by Fiona Keane
My heart bled, the pain pulsing through me. It was instinct to protect him, just like he had always fought to do for me. I stepped onto the balcony, kneeling in the small space in front of him. It was difficult to wrap my arms around him, so I held his crossed forearms as they met along his knees.
“Jameson,” I whispered into his hair, kissing it lightly while his head hung against his knees. “Let it out.”
He was resisting. I could tell by the choking breath, the way the muscles in his forearms flinched tightly as though letting go would break him entirely.
“I’m right here.” I lifted my left hand to his hair, slowly twisting strands of chocolate between my fingers, feeling the energy shift while his body slowly subdued. We were saturated in Portland, dripping and covered with the morning rain like two peaks in the Cascades. I held his forearms tightly, my palms tickled with each movement of his muscles.
“Jamie.”
His head snapped, lifting from its grieving stupor. “What did you say?”
“Y—your name…”
“No.” His brows met tightly, his head shaking at me. “What did you just call me?”
My hands tightened against his forearms while my ankles were growing weary against holding my weight. Jameson’s expression was lethal. I was unable to tell what moisture on his face was sadness and what was rain. His hair flattened, his cheeks were wet, droplets falling delicately from his eyelashes.
“Jamie…” I repeated, struggling to hide from the emotion in his stare.
My head snapped back, Jameson’s hands clawing their way around my face and knotting into my hair while his lips demanded to cope against mine.
“Jame—”
“You’ve never,” his teeth tugged on my bottom lip, “called me that before.”
“It isn’t your name,” I whimpered as he kissed me, marking me as his.
“Say it again, Soph.”
“Jamie?” I questioned, surely blushing beneath the rain. His hands caressed their path down my bent figure, wrapping around me while Jameson rose to his knees.
“That was ridiculously hot, Soph,” he hissed in my ear, “but I also like when you call me Jameson. I like whatever you say.”
“Stop.” My palms went against his chest, rejecting the incoming bite against my neck. “Jameson. Stop. Look at me.”
“What?” His eyes were haunted, deeply changed from the last two hours, and on fire.
“You had a panic attack.”
“I don’t want to talk about it, Soph.” His fingers returned to my hair, knotting and twisting while they possessed me. “Please just forget it.”
“Absolutely not.” I wiggled from his hold. “Kissing me is not the answer. Your heart is so heavy right now, Jameson, and you’re not acknowledging it.”
“Avoidance isn’t lethal, Soph,” he scoffed, his weight lowering to his heels. “I’ll be fine.”
And just like that, I had said too much. I had ruined something. He needed me and I had taken that moment from him.
“No.” I stood up, my head shaking while it dribbled with rain, and held my hands out to him.
He watched me, studying my hands before his eyes roamed their way to the deepest expanse of my eyes. “No?”
“No,” I repeated, reaching out for him. “We have three hours before we wanted to leave. Come on.” I nodded toward the doorway, hoping he would comply.
“What’s in there, Soph?” He stood above me, his right index finger lifting my chin while he scanned my face.
“Just be with me until we need to leave. Let me be there for you too. Can you just hold me, Jameson? Can we do that? Would you please just lie with me, Jameson?”
He stormed by me, yanking me along with him back into our hotel room. I stood at the foot of the bed, watching Jameson pull the wet shirt from his body, my skin boiling in his presence. He was quiet while he climbed into bed and fluffed a pillow beneath his damp head.
“What are you doing just standing there?” His mouth twitched. “Get over here.”
I stepped toward the bed, pulling my hair along my shoulder as I nuzzled myself into the hollow of his body. I felt his lips press against my forehead, slowly grazing along my skin to my temple and stopping above my ear.
“Take off those ridiculous shoes,” his voice vibrated with a low, sultry chuckle that triggered a giggle from my mouth.
“I love you.” I wiggled my head up toward his and placed a kiss on his mouth before returning to my mold beneath his chin and against the warm skin of his chest.
