For The One

by Brenna Aubrey

  He took a step forward.

  I stepped back again and he followed.

  "Jenna," he breathed.

  "Wil--" But I was interrupted when I ran into the wall and his head descended on mine, the grasp around my wrist tightening, the other hand going into my hair.

  He wasn't rough but he certainly wasn't gentle, and though I found it hot as hell, I had to wonder where this was coming from.

  Still, as our tongues tangled and my body heated against his, I was all for forgetting everything but the heated night we shared a few weeks ago when I'd gotten naked with him. All I knew is that I wanted more--I hadn't stopped wanting more. I'd just stopped pushing for it.

  Now, apparently it was his turn.

  His chest pressed against mine, his head bent down to my level, his lips teasing and sucking at mine, his teeth nipping. He'd invaded my senses, capturing my desire and turning it against me like a foreign army seizing a fortress. The hand that was on my neck slipped down to grasp my breast, and my nipple rose in happy obeisance to his questing fingers. My eyes rolled back into my head as his whiskered cheek scraped against mine.

  Oh goddess. This felt so good. His mouth slipped off mine and he kissed his way across my cheek and down my jaw. "Stay with me, Jenna."

  My first impulse--it was almost on the tip of my tongue--was to say 'yes.' But I swallowed and clamped my mouth shut. By that time, my earlobe was in his hot mouth and he was scraping his teeth across it. I almost crumpled against him.

  "Say you'll stay. Promise me."

  "I can't," I whispered shakily. "But that doesn't mean we can't see each other 'til I leave..."

  He froze, his body as stiff as if it had been carved in stone. Slowly, he pulled his mouth away from my neck.

  "I need you to stay."

  I swallowed. "You don't mean that."

  His face flushed and his handsome features twisted with anger. "Don't tell me what I mean and what I don't. You don't know what's inside my head," he ground out between clenched teeth.

  I laid a palm against his hard chest, easing him back, but he jerked his hand up and brushed away mine like it was an insect.

  "Wil--"

  "No, you're right. Why would I want someone who would just leave when things got difficult? You're absolutely right."

  He may as well have slapped me. I blinked and my eyes stung.

  "But--"

  "No need to explain yourself. You've been honest from the beginning. You're here for one reason only. You need your tiara."

  My mouth dropped open. "It might have been the reason at first, but--"

  He held his palm up to stop me. "You don't need to spare my feelings. It's been a clear-cut deal from the start. I was wrong to expect more from you."

  I frowned. "What do you mean?"

  He stuffed his hands into his pockets. "It means that you don't need to waste any more time rehabilitating me. There's less than a week left. I'll either fail or succeed without you."

  Blood drained from my face in the wake of his anger. "But I want--"

  "No need to humor me either. I'll get your tiara back and then we won't have to see each other."

  I blinked. "I'm not seeing you because I have to, and I know--"

  He spun and walked away before I could finish... I know you'll succeed, Wil. I believe in you.

  I felt like the floor had been yanked out from under me. "Wil--please don't be angry."

  He shook his head. "It just...it hurts."

  I ached at the thought of not seeing him again. I tried not to examine what this gaping hole-like sensation in the middle of my chest meant.

  He stopped at the doorway and turned back to me. "I don't like this feeling, Jenna. I won't do it anymore. You say I'm worthy to be loved. But apparently not by you."

  The air rushed out of my chest. "That's not true. You are...and I'm...but I can't. Because I honestly believe that I met my soulmate already. And he died so--"

  "That makes it easy."

  Suddenly, my face flushed hot. I tried to tell myself that he was acting out because of hurt feelings, but that didn't give him the right to lash out at me like this. "There's nothing easy about it, Wil. I'm resigned that--"

  "In your mind, he's perfect. The perfect lover, the perfect partner. And nothing will ever contradict that because he'll never disappoint you--he can't disappoint you. But you'll be disappointed in your other relationships, and that just reinforces the ridiculous belief that there was only ever one person for you. Or one person for everyone on this planet."

