Them (her Book 3)

by Portia Moore

  “We’re heading into the city so you can all shop for souvenirs,” the tour guide says, looking pointedly at Ian and I. “If you’d like to join us?”

  “Sounds good,” Ian says easily, and both of us start giggling as we join the others on the bus.

  The city is bright and bustling, full of shops on the main street, open-air stalls with delicious-looking food, and vendors selling jewelry and fabrics and everything else you could imagine. Ian watches me indulgently as I dart from one to the other, buying a cup of street corn and picking up a small, intricate turquoise bracelet. We pass by a small shopfront with a large sign advertising: Psychic: Fortunes, Herbs, Charms, and I stop, reaching for Ian’s hand.

  He gives me a knowing look. “You don’t really want to go in there, do you?”

  “Come on,” I plead. “It’ll be fun.”

  “I don’t believe in that shit,” Ian says, rolling his eyes. “It’s a waste of money. They just tell you what you want to hear.”

  “It’s just for fun,” I insist. “We’re out of the country, let’s live a little.”

  “This type of shit gives me the creeps,” Ian says, his mouth twisting in a frown as I tug him towards the door.

  “Aww, don’t be a pussy,” I laugh at him. He slaps my ass as we make our way in.

  There’s only one person in the shop: a small older woman with nut-brown skin and a scarf twisted around her frizzy black hair. She’s wearing a long, intricately embroidered caftan and heavy turquoise jewelry, and when Ian and I walk up to her table she peers at us both intently with bright green eyes that seem unusually clear in her wrinkled face.

  “You want your fortunes told?” she asks, her voice thick with a heavy accent. She reaches over, lighting a stick of incense. “This is your boyfriend?”

  “Brother,” I say quickly, sitting down and tugging Ian’s hand to pull him down into the seat next to me.

  Ian rolls his eyes, but sits, and doesn’t say anything to contradict me.

  “Mmm.” The woman makes a small noise under her breath, as if she knows we’re full of shit; she probably saw Ian’s hand on my ass before we came in. The smoke pouring from the incense stick is thick and smells strongly of clove. I feel slightly dizzy from it and hold tightly to Ian’s hand as the psychic takes his left hand, her long fingers running over the back of it.

  I look around the place, with old photos and writing that I don’t understand since it’s in a different language. There’s a sort of heavy energy in the room. I feel a little breathless as she peers at Ian, studying him. She turns his hand over, running a finger over the lines, and nods. “I see fame and success in your future,” she says, looking into his face intently. “That is what I see most clearly for you.”

  “Well then,” Ian says, leaning back in his chair with a tiny smile. “I guess that wasn’t so bad. Fame and success, huh? I’ll take as much of that as I can get.”

  I smile at him excitedly, glad that he’s starting to have fun with it. I thrust my hand out at the fortune-teller, smiling brightly at her. “What about me?”

  The woman looks at me and her gaze turns sharp. “I’m done for the day,” she says abruptly, pushing her chair back. “I only had time for one more. That will be 15 USD.”

  “What?” I stare at her, shocked, but Ian shrugs, starting to stand up. “Come on, Alana,” he says. “It’s Mexico, we’ll find someone else. There’s probably a dozen psychics on this street alone.”

  I snatch my hand out of his, suddenly annoyed. “No, I want to hear what she has to say. We sat down together, you can do both of us!” I hold out my hand. “It won’t take long, you barely told him anything. We could have got what you told him in a fortune cookie.”

  The woman pauses, fixing her green eyes on mine, and a shiver goes through me. For a second I change my mind. I don’t want to hear what she has to say, but I stay firmly rooted to my seat, stubbornness winning out. “I want to hear what my future is.”

  She shrugs, sitting down and taking my hand in her soft, dry one. She runs her finger over the lines in my palm and then looks up at me with something that almost looks like sympathy in her eyes. “You’ve found love,” she says softly, sorrow tinging her voice.

  “Yes, I have.” I beam at Ian and then look back at her, but there’s nothing joyful in her expression.