We are going to Port Orford today. In just a few hours. I hadn’t realized that giving Jameson those photographs was another chance for him to say goodbye, to offer his soul the final release it needed before moving forward as Jeremy Black. In a few hours, he would give me just the same…but I don’t know if I want it.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Jameson
Squinting with an emotional hangover, I scratched my head while staring out at the dreary marina. My heart was heavy, but not lost. Glancing back at Soph’s sleeping form in the bed, I knew exactly where my heart was and precisely where it was destined to be.
The analog clock on the wall above the unused television warned that we were close to veering off schedule. I didn’t want to put off Soph’s goodbye any longer. We needed to get to Canada and we needed to get there about two days ago.
While Soph slept, I sorted through our bags, thankful she had gone shopping and bought a few things for me to last the trip, and found something dry for her to wear for the next leg of our journey. Her clothes were stuffed into my school bag, surrounding some of the cash she stole, which still killed me, and…what is this?
I unfolded the small piece of paper, immediately recognizing the photograph I had printed from Memorial Day. Shit. My doctor. Wait. I’m dead. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Except for Soph.
I looked at the picture, my legs shaking beneath my weight as a wave flashed through me, drowning my mind in its wake. I remembered exactly how it felt to be sitting in therapy while those pictures kept buzzing through my phone. It killed me, utterly eating away at me, seeing Soph with our friends. She was dolled up in a yellow dress with makeup, smiling. She had been happy, or so she led on.
I hoped she was happy, running away with me. I hoped she was more than content escaping the demons we so recently discovered were intertwined. Jesus. I have to stop second-guessing and being paranoid. I couldn’t imagine how she felt when she came across this picture. What were we even like back then? Had I kissed her yet? God. I don’t even think I had touched her mouth and I’d already been consumed by the thought of her. I had spent the night with her, keeping her safe from the nightmares. I remembered the nightmares. I remembered Soph’s nightmares. I stuffed the picture into Soph’s things, quickly organizing everything so we could leave as soon as she woke.
“Jameson?”
I spun around, noticing Soph beginning to stretch on the bed. “Good morning.”
Soph reluctantly moved beneath the covers, pulling her body from the mattress while her feet dangled over the edge.
She rubbed her eyes. “It’s time to go?”
“It’s time to go.”
Her head hung with a sigh as she readied her heart. “Okay.”
I pulled my school bag across my chest while her wobbly legs rose and she pulled at her damp jeans.
“Here.” I approached her, carrying a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved navy shirt that were stuffed in the bag. “Dry clothes. Long sleeves. I know you hate the sun.”
Her tired eyes were smiling, blinding me with their beauty.
“I do,” she sighed, a soft laugh escaping. “I’ll just change and then…are we ready? I mean…are you okay?”
“Yes.” I nodded, my eyes closed. “Go change. Partially-damp Olivia sneakers or sandals?”
“Sandals,” she called from the bathroom once the door latched shut.
I bent down to collect the damp sneakers from the floor, laughing at ho
w un-Sophia they truly were. We should have still been in bed sleeping while our minds pretended we weren’t running away, that our lives weren’t threatened.
“Hey,” she whispered, snapping me from a daze. “I’m ready.”
I blinked repeatedly, clearing the fog from my vision. Blue was definitely Soph’s color. Her eyes were vibrant, even through their sleep-deprived angst. Gray was also her color. This place was her home. I took her hand, lifting her fingers to my lips, and kissed them before swiftly pulling her toward the door.
“Your clothes…” She stopped me, running back to get the two shopping bags I had already neglected. “What’s got your brain so fuzzy?”
“You,” I admitted.
***
Our first stop was back to the airport, a quick cab ride from downtown during which my eyes were locked on the girl next to me. Soph’s eyes were mesmerizing, morphing between utter delight at the overcast surroundings and nostalgia, but swarming with sadness for the memories that swirled around inside her mind. She held the shopping bags tightly in her lap, only moving when my palm secured itself around her right thigh.
