Her voice trailed off and she looked back out at the Pacific Ocean. He was tense, as though he wanted to say something but couldn't. Wouldn't. She didn't know why, but her insides clenched because of it and tears sprang up into her eyes. "Just promise me something, okay?" Her voice never faltered, didn't waver. It was still as clear as the sparkles strewn on the sea. "Promise me you'll remember me. Remember what we could have had. I know we can't be together in reality, but we can be together here, in our dreams. Come back to me always, okay? Come back to me even if it's just in dreams."
"Hush now," Daryl said, pulling her into his arms so her head rested on his shoulder. "There's nothing to worry about."
"Promise me."
He stared at the crown of her head for a long moment. Then, without hesitation, he placed a chaste kiss on the top of her head. He squeezed her shoulder tighter, pulling her closer to him so he could smell the strawberries on her skin.
"I promise," he told her, and she believed him.
She was still unconscious. He only left her to use the restroom. Everything else he did in her room.
Technically, his room, but it might as well be hers, the way she was always here. She didn’t even have to be physically present to be here; her scent lingered in his sheets long after he washed them. He had thirty-three tattoos on his body, yet her fingerprints stayed etched in his skin, more permanent than the black ink. And her face haunted his dreams. He couldn’t remove her from his life if he tried, if he wanted to.
It was something he had never felt before.
The dream ... It must have something to do with their mental connection. He had never dreamt like this before. Somehow, he knew she had the same dreams he did, like they met here as a refuge from their reality where they were safe to be who they were, feel how they felt.
And while dreams were wonderful and thrilling and everything he wanted, he needed her to be okay here, in the real world. He needed her to wake up. He wanted her to be angry at him, to pick a fight with him so he knew she was alive. So she could look at him with that burning in her eyes and he could feel alive. So he could physically touch her skin, hold her, bury his face in her hair and never part from her.
What nonsense she spoke, in her dream. It was almost as if she was telling him she wasn’t coming back. How could he miss her when she was—
But she was gone. Maybe not physically, but she hadn’t woken up. Not yet, at least. And that scared him.
So he prayed.
He hadn’t spoken to God in a while, despite the cross tattoo on his forearm. The relationship was distant at best, at least on his part. Everything that had happened in his life, how his parents were killed, how his brother was a waste of space, how he followed his brother blindly because he didn’t have anyone else ... It was hard to believe in God when it felt like Daryl was alone. Always alone.
Until he met Jane Cabot, who practically forced him to like her without even trying.
So he prayed for her.
And he waited for some kind of response. And a little part of him hoped. But just a little.
“Daryl.”
The dean popped his head in Daryl’s room without knocking first. It was Christmas Eve, three days since the attack, and Jane was still unresponsive.
Had Daryl changed in those three days?
He thought he had, but he couldn’t be certain. He certainly hadn’t bathed in those three days, and he considered himself lucky if he remembered to brush his teeth.
“Yes?”
His voice sounded raw, as though he hadn’t spoken in a while, which he hadn’t. It almost hurt to speak.
“How are you?” Ethan asked. He still hadn’t fully entered the room, keeping a respectful distance between himself and Daryl and Jane. It was as though Ethan knew there was more going on between them than a typical instructor had with his student.
Daryl didn’t respond because he knew that Ethan knew that such a question was ridiculous to even ask. Formalities could make even the smartest people seem ignorant.
“Yes, well her parents are currently on the ferry over so they should be arriving in a few hours,” Ethan told him. “Kessler is also planning on coming in to check her progress at the seventy-two hour mark.”
Daryl nodded.
“I think it best that she room with you until she’s recovered,” Ethan continued. “Of course, we’ll discuss the matter with her and her parents, but no one can protect her the way you can.”
“Do you really think it’s necessary?” Daryl asked, rolling his shoulders back.
“I do,” Ethan stated firmly. “Daryl, I want you to know the past few days have been devoted to solving who did this to Jane. This is my school, my home, and I see these students as my family. I’m responsible for them. And I believe I know what happened.”
Daryl sat straight up, completely alert. He wasn’t so tired anymore. “You know who did this?” he asked.
“No. No, I don’t. But I’ve come to the conclusion that whoever attacked her wasn’t a stranger.”
Daryl pressed his brow together. “What do you mean?”
“Whatever attacked her had to have already been inside the school boundaries,” Ethan concluded. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, before looking back at Daryl. It was then that Daryl realized just how tired the man was. He must have been working hard to try and figure out what had happened to Jane, while Daryl sat here, wallowing in his misery, waiting.
Waiting for Jane to wake up. Waiting for her to look at him. Waiting, waiting, waiting.
He sneered at himself. He was better than that. He was better than this.
“Someone would have seen the thing that left those injuries on her back.” Ethan’s eyes narrowed in Jane’s direction before looking back at Daryl. “And in my centuries on earth, I’ve seen practically everything. And I believe I’ve seen those marks before. I can’t be sure, I need to research it more. But I remember similar injuries …” He let his voice trail off. Now, he stared out the window, a perplexed expression on his face, as though he was trying to remember.
