After Lainey and Matt head off to talk by his car, Drystan strolls slowly beside me, kicking up the remnants of ice left over from last night’s sleet. “It’s supposed to warm up later this week. Maybe by then your hand will be better and we can get back to training.”
“Sounds good.” I grin at him as I cut my gaze his way. “So who’d you end up hooking up with after I left the dance? Last I saw, the new Welsh exchange student had plenty of girls hanging on him to choose from.”
He digs his hands into his dark jeans and flashes a wide smile. “I don’t kiss and tell.”
“Fair enough,” I say, borrowing one of his favorite phrases.
“You really do have me down.” Drystan snorts out a laugh, then halts beside my car. Glancing back toward Lainey and Matt leaning against Matt’s car, he rubs the back of his neck. “Indoor practice starts on Monday. Lainey says you two usually play in the coed league, which is the one I’m signed up for, but I didn’t see your name on the roster. You going to play indoor football—uh, damn I’ll never get used to that—I mean, soccer this season?”
I’d spent the last few weeks so absorbed in the journal I’d been working on for Ethan, filling it with research information about ravens, raven tattoos, sword tattoos, yin-yang raven symbols, and raven lore, I’d completely forgotten about indoor soccer season starting. “Oh no! Yeah, I’d planned to play. Just so much going on lately.” I let my shoulders slump. “So much for staying in shape. Guess it’s too late to sign up now.”
“Lainey was going to give this to you, but I needed to talk to you anyway.” Drystan pulls a folded piece of paper from his coat pocket. “The coach says you just need to drop it off with your payment by tomorrow.”
“Thanks.” I start to take the form from him, but he holds on to it.
“You and Lainey getting attacked in the bathroom at the dance by that girl—what was her name? Harper?—has set Matt on edge. He’s watching Lainey like a hawk. Lainey swears the girl hasn’t come back to school, but you need to be careful, Nara.”
I’d gotten so caught up in spending Saturday night with Ethan after the dance, then anxiously waiting for him to return on Monday night, freaking out all day Tuesday when he didn’t, then Samson’s call yesterday and the hospital…I’d completely forgotten about the attack. I nod numbly as I take the form and my backpack from him. “So much has happened, Harper’s the last thing on my mind.”
His steady gaze locks on me. “The fact that she’s out there in the wind should be enough to get you back to training.”
I heft my backpack onto my shoulder, smiling. “You know, if it weren’t for your training, I’m not sure I would’ve been able to fight her off Lainey. Been meaning to thank you for that.”
Drystan nods, but keeps his gaze focused on mine. “What aren’t you telling me? Do you know why she attacked you?”
I shake my head, suggesting, “’Cause she’s crazy?”
His mouth tightens. “Not buying it.”
I spread my hands. “All I know is she was jealous of my friendship with Lainey. Maybe it was because she was new at school and didn’t have any other friends yet. I guess she saw Lainey as competition for my friendship and wanted her out of the way.”
His gaze narrows. “Lainey said she attacked you too.”
“I’m telling you…” I pause and twirl my finger close to my temple.
“You’ve been attacked too many times.” Drystan folds his arms, his open expression shuttering. “I learned a long time ago coincidences don’t exist, random happenstance is bullshit, and people lie. A lot.”
With that philosophy, maybe he could accept the existence of Fate as an actual entity, but the fact he knows about my dreams is as far as I plan on sharing with him. And I’d only done that because he’d told me about his own special ability to find lost things by holding something connected to it. As for Harper, I have an idea why she attacked Lainey and me, but I don’t have any proof at this point. As much as I hate how wronged Drystan must have been in his past to be so mistrusting of others, I shift my gaze to Matt and Lainey chatting by his car and pile on yet another half-truth. “All I know is that Harper said ‘Lainey was in the way.’”
Drystan snags my chin, pulling my gaze back to his. “I want to help you, Nara, but you have to tell me what’s going on so I can.”
“You already are helping.” I back away and open my car door. Moving behind it, I continue, “I might never learn all your parkour moves, but teaching me how to defend myself on your own time is more than enough. I wouldn’t ask for anything more.”
