by Rachel Jonas
I paced Liam’s bedroom floor. “Yeah, sorry about that. Beth and I had the music really loud and my phone was in my purse, so I missed a bunch of phone calls.”
There was silence on the line and I stopped walking, wondering if I’d just said something that contradicted whatever ‘follow-up’ messages Liam spoke of. I focused on his bed, still messy from me tossing and turning in it.
My eyes lingered there, on his sheets.
“Next time, call. Texting is for your friends. Your father and I actually need to hear your voice. Understood?”
I nodded along with my answer. “Understood.”
“Good. Call you around noon to check in.”
The line went dead and I breathed a sigh of relief. Although, my being here was innocent, it didn’t necessarily feel that way—lying to my mother, sneaking into the house later… the way my heart raced when Liam was in the same room. Yeah, collectively, this felt anything but innocent.
I lowered my head and closed my eyes for a moment, doing all I could to keep things in perspective. After last night’s ordeal, I believed everything Liam said today was true, but I couldn’t afford to let my thoughts become muddled. However, when a logical reason for everything that’s happened failed to present itself, I was left with no other choice but to accept the less conventional explanation.
Liam’s.
But believing his story, believing this tether he spoke of existed, didn’t change anything. My time with him—however long that may have been, whatever it may have consisted of—was the past. A lifetime ago. In the here and now, things were very different. The way we were had faded to a distant echo.
A short chirp on my phone drew me back and the message that came through from Nick made it easier to concentrate on him.
Just him.
‘Didn’t get much sleep last night, but I’m glad you’re okay. Talked to your mom when I couldn’t get you. She said you were with one of your friends?’
I read it twice, feeling guilty he’d been so upset, lying awake, probably thinking the worst. Meanwhile, I’d been here, safe, curled up in a warm bed, being watched over by Liam, my warrior.
More guilt.
A whole heap of it.
‘So sorry. I’ll fill you in later.’
My stomach turned at the thought of having to explain things to him, mostly because I knew one thing for sure: I couldn’t tell him the truth. For so many reasons.
But I didn’t want to think about the hard things right now. I wanted to remember the way it felt being with him last night. Dancing with him. Kissing him. There were so many beautiful sides to Nick’s personality and I was lucky enough to experience them all. I wouldn’t risk what was budding between us for anything. Especially not something I didn’t even fully understand.
Taking a deep breath, I went to where I heard Liam moving around in the kitchen, seeing our dilemma with fresh eyes. ‘Dilemma’ was the word that came to mind because ours was a complicated situation and it would have to be dealt with delicately. He glanced up when I entered and we both forced weak smiles. I took slow steps toward the counter when he looked away, shoveling food into a container.
“I figured you had to get going, but I’ll send you home with enough for seconds. At least, that way, you won’t have to worry about fixing breakfast when you get there.”
I hated that I felt sorry for him. When I imagined him being here alone, in this small house in the woods, it made sadness bubble up from within. He did this thing with his eyes. I knew it was unintentional, but he was just transparent when it came to his emotions—a blessing and a curse, I imagined. Either way, my heart leapt as I realized what brought on the broody expression this time:
It was because he thought I was leaving now.
I felt the unruly thumping inside my chest and quickly extinguished it. With him, I had to be careful to only let my mind lead. Never my heart.
Easing onto the stool, I shook my head. “It’s cool. I can stay a while. I mean… if that’s okay with you.”
He didn’t look up or answer, just flashed that half-smile as he nodded, reaching for a plate. I watched as he spooned my food onto it from the to-go container, hoping my tone was casual enough. That’s what I was going for.
He slid the plate my way and we ate in silence. There was enough to think about already without adding to it. So, we shared our meal to the soundtrack of metal forks scraping ceramic dishes.
When we finished, Liam cleared both our spots and my time here was winding down. I wasn’t completely sure how I felt about that, but I did know it was for the best.
Leaning against the refrigerator, he gave me a few last-minute pointers. “You won’t always burn your clothes off,” he said with a smile. “Eventually, you’ll learn to control the intensity, how to concentrate the heat or disperse it how you want to.”
“Good to know.” I nodded, trying not to smile back at him, but losing that battle pretty quickly.
“And if you’re wondering why you shifted yesterday, I believe the quake was to blame. Modus salvos.”
I frowned, pushing my stool in when I stood. “Modus… what?”
He chuckled when I gave up trying to pronounce it. “Modus salvos… Survival mode.”
“Could’ve just said that,” I sighed, making him laugh a little louder. “What does it mean?”
“It’s something we shifters have been known to do when things are out of balance in some way. The young shifters in Pompeii all transitioned a week before Mount Vesuvius erupted. The youngest refugee we took in was five years old, which, shifting that early, is unheard of. It’s all instinct, though,” he explained.
I tilted my head, eyeing his perfectly smooth skin, gleaming, white teeth, dark hair, knowing how misleading his exterior most likely was.
“Pompeii…” I breathed, daydreaming a bit when I asked, “How old are you exactly?”
