Dying Forever (Waking Forever Book 3)

by Heather McVea

  Bryce looked down. “It’s no trouble.”

  The two women stood in an awkward silence, Alison hoping Bryce would say something, even though she had no idea what that might be. “Goodnight.” Walking around to the driver’s door, Alison managed a smile. “I was going to have a glass of wine when I got home, but hell, if this is me sober, I better skip it.”

  Bryce grinned. “I assumed you were already drunk.”

  Alison shook her head. “I wish. Take care.” She got into the car and locked the door. Pressing the button to lower the passenger side window, Alison leaned over. “Where are you parked?”

  Bryce bent down, “Just over there.” She nodded towards her white Corolla four spots over.

  Alison, still shaky from earlier, chewed nervously on the inside of her lip. “I’ll wait until you get to your car.”

  Bryce grinned. “Thanks.”

  Waiting for Bryce to walk past the back of her car, Alison backed out of the parking space and waited until the other woman was safely inside her car. Pulling forward, Alison scanned the garage for any sign of Christine. I’m not imagining this, and I’m not accidentally drunk.

  Approaching the garage exit, Alison reached into the shallow nook in the center console of her car. Pulling her garage key card out, she heard something rattling around the cubby. Turning the interior cabin light on, Alison’s eyes widened when she extracted a small black stone from the center console.

  Chapter 4

  “She was just gone?” Lydia’s eyes widened as she took a drink of her margarita, the oversized salt crystals from the chilled glass rim speckling the table in front of her.

  Alison dipped a corn tortilla chip into a shallow clay dish of red salsa and popped it in her mouth. She chewed for several seconds, letting the heat of the salsa coat her tongue. Taking a sip of her Corona beer, she shook her head. “It really creeped me out.”

  Alison needed to talk to someone about what had happened in the parking garage. Nearly a week had passed, but the feelings of dread and uneasiness the encounter had invoked lingered with Alison. She had thought to confide in her sister, or even her mother, but knew their relatively conservative way of looking at the world would leave her mother Elaine humoring her, and Jules outright mocking her.

  Luckily Lydia was available, and was also exponentially less judgmental. So the two women had agreed to meet for dinner at Tomatillos, a locally owned Tex-Mex restaurant near campus. Though the décor verged on gaudy with the oversized piñatas and brightly painted chairs and tables, the restaurant had some of the best beef fajitas in the city.

  “I haven’t even told you the strangest part.” Alison had decided not to mention the stone until she could gauge Lydia’s reaction and skepticism. They were friends, but she didn’t want a co-worker thinking she was crazy.

  Lydia put the oversized margarita glass down and reached for a chip. “Stranger than a woman vanishing and one of your students telling you she had never been there to begin with?”

  “She’s not technically a student.” Alison had already corrected Lydia on this point once during their conversation. Even though Bryce had proven a little odd and unreliable, Alison was still attracted to her and didn’t want to think of her in academic terms.

  “Whatever gets your head on your pillow at night.” Lydia chuckled.

  Taking a long drink from her beer, Alison rolled her eyes. “Wait. This does matter. She’s auditing the class, therefore I’m not evaluating her, ergo she’s not a student.”

  Staring blankly at her friend, Lydia took a deep breath. “Wow, that is some serious justification. I mean, Jesus, Ali, ergo?”

  A rush of embarrassment spread across Alison’s face. “I was clarifying.”

  “Right.” Lydia smirked.

  Now desperate to get off the topic of Bryce’s enrollment status, Alison pressed on. “Do you want to hear the rest or not?”

  Waving the waiter over for another margarita, Lydia smiled. “Of course. You’re the one that went all transitional words on me.”

  The waiter arrived at the table before Alison could reply. She knew Lydia was right, and it was best to let it go. “Another margarita, please.” Lydia smiled coyly at the twenty-something Latino waiter.

  “Another beer for you, ma’am?” The young man asked Alison, a smile spreading across his full lips.

  “Sure. Thanks.” Alison handed him her empty beer bottle.

  The man left the table, and Alison felt Lydia shooting daggers at her. “What?”