“Soph…” I nuzzled my head against her small shoulder. “We only have to do this if you really want to. I don’t want to push you.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. I’m not fine.” My head lifted while I placed some stray hairs behind her right ear. “But we will be.”
She nodded, keeping her eyes on the landscape, even after the cab had arrived at the car rental facilities. We sluggishly walked to the counter, Soph leaning against me while I went through negotiations and signed the contract. She seemed off, quiet and limp. Just hours ago, she had slammed through another wall of mine, viciously tearing down each layer of grout and masonry, but she had shut down, turned in to herself. At times, when Soph was so bright and confident, it was hard to consider the other side of her, the side that preferred silence to noise, observation to speaking, and reflection to engagement.
Bags in hand, and hearts anxious, we walked to the rental car parked in a small lot adjacent to the building. I clicked the keychain, scanning the rows for our car.
“You’re not serious,” she mumbled. “You rented an expensive car? Is that all you know how to drive?”
“We’re only driving it to Port Orford and Canada, Soph. Why not have a little fun?”
“Um…because you’re quickly blowing through the money I stole.”
“You stole it.” I grasped my stomach while I laughed, that vision never ceasing to entertain me. “My little thief.”
“Just get in,” she sighed, pulling from the kiss I was beginning to press against her hair, and walked away from me toward the dark blue BMW M6 convertible—my dream car and, unfortunately, just like one Thomas kept locked away in the garage.
“I can open the top if you want. While it’s raining.” Soph shook her head in response, an embarrassed smile on her lips while we both buckled in for the ride.
I pulled out of the parking lot, my right foot definitely aroused by the power beneath the pedal.
“Jameson,” she played with my fingers as they clutched the gearshift, “how can we keep our first names if we have new identities? You had to change your entire name when you went to Florida.”
“We can when we’re alone,” I replied, quickly looking at her then returning my eyes to the road. “Jameson and Sophia can stay our secret because we’re still them. I was forced to leave before, or I would have died. And besides, I really like Jameson and Sophia. They have a fun story.”
“They.” She laughed at my pronoun. “They do. They met in high school. He was obnoxious and mercurial.”
“She was mysterious and beautiful.”
“Stop.” She laughed and I could tell she was blushing. “I can’t handle all of you right now.”
I smiled, continuing with their story. “They moved to Canada. They went to college. They got married.”
“Oh, my God,” she groaned with a giggle, pulling her hands over her face. “I’m taking a nap now. Stay on I-5 for two hours and wake me when we get to Curtin. Goodnight, Jamie.”
I love when she calls me that. My little thief.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Sophia
I woke somewhere along the Pacific Coast Highway. That’s not true. It wasn’t somewhere. I knew exactly where Jameson and I were, and so did my pounding heart.
“Hey,” he whispered, his hand quick to adhere to my left thigh, “Soph, it’s okay. I’m right here.”
I can’t do this, Jameson. I can’t. Please don’t make me. Please. Turn around. I can’t. I can’t.
“Soph. Babe,” his voice continued in the air around me, muffled beneath the emotional water in which my heart trudged. “One…two…three…are you counting? Soph? Shit. I’m pulling off.”
My eyes closed, the epoxy of my nightmares sealing them shut as Jameson veered into the emergency lane. While the unnecessarily gaudy BMW slithered to a stop along the highway, I began rocking. I knew I was. I could feel it. It was the only thing I could feel, until two hands were latched on to my ankles as my feet rested on top of the expensive leather seat. Two hands. Jameson’s hands. His touch grounded me, pulling the panic from my body into his. He was absorbing my panic, consuming the pain wreaking havoc in my memory, all with his touch.
“Soph.” He slowly tickled circles around my ankles, climbing up my calves and pulling the fear into his fingertips.