  "Ridiculous? Why are you being so mean? I've never said anything like this to you."

  His jaw bulged where he clenched it, and his hand was gripping the doorjamb so hard that his knuckles whitened. "It's probably just as well that you believe that. Nobody could compete with a dead person and win."

  I threw up my hands. "Why is anyone competing? Why are you even talking like this? Is it because of those birthday cards? You have a right to be mad at your Mom, but--"

  William whipped out his keys from his pants pocket and abruptly turned. "You need a ride home." And he left the room. Shit.

  I was still pissed at him as I followed him down the hallway. When I entered the family room, I saw Britt and Kim talking to one another on a couch, each with a glass of wine in hand. Peter was clearing the dishes from the table. "There's cake for dessert..." he began, but his voice faded out when he took one look at his son's face.

  "I need to go. I'm taking Jenna home."

  "I'll put a piece in a box for you both." His dad went into the kitchen, and William folded his arms tightly across his chest as he waited.

  On the couch, his sister frowned, then looked directly at me. "What's up, Liam? You okay?"

  "I'm fine," he snapped and then actually tapped his foot in an obvious show of impatience. My jaw dropped at his rude behavior.

  Kim stood and walked over to us, setting her glass down. "Hey William, I've been wanting to get the details on your duel. The time and place and the directions, maybe? We'd like to come and cheer for you."

  He shook his head but didn't say anything...he didn't even look at her. Goddess, this was awkward. "I'll, um, I'll wait in the car. Night all, and thank you for the wonderful dinner." I spun on my heel and walked out.

  In the cool night air, I took some deep breaths and let the tears spill over onto my cheeks before quickly scrubbing them away. Part of me was seething with anger at him. But the bigger part of me was mad at myself.

  This had started out as a simple and mutually beneficial situation for both of us. I'd needed to help him get my tiara back, he needed my help to deal with his crowd issues. It just so happened that I'd started to enjoy being in his company.

  I'd started enjoying him.

  And I wasn't ready for this to be over.

  It was a tense drive home. William said absolutely nothing. With each passing mile, I felt more and more miserable. He stopped at my curb and kept the engine idling, not even looking at me.

  I turned to him and put my hand on his arm. "Wil."

  He yanked it out of my hold. "I'll see you at the Festival, Jenna. In the meantime, I wish you well."

  My throat closed up with hurt. I would not lose it in front of him. But I couldn't just open the door and leave, either. "You're just like that Hanged Man, you know. That was the perfect card for you."

  He scowled. "I told you I don't believe in that Tarot stuff."

  "The Hanged Man is in stasis, and so are you. You're held back by your anger toward your mother. You let that be the tree you hang yourself on."

  He was silent as he gripped the wheel tightly. And me, I was about to burst into tears again. So rather than let him see them, I scooted out of the car as fast as I could.

  I managed to contain my emotions as I climbed up the stairs and even during my passing conversation with my roomie, who was in the middle of watching The Walking Dead. Then I slinked into my bedroom, dressed for bed and sobbed myself to sleep when I couldn't hold it in a
ny longer.

  Sometimes a good cry was cathartic, calming. But this wasn't. Into the gaping hole that had just been torn into my heart, the salty tears flowed, only increased the sting instead of lessening it.

  ***

  "What's going on, Jenna? You seem so out of it this week," Alex said to me. It was a few nights before I was to leave for the Beltane Festival, and yeah, 'out of it' might have been a good way to describe how I felt. Off-kilter was another one.

  I missed William terribly. Since we'd started hanging out together, I'd spent a week without seeing him, but never without texting or a short conversation on the phone. This felt worse than a breakup--at least those breakups that I'd cared about, anyway.

  And the more I thought about his words, the more I started to wonder about this flaw in myself. Specifically, whether I'd hurt other people because of my own shortcomings. My own fears.

  Fears I'd hidden behind my beliefs.

  And speaking of hurting people...I gave my notice at the Refugee Support Center, choking up when I saw the look on my boss's face. Shock. Disappointment. Sadness. But in the end, she wished me well.