  Irritated, Lydia leaned back in her chair. “Do you even know when it happens?”

  Crunching on another chip, Alison shook her head. “When what happens?” She managed through a full mouth.

  “When you get hit on.” Lydia sighed.

  Alison looked at her friend and then in the direction the waiter had walked. “What? Him? Seriously?”

  “I get a polite head nod when I order, but you get the Rico Suave smile.” Lydia’s tone was playful and Alison could tell she was in for some good humored ribbing.

  “Clearly his charms were lost on me.” Alison grinned.

  “Clearly. Finish your ghost story.” Lydia drummed her fingers on the wooden table top.

  “Right, so then just before Bryce comes around the corner, the woman lifts her hand up and says she wants to give me something.” Alison paused as the waiter returned with their drinks and an even bigger grin on his face as he put Alison’s Corona down in front of her.

  Avoiding eye contact with Lydia, she managed a strained grin. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.” The man beamed as he walked away.

  Squeezing a lime into her beer, Alison refused to look at Lydia. “Don’t. Just don’t.” Taking a deep breath, she continued her story. “So, anyway, she said she wanted to give me something and held out a small, black stone.”

  “Random.” Lydia took a drink of her margarita, wiping her mouth with a white cloth napkin.

  “It’s weird, and I didn’t take it, but then she disappears.” Alison wasn’t comfortable telling Lydia how she felt faint, and that Bryce had to practically carry her to her car. She definitely didn’t want to tell her how embarrassed she had been by Bryce’s clear awkwardness with their closeness. Ironically, Alison could attract all the twenty-year-old Latino waiters in the world, but she only wanted the one thirty-something Irish goddess who actively avoided her.

  Shaking off the disappointment thinking about Bryce caused, Alison continued. “But when I got in my car minutes later, the stone was in the center console.”

  Lydia stopped mid-drink. “Bullshit.”

  Before Alison could continue, the waiter returned with a large, sizzling platter of beef fajitas and all the trimmings. Carefully placing empty plates in front of the two women, he smiled at Alison. “Can I get you two ladies anything else?”

  “No. Nothing.” Lydia interjected, clearly annoyed. The man blushed and quickly excused himself. “Jesus, give it a rest, guy.” She reached for a flour tortilla. “So it was just lying in your car?”

  Alison scooped several spoonfuls of borracho beans onto her plate. “Yeah. When I got home, I took it inside and looked at it closely for the first time. It seemed almost warm to the touch.”

  “Some precious stones are warm or even cool to the touch regardless of the room temperature, so that’s not weird.” Lydia mumbled through a bite of taco.

  Alison looked down at the table full of food, her appetite suddenly giving way to nausea. “It feels weird when I hold it, Lydia. Hot, almost electric.”

  “Then don’t hold it.” Lydia stated matter of factly. “Get rid of it.”

  “Is that what you would do? I mean, given the entirety of the story.” Alison asked tentatively as she bit nervously at the inside of her lip.

  Swallowing a bite of her taco, Lydia reached for her margarita. “If I were you, I’d spend less time worrying about a rock and more time working up the nerve to ask non-student-Bryce out.”

  Alison managed a faint
smile as she took a drink of her beer. She was embarrassed to tell Lydia what had happened at the museum and then the downtown bar. The truth was she had already the nerve to ask Bryce out once and was brutally rebuffed for her efforts.

  ***

  Alison had said her goodbyes to Lydia and was walking to her car. It was a little after dusk and the parking lot lights hadn’t turned on yet, leaving the lot cloaked in shadows. A chill shot up Alison’s back, and she quickly looked around, the uneasiness from the parking garage creeping back over her.

  Fumbling in her purse, she silently berated herself for not having the pepper spray readily available. Just as her hand closed around the thin metal and plastic bottle, Alison’s cell phone rang and began vibrating. Startled, a short yelp escaped her lips, and then she looked around to see if anyone had witnessed her overreaction.

  The parking lot was empty as she pressed the accept icon on the phone’s screen. “Hello.”

  “Professor Bailey. Tom Hutchinson here. I hadn’t heard back from you regarding my articles and thought I should just bite the bullet and give you a call.” The man’s baritone voice was smooth and relaxed.