“You could ask…” he begins, green eyes seeking answers. Sighing, he finger-combs his hair. The blond streaks flip through his fingers as he nods to the paper in my hand. “Don’t forget to turn in that form.”
As I wave the paper, relieved he doesn’t push for more answers, it suddenly occurs to me that Drystan can help with something else. “Actually, Dryst, there is something you could help me with if you’re willing.”
He shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks on his heels. “I’ll help you if you’ll pitch in with a project I have to do. I need an assistant to get me started.”
“Sure, I’ll help with your project.” It makes me feel less guilty asking for his help when I can return the favor.
A pleased smile plays at his lips. “Right then. What can I help you with?”
“I need to find a cell phone.”
“Yours?”
I shake my head. “Ethan’s” When his smile fades, I rush on, “The accident has erased some of his memory.” I can’t explain everything so I tell him what I can. “He doesn’t remember this past weekend or some time before that. His phone might help him retrace his steps.”
Drystan’s eyes narrow and his lips twist mockingly. “Convenient how he can’t remember the part about where he’s been.”
“It’s not like that, Drystan. He really can’t remember. Trust me, I know for a fact he’s not lying.”
He shrugs. “Whatever you want to believe. For the record, I’m only doing this for you.”
Exhaling a sigh of relief, I pull out my phone and scroll to Ethan’s phone number. When I turn my screen toward Drystan, he shakes his head. “I’ll get a better connection if you write his number down on a piece of paper.”
I quickly fish a pen and scrap of paper from my backpack. Once I’ve written down Ethan’s number, I start to hand it to Drystan, but he wraps his hand around mine and crushes the paper in our palms as he tugs me into his personal space.
Why does it always feel so intimate when Drystan uses touch to mesh his psychometry ability to find things with mine? I tense. I can’t help it. With his leather jacket’s scent tickling my nose, all I can think about is Drystan’s mouth on mine in that dream I’d had the night before Saturday’s dance. I’d been so freaked out that he kissed me, I’d somehow rewound my dream and changed my future to where the kiss never happened. Fate truly hates me now. Changing my dream on the fly—and therefore my future—was totally new and beyond blasphemous territory.
“This works better if you relax,” Drystan whispers in my ear while he closes his eyes and rubs his thumb along the number on the paper.
I haven’t told him that my dreams have disappeared yet, but I exhale slowly and hope that maybe he’ll get a connection anyway.
After a few seconds, his grip on my hand tightens. “I can’t see us retrieving the item like I’ve been able to in the past…” he trails off. Guess it was too much to hope he could pick up on my powers even though I seem to have lost them. A couple seconds later, his green eyes fly open. “It’s totally dark, but I can make out cars up on hydraulic lifts. A garage maybe?”
Samson mentioned that he’d had Ethan’s car towed to Mike’s Body Shop. He must have missed the phone when he looked for it before in Ethan’s car. I smile as I take a step back. “Thank you. That’s an important clue.”
Disappointment reflects in his eyes. “Why couldn’t I see us retrieving it?”
<
br /> I inwardly grimace. I’m not ready to admit my dreams might be gone for good. Like somehow saying it out loud could make it permanent. “My dreams have been sporadic lately.”
“Is everything okay, Nara?”
No. It’s not okay. My life’s a freaking mess right now, but I’m determined to fix that. I nod and force a confident smile. “Yeah, I’m good, Drystan. Thank you for helping me and let me know when you need help on your project.”
He searches my face for a second, then glances at the piece of paper in my hand, a slight frown creasing his brow. “Would you like me to come with you? We have no idea if you’ll be able to find it based on what little I gave you. Maybe together we can find it.”
I shake my head. “That’s okay. I know exactly where to start looking now.”
Drystan sighs as Matt calls his name, waving for him to come on. “Guess that’s my cue.” He backs away several steps. “Ring me if you need anything. Otherwise, I’ll see you at practice on Friday, yeah?”
