by Ruby Raine
"It's never easy. Especially when it's someone you know. Or knew."
"I want to go with you," Emily suddenly blurted out. "I mean, if you'd like me to, I'd like to go with you."
"Are you sure? It can be a bit intense." This was a line they'd never crossed before and he'd loath himself if it somehow put more pressure on their relationship.
"I would like to go with you. I think we should be more involved in each other's abilities. Really get to understand them. If we want a future together, I say we go out as a team. I don't mean abandon your siblings, just—we keep coming back to it, we're better together."
"I cannot find a single excuse to argue that."
They were always better together. And they should absolutely get more involved with each other's gifts and understanding them. They might be out of sync with the day to day stuff, but when the day ended, the night stuff was hot and naughty and perfection to its core.
But it also only proved that great sex didn't solve every problem. Although, it definitely didn’t hurt either. And sometimes it was easier to show in actions what words sometimes fell short in saying.
Their eyes met in an overwhelmed dance that sought out the truth, which was there if they looked close enough and long enough—the love they shared and would fight to hold on to. Everything they'd experienced together. Their pasts and hopes for the future. Their fissured hearts that needed mending.
The sadness over the unexpected passing of someone their age, who they'd known, sent them both into a spiral of needing reassurance that there was a point to living, or a point for someone to die so young. While also being a harsh reminder that all anyone had was the here and now. Tomorrow wasn't promised to anyone. It could be ripped away without mercy or remorse.
Their bodies moved in perfect unison up off the sofa, lips locked, hands roaming as their feet shuffled toward the stairs, climbing one by one, each step funneling their thoughts, needs, and bodies into a single-minded purpose to find and fix and sooth these worries.
Every kiss, every touch, gasp, or movement splayed open their vulnerabilities and they clung to each other as if one would never let the other fall. Their tongues collided with the silent promise to find their way back to each other and have the future they'd always wanted.
They made it to the bedroom and managed to get the door shut as clothes fell to the floor in a mad rush to get skin on skin. Gone was the chaos of Michael's empathy, leaving only a one-minded need to be forever connected to the woman he loved with all his heart. Gone was the awkwardness between them. Gone was the distrust of his own heart. Gone was the fear he'd push her away.
"I won't ever give up on us," he muttered against her trembling lips.
Emily's core ignited in rabid fire like it bloomed to life—something about those words, his intent, his promise, acted like an ignition that rocketed her off in search of that future they both wanted so badly.
Michael sensed the change. Sensed the intensity of her need for them to be one as it matched his own. He pinned her against the door as he pressed into her, lips consuming the other and tongues dueling and taking ownership of each other. He pulled her legs upward around his waist and let out a grunt of pure ecstasy as his length found its way to her core as if it was finding its way home.
Emily soaked up his blissed-out cry with a rushed inhale as he slid all the way in like he'd just set up permanent residence deep inside her. Part of him wanted to get lost in the right here and now forever. But the need pummeling his senses took over and his hips pulled out and pushed in as his body held her to the door, their lips never quite letting go of the other.
Emily wrapped her arms around him as if to never let him go—her point, just that. She was never going to let him go, and no matter what, they'd figure out how to get their relationship back in sync. Her movements, her senses, promised they'd be better than they were before. A new perfect.
And it was that thought, that sense of promise that had Michael reeling into heavenly oblivion and drinking in Emily's cries as she flew into that oblivion with him.
They were the keepers of each other's hearts. But Michael's stuttered across a few beats as the truth slammed into him—if he ever lost Emily again, he wouldn't make it in this world. She was his heart. She wore it and owned it. And that fear that she'd change her mind or leave him snaked its ugly way back in.
How did he let that wall down? How was it he was unable to trust what was so clearly in front of his eyes and ensnaring his senses?
A few stray tears fled Emily's cheeks but the drunken simper on her face and the patter of her heart painted them as happy tears. Hopeful tears. Tears that revealed the truth. So why was it so damned hard to accept it and get passed this fear that he'd push her away again?
He was a rollercoaster. One second happy and in heaven, living out his dream with the woman of his dreams. And the next he was pulling back and putting up a barrier around his heart for fear of the moment it broke, permanently, if Emily ever left again.
"Don't leave me," she whispered as if reading his conflict. "I'm still right here."
"Can you read my mind now?"
"Don't need to. I can feel it here." She placed one hand over his heart, the other swiping a few stray tears off his own cheek.
He was all too keenly aware that it wasn't his empathy clinging to her hope and happiness or reassurance, but also him to his own. And he did something he'd never done before and begged. Begged the unknown universe and any and all entities magical or non-magical with the power to do so, to let them always be together. To let them work through these issues plaguing them and find that new perfect them. To let him open his heart again and let the fear of possible loss go before it consumed them both and ruined any chance at a real future.
He could handle a lot in this life. He already had. But living it without Emily Morgan was not an option anymore. He needed to prove he could be everything she needed and wanted. He needed to trust himself again. He needed to trust his heart to Emily again...but even now with all the promise in the world, his heart stammered in fear.