His smile was back and he lowered his eyes for a moment. “Let’s just say I’m older than I look,” was the only answer he gave. “But, before you start slinging over-the-hill jokes, keep in mind, I was only three the night you came into the world, kicking and screaming.”
Warmth blossomed in my chest at the image he just put in my head—of me being born, of actually having a point of origin instead of the blank screen I tended to see when I tried picturing it in the past.
“You… actually remember that? The night I was born?”
Liam nodded, the broad smile on his face dimming as he seemed to recall the moment.
“I remember it all,” he shared. “In fact, to make sure I didn’t feel jealous about not being the youngest anymore, your mother made sure I was the first to hold you after her and your father, before any of your brothers.”
I smiled at that, thinking of him being such an intricate part of whatever family I used to have. The way he spoke of them painted a picture of warmth and acceptance I would only ever experience through him. It was both beautiful and tragic.
A question popped into my head and I hesitated to ask it, but then realized there was no harm. “Is it okay if I come back sometime? You know… so you can tell me more about this stuff—where I came from, what I am?”
Liam’s gaze went soft and he nodded. “I’d like that.” Unfolding his arms, he turned toward the fridge to remove a brown, wicker basket from on top of it. I watched as he rummaged through it a moment, and then held my hands out as a silver object glinted through the air.
It landed in the center of my palm.
A key.
“Just let yourself in whenever.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. It felt like an invasion of his privacy. It felt like I didn’t deserve it. It felt too… intimate.
“No, I really can’t take this. I’ll just knock when I stop by. Just like everyone else,” I explained.
Large hands engulfed mine where they rested in a knot on the counter. The feel of them made me stare at Liam.
“But you’re not everyone else, Evangeline.” He held
my gaze, making sure I felt every word, every syllable he’d just spoken, adding, “Keep it.”
I should have given it back, but, for some reason I held on.
To that key.
To the things he shared with me today.
To the thin memories our conversation sparked.
And, in some ways, I suppose I held on to him, too—forever tethered to the familiar stranger who brought my past to life, the one who gave it meaning.
My someplace.
My warrior.
—
Chapter Twenty-Two —
Nick
Pacing was about all I could do to keep calm. It felt like the world was in a backwards tailspin.
It began with Evie disappearing last night, and now, today, none of my friends were taking my calls. I even got desperate and tried Roz, only to get her voicemail just like I had with all the others. I should have known something was off when I hardly saw any familiar faces at the party. And from what I saw on social media, quite a few of those who did attend, left early because they were feeling ill.
The faint fluttering of a heart stopped me in my tracks. I gravitated toward my bedroom window. The view I had of Evie’s porch was blocked by the overhanging roof, but I knew it was her.
She made it home and was safe. I was relieved, but the fact still remained that she ditched me without an explanation.
Which sucked.
I panicked, thinking of what may have happened to her on my watch. As I searched for her outside the old warehouse, I couldn’t even trace the sound of her heart over the blaring music. I walked those woods for at least an hour, calling and re-calling her phone hoping for an answer. I was worried she’d gotten sicker and passed out somewhere or, worse yet, someone took her. However, those fears were quenched with a vague text message this morning:
‘I’m okay. We’ll talk later.’
That was it. She wasn’t even the one to tell me she’d spent the night at some friend’s house. That bit of info came from her mom—after I showed up on their doorstep in the middle of the night to let them know I’d lost their daughter. Not exactly the impression I wanted to leave on her parents, but I had no choice.
Something was off. Way off.
Glancing at her bedroom window, I dialed her again, against my better judgment. My pride told me to leave her alone, to let her be the one to reach out, seeing as how I wasn’t the one who left last night. But my heart had other plans. That side of me, the one that’s got one heck of a soft spot for that girl, wanted to know she was okay regardless of my ego being a bit bruised.
Before last night, I was pretty sure she and I were on the same page. Maybe I was wrong about that, though. Or maybe the kiss scared her off. I didn’t know what to think, honestly, but therein lie the problem. If she’d stuck around to talk, I wouldn’t have so many questions, so many mixed feelings.
Her line rang until finally going to voicemail like I expected it would. Apparently, everyone was ignoring me today.
I sat on the edge of my bed, still gripping my phone. The last few days felt more like a dream, so most of what took place hadn’t even sunk in. Or maybe that was intentional.
I didn’t want it to sink in.
My life looked totally different a month ago and, in many ways, I wanted the simplicity back. The one new thing that felt right was Evie, but now, I wasn’t even so sure about that.
A quiet vibration pulsing in my palm meant one of the many calls I’d put out today was finally being returned. While I would’ve preferred for it to be Evie, I was still relieved when Roz’s name flashed across the screen.
“Good to know I’m not on a freakin’ island by myself,” I answered.
She ignored my off-color greeting and rushed to speak. “…You need to come over.”
There was a ton of commotion in the background—voices, rustling.
“What’s wrong?”
“I can’t talk long, but I think you’ll understand when you get here” she added. “But something’s going on and… just… come if you can. I’ll text you the address.”
The line went dead and then the phone buzzed in my hand the next second with Roz’s house number and the name of her street.
