I understand what he’s saying immediately.
“It just won’t be you protecting me,” I state meekly. I feel like I am being discarded, like a piece of trash thrown on the side of the road.
“No,” he says morosely, then steps out the door.
“Justice!” I dash after him. He can’t leave, not like this. Not after dropping a bombshell like that. It’s so, ambiguous. It’s so him. I attempt to catch his arm through the doorway, but he pulls away faster than I can see him move.
“Don’t,” he seethes. His face is so angry, and yet, his eyes are so sad.
The rejection destroys me. I shatter right there, where I stand; splintering into a thousand little pieces.
“I don’t understand, please make me understand,” I beg.
He stares down at me with an icy glare before I finally realize that this is about Vermont, and Derrin and Melenia, and above all, me. I can’t give him what he wants, what we both want. And he’s finally realized it. It’s my fault. I’m broken.
I can’t control my powers; I can’t control my life. What good am I? He’s right to leave. Immortal or not, he’s wasting his time with me.
But why now? I can’t help but wonder. Why after everything, is he suddenly different?
A sinister little voice whispers to me, he has finally come to his senses.
Tiny tears swim in my eyes.
I feel abandoned, I feel negated, I feel betrayed; has everything he ever told me been a lie?
That our physical relationship doesn’t matter?
That just being together was enough?
It can’t be true. I felt him, all of him.
I stare at the hollow space just beyond my door; crashing down from cloud nine.
I stare for a very long time. Too long a time.
I finally look away, and around my static apartment. Everything’s intact.
Except for me.
The Break Up
I open the door to a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed Nikkee. She’s armed with a latte in each hand and her white bridal binder stashed under her arm. Lately, that thing has become as important as her social security number.
“Morning m-o-h!” She pushes past me and makes a beeline straight for my living room.
“Morning?”
I watch, withdrawn, as she plops the lattes on the coffee table then drops the binder on my tiny brown couch. Then she makes herself comfortable on the floor. She loves sitting like that, wedged between the coffee table and sofa.
“Liv,” she looks up at me curiously as she flips the book open. “Why are you just standing there?”
Why? I don’t know why; maybe because my limbs won’t work, because as I got up out of bed to answer the door, all the reminders of yesterday came flooding back to me. Images of me alone, staring at a deserted door, abandoned for some unknown reason, left me blindsided; perhaps even shocked. The reality of it all almost feels fake, but at the same time I know it’s real.
“Liv!” Nikkee snaps startling me. “What has gotten into you? Did Justice keep you from having a good night’s sleep?” She takes a sip of her latte as she stares at me with suggestive eyes.
Justice?
My heart rips at just the mere mention of his name; it’s so flimsy and weak. A piece of tissue paper is stronger. It’s the exact same feeling all over again, like when he left the first time. And now here I am once more. Why does this keep happening? A little bit of anger bubbles inside me.
I shuffle over to Nikkee and plop down onto the couch. She picks one of the cups up off the table. “Coffee?” She hands me the latte as she flips through the pages of the binder.
“Thank you,” I say appreciatively. I take a sip; it’s my favorite, caramel with a triple shot.
“No probs,” she says casually. Nikkee knows me oh so well. “So is Justice sleeping or something?” She glances back towards my room. My heart sinks like a rock.
“He’s not here,” I say robotically.
“Oh?” She looks back at me, her green eyes sharp, like she is just about to conduct an investigation. “That’s surprising, I thought he just about lived here.”
“Me too,” I say sourly, and then take another sip of my latte.
My emotions feel like they’re trapped in a vice.
Nikkee stares impassively at me, “Is something going on with you two?”
I don’t surrender to Nikkee’s gaze.
I want to tell her everything, but when it comes to this, to Justice, and my parallel life, I always hold back. It never seems
like the right time, and this moment is no different. I can’t stand to burden her with everything that is going on in my fucked up life. She has been dealing with my hang-ups since the moment she met me. Just once, I want her to be able to concentrate on herself, on her wedding, without having to worry about me.
“No,” I lie. “Justice just had some family business to take care of.”
She blinks a few times, “Oh, that’s all? I thought you were going to tell me he went and disappeared on you or something.”
Oh Nikkee, I fret.
“Not that I don’t love spending time with my bestie, but why are you here, at nine AM, on a Sunday?” I ask, eager for a subject change. Justice is just too painful.
Her green eyes light up as she shifts onto her knees, “Okay, I know the wedding is a month away, but I am determined to have a disaster free day. So I put together a little check list and itinerary and I wanted to run it by you first.”
“Nik, seriously?”
“Liv, seriously. I have like forty freakin’ bridesmaids. How else am I going to corral this bridal party?”
“Fair point,” I concede.
She hands me a piece of paper. I look down at it, horrified. “How am I supposed to read this? It’s in Greek.”
“Oh, sorry,” she grabs the paper back. “This is your copy.”
“Much better, this one has letters that actually look like letters.”
I scan over the itinerary. “You reserved a suite at La Mer hotel?” I look up excited. La Mer is one of the premier oceanfront hotels in Point Beach, the shopping and dining district nestled right on the Atlantic’s shore. It’s glitzy and glamorous, and the closest I’ve ever come to staying there is having drinks in the lounge.