I wave him on. “Absolutely.”
There’s a flurry of activity at Mike’s Body Shop when I arrive. Six men are working on Ethan’s car at once. They remind me of a very efficient pit crew working an Indy 500 race. An older man is standing off to the right, looking baffled but impressed. I approach, unsure of how I’m going to get permission to search inside Ethan’s car.
“Hi!” I say, smiling broadly.
His warm eyes flick my way. “Can I help you with something?”
“Actually,” I pause and point to Ethan’s car, “I’m looking for my boyfriend’s cell phone. Ethan thinks he left it in his car and asked me to get it for him.”
Concern fills the older man’s gaze. “How’s Ethan doing? His brother told me he’s in the hospital.”
“Yes, he’s awake now and starting to recover. Thank you for asking.” I smile and gesture toward the car. “Would it be okay if I looked for it?”
The older man scratches his head. “Uh, sure…if you can get this crew to stop long enough. They’ve been working like crazy fiends ever since they showed up this morning.”
I skim a confused gaze across the men. “These guys don’t work for you?”
He snorts. “Think I could afford to pay this many employees? Nah, it’s just me and George,” he says, gesturing to the young dark-haired guy sitting on a stool drinking a soda.
“Then who are these guys?”
“Beats the hell out of me,” he says, expelling a harsh laugh. “Said they were sent to move things along. All I know is…they really know their stuff, so I’m letting them do their thing.”
How am I going to get into Ethan’s car if these guys never take a break? Ethan’s parents probably sent them. The last thing I want is for these mechanics to call Mr. and Mrs. Harris to ask them if they can let me in the car. I’m pretty sure I know what the answer will be. Frustrated, I chew my lip.
The sound of a soda can hitting the metal trash bin draws my attention. As George celebrates his two-pointer, an idea suddenly hits me. I turn to the older man. “How do you like your pizza?”
Chapter Seven
Nara
Turns out, six hardworking men are easily distracted by the lure of free pizza. While they devoured the three pizzas I’d ordered and had sent to the break room, I snuck into Ethan’s car and searched until I found his cell phone jammed between the damp carpet and the metal leg under his front seat.
Once I get home, I have to let Houdini out. First, he barks at the Nativity scene Mom has set up in the yard—like he’s done the last six times he’s seen it. Once he comes to the conclusion his yard’s not being invaded, he runs around in the icy grass looking for a spot. I glower at all the dead leaves crunching under his paws.
Mom’s only going to have so much patience if I don’t get this chore done soon, but first I have to put Ethan’s phone in some rice. The people at the electronics store where I’d stopped to buy a charger told me to put the phone in a sealed container of rice to absorb any moisture that might have gotten inside before I attempt to turn it on. In case that fails, they also sold me a SIM card reader.
Just as I snap the rice filled plastic container closed around Ethan’s phone, a text comes through on mine from Samson. Heart racing with worry for Ethan, I slide the box of rice under my bed and hold my breath as I open the message.
Samson: Ethan’s recovering quickly, but he refuses to speak to our parents. Unfortunately, his silence isn’t helping them believe he truly doesn’t remember anything. I talked to my parents. It’s okay for you to come visit any time you’d like.
I could hug him for standing up for me. Even though I’m still upset with Ethan, excitement races that I’m allowed to see him. I want to go, but then I picture his father’s tense face and regretfully type back a response.
Me: Thank you for letting me know Ethan’s doing well. I appreciate the invitation, but I think my being there will cause problems with your family. Try to get Ethan to talk to your parents. I think it will help him to deal with the issues between them. I’ll talk to him once he’s back home from the hospital.
My hands shake as I hit the send button. I don’t like bailing, but I need time away to think and decide the best way to help Ethan remember. I’d been too upset to do any kind of rational, reasoned thinking last night beyond sending my aunt a text to let her know Ethan had woken up. Once I finally did fall asleep, I dreamed of endlessly running through a snowy forest looking for Ethan.
