancient magic, the kind of thing that really gets ahold of you and won’t let go.
“I’m sorry. Did you say you’re from the Times?”
“Yes, ma’am, this is Lily Kyle, right? You sent a story abstract?”