  Alison squinched her eyes shut and wished she had thought to look at the caller ID before answering. “Mr. Hutchinson, I’m sorry. With the start of term I’ve been -”

  “Mr. Hutchinson? Oh no, that doesn’t sound promising. Tom, please.” The man’s charm was effortless.

  “Sorry. Tom." Alison liked the reporter, and though she had decided not to get involved with his project, she always felt bad when she had to let people down. "I’ve been very busy and was meaning to get back with you. Given my work load this term, I really can’t spare any time and think you would be better served -”

  “I’ll tell you what, Professor Bailey, why don’t you and I have dinner, and I can have one more chance at convincing you to come on board with this.” Tom masterfully walked the line between persistent and pushy, never straying into the latter.

  Alison was standing next to her car, her keys in hand as she considered the man’s offer. “I really -”

  “It’s the least you can do for ignoring me the past week and a half.” Alison was amazed at how even the man’s attempts at manipulating her came across as casual and charming. She felt like she was in a Tennessee Williams play, minus the family drama and latent homosexuality.

  “Okay, Tom. When and where? I’ll meet you.” Alison didn’t bother to mask the amusement in her voice.

  “Well alright then.” Tom proposed, and Alison accepted, an invitation for the following Monday to Two Brothers Barbecue Market. It was a casual barbecue restaurant with expansive outdoor dining, and though she hadn’t personally eaten there, her brother Chad had recommended it several months ago.

  Hanging up from Tom, Alison unlocked her car and tossed her purse into the passenger seat. Starting the car, she flipped her headlights on and slowly backed up. Nearing the parking lot exit, a beep came from the dashboard. Looking down, Alison frowned. The tire pressure gauge light was illuminated.

  “Shit.” The Honda had been the first car she owned with the gauge feature, and the first time the warning had gone off about a month after she bought the car, it had turned out to be a faulty sensor.

  Rolling her eyes, she pulled the car into an empty parking space adjacent to the sidewalk, put it in park, and got out. The parking lot lights cycled on as Alison walked around to the passenger side of the car, and she realized her luck had run out. The nearly flat rear tire was definitely not a sensor malfunction.

  Rubbing the back of her neck, she shook her head. “Excellent.” She could call her roadside assistance, but in truth, she could change the tire and be on her way before they arrived. These pants were due to the cleaners anyway. Alison thought as she looked down at the light gray slacks.

  Popping the trunk of her car, she shifted several bags of clothes she had been meaning to take to Goodwill over so she could access the spare tire and jack.

  “Need help?”

  Alison jumped, her head hitting the underside of the trunk lid. “Ow!” She grabbed the back of her head as she turned around. “Bryce? Shit, you scared me.” Alison looked around the deserted parking lot. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m sorry - I thought that was you and maybe -” The woman took a step forward, her hand reaching for Alison’s throbbing head before she seemed to think better of it and stepped away. “I live in an apartment a few blocks over and sometimes I prefer to walk instead of driving. I’m sorry.”

  A few blocks off the stretch of Broadway south of the campus, streets were lined with large, older homes that had been converted into multi-plex apartments. The occupants were often students, but it hadn’t occurred to Alison that Bryce would be living so close to the university, given she wasn’t a full time student.

  “We seem to be meeting a lot lately.” Alison managed a smile, in spite of the ache that was rapidly spreading through her head.

  Bryce smiled, her shoulders relaxing. “I was just thinking that.” She looked past Alison and into the trunk of the car. “Can I help with that?” Bryce’s Irish accent was not overly pronounced, but it caused a warm flush of heat to Alison’s face to hear the word help being pronounced as hilp.

  “I can hear that accent of yours.” Alison smiled as she turned back toward the trunk and lifted the tire cover.

  “I think after so many years that it’s gone.” Bryce put her black North Face backpack down next to Alison’s car and helped the woman lift the spare tire out of the trunk.

  “Nope, and your th pairing is a dead giveaway.” Alison raised her eyebrows, smiled, and mimicked Bryce. “Ya siy afta so miny years. What are ya - tirty?” Alison began unscrewing the jack from its base.