With guilt weighing my shoulders down, I scan my phone for the right number, then call Bright Blooms before I start toward the garage. I’d just picked up the leaf blower when Witchy Woman rings on my phone. The song always makes me smile. Just like my aunt.
“Hey, Aunt Sage.”
“How’s Ethan?”
“He’s doing well. His brother just texted me that he’s recovering quickly.”
“That’s great to hear. I want to talk more about Ethan’s dream issue later, but that’s not why I’m calling. You mentioned wanting to go through all the paperwork I brought back from your dad’s place in D.C.”
I set the blower back down. It can wait. If I can help find my dad, I will. “How about I come over now.”
By the time I get home from my aunt’s, I’m bone tired. My aunt and I went through every single receipt, letter, and bill. We scoured over everything twice, looking for anything that would give us a clue and take us beyond my dad’s last steps before he disappeared.
He’d gone to a café for coffee every other day around the same time. My aunt had already talked to the people at the café. Based on receipts, my father had coffee and read the paper that day like he always did, then the trail just stops. Whatever happened to him, happened after two o’clock, but before seven when the shift changed with the doorman at his apartment. He never returned.
Mom looks up from typing on her phone as I walk through the door. “Oh, I was just getting ready to send you a text before I left.”
I sweep my gaze over her dark green cashmere sweater and black dress pants. “You’re going out with Mr. Dixon…er, I mean David?”
Mom nods, a soft smile tilting her lips. “He wants to make up for being busy all weekend tutoring so he’s taking me to a holiday party. Your text said Ethan’s doing well…” She pauses, a pucker creasing her forehead. “I’m surprised you were at your aunt’s and not the hospital. Is everything okay between you and Ethan?”
“Ethan’s parents are there, so I wanted to give him time with them,” I say before I pull open the fridge and retrieve a plate of leftovers from the night before.
I jump slightly when my mom’s hand lands on my shoulder. “Are you sure everything’s okay? I can stay home if you’d like me to.”
I shake my head, then lift a piece of pizza from under the plastic wrap. “Go enjoy yourself. Tell David I said, ‘hi.’”
“You can tell him yourself when he comes to pick me up.”
I take a big bite of the pizza and mumble around it as I start to
back out of the kitchen, “Got too much homework to make up since I missed yesterday.”
Before Mom can answer, I bound upstairs and nudge Houdini to my other side with my knee. He’s hoping I’ll drop a pepperoni and his tail keeps hitting the garland decorated with white lights and holly Mom has draped along the handrail in beautiful drooping loops.
Just as I reach the top of the stairs, the doorbell rings. I exhale a sigh of relief that I avoided seeing them together. Now that I know the truth as to why my dad left, I can’t watch Mr. Dixon wrap his arm around my mom’s waist or even give her an innocent kiss on the cheek without feeling tremendous angst. I might have set them up before I learned about my dad, but guilt completely obliterates any rationalization pep talks I try to give myself.
After Mom and David leave, I crawl into my bed with my books and settle down to do homework. That hadn’t been a lie. Now that I don’t see my next day in my dreams, I have a ton of work to catch up on or my grades will nosedive.
Two hours later, once darkness descends, I take a break. Just as I start to plug in some tunes, someone knocks on the front door.
Houdini instantly jumps into major bark-defense mode. Hackles raised, he takes off down the stairs and throws his big body against the front door.
“Houdini!” I call out sharply as I descend the stairs.
My dog settles somewhat. He might be a mutt with a Labrador look, but his Rhodesian Ridgeback lineage shows through in the barrel chest and dark brown line of hair standing high along his back. When I try to use the peephole, he thrusts himself between me and the door, ready to protect.
“It’s me,” Ethan says in an even tone.
My heart instantly ramps. I flip on the light switch and yank open the door. “What are you doing here?” Ethan looks a bit pale as he leans against the doorframe, his hair damp and slightly disheveled. His army jacket is pulled on one arm, but drapes his other shoulder, leaving his bandage-wrapped arm hanging loosely by his side.
Destiny, YA Paranormal Romance (Brightest Kind of Darkness Series, Book #3) Page 6