  So yeah...I was out of it. I had reasons.

  I shrugged at Alex, picking at my food. Reheated leftover spaghetti, along with ramen noodles, had become a staple of my diet.

  "Are you nervous about the duel?" Her forehead creased. "Do you think William will lose the tiara?"

  I shook my head. "I think he'll win. He's worked very hard."

  "Then smile!"

  I put my fork down and stared at my plate, blinking back sudden tears as my hands shook. "What am I doing, Alex? Where am I going?"

  She slapped her textbook closed--unlike me, she was actually doing homework--and set down her pencil. "Sounds like you need to hit the advice booth."

  Our little joke. Alex liked to counsel people and give them advice. My friends and I had started hinting that she should have a booth, complete with a tin can for change like Lucy from the Peanuts comic strip.

  "Talk to me," she said when I looked up.

  "I don't know...I just don't... Up until last week, I was so sure of what I wanted."

  Alex's dark brows rose. "But you're not anymore?"

  I knew Alex would never say she told me so. It just wasn't in her DNA. So I didn't fear sharing this change of heart with her. Leaning forward, I massaged my forehead with my hand. "I'm so confused."

  "The rest of the population our age is confused most of the time. It's okay. No one knows all the answers."

  I sighed. "I was trying to be more excited about this move, but--"

  "But the reality of what it will mean to leave everyone has sunk in?"

  "I..." My gaze drifted away as I thought about what she'd said. Then I nodded. "Yeah."

  "Jenna, my abuelita had a saying. She said that the oak tree has the deepest and strongest roots, and that when the Santa Ana winds blow, those live oak trees are the hardest to blow over. On the other hand, the eucalyptus trees that grow all over the place around here...you know, those really, really tall ones? They're always in danger of getting blown over by the very same winds, and that's because their roots are shallow."

  I played with the food on my plate, listening intently.

  She continued. "In other words, the deeper the roots go, the less likely you are to be blown over. And if you uproot yourself and move around every so often, there's no way your roots can go deep."

  I smiled. "Why do I have a sudden urge to climb a tree?"

  She shrugged. "You asked for my advice."

  "I didn't, really, but thank you. Your abuelita was a wise lady."

  "She was." Her wide, dark eyes grew solemn. "She taught me lots of things."

  I laughed. "You aren't going to try and read my head bumps, are you?"

  She snorted. "No. But maybe you should read your cards."

  That was an excellent idea...

  And later that night, that's exactly what I did. I pulled out my trustiest deck--the same one I'd used to give William his reading--spread a cloth out on the floor and sat cross-legged in front of it. I let my thoughts drift as I shuffled the cards, but every time I closed my eyes, he was there. His handsome face, his big hands holding my head as he kissed me, the feel of his body against mine.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat and pulled a simple window spread--nine cards in three rows. The top row represented the past. The middle, the present. The bottom row, the future. I saved my more elaborate spreads for when I was reading for others. Either way, the cards in front of me all at once seemed to help clear my mind and whisper new stories to me.

  Sometimes the cards "spoke" to me, and sometimes they just didn't. Tonight, it almost seemed like they were shouting. The first row hit me squarely between the eyes: the Page of Pentacles, the Tower, the five of Cups. Wow, it was almost like my very own biography in three simple cards.

  My hands trembled as I fingered the Page of Pentacles--Brock. The card represented a young person full of potential, practical, dutiful, reflective and conscientious. I smiled. Yes, that was him.

  That card was followed by the Tower--the universal shit-hits-the fan card. It was always hard to have this card come up in a reading, but I comforted myself knowing that it was about the past. That the terrible event--the loss of Brock and all that I'd planned for our future--had taken place long ago. Six long and painful years ago.

  Which brought me to the Five of Cups. The loss and my reaction to it. The impact that sent ripples of pain into the present and the future. My throat thickened so that I couldn't swallow.

  The suit of Cups represented all that was tied to emotions. And there were so many tied to that loss and the events that followed. Losses that went even deeper than the loss of Brock. Papa...

