“Please don’t tell me it’s going to be okay, Will. It’s bullshit. We all know it. Please.” Her voice got caught in her throat, and she forced herself to push through. “Jane is gone because of me. Nothing you can say is going to change that. I love you, but please don’t bullshit me.”
Will felt a small smile tug at the corner of his lips and his grip on her tightened. He pulled her closer to him and kissed her shoulder, trying to conceal his happiness because he knew how selfish it was in this moment—perhaps a little questionable as well, considering she was naked and taking a bath with him. It didn’t matter, though. He didn’t care.
“Now you’re quiet,” Sophie pointed out. “That’s even worse.”
“I’m quiet because I’m happy, kid,” he told her. She turned around and shot him a look, as if to say how could you be happy with everything going on, knowing we lost Jane, knowing it was her fault? What was wrong with him? “You don’t know what you just said?”
“Um, I said how Jane’s gone and that it’s all my fault,” Sophie pointed out, an edge to her voice. “You heard me. I didn’t sugarcoat it. I didn’t give any excuse. This is on me. No one else, but me. And Depogare is probably going to blame me for the rest of my apparently long life.”
Will furrowed his brow at that. “Oh really?” he asked. “And why is that?”
“Because it’s my fault Jane is gone, Will,” Sophie told him. He could tell she was getting more and more frustrated with every word she spoke. “I just said that, Will. Do you not hear me?”
“I hear just fine,” he replied, his tone taking a defensive edge. “But clearly, you don’t because you don’t realize what you just told me, do you?” She glanced back at him again, a blank expression on her face. He gave her a flat look. “Listen, if you want to blame yourself over Jane, that’s on you. I’m not going to take that away from you, but that doesn’t mean I want to constantly hear about it over and over again. I understand you’re sad and angry and upset, and I’m here for you. But you saved our lives, Sophie. I really need you to hear that. Maybe you don’t believe me now. Maybe you won’t believe me for a while. But it’s what I believe, and I’m not going to tolerate you using the rest of your time here or a good portion of your life moping around and punishing yourself for a decision you made that saved three lives. Do you understand me? Before you answer, if you don’t get that, I don’t want to hear about it.”
Will watched as Sophie bit her lip, trying to keep her lips from curling up into a smile. That was good. He was getting to her. If she could still smile, everything would work out. Maybe not right this second, but soon. He would wait for her to come around if he had to. To him, she was worth it. Always.
“Secondly, you told me you loved me,” he stated simply. Sophie snapped around, causing the water to splash out of the tub. Her cheeks turned the same color as her hair, and her sapphire blue eyes looked everywhere but at him. “And you wouldn’t shut up long enough for me to tell you that I love you, too.”
This time, Sophie didn’t bite her bottom lip. This time, Sophie couldn’t contain her smile if she tried. She hadn’t remembered telling Will she loved him. If she had, it must have just come out, like it might have in every day conversation.
He loved her, too.
This was very good news.
Perhaps Will was right. There were still reasons to smile.
“I love you,” she told him again, this time shyly, like she realized what the words meant and how they would change their relationship. “I love you.”
“Yeah. I know.” Will smirked, his hazel eyes teasing. “Look, kid, I have no idea where we go from here. I know Ethan wants the two of us and Depogare in his office tomorrow. I know Ethan sent out people to try and retrieve Jane’s body, as well as anyone we might be able to question regarding General Arbuckle and the government’s plan to experiment on peculiars, especially the rare ones.” Like you, Will added to himself, but refused to say it. “He’s hoping Michael is still there as well, because if Ethan caught Michael, we’d be getting a whole hell of a lot of answers.”
“What makes you think Michael would even talk?” Sophie asked, quirking a brow.
“Ethan has his ways.”
Sophie was silent for a moment, letting Will’s words sink in. She pushed her lips together in a thin line, her eyes resting on his collarbone. Finally, when she found the right words to say, she glanced up and locked eyes with him.
“Where do we go from here?” she asked him. “You and me, I mean?”
It took Will a moment to answer because he didn’t want to screw this up. It was too important. Maybe it wouldn’t come out perfect, but he’d make damn sure it was close to it.
“I don’t know,” he replied, telling her the truth. “But wherever we do go, I want to be there by your side. For as long as you’d have me.”
Sophie smiled—a brilliant Sophie smile that completely lit up her face—and turned around so she could rest against him once more. “I’d like that,” she told him. “I’d like that a lot.”
36
It was the memories that followed him around, not the dreams. Regardless if the dreams were shared, if they both experienced something together, it wasn't real life. They could kiss, caress, touch, and make love but it wasn't really real. The dreams were wonderful and wild and awakened a hope in him he didn't think he would ever have, but the memories were this bittersweet part of him that caused happiness to flow through his body and his heart to constrict in pain. It was the memories that kept him up at night, away from his dreams, away from his hope. Yet, even though it brought him this tight, lingering pain, he couldn't help but dwell on them. He couldn't help but remember. Because if he didn't, who would?