  “It will only be temporary,” the woman continues, her eyes fixed on mine. “Both the love and your happiness. You will suffer a great loss, and your greatest enemy will attain what’s yours.”

  I feel myself go cold, goosebumps running over my skin until every hair on my arms and the back of my neck stands up.

  “Ugh, what the hell lady?” Ian laughs but it’s joyless. I snatch my hand out of hers, feeling tears well up in my eyes as I jump up so quickly that my chair falls over. I run out into the street, gasping for breath. The sun is still beating down outside, but I’m as cold as if it were snowing.

  “Alana! Babe, what’s wrong?” Ian comes up behind me, putting a hand on my waist. “Babe, look at me.”

  “That was awful,” I manage, choking back tears.

  “She’s a hack,” Ian tells me confidently. “She just gave you a bad reading because you pissed her off. Anyone else would have given you a good one. She couldn’t even tell that we aren’t really brother and sister. Come on, it’s okay. It was just a game, like you said.”

  But I can’t believe him. His words go right over my head as I struggle to breathe, because her words weren’t just stupid drudgery…they fit, and they were terrifying.

  I’ve finally found love, and happiness. I have a life I want to keep, one I don’t want to lose or run away from. And Megan appearing again could make me lose all of it.

  No, she could take it.

  Megan.

  Fucking Megan.

  Sweet, complacent Megan. She isn’t the human equivalent of a tornado.

  No. I’ve got to get it together. She couldn’t replace what Ian and I have. Ian loves everything about me—that I’m wild and unpredictable, that only he can calm me down, that he’s…he’s my fucking peace. She couldn’t take him from me. Who knows if she’d even want him, but that doesn’t matter anyway because I’d never let her have him.

  Ever.

  He’s mine, the one good thing that is all mine, that has nothing to do with her.

  I won’t let her have him.

  I’ve been the one to deal with the shitty part of her life, the hard parts, the bad. I remember what she won’t. I face what she can’t. I’ll never let her live my happily ever after.

  I can feel the tears threatening again. I’m jolted when I feel Ian’s touch gently on my back. “Look,” he says, reaching for my hand, “let’s just forget this happened, and we’ll go somewhere else. Is there any shopping left that you want to do? I have a reservation at a waterfront restaurant tonight. They’re supposed to have the best fucking fish tacos and margaritas you’ve ever had.”

  I smile weakly at him. I don’t want to ruin our “pre-honeymoon,” and I know if I’m not careful my mood could do just that. I want these to be good memories. I want to go back to earlier, to the cave and the pool and him holding me in his arms, when the threat of how I could easily lose everything isn’t directly in my face.

  I take his hand and we head back to the bus, and I try to think about the night ahead: drinking and dancing and fucking in the huge white bed in our hotel room.

  But this second, this moment, I feel like a clock has started.

  Your time is running out.

  And I have to stop it.

  I’ve always been on my own.

  Megan had me but I’ve had no one.

  No one who matters, at least.

  I learned to live with that, to relish in the fact that loneliness is something that protects you from loss. So much has changed this year. Now it’s not just me, it’s Ian, and I have someone to love and worry about besides myself. Since the day with the psychic I’ve felt like I’ll explode—the thoughts, the sec
rets I’ve kept with no one to tell, to work through them with, who wouldn’t judge me for them. Now though, I go to the one person who I think I do have besides Ian because Ian is the person I have to protect from all of this. The moment Ian leaves for work I text Blue to come over asap that it’s an emergency.

  I’ve got to get a grip.

  The moment I hear his knock at the door I rush to let him in, throwing my arms around his neck.

  “Wow, hell must have just frozen over, you’re actually acting like a girl,” Blue teases, disentangling himself from me. But I can see the concern he has on his face. “Why the hell couldn’t you come to my place?”

  “I don’t think I should be driving right now,” I admit, tapping my fingers nervously across my lap. He lifts a concerned brow at me.

  I chew on my lower lip, sitting on the edge of the couch’s arm as I fold my arms across my stomach and look at him. “I need to tell you something.” I let out a long sigh, each breath I take almost unwinding the secret I’ve kept so long wound up. Trying to untangle it in a way that doesn’t sound completely psychotic.