“Well, Davis’ grandmother did. She insisted actually. She’s very logistical. She thought it would be good to have all the girls get ready in the same place so I could keep tabs on everyone. I didn’t disagree.”
“Logistical?” I say skeptically.
“Okay, maybe she’s a little controlling too-”
“A little? Nikkee, the woman pined over every detail of your bridal shower.”
“Liv, you’re missing the point. Yes, she’s a pain in the ass, and yes she has outrageous standards, but she gets thing done. So I forgive her. And you should too.”
She called me a demon. I pout.
“And,” Nikkee says in her excited voice, “Petra has a florist who flash freezes cherry blossom branches.”
“Petra?”
“Ya, Davis’ grandmother. That’s her name.”
“How didn’t I know that?” I question.
Nikkee shrugs. “I think it’s all part of her mystique.”
Mystique, that’s a good way to describe her, she is definitely mysterious.
“Why is it good that Petra has a florist who flash freezes cherry blossom branches?” I ask trying to close the circle on this conversation.
“Well you know cherry blossoms only bloom in April on the east coast, and I really wanted real centerpieces, so this distributer harvests the branches right before they bloom and freezes them, then when he puts the arrangements together they open up as they thaw out.”
“Wow, that sounds awesome Nik.”
“I know,” she claps excitedly. “It goes perfectly with my theme: love is in bloom.”
Maybe for some people.
“Okay,” she slaps her sacred binder closed. “I have accomplished
what I came here to do.” Nikkee stands up and finishes the rest of her latte. “I need to go drop off the rest of these itineraries.”
“You’re leaving?” I jump up off the couch. I suddenly feel an overwhelming sense of dread.
“Yes Liv, I can’t hang around all day. I just told you I have a bunch of errands to run before my shift this afternoon,” she says like duh.
“But. But.” I suddenly realize that by Nikkee being here I haven’t had to face the feelings that are rumbling just below the surface. I suddenly regret lying to her, I wish I told her about Justice, about how he left me, but for some reason the words just won’t come out.
Nikkee.
“Relax Liv,” she gives me a quick peck on the cheek. “I’ll call you later,” she says with worried eyes. “You know, I never thought I’d say this, but maybe a little alone time is good for you. Some separation is healthy for a relationship.”
She thinks I can’t be alone?
She thinks I’m still in a relationship. Maybe I can’t be alone…
Maybe, I just can’t stand the fact I’m separated from Justice.
I watch as she makes her way out of my apartment; long blonde hair bouncing as she goes.
It’s just me again.
I wait for the tears to come, breathing heavily with a pouty bottom lip, seemingly on the verge.
But they just won’t break through.
I’m in such a strange place. I want to fall apart and keep it together all at the same time. I don’t understand this feeling at all. It’s like I’m at an emotional standoff.
There’s a knock on my door.
I rush eagerly to answer it. “Nikkee?” I say hopefully. But it’s not Nikkee.
It’s the next best thing. Jocelyn.
I take one look at the Seraph and my standoff comes to an end.
I spring into her arms -she has a good eight inches on me- and let the waterworks flow.
After a few cathartic moments, I finally ask the question that’s been harpooning my thoughts all night, “Why?”
She hugs me tightly. “I don’t know Liv,” she says softly.
I let go of Jocelyn and angrily wipe away the tears from my eyes with the sleeve of my sweatshirt. The light grey one with faded cream writing on the front, it’s old and worn and my absolute favorite thing to wear.
I look up at her earnestly. “Please tell me Joz, I know you know.”
“I honestly don’t Liv,” she says truthfully. “Justice came home last night, packed a bag and took off. He barely spoke to any of us. He just said you needed to be looked after and he needed to be alone.”
“Space,” I say bitterly, as I walk over to the couch, plop down and curl my knees up into a ball. “He said he needed space. Which, incidentally, was right after he told me he wanted to move in together,” I tell her resentfully.
Men.
I look at her confused, heartbroken and angry. “I just don’t get him.”
“Sweetheart,” she sits down next to me. She’s so buoyant and beautiful. Short golden blonde hair cut bluntly at her neck and sparkling sapphire eyes that just light you up inside; you’d never know she could rip your throat out with just one swipe. “I can read his mind and I still don’t get him sometimes.”
“What am I supposed to do now?” I ask depressed.
“Exactly what you were doing before. Live,” Jocelyn tells me. “And I’m going to help you.”
I crack a small smile. “You are?”
“Of course,” she puts one arm around me and crushes me into her body. “I’ll let you in on two little secrets. One, you’re not alone and two, he’s an idiot.”
I love her.
Life is a blender and I have been liquefied.
I play that rotten day over and over in my head. Trying to decipher the exact moment everything changed. The exact moment everything fell apart. I still don’t understand. It’s all still so obscure.
I look around at my surroundings; everyone is lively and energetic, except for me. I’m animated on the outside, moving in all the normal ways, but inside I’m still. Comatose. Dead.
How did I become this way?