  Bryce laid the tire down flat on the ground and stood up, dusting her hands off on her faded blue jeans, a huge smile on her face. “You do that pretty well, professor.”

  Alison hesitated as she lifted the jack out of the trunk. She didn’t like being reminded of her and Bryce’s primary relationship. “Linguistic classes during undergrad.”

  Standing up, Alison looked at Bryce for the first time since being scared to death by her. She was wearing a pair of fitted, faded blue jeans, a long sleeve navy t-shirt, black leather flip flops, and a thin navy blue elastic head band that held her thick auburn hair off her face. She was the most beautiful woman Alison had ever seen, and suddenly how they knew each other hardly mattered.

  Bryce and Alison stood staring at each other, neither woman able or willing to move. A quick flash of light skittered across Bryce’s green eyes, and Alison assumed the culprit was a passing car’s headlights. “Bryce, I-”

  Something akin to discomfort crossed Bryce’s face. “The tire.” The spell broken, Bryce turned her attention back to the spare tire on the ground. “Let’s get you on the road again.”

  Given Bryce’s demeanor, it was clear to Alison that whatever had just happened between them had not been entirely in her own head. Without a word, she went about getting the jack positioned under the car, and the two women worked in tandem, changing the tire within ten minutes.

  Bryce lifted the flat tire up and into the trunk. Alison was impressed with her strength, given the tire and rim easily weighed forty pounds. “All done.” The beautiful redhead stepped back from the trunk.

  A dime size grease smudge stained Bryce’s left cheek. Without thinking, Alison reached up and, cupping Bryce’s cool cheek with one hand, gently wiped at the grease with her thumb. “My mother used to do this with spit, so consider yourself lucky.” Alison looked into Bryce’s eyes. They were wide with shock and an even more intense green than usual.

  Alison realized her mistake immediately. She hardly knew this woman and had been completely inappropriate. The tension of the moment was palpable as Bryce’s intense gaze stayed fixed on Alison.

  Stepping back, Alison stammered when she spoke. “Anyway - you, you can get the rest.” Not knowing what else to do, the professor extended h
er hand. “Ah, thanks. You didn’t have to stop, but I’m glad you did.”

  Bryce blinked several times as if pulling herself back from a trance. She quickly shook Alison’s hand and released it, shoving her own hands into her jean pockets. “I didn’t have to scare the beejezus out of you either, but I managed that just fine, too.”

  Alison laughed, and Bryce grinned, the tension from moments ago gone. “Would you like to have dinner with me?” Alison had no idea where the question came from, or why she allowed it to exit her mouth. She had been thoroughly humiliated by this woman just a few weeks ago, and now she was going back for seconds.

  Bryce frowned, and embarrassment surged through Alison’s body, causing her to start sweating. She could feel her shoulders tense. The awkwardness that was creeping its way forward was her fault, and she should have learned her lesson on that downtown bar stool three weeks ago.

  In an effort to mitigate the feelings of inadequacy tightening their grip around her throat, Alison managed an explanation for the invitation that didn’t have anything to do with her attraction to Bryce. “I just thought since you helped me in the garage and now here, the least I could do is buy you dinner.” There, that sounded less pathetic.

  Bryce shook her head and picked her backpack up from the ground. “There’s really no need. I mean, I nearly gave you a concussion tonight.”

  “Let me at least give you a ride home then.” Alison hated how desperate she sounded when clearly the woman wasn’t interested.

  Bryce’s expression verged on pained. “I’m only a couple blocks over. Thanks though.” Not waiting for Alison to respond, she turned and began quickly walking away.

  Momentarily surprised by Bryce’s emphatic response, it took Alison a few seconds to get her bearings and walk after her. “Bryce. Hold up.” Is she seriously going to act like she can’t hear me? Determination replaced embarrassment and apprehension as Alison broke into a quick trot. “I can follow you home, but then I would know where you live.”

  Bryce stopped, her back rigid as she turned to face the blonde. Seizing the opportunity, Alison continued. “I think I’ve offended you somehow, and I only meant to show my gratitude.”