I replied with a quick, ‘Be there in fifteen,’ before rushing down the stairs, just about running Richie over as he headed toward the front door. I stopped him. “Hey, any chance you can stick around for a bit? I kinda need to borrow your truck and I don’t have time to go through the whole song-and-dance thing with Dad.”
Richie was shaking his head before I even got the entire sentence out. “No can do, kid. I have a thing to get to in a little while. Looks like you’ll have to do a little begging.”
I took a deep breath, eyeing the back of my dad’s head as he stood discussing something with my mother in the kitchen.
“Everything cool?” The question made me turn toward Richie again just as his brow tensed. Probably because I was being shifty. I couldn’t help it, though; between Roz’s cryptic phone call and not being able to find any of my friends, I was a little on edge.
I shook my head. “I just need to go take care of something.” I didn’t feel the need to share more than that.
His brow twitched again, but his expression gave nothing away. “Well, just be careful,” he said, patting my shoulder as he moved on. “And good luck with Dad.” I could tell without looking that he smiled when adding that last part.
There was nothing left to do, but interrupt my parents’ conversation and hope for the best.
“Hey, Dad? Mind if I borrow your keys? I need to make a run somewhere. I shouldn’t be gone long.” If they’d just trust me to have my own car again, I wouldn’t have had to deal with this. I suppose sneaking out nearly every weekend sophomore and junior year didn’t do much to build their confidence in me.
Dad stared for a moment, probably wondering what was so urgent. I guess I did sound somewhat panicked. I expected him to give me the third degree like he usually did when I ask for the car, but, to my surprise, he just dug down in his pocket and handed them over. He seemed edgy and I got the impression whatever he and my mother were discussing before I walked up was intense. Whatever the case, I was just glad it’d gone so smoothly.
No lecture. No third degree. Just a question he thought to ask as an afterthought. “You remember the rules, don’t you?”
I nodded, already heading toward the foyer to slide my Adidas flipflops on over my socks. In a t-shirt and basketball shorts, I wasn’t exactly fashionable, but there was no time to care.
Within a minute of being behind the wheel, I’d already broken three of my father’s rules—I wasn’t wearing my seatbelt, the radio was blasting, and the instant I left the neighborhood, I was going nearly twice the speed limit.
Towering white pines lined the road, giants that blotted out the sky. Sunlight strobed the car’s dark interior like Morse code. My fingers drummed the steering wheel and the urgency to get to Roz’s started to build in my gut. The many unanswered calls and unanswered questions I had today left me unnerved and feeling oddly disconnected from the world.
I pulled into Roz’s neighborhood, which also happened to be Lucas’ and Chris’s, too. It was nearly identical to mine, just with larger lots. The homes were spaced far enough apart that you could fit another between them. I didn’t realize this was even my destination until the GPS told me to turn in.
This place was… expensive—high-priced homes surrounding a lake. Not that I could judge Roz’s financial situation, but… her dad was a cop. Last I checked, cops couldn’t afford houses nearing the half-million mark. She did mention her mom passing, so maybe it was an insurance thing. However, it wasn’t my business, so I dismissed the thought almost as quickly as it popped into my head.
At the end of the street, I found Roz’s house and threw the car into park at the curb. The driveway was full—four cars there and another five or six lining the street. Even as I stepped out onto the pavement, three more pulled up, all seem
ing to be headed in the same direction.
Before I could even make it to the walkway, the front door swung open and Roz was waiting, the look of worry and confusion heavy in her expression.
What did she drag me into?
I was slow to climb the steps of the porch. Some of the others who’d arrived passed me, eager to get inside. I recognized a few. They were mostly parents of kids I’d gone to school with all my life. Even a few teachers from my school. There were enough people to consider this quickly growing crowd a party, but judging by the array of grave expressions, I was sure this wasn’t a celebration.
It looked and felt more like arriving to a family’s home after a funeral. Or the scene at the entrance of a hospital following a fifty-car pileup on the freeway. Many, but not all, were injured in some way—bandaged arms, faces, and legs. While no one actually lost their lives in the quake, there must have been more injuries than what was reported.
These people were in pretty bad shape.
My foot touched the threshold and two small hands pressed to my chest. Roz stopped me at the door, her large eyes locking with mine as she fidgeted, looking over her shoulder every so often. I was used to her being kind of on edge, but this was different.
Extreme.
A couple passed by and Roz offered a stiff smile that never reached her eyes. She tucked both hands into the back pockets of her jeans before meeting my gaze again.
That worried look was still present.
“Before you come in,” she began “I want you to swear to me that you believe all the stuff we’ve been talking about. Like… everything. I need to know you weren’t just humoring me for the heck of it.”
The corners of her eyes watered and I don’t think she intended for me to see the emotion behind them, but I did—fear, sadness.
“I was being honest. About all of it,” I assured her.
She stared a moment, searching for some hint that I wasn’t being sincere, and then finally nodded, her dark hair shifting over her shoulders when she did.
“Then you can come in.”
There was a lingering hesitation emanating from her as I approached the entrance of the house again. And once I was inside, I understood why. Stepping into the foyer, I froze.