What, Daryl didn’t know, but he desperately wanted to. Any hint, any clue.
"And I don't think she was in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Ethan continued on. Daryl had to focus his thoughts back on Ethan in order to keep up with the dean. His thoughts were running too fast to do so unless he slowed them down himself. He was never usually overwhelmed with information, but he was trying to listen, trying to come up with solutions, trying to figure out who did this and why. Thinking about how he would extract his revenge. “Miss Cabot was by herself, walking back to the Ignis Dorm. She posed no threat. No one heard anything. I believe Miss Cabot was the target."
“You think this beast wanted to hurt Miss Cabot, specifically?” That was a thought that hadn’t crossed Daryl’s mind. He just thought she had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
“I do,” Ethan affirmed with one swift nod of his head. “What our job is now, is to find out who or what would want to cause harm to Miss Cabot.”
11
Christmas came and went for Sophie and Will. No presents were exchanged, mistletoe was not hung. There was no Christmas tree, no stockings hung, no lights or decorations or candy canes. No carolers visited the cabin, and Santa certainly didn’t. There was no snow—although it was very, very cold—and the only ugly sweater among them belonged to Will and had been given to him by a nurse during World War I. It was a deep burgundy color, with scratchy material and a black and white pattern that wrapped around it. Sophie teased him mercilessly for even still having it, but it was one of the few things he still had in his possession from the war. And even though he thought it completely distasteful, he kept it as a reminder for what he fought for and everything he had been through.
Sophie had never been much of a Christmas person anyway. Holidays were typically spent alone. She couldn’t remember a time when she had received actual Christmas presents or food specifically made for celebration, but she was certain she
had experienced it at some point. Her parents had loved her before they found out about her super-strength.
Will, on the other hand, had celebrated Christmas in the traditional sense since his birth in the 1800’s. Even after his parents died, he and his brother still got together every Christmas to celebrate. To keep their parents’ memory alive, really. When his brother died, Will tried to keep tradition going by getting a tree or ordering a Christmas dinner. When Ethan found him, his tradition changed and he would try and get his House to do something so the kids who didn’t go home had some Christmas cheer. He wasn’t a cheerful person, wasn’t the type to try and inspire hope in others, but he wanted them to be happy. To feel as though they belonged at AckPec. To ensure they didn’t feel alone.
It was only a couple of years ago when he decided to retreat to his cabin for some alone time. Christmas wasn’t the time he would have chosen to do so, but as his responsibilities at AckPec grew, he found the time he got for himself shrunk. As such, in order to take a break and be by himself, which was something he actually liked doing, and reflect in nature, he needed to schedule it with the breaks allotted by the school. The summer was normally packed with unwanted tourists, so Will decided to go during Christmas break. It was peaceful, cold, and still—just the way he liked it.
He never, in a million years, thought he would bring someone to his solitary retreat, and definitely not a student. However, he never considered Sophie Harper a student, and he hoped she didn’t consider him an instructor, even though that was what they were. When he first met her, she had killed somebody. Or, at least, she thought she had. The girl was strong, more than just a typical teenage girl. Though she was popular, she was completely herself with her fellow students, if a little quiet. He loved when she got riled up, opinionated, and frustrated, especially if he initiated it.
He was in love with her. And he knew she was in love with him. They hadn’t officially said it, like with words, but they knew. And, for now, that was enough.
Will had to go back to the pharmacy for more protection, so he took his cell phone with him. He had a landline at the cabin, and while his cell didn’t get service there, it did at the pharmacy. Which was why the minute he stepped inside, his phone started buzzing with three messages.
“Will, it’s Ethan. We need you here. I’m sorry to cut your time short, but it’s an emergency.”
“Will, I understand you don’t get service, but the minute you get my messages, give me a call. It’s urgent.”
“Will, it’s about Jane Cabot. Something happened to her, and I need you and Miss Harper back here. Now.”
It took Will less than five seconds to call Ethan back and get the full details of what happened in two minutes. Ethan had already booked both Will and Sophie the earliest ferry Christmas morning. Christmas would be cut short, but Will wasn’t concerned about that. The whole way home, he tried to come up with a way to let Sophie know what happened to Jane. He wasn’t known for having sensitivity; he liked being direct and to the point, and he knew that Sophie knew that that was just who he was.
Yet this was different.
This meant something to Sophie, and because of that, he needed to make it right. To tell her in a way where he wasn’t a dick about it.
He left without buying the condoms. Sex wasn’t on his mind at the moment, and he had some back in his room at the school anyway.
The minute he walked in the bedroom, all his ideas fled his mind. She looked so beautiful, so vulnerable sitting there in a white T-shirt and boy shorts, or that was what she had told him they were called anyway, her long red hair down and slightly frizzy. There was no makeup on her face, and she had never looked more beautiful. She was sitting on the bed, doing one of his crossword puzzles, and when he walked into the room, she gave him a smile. A smile that slipped off her face the moment she saw him.
Because she knew something was wrong.