Emily leaned in and kissed the delicate skin over his heart and rested her cheek against his trembling chest. One day, soon she hoped, he'd realize this is where she lived, and nothing in this crazy world could ever scare her away again.
CHAPTER 3
THE SEPTEMBER SKY WAS sharp, bright, blue, and cloudless as Michael and Emily stepped through the threshold and into the morgue to meet Mack the next day at noon. After sexy shenanigans and more talking that lasted hours into the night, the rest was a long and fitful night in which they'd not gotten much sleep and spent most of the long hours thinking about years past.
The little that Michael did sleep was pummeled with dreams of Becky Gardiner—bits of memories seeping into his unconscious. Little things he'd started to recall. Basically, in that he'd never treated her very well, or fairly, because as he'd now admitted, he'd been in love with Emily the entire time. He stupidly hadn't given in to those feelings for fear of them keeping him on the Isle. A place he'd thought of as a prison and a place to escape. Feelings he still fought now and then, but not like he had even months ago.
This summer had changed things. A lot of things. But that underlying desire to travel and see the world and set off on some other grand adventure still plagued him. One day, perhaps, he'd get to live out those dreams.
But as quickly, guilt crept in because he was alive to have dreams and because look at poor Becky. Dead before her life had really even begun. She'd been nice enough in school. She was popular, and she wasn't mean. A bit bratty perhaps like any teen could be, including himself. She was pretty. And a great kisser. And that's about all that mattered back then.
All memories that made Michael cringe and groan because they'd dated for half a dang school year and that was all he recalled. He'd been a shitty boyfriend—to every girl he'd dated back then. And worst of all, to Emily who he'd taken for granted and treated like the trusty gal next door who'd always be the
re to save his ass when it needed saving.
But never again. Now that he had Emily, he'd do everything and anything to make her happy and prove that he was worthy of her love and that he could let his heart trust again. His hand reached out for Emily's, squeezing it hard as if to reaffirm she was really by his side.
He couldn't think straight or breathe over the mere idea of Emily deciding to leave again—and this is where his mind kept returning to. What if she reverted back to blaming him for what happened to her father? And hating this place that had taken so much from her? What if she decided she wanted to leave the Isle, what then? Where did that leave him other than broken and useless for the rest of his life? And what did it say about him that one woman had such power over his happiness? His future...
"Hey," her voice called out as she stopped them just outside the examination room. "You're shaking. Are you okay with doing this?"
What did he say? How did he tell her honestly what he was feeling without making her feel bad, or wanting to run away because he'd suddenly become so needy and uncertain? Holy hotheadedness, he was the epitome of a hot mess.
"I'm just having a moment of doubt," he tried to blow it off.
But Emily didn't budge because she knew better. "Please, Michael. Talk to me. I can handle it, I promise."
"Anyway I say it, I'm going to sound like a whiny brat or dumbass messed up hot head." He eyed her as if to say, how about that for truth?
"This isn't about Becky, is it?"
"This Becky thing is like a torment of reminders of how shitty a person I can be. Or was. I'm so afraid I might—" he didn't finish.
Emily didn't push and waited. But when he let go and turned away she got worried.
"Even after the last few days and last night, I'm still in a constant panic that I might push you away again. I can't guarantee that the things that tore you away from me, and this place, won’t happen again." He spun back around. "I promise to give this my all, but I can't shake the fear you might change your mind. I'm sorry. I don't mean to keep rehashing this. But—what if I'm not enough? What if this place is not enough? I feel so stupid that I can't get past this because I can feel in my heart that you don't think that. I'm a damn empath for fuck's sake! But I still can't shake the doubt." And this was a whole new territory he'd never explored before. Not believing his own senses...
Emily's first dreadful thought was, I've broken the man I love. Maybe beyond repair.
But it wasn't only her leaving that had gotten Michael to this place. It was a lifetime of events good and bad that had gotten them both here. And even though she was certain she and Michael belonged together, and she wanted to be on the Isle, how did they repair this fissure between them? How did they return to that place of total trust between them?
Yes, they'd spoken the words.
And yes, they both believed them.
And yet here they were again in fear of scaring the other away or having the other pull away.
"I don't have any easy answers, Michael. But I can promise you this: even if it's the hardest thing I ever have to say, I will be honest with you. And you need to do the same with me. Which you just did, and even though it hurts that I don't know how to fix what's broken, we won't give up. I will not give up."
He nodded and gave her a weak smile. "I love you. Easiest truth ever."
She smiled at that. "Ditto."
"I'm sorry I'm a broken record right now."
"You're not. You're being honest, and that's how we'll find our way back to each other."
He nodded again and gave her a too chaste kiss, his hammering heart calming some.
He took a cleansing breath and opened the door stepping into the morgue, making their way into the frigid examination room where a body lay on a metal table covered in a white sheet. He and Emily shivered as the coolness of the room only agitated their addled nerves even more.
"Wow," whispered Emily. "That's really Becky under there, huh?" The reality made her world spin a little.