  “Hey, whatever it is Aly, I’ve got your back,” he tells me adamantly. I want to hug him again but it’d probably freak him out even more.

  “There’s something wrong with me.” I wrap my arms tighter around myself.

  When the words leave my mouth it almost feels like a betrayal. I’ve never spoken them out loud. She has. She’s told too many to name, all in the hope that they could help her, save her. But none did. I always thought she was weak and stupid, looking to be rescued instead of saving herself. But here I am with a glimmer of hope that Blue can help me think my way out of this somehow.

  I keep my eyes fixed on his as I tell him what may sound like a joke, unbelievable like a plot in a movie instead of my life. “I’m…I’m not me sometimes,” I start, my voice low and dry. Blue is watching me with his brilliant Blue eyes on mine, waiting for me to continue.

  “A lot of the time I’m not. There’s…it’s other people, another person that is me when I’m not.”

  I wait for him to interrupt or ask a question but he doesn’t so I take another breath and let out a few more, continuing to unwrap what I’ve so tightly bound up.

  “Her name is Megan…the other me. Except she’s not me, we’re nothing alike…”

  Blue’s mouth has fallen open just a little but he still hasn’t said anything.

  “I-I’ve never been myself, it’s never been just me for as long as I can remember. I-I remember more than she does but she doesn’t know about me. We co-exist. I co-exist with her. I have my own life though, hers is different. I don’t let them intersect if that makes sense.”

  “Wait…what?” Blue asks, his eyes wide, but I can see he’s trying to not freak out, and I give him a hell of a lot of credit for it. I don’t know if I’m making any sense or if my ramblings are only coherent to me, but I try to streamline it as much as I can.

  “I don’t know the technical terms for it but it’s like…I have a split personality.”

  “You’ve what now?” Blue is gaping at me, and I try to swallow my frustration, understanding the gravity of what I’ve just told him. But it’s so hard.

  “A split personality,” I say through a forced breath, my eyes closed. I hate that saying. I hate the way it sounds, what it is, everything about the description, but it’s the only thing I can say to possibly get him to understand.

  “I swear I’m not bullshitting you,” I whisper softly. “It’s all true. It never really mattered before because I never had anyone, I never loved anyone. But now…I’m in love…I’m not just in love, I’m married. I have a fucking husband.” I feel the tears welling up in my eyes, and this time I can’t stop them. They stream down my face as I look at Blue, pleading for him to take me seriously.

  “Wait! You and Ian are fucking married?” He gasps, shocked.

  “It just happened. It was spur of the moment.” I shrug and Blue runs his hands over his face and stares at me as if looking into my soul. There’s a stretch of silence that goes on until he clears his throat.

  “I guess we’re family now.” He lets out a small laugh and it makes me smile through my tears.

  “Do you believe me?” I ask helplessly, hating myself for how needy I feel, how vulnerable I am right now. He nods and walks over and pulls me into his arms.

  “I believe you,” he says softly. “God knows I’ve heard crazier shit, and you’ve never lied to me before.” I hug him tightly, trying to get a grip on myself.

  “So, what has Ian said?” I pull myself from him and turn away from him feeling like a coward.

  “You haven’t told him yet?” he asks, not sounding too surprised. I grab a Kleenex and wipe my face.

  “I can’t tell him,” I say firmly. Gaining my composure back.

  “Are you fucking kidding? You have to tell him! You just married him Aly, what the fuck?!” Blue spits.

  “I can’t Blue!” I shout back at him.

  “Why the hell not, you just told me!”

  “Because it’s different, it will change things,” I sputter.

  “If what you’re telling me is true, you can’t hide this from him. You’re his wife, you all are going to be living together. I don’t know how the hell what you told me works but I’m pretty sure if he wakes up with a chick screaming in his bed about not having a damn clue who he is, he’ll figure it out.”

  “I don’t want him to see me as fucked up!” I shout back at him and he lets out a laugh.