Will tried to hide it, tried to mask the tension and worry he felt, the urgency to see Jane and make sure he was okay, because he wanted to break the news about Jane with as much sensitivity as a brusque man like him could offer.
But it was ruined because she was too damn good at reading people for his liking, and she wasn’t even a mental.
“What is it?” she asked. “What happened?”
“Jane …” He let his voice trailed off, but he knew he couldn’t just leave her hanging, waiting for more. And soon the words came tumbling out, but they were all wrong. They didn’t come out in the right order and he was stuttering. Will never stuttered and … and this was not going the right way. At all.
“I …” She ran her fingers through her hair when he was finished. She hadn’t started crying, which to Will was a good sign. However, a part of him believed it was more due to the fact that she was in shock and couldn’t really do anything, let alone cry. “When do we leave?”
“First light.”
She nodded, once, twice, and she kept nodding. It almost seemed like she couldn’t stop, and maybe she couldn’t because the tears started to come. Sophie didn’t do anything except nod and try to stop crying, but nothing was working; she just looked sad and vulnerable and so, so beautiful.
Will took her in his arms and pressed her face against his chest and held her through it all. The tears started to fall and then the sobs, the racking shoulder jumps, the runny nose, the desperate clinging to his shirt, the hiccups until the storm passed and then she was … okay. She was okay.
“How is she?” Sophie finally asked. She wasn’t sure how long she had been in Will’s arms, how long she had been crying. It didn’t particularly matter. Her head hurt and her voice hurt, and she felt numb. “Jane, I mean.”
“They think she’ll recover,” Will told her. He had been running his fingers up and down her back, but he stopped when she finally spoke. “Kessler did a number on her. I guess Depogare hasn’t left her side.”
“That’s not surprising,” Sophie murmured.
It was then that she was hit with the realization that their time together was done. They were forced to return to the real world. She pulled back from Will only to turn so her back rested against him. Taking his hand in hers she placed a chaste kiss on the inside of his wrist.
“He’s in love with her,” she finished, though she didn’t know why she did. Didn’t know why they were talking about Professor Depogare, of all people.
“That is surprising,” Will drawled. She could feel his voice vibrate through her, through him. His grip on her tightened. “Listen, kid, I … I can’t let what happened here go when we get back. We can’t be together out in public, but … I don’t want to stop this. I don’t mean the sex. I mean, the sex is great. Off the charts. But I … I care about you, Soph. I don’t want this time together to stop. And maybe I’m selfish to bring this up now. My timing sucks. Always. But I’m crazy about you.”
Sophie didn’t know how it was possible, but she was smiling. She turned again—she couldn’t sit still, it would seem—until she was facing him, and crawled into his lap.
“Then let’s enjoy the time that we do have,” she told him. “Before it runs out.”
“Miss Harper,” Ethan said when he picked Sophie and Will up the next morning, “it’s nice to see you. I trust you had a good time with Will?”
Sophie pressed her lips together and avoided eye contact as she slid in the back seat of the car. Will’s eyes twinkled mischievously, but thankfully, he kept his mouth shut and took a seat next to her.
“You received a letter at the beginning of this week,” Ethan continued. He took a seat up front, next to his driver Jared, but turned so he could hand Sophie an envelope.
When her eyes took in the envelope, her heart stopped. Ethan started talking to Will about Jane’s condition and the leads they had regarding who was responsible for it, but Sophie couldn’t hear him. Couldn’t even hear Will. Her eyes zoomed in on the handwriting, and before she could stop herself, slid her index finger through the seal and pulled, opening it. H
er fingers shook as she pulled out the letter, and she unfolded the simple sheet of white paper.
The same writing she remembered.
Her eyes jumped to the sender and …
The same signature. Her mother’s.
And then, she started to read.
Dearest Sophie,
To be honest, I have no idea where to start. You must hate me and your father. I wouldn’t blame you if you did. Your eighteenth birthday is coming up and I felt a need within me to write. Maybe God was telling me to, maybe it’s just what mothers are supposed to do for their daughters. You don’t understand how much I hate myself—probably more than you hate me.
You probably want to know why I’m writing, too. Understandable. I miss you. Your father and I miss you. We want to see you. We know we have no right to ask you for that. You may never want to see us again, but I thought I’d try.
We know you’re on Catalina now. We don’t mind coming to you. We want to see you so bad, Soph.
I’ve left our address below as well as my cell. If you want to meet up, please give me a call. If that’s too much for you, please write. And even if you don’t want to see us just yet, please consider keeping in touch.
Best wishes and warm regards,
Love always,
Mom
Sophie had to read it three times to understand that her mother wrote her wanting to see her. Even afterwards, she still couldn’t believe it.
“Everything okay, kid?” Will asked, looking down at her with his hazel eyes.
Sophie was going to reply, but something stopped her. She glanced at Ethan, now in a conversation with Jared, before meeting Will’s eyes. She hoped he would understand what she was trying to say. I’ll talk to you about it later, when we’re alone.
“Yeah,” she said aloud. “Everything’s okay.”
12
Pain.
It was all she could feel.
Stranger Series Box Set Page 34