“We’re…” I panted, my head still at my knees. “It’s just a few…”
“We’re close?”
I nodded my reply, slowly lifting my head to see the powerful golden honey melting into me. Jameson’s brows met, his face painted with unease, while his eyes scanned my face in search of something. I assumed my silence was enough of an answer, giving him enough information to process what I could not speak.
“How’s your heart?”
“Heavy,” I whispered, shivering while the pad of his thumb wiped the lethargic tears from beneath my eyes, wiping the liquid on his thighs before his hand returned to my ankles.
“When we get to Canada…” His lips twitched into a smile. “I want my crepe made with chocolate chips. Maybe some blackberries. Can you show me how?”
“Yes.”
“Soph?”
“Pass.” My head shook.
I wasn’t prepared to talk about it yet. My blood was frozen, rivers of putrid ice that rushed through my veins with the memory of my last days there. Putrid. Stagnant. Horrific. It felt like his thoughts consumed my blood—the anger, disgust, and rage he felt while killing my mom and trying to kill me.
“Soph, take a breath,” I heard Jameson demand from the red bubble growing around my mind. “Soph…”
It was no use in that moment. All I felt was the fury and drowning horror of my last days there. He killed her. She was gone and now I was too. Dead. Memories. Thoughts that only my past life could hold. Fragments of moments forever lost in a previous life. Lost.
I couldn’t feel my heart anymore. My body ached, numbing itself against the pain. Jameson was trying, his body unaware of the force it held against my panic. It was just too much. I fell further, sliding into the moment, the memory, the second during which my life changed forever.
My lashes fluttered, opening against the solid warmth of Jameson’s chest. I could feel the gushing air of passing traffic. We weren’t moving, except for the slow pattern he was circling on my back while he gently rocked me. Wake up, Sophia. Wake up. Wake up.
Jameson’s left hand pressed against my back, holding me secure, safe in his possession. He whispered something, but I could only make out the soft hum of his voice. Vocabulary had left my lexicon, my mind numb to anything but feeling. My fingers woke, tightly clutching the collar of his shirt, feeling his body stiffen beneath my hold.
“Soph?”
His hand left my hair, slowly tickling a pattern along my cheek while my face turned from his chest to stare at him in awe. Absolute aw
e.
My mouth opened, gaping without speech.
“I don’t need an explanation,” he assured me, kissing my forehead. “You don’t owe me one.”
The anger was still there, burning beneath my skin, but it was like magic as the skin he touched, every small cell that composed my body, burned back to life with the simple, delicate pressure of his mouth.
Coming to, my eyes blinked rapidly in their attempt to clear the visions wreaking havoc in my memory. We were on the side of the road, Jameson holding me in his lap while cars whizzed by and the emergency lights of our car blinked around us. The passenger door was still open. I could tell by just how loud the clicking sound of the blinking lights echoed around me. He pulled me out, held me against him, he brought me to the surface. He saved me from drowning. Again.
“Jameson,” I breathed, my voice dry. “Bla-blackberries…”
“With honey.” He smiled at me, slowly letting me return to him.
I wanted to tell him, I needed to scream about how just his touch brought me through, but…he had to know. He must have known.
“You…”
“Shh.” His head shook, still serious. “We don’t need to talk about it. Do you think you can get back into the car? Or is that too much?”
“The car? It is too much.” I tried to smile once my blood melted and I could fathom thought. “But I can get back in.”
Jameson’s laugh was my undoing, bringing my heart to its normal rhythm—normal for being around Jameson. It beat at a constant, excited pace whenever my mind even ventured to him, let alone when my body was within his proximity. It always had. I knew it always would.
***
My lip was practically bleeding, painfully stuffed between my teeth, while I directed Jameson to my old neighborhood. It wasn’t really a neighborhood so much as it was an expanse of evergreen-covered plots of land near the beach with homes that were separated by lush swaths of pine and cedar.
