She leans back, eyebrows shooting up. “Again?”
I pretend to think about it. “You know how I feel about frequent testing.”
“We must make sure results are consistent.”
“To science,” I say as I roll on top of her. She giggles as I settle gently onto her softness.
This is what life is about. Everything is about this tiny moment. Millions of years, millions of timelines and universes, but I’m lucky enough to get Julia. It’s a miracle of life. She’s a miracle.
I can never lose her.
25
Julia
After almost twelve hours of lovemaking and shooting lights like a seventies disco with only a few snoozing breaks in between, I’d have thought Nathaniel and I would be spent. But no. We both vibrate with energy. We are charged with it.
“Want to go for a hike?” I ask after a slippery round in the shower.
“That sounds good. Lord knows if we get back in that bed, I’m just going to want to go again and I think there has to be a point where our bodies will start to protest.”
“Where’s Lincoln?” I ask.
“I texted him yesterday during a break.” He flushes and it’s so cute I fight to not kiss him. “I asked him to give us some alone time.”
“I’m sure that went well.”
“He responded with a green puke face.”
I borrow some shorts—that are almost pants on me—and a shirt and we head out to the trail not far from his house. Another perk of mountain town living.
The fresh air and the sun feel good. I feel amazing.
We bound up the trail, talking nonstop and I realize the two of us could probably source a nuclear reactor with our energy. Would it be like this forever for us? Weekends in bed and hiking. We were going to need to add another hobby to the mix if that’s the case. Something like sprint running or kickboxing. Can I really let myself have these dreams?
“When did you first know about your powers?” he asks a few minutes in.
I think about it. “Somewhere around thirteen?”
“Did something trigger them? Or did they appear one day, like acne?” he asks.
I don’t always think about that time in my life. It was hard for me. When I hesitate he adds, “You don’t have to share if you aren’t comfortable.”
“No. It’s not that. It’s all sort of a blur. My grandparents took me in when I was really little. My parents died in a car accident.”
His eyebrows furrow in concern. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you. It’s weird, but I don’t feel like I ever knew them. I was like, four when my grandparents adopted me. I don’t remember anything before that. They were good people. I was very close to them.”
My throat tightens so I focus on walking for a little bit. All is silent except our breaths and the crunching earth.
I clear my throat. “I don’t remember the first time exactly. Looking back, there were probably little signs, like the shocks and whatnot, that I dismissed. But then there was a bad incident.”
He grabs my hand and squeezes as I continue. “I was always a little different. Nerdy. Being raised by people an entire generation older than other kids’ parents will do that. I liked to watch Murder, She Wrote and knit. One day, these mean girls were picking on me before a dance recital. And I snapped. Normally, I turned the other cheek per Grandma Sue’s advice. But that day, I just couldn’t take it.”
“What happened?”
“I started a fire. Backstage. They said I did it on purpose but I could tell they were scared of me. I almost got in real trouble but a custodian was nearby and said that it was an electrical fire. Technically that was true.”
“That’s rough.” His face is mournful with sympathy when I glance over.
“Yeah. That was the first time we moved. And then every year or so after that.”
“That had to be so hard on you. I’ve lived here most my life except for college, but even then I came back home often to check on Lincoln.”
“I just wanted to fit in so bad. To be normal, you know?”
He looks at me sadly. “I completely understand.”
“When I was seventeen, I met a guy. I really liked him. Things were moving fast with him. For me, at least. I wanted to stay where we were in Austin. I asked my grandparents—begged them—but they wouldn’t relent.”
We stop to take a break on an outcropping looking down on a valley to drink some water. “That night I heard them talking. They were whispering but it was clear enough. They were worried about me losing control. Phrases like, ‘not stable enough’ and ‘if the police get involved.’ They were terrified I’d hurt somebody.”
“They didn’t know you could control it,” he says. “Maybe you couldn’t back then. Being a teenager is rough enough.”
“Yeah.” I pull my hair into a ponytail as he watches me closely. “I went to my boyfriend that night. I was desperate to prove them wrong. To show that I could control it.”
My chin wobbles and he kneels in front of me to hold my hands.
“I couldn’t. I burned him bad. He freaked out. Told me he was going to tell his dad who was some big guy in local government. It absolutely crushed me. We left the next day, Grandma and I. Grandpa caught up with us a few weeks later in a different town.”
“That’s so hard.” He rubs his lips along our clasped hands. “But look at you now. Look how far you have come. They would be so proud of you.”
I can’t speak because I’m too close to tears. Having Nathaniel here helps so much, but I miss them. “Part of me still wishes I were normal,” I confess after a minute.