I’m on my seventh, or is it seventeenth, shot of applesauce. I’m not sure which. A throw back of Lara Fabian’s ‘I Will Love Again’ is pumping through the speakers at Solstice. I don’t know what day it is, nor do I care.
I just lean against the bar watching; watching everyone move around me in their rightful place, trying to figure out where I fit in.
There’s some guy next to me droning on and on about financial bullcrap I couldn’t care less about. If he’s trying to hit on me, he’s doing a shitty job. I wish I was home, in the company of the only two men who really care about me. Ben and Jerry. I take another shot, hoping the alcohol will numb my ear drums. But it’s doing a shitty job, too.
Jocelyn, is across the bar playing with her newest boy toy while Melenia, Derrin’s pixie girlfriend, is on the dance floor tearing it up. My two replacement babysitters, taking care of me
the best way they know how: sex, drugs and rock n’ roll.
That’s loosely stated actually.
Really, it’s just alcohol, alcohol, and more alcohol. With a little retail therapy thrown in between. You know, straight forward break-up remedies. I haven’t talked to Justice since that day. Not a peep. Not a text, or voicemail or tweet. He left me standing in my apartment alone, a shattered, sliver of the person I was trying to be. Jocelyn has been there for me since Justice left, taking over his role as protector, but also creating a new role, as my friend. The morning after Justice walked out my door, Jocelyn walked in; and she’s barely left my side since.
“So, what do you do?” The clueless rambler asks, suddenly grabbing my attention. His energy has turned into something licentious. Where the hell did that come from? His innocent question, holding so much malice. I shoot him a warning glance, but he pays it no mind. He inches closer to me and I try to back away, but I’m blocked by the mass of people crowding around the bar. He audaciously runs his thumb down my bare arm. A bit overconfident are we? I put my hand up to stop him, and make contact with his chest.
“Don’t touch me!” I hiss, my body quivering. I can’t stand to be touched lately, not by anyone. His brown eyes widen with shock, but he doesn’t stop. “It’s okay baby,” he coos.
Baby? Is this the same snoozer that was just boring me into a coma with the minutiae of mutual funds?
He grabs my arms and pulls me into him. I can’t stand him touching me.
“You really don’t want to do this,” I mutter through clenched teeth.
“Fiery, I like that,” he stammers, drunk, the smell of booze escaping from his mouth. Yuck.
“You have no idea,” I threaten.
He tightens his grip and my esophagus starts to burn, this could get ugly.
“Take your hands off me before you have no hands left to remove,” I growl.
He doesn’t listen, and instead leans in to kiss me. My whole body heats up, and not in a good way.
Then, to the surprise of us both, his flesh starts to burn, his hands blistering and smoking while still wrapped around my arms. He rips them off me, then screams down at them in horror. What makes it worse, are the two palm prints on his chest, burned straight through the fabric of his shirt. Holy shit!
Three heartbeats later, Melenia and Jocelyn are crowding me into a corner. I haven’t even had time to process.
“What did you just do?” Jocelyn demands. “I think you just channeled me!” she answers her own question.
What?
I have no idea what she’s talking about. The alcohol has come on in a wave and communication is becoming harder.
I look through the cracks between their bodies, wondering if anybody saw, wondering where the creep ran off to. Wondering what the fuck just happened?
“Liv!” Jocelyn snaps, getting my full attention. “No one saw, and he’s gone. Melenia took care of him.”
I give Melenia a s
tartled look.
“He’s not dead if that’s what you’re thinking. Although he should be,” she fumes.
I breathe a sigh of relief.
Everything looks perfectly normal. People are dancing, drinks are flowing and the disco ball is sparkling like one of Harry Winston’s diamonds in the sun. “What did you do?” I ask unintelligently.
“The question is, what did you do?” Jocelyn disputes.
“I have no idea. He touched me and I got upset, then all of a sudden I was hot. Like really hot, then he was burning. How did no one notice that?” How did no one notice the two girls strong arming the drunk into a corner?
“I did a mass compulsion,” Jocelyn tells me. “A what?”
“I compelled the room. You know, it’s how Justice took away the memory of the Spirit Stalker from you. It’s like mind control.”
Oh.
“I didn’t know it had a name,” I confess.
“Well it does,” Jocelyn confirms. “And it comes in very handy in situations like this.”
No shit.
“What did you mean when you said I channeled you?” I dart my eyes between them, strobe lights shining off their faces.
“It means you used my power as your own. I felt it. It’s like you reached in and sucked it right out of me,” she shivers.
I am completely overtaken.
“I think it’s time to go,” Jocelyn announces, gripping my arm. “No!” I protest, pulling away. “I’m not ready to go.” I’m
actually ready for another drink. We can deal with my newfound powers tomorrow. Right now I just want to smother the pain. “Go if you want to!” I snap. “I can take care of myself!”
“That’s our job!” Jocelyn gestures to herself and Melenia.
“I don’t need you to take care of me! I told you, I can take care of myself!” I’m shouting over the music now.
Gravitational Pull (Vis Vires, book 2) (Vis Vires trilogy) Page 4