  “I’m sure my cousin knows you’re pretty fucked up.” He chuckles and I do too and throw a pillow at him, but I laugh a little.

  “Damaged beyond repair,” I say quietly and Blue looks at me sympathetically.

  “Look, Ian’s not going to leave you. He’s a tough dude. He’ll understand. It might take some explaining and some time, but he’ll get it. He’s gotta love the hell out of you—hell, he’s gotta, to get married. I never thought I’d see Ian married.” Blue rubs a hand over his face.

  “Aly, we both know this isn’t about Ian accepting you, it’s about you accepting you,” Blue says somberly and I feel tears starting to well again but this time I force them back.

  “I’ve been thinking of reaching out to the Dexter guy,” I admit, sitting on the sofa next to him.

  “Your rich as fuck brother? That seems like a good place to start,” he says sarcastically.

  “He knew about me, about her…Megan…” I tell him and Blue looks surprised.

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah. I don’t know how or why he wants to know me. I don’t have anything to offer him but a shit load of problems. I kind of think maybe he needs a kidney or something,” I say only half-jokingly.

  “Welp if he does you charge the fucker a million plus,” Blue teases me, throwing an arm around my neck. I rest my head on his chest.

  “And what about Ian?” he asks quietly.

  “Telling you was the first step. I’ll work my way up to it,” I promise him. “I wanted you to be here when I call Dexter,” I reveal, covering my nerves. He nods. I pull out my phone and each time the phone rings my stomach tightens.

  “I’ve been waiting to hear from you,” he says, his tone solid but warm.

  “I’m sure…I want to meet,” I say gruffly.

  “Of course.”

  ---

  Luck has never been on my side but tonight she’s decided not to be a complete asshole to me. Ian was offered to work a double shift so I don’t have to lie or make up a reason to get away to meet with Dexter Crestfield Jr. We agree to meet at a neutral place: an expensive as fuck steakhouse downtown. I’m underdressed purposely, wearing a black off the shoulder sweater and jeans. The maître d’ frowns at me until I tell him who I’m meeting, then his entire fucking demeanor changes. He leads me through the restaurant; it’s all rich mahoganies and marble, everything you’d expect from a place like this.

  When I reach the table he’s there. The same man who was in the
club, impeccably dressed with an air about him that lets you know he’s rarely, if ever, been told no his entire life. He stands as the maître d’ announces him.

  “I’m glad you could make it,” he says. I search his face for similarities with mine, but I don’t see many. He’s not very tall, only about 5’7”. His hair is lighter than mine, and his eyes are light green, but he’s handsome. I’m sure his money makes him look downright panty dropping.

  “Yeah,” I say simply, taking a seat. I’m caught off guard when the maître d’ pushes my chair in. I notice Dexter smile at me, amused.

  “I’ll cut to the chase.” I want to wade through the bullshit. “What do you want with me?”

  “What do you mean?” he asks smoothly, taking a sip from a glass filled with brown liquid.

  “I mean: What. Do. You. Want? I know you’re beyond rich. Your life is probably filled with tons of people who love you, or at least will pretend pretty fucking well to.”

  This makes him smile for some reason, and it causes me to loosen up the tiniest bit.

  “You’ve checked me out. I have nothing to add to your life so I’m just confused as to why I’m here.”

  He sets down his glass and gives me his full attention.

  “You’re my family.” I arch a brow.

  “You don’t know that. We could be family,” I say folding my arms.

  “I’m a man whose time is worth a lot. You wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t absolutely sure,” he says as if it’s not a doubt in his mind.

  “How are you so sure? And if we are family then how the hell did you end up Richie Rich and me little orphan Annie?” I tell him and he grins.

  “We don’t have the same mother, but we do share paternal heritage.”

  “Oh I get it, your father knocked up my mother and left us in a shit hole and somehow he forgot about me, or let me guess…he needs a lung or a kidney or something ?” He lets out an exasperated sigh.

  “I’m sure you’ve read that our father is spending his time serving the federal government,” he says dryly.