She took a seat at her desk—her usual seat in his classroom even though class wasn't in session and there was no one else besides Mr. Johnson in the room. She was three rows from the board, from him, dead center of the class. Not too close, not too far. Daryl appreciated the sentiment.
There had always been something about Jane Cabot, something Daryl couldn't quite put his finger on. His black eyes were drawn to her, his body on high alert whenever she was around. He didn't know why, but he made a note of it and stored it away in his mind somewhere safe. He would come back to it later, probably, but right now, he needed to focus on his task at hand: teaching these two what it meant to be a quis.
He never asked for this, though there was no one else to do the job. He knew more than anyone else on the planet what it meant to be a quis, and with that knowledge came a certain level of responsibility he's bound by. He wondered for a moment how Calvin Johnson found out just what he is since he was recently transferred to the academy. He’s not certain about the kid, and if Daryl isn’t certain about someone, that tended to be an issue.
Miss Cabot, on the other hand, he was quite familiar with. She was one of his students, and was originally thought to be an animus. However, after her recent visit to the dean’s office and a rather telling bump on her head, there was clearly more to her than met the eye. He smirked just thinking about it. The girl was annoying. But also amusing.
Currently, she had difficulties with the button on her coat. She tried to undo them, but they kept getting stuck. First, Daryl had no idea how she could be seated and removing a pea coat at the same time without some difficulty. Second, he found himself staring at her fingers, trying to pop them through the holes. The jacket was red—an ignis would wear something so flashy—and the buttons were big, shiny, and brown. There’s a line between her eyebrows, and slight grunting was being emitted from her lips. In fact, the tip of her tongue darted out at the corner of her lips.
She was frustrated.
She was cute.
Daryl clenched his teeth together, dismissing the thought without acknowledging it.
“Having trouble?”
Her head shot up and her green eyes—goodness, they were a deep forest green—snapped to his. Her face turned a soft shade of pink and he couldn’t help
but feel something twist and turn in his stomach. He didn’t like thoughts, and he definitely did not like feelings.
As a way to push the feeling aside, to get rid of it, he undid the buttons on her coat in the blink of an eye.
Her mouth dropped, and he worried—Daryl Depogare never worried—that perhaps he’d done something inappropriate.
Instead, Jane asked, “How did you do that?”
“Well, duh,” commented Mr. Johnson. “He’s going to teach us how to do that.”
Daryl didn’t like Mr. Johnson’s snide comment, but he was right. He knew if he answered her question, he’d say the wrong thing. For some reason, he didn’t want to do that. Instead, he turned to the board and started to write.
Before he did, however, he noticed Ms. Cabot’s cheeks darken to red—the same red as her jacket.
“How are you?”
She shouldn’t be in his room at midnight, but she was, recovering after a fainting spell. She was stubborn and frustrating, and he knew she’d be the death of him. There’s something about Jane Cabot, something he didn’t like to think about. Something he couldn’t help but think about. She shouldn’t be there, but Daryl found he wanted her to be.
“I’m okay.”
He handed her a cup filled with tea. It was her cup now; it was green, like her eyes, and faded, and when she held it, her pinkie finger stuck out without her knowing, and it reminded him just where she was from and where he was from, and how they were so different. Yet somehow, they were here, together in this moment in time, and to him, it was the definition of a miracle.
The night light flickered and his black eyes were drawn downwards to her necklace. Before he could think, which he never seemed to do when he was around her, he took the silver triton between his thumb and forefinger.
“You still wear it.” He sounded surprised. Truth be told, he was.
“You gave it to me last week,” she replied with a tone he couldn’t decipher. Her hand reached up to touch the triton as well, almost as though she forgot he’s currently holding it, and their fingers brushed.
He dropped it immediately. He felt something every time they touched. It’s dangerous, and he wasn’t sure how to categorize it. Peculiar would be it, but Daryl wasn’t one to be cute.
“Of course I still wear it,” she said, and seemed calm in the dim light, fingering the metal. Her eyes looked up and locked with his. Again. He averted his gaze. “You gave it to me.”
“You’re my best friend.”
She wasn’t afraid when she told him, he had to give her that. The girl had courage, more than he would ever have in his life. It was one of the many reasons why she was a better human being than he would ever be.
“Why do you say such things?”
She gave him a face, after picking her head off his chest. They were dancing, like in a dream they once had. His arms were wrapped around her, and he never wanted to let her go. She was too good for him, too pure, but he clung to her in hopes that maybe she’d rub off on him. Maybe she would make him better than he was, despite his doubt.
She was not afraid of anything, he told her. She was not afraid she’d lose this moment; she simply lived in it. She held him the way she held onto her experiences: firm, with faith. It’s like she held a butterfly—not too tight as to crush it, not too lose as to let it fly away. She held him like she had him forever, but enjoyed every second of it as though it’s their last. She wasn’t afraid to make eye contact with him. She didn’t question that she’s dancing with her professor, wasn’t embarrassed or ashamed. He wished he was more like that, but knew he was not. Probably would never be.