  The image of three cups turned over, two cups still filled depicted three cups' worth of water lost--mourning. And yet...two cups remained full. For the first time ever, I saw it as a card of hope. What a strange notion...

  Taking a shivery breath, I moved on to the next row--my present. The three of Swords--the classic card of emotional turmoil and conflict. So true. Everything was mixed up, boiling over.

  I tucked my straggly hair behind my ears. Wil... His words--that bare naked honesty. It hurts, he'd said.

  Blinking back stinging tears that prickled my throat, I realized how right he was. It did hurt. It almost seemed to be the legacy of living on this earth, breathing this air, existing. There was no happiness without pain.

  But did losing something you'd once pegged your hopes on mean that you could never be happy again?

  Was that what I was doing? Punishing myself for living while Brock was dead? And Papa?

  And there it was...the next card in the middle row, staring me in the face. The eight of Swords. Fear. Blockage. Prevention. I swallowed. And it was followed by the Moon card--a warning of dishonesty, deceit or confusion.

  Maybe all of the above. I was confused. Had I been deceiving myself? Had I been convinced that it was my fate to wander...to never love? To never be loved? I'd often seen the card that most represented me as the Fool. And maybe in more ways than one, I had been a fool. A fool who lied to herself.

  Tears streamed down my cheeks and I blinked to see through blurry eyes by the time I made it to the third row--the future. My throat was tight and it was hard to breathe, because...

  That first card.

  The King of Cups.

  I remembered my words to William at the regional market. The King of Cups represents a man of emotional stability, a man who lives by honor--quiet, kind and trustworthy.

  William...sitting right there at the start of my future.

  Biting my lip, I snatched up the entire stack, suddenly overcome with emotion. With no desire to examine the deeper meanings, I tucked the cards inside their bag and then stuffed it in my bottom drawer. I vowed not to touch them again for months. And maybe I'd smudge them with white sage smoke for good measure and take other decks with me to the Festival.

&nbs
p; It took me hours to fall asleep, and when I did, I dreamt of giant cards the same size as me, chasing me everywhere but never catching me.

  Chapter 26

  William

  It's been one week since I said goodbye to Jenna, and every day after I've been single-mindedly continuing my training. I've lifted weights, run and gone to the martial arts studio. I've even meditated and practiced Jenna's crazy visualization crap.

  The hardest part has been forcing myself to spend time in crowded areas. Britt and Mia took me to the mall, but Adam deserted me, saying that even helping me wasn't worth having to go shopping. As we walked through the area between the stores, I tried the visualization technique again--instead of a river of people flowing toward me, I pictured an actual rushing river and a bubbling waterfall. It took work, but eventually I felt myself entering a zone of calmness, able to look at the situation as if outside my body.

  And as much as I don't like it, I've eaten lunch every day in the crowded lunchroom at work. Instead of people hunched around circular tables and booths, talking and clanking dishes, I started to picture them as animals in the wild--a herd of zebras or gazelles in the African veldt. It was weird, but it worked.

  But despite the progress I've made, what I haven't been able to do is stop thinking about Jenna. I've missed her, and I've wanted to tell her that things are starting to click. That I'd hear her voice in my head--the way she encouraged and believed in me--and when I butted up against an obstacle, I remembered the way she helped me around it.

  We worked together so well. But that isn't the reason I've ached every time I've thought of her. Or why my heart speeds up whenever I think of the next time I'll see her. And though the festival means the inevitable rematch with Doug--and with that, the uncertainty of the outcome--I've found myself counting the days, hours and minutes until I see her again.

  There are 1,440 minutes in a day. We haven't seen each other since Sunday night at approximately nine o'clock, and I'll see her again on Friday night at around six o'clock. That means there are about 7,020 minutes between the time we parted on poor terms and the time when I can try to make it better.

  And things will be better. They just have to be.

  Because Friday marks the beginning of the Festival, and once the Festival ends, the Renaissance Faire will begin operation on the same site until the end of June. And once the Renaissance Faire moves on, Jenna will gone for good.