Emily had thought she could handle supporting Michael while he did his death reading, but her breath caught as the truth that there was a dead body lying under the sheet sank in. And worse, that she'd known that body when it was still living. Mostly, had always been insanely jealous of her...but still.
"You sure you want to stay?" asked Michael. "I can do this alone. You don't need to stay. Especially out of guilt..." he added in a low, intent whisper.
"That's not why I'm here. Promise. I want to understand more about how your gift works. I want to see it in action. And I'm fine, really. It's just...surreal."
"And a mystery," added Mack, coming in behind them. "The rest of the examination results came in this morning and they found nothing useful in determining cause of death. It's like she went to bed and simply never woke up again."
"Let's hope for Becky's sake, it was that peaceful," mumbled Michael. He got closer, but paused, needing a moment to prepare himself. He hadn't ever really taken Becky seriously when they'd dated in high school. And she'd left the island for college and only returned a short while ago—like Mack said, she was getting ready to start a new job on the mainland.
One thing he was sure of, he was seriously glad he'd never have to relive his teen years. Becky, and all of the girls he'd dated, deserved better than him. Someone attentive. Someone who gave a shit. At least someone who cared more than if they were pretty, or good kissers.
But at the same time all this had gone on, his empathy also kicked in, his parents disappeared, Melinda sequestered herself under her own house arrest, and he'd struggled to make sense of everything which in turn made him grumpy. All. The. Time. Plus, he was an arrogant prick on top of it all.
Somehow, it was seen as dark and mysterious. The bad boy all the girls had the hots for. And he was damned grateful Emily had somehow managed to peel underneath all those moody layers to see the real him. And she was right, if they were honest with each other, even if it was hard, they'd find their way back to that perfection that was them.
He supposed high school didn't matter much anymore. All those girls had moved on and so had he. It was time to let it be history. Lessons learned and all that.
He huffed and shook it off and reached out his hand to move the sheet enough to reveal skin. Emily gripped his other hand reminding him she was with him as he gently placed his free hand onto Becky's bare shoulder.
What happened next, however, was not what he expected at all.
The reading never came. It felt like it was going to, but instead of seeing how Becky had died an electric current zapped up his arm, through him, and straight into Emily, who gasped, let go of Michael, and jumped back in shock. He released his hand from Becky and spun around to Emily.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah. Yeah. Fine. Just...didn't expect that."
"You and me both." Michael hopped over to investigate her hands and arms, but she was fine other than trembling from the shock a bit.
"What the heck happened?" asked Mack.
"I don't know. I thought I was about to see how Becky died but it's like I was pushed out...or something." He shook his head.
"Maybe it's because I was touching you?" wondered Emily.
Michael hadn't thought about that. He'd never tried a death reading while holding onto another living thing.
"Only one way to find out."
"You sure?" Because Mack wasn't up for more weirdness.
"I have to try." Because it was his job to get to the bottom of it.
Emily kept her distance this time, just in case, supporting from afar and shook off the zap still stinging her skin as she watched Michael approach the body again. Cautiously, his hand reached outward to connect with Becky's cold skin, and this time...
He yanked his arm back, confusion etching his features.
"Huh?" he mumbled, rubbing his hand. "Something's not right. I'm not getting anything. It's like it's about to show me and then I get pushed out. No zap like last time, but still...very strange."
"How come you're not getting a read?" asked Emily. "I mean, she is really dead, right?" They eyed Mack in stupefied question.
"Sure as hell is." But even she gave Becky an unsure side glance. Damn supernatural world making her question every dang thing...
Michael rubbed his chin and frowned. "Sorry, Mack. I'm not sure what's going on here."
"Maybe it's got to do with how she died?" suggested Emily. "Dying in your asleep isn't exactly a normal way to go, especially for someone so young as Becky."
"Whatever way she died, I should be able to do a reading," countered Michael curiously, wondering what weirdness was going on and if it might actually be supernatural in nature, somehow.
Emily sucked in a quick breath and dashed closer to Becky, her own curiosity setting off an idea. Michael called out her name, but Emily raised her hand for him to give her a moment. Mack waited anxiously on the other side of the table.
"I can sense her," Emily told them a few seconds later. She closed her eyes remembering the training her mom and aunt had practiced so many times with her, and unconsciously, her own hand extended toward Becky's cold arm. But right before their skin connected she gasped and pulled back.
"I think I know what's going on. I think this is actually a problem I can solve."
Michael had no response at first, mostly out of shock because seeing his girlfriend in action was something he hadn't witnessed yet. It was a strange adjustment, and he found he was no less worried about her being a Spirit Vessel than he was before she'd found her mom and aunt. But he shook it off regardless because if Emily could help, well, they needed it.
Mack rounded the metal table. "What ya thinking?" she aimed at Emily.
"Becky hasn't left her body. Her energy, her soul, whatever you want to call it, is still attached to her physical form. That's why you're getting pushed out, Michael. I think—I can't be sure—but I think Becky doesn’t know she's dead. I'd wager she thinks she's still asleep."
"Well, shit. Ain't that a terrible thing to imagine." Mack wrinkled her brow.