Then she shrugged—it’s completely graceless and unladylike, but somehow, she made the action beautiful.
“It’s the truth,” she stated. And it’s so simple—the way she said it, like it was a fact—that he almost got angry with her. She fed him poison in the form of hope, as if someone like her could possibly …
He had no idea why she allowed him to hold her this way. It’s wrong, and he felt like a dirty old man even though he looked like he was her age. He held her tight anyway, reveling in the touch.
He hated feelings; hated when people touched him. But she did it anyway. She tested his limits and pushed his boundaries and somehow got him to let his guard down just a little. She was the crack in his armor, his chain’s weakest link. She was everything wrong for him, and somehow, that made her perfect.
Perhaps she was his best friend, too.
She took a step forward, and without even trying, he could read her mind. He knew what came next. He knew what she was going to do. He could read everything about her—her body language, her eyes, the expression on her face. He knew what she wanted to do. He knew what she’s thinking because she was a damn open book and he hated it, because he has never been more afraid of someone or something in his entire life.
And it was entirely her fault.
He didn’t know who to be or what to do anymore. He questioned everything now, from his thoughts to his feelings to his actions. He never questioned anything. Daryl had always been certain of himself until she came into his life. Until she turned everything upside down.
When she tilted her chin up, he grabbed her shoulders—he never initiated contact, but it was important for him to do it now—and took a step back.
The fallen look on her face broke his heart, and he hated himself in that moment because it had never been more apparent that he was a coward of the worst sort and she was the bravest person he knows.
He should have let her kiss him. He should have kissed her back. And now, there was a good possibility he would never have the chance to kiss her again.
37
Waking up in Will’s arms was something Sophie would never take for granted. His arms were sturdy, wrapped around her waist. His face was all but buried in her shoulder, which was odd to her, because she had no idea how he breathed comfortably in such a position. It didn’t matter, however. She never felt more safe than she did in this moment, just the two of them.
Deep down, Sophie knew this wouldn’t last. Not because they would grow out of their relationship together, but because school would start in a couple of days. Because Sophie couldn’t visit Will at night to connect both mentally and physically. To touch him and tell him things only he could know, only he could hear. There was six months until she graduated and didn’t have to worry about it, but they only had a few days of togetherness before she reverted back to his student and he was her professor, trainer, and RH Director. But she didn’t have to think about that. Not yet, at least.
“Happy New Year’s,” Will mumbled into her shoulder, causing the hair on her skin to stand and a light, dizzy feeling to spread throughout her stomach. “You sleep well?”
Sophie nodded and shifted in his arms so he faced her, her eyes still tired but wanting to take everything about Will in. His hair was as unruly as ever, messy and thick, the perfect hair to run her fingers through. The perfect hair to pull. His eyes were at half mast currently, though they closed and stayed closed for long portions of time as though they carried heavy baggage and couldn’t stay open no matter how hard he tried. They were a golden hazel color, with flecks of green. She couldn’t think properly when he stared at her, which was why she would constantly avoid eye contact with him.
However, she was beginning to realize that perhaps being vulnerable wouldn’t be so bad. That Will was worth being vulnerable for. She knew how to survive on her own. She didn’t know how to have relationships and how to depend on others and how to trust anyone. But since coming here, she’s had people who cared about her, who liked her, who cared about what happened to her. She’d never had that before. And she liked it. And if that required letting her walls down just a little bit, she would do it. Will was worth it.
“When do we have to be at Ethan’s?” she asked, her voice still laced with sleep. She closed her eyes and yawned, stretching as best she could with Will’s arm still hanging on her waist.
“Shall we sleep?” Sophie asked, snuggling deep into his shoulder. She posed it as a question, but clearly it was not. She was already slipping under. It didn’t help that Will was so comfortable.
Sophie didn’t hear his response. She had already fallen asleep.
By the time she and Will entered Ethan’s office in the main academy building, Daryl Depogare and Ethan were already there. Ethan gave them a smile as they came in, as though they weren’t waiting for them, even though they had a couple of minutes to spare. Depogare, on the other hand, didn’t even look their way. He sat still and stoic, wearing a crisp suit. He had showered, his hair was slicked back, but his eyes were far away. Sophie thought it would be hard to read those black eyes, but when she studied the man before her, she realized that it wasn’t.
Daryl Depogare was heartbroken.
And it was her fault.
The reminder caused her stomach to sink down and her eyes to lock on the polished floor. She took a seat on the other side of Will so she could avoid the professor and feel even more guilty. Her time with Will made her forget—she even believed that while she had made a decision, it wasn’t wrong—but looking at Depogare, she was hit with the realization that there were consequences to her actions. They might have escaped with their lives, but Jane hadn’t. Someone had fallen behind.
Stranger Series Box Set Page 49