“I understand just wanting to fit in. Be normal,” he says.
“Yeah,” I chew my lip.
“But I still think you’re incredible.”
I grin. “Thank you for showing me that I had the power to control it in me all along.”
He leans in kisses me. “I haven’t done anything. It’s all you.”
I sniff and wipe my nose as he stands up. We continue on, but after the second mile I notice Nathaniel wince slightly as he leverages himself up a particularly rocky bit.
“Are you okay?” I gesture to the leg that he seems to be staying off of.
“I have hip trouble sometimes.”
“An old sports injury?” I ask sort of teasingly.
He frowns. “Actually, yes. And no.”
“Sorry, I—”
“No. It’s okay. I used to play basketball. I was a pretty big deal athlete in high school.”
I’m not sure why this surprises me. His large hands could easily palm a basketball and his height is ideal for the sport.
“I guess I imagined you and your friends taking apart robots and playing D&D.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, I did that too. But I was one of those kids that hung in both crowds. The jocks and the brains.”
“Why’d you stop playing?” I ask.
We break in a shady spot and I wipe some sweat from my forehead. He’s sweating too, and damn if the sight doesn’t trigger something in my little horndog brain.
“I was really good at basketball. But I didn’t like it. I mostly played for my dad.”
I frown at the mention of his dad.
“I’m sorry,” I say and hand him the water bottle. “Tell me about your mom.”
“My mother, Leora, was beautiful.” The sun spills through the treetops, making the trees look like twinkling ornaments shimmering in the midday sun. I close my eyes and let the energy fill me. I’m so aware of it now that I’m not fighting it. And I wonder how a normal person feels when they stand with the sun shining on their face. Does it feel like a straight shot of dopamine?
“They never married, so she gave me her name,” he explains. “I think even back then she knew he was evil. But he had so much money and power. She wanted me to have everything. She sacrificed herself for me.”
I lean to kiss his cheek and he smiles dopily at me.
“She died in a car crash
too, when I was ten. I went to live with him. Thankfully, there’s enough of her in me … I never want to be like him.” He stares at the ground.
“I’m so sorry,” I repeat, unsure of what else I could possibly say.
“He’s the reason … he’s the reason for everything.”
“How do you mean?” I ask.
“Why I strive to be so different than him. My whole childhood he was hard on me. He started hitting me when I was about thirteen.”
My heart hammers harder than the exertion from our exhilarating hike. I dare not move, afraid he’ll stop.
“At first he’d slam into me and apologize, convincing me I was clumsy. And then he eventually stopped with the pretense and apologies. Then I came to expect it. He hated when I took interest in anything but sports. He wanted me to be him. He wanted me to go to Dartmouth on a sports scholarship just like he did. Eventually take over his business, I think.
“But I was never like him. My brain, it just didn’t work the same. I was always daydreaming and tinkering and taking things apart. Restless and curious. I had no desire to be in business. It drove him crazy.”
I grab his hand and we start walking back toward the trailhead, our pace slower. “He would mock me any time I got excited about things as a kid and so I stopped sharing with him. And then I think that independence from him caused him to start hitting me. Telling me I was a freak. That I was an embarrassment. A pussy.”
I gasp. His words are so matter-of-fact but the implications are horrific. I can’t wrap my mind around it.
“When I was seventeen, a senior, there was this robotics competition my engineering team finaled in. It was the same day as our state basketball championship game. I told him I wanted to go to the robotics competition instead. He threw me down the stairs. I didn’t make it to either.”
“Oh God.” I cover my mouth. William is evil, in the purest sense.
“So I have a limp sometimes. But that’s why I have to get Lincoln out of there. I’ve been trying for years. The first time Lincoln came over with bruises, I was just out of college and my career was on fire. The patents and stuff,” he says humbly.
I nod.
“I went to the police, tried to get custody. By that point Lincoln’s mom had died of cancer.”
“Jesus,” I mutter.
“My father told everyone I was a liar. He made me sound like an irresponsible college student while here he was this upstanding citizen of the community. No judge would ever go against him.”
We have to stop because my whole body is shaking and starting to glow. “How could anybody …”
I cry out as I slice the air with a flash of rage. There’s a crack like a gun going off and then a boulder four feet away cracks in half.
“Sorry,” I say after a minute of us both staring at the rock. I feel a little more in control.
“Wow. You’re getting good at that.” He stares at the dissected boulder like he wishes it was something else. Or someone else. He lets out a long sigh. “I tried to put some distance between us to protect Lincoln but always with the plan that I would get my brother back. I just needed to show that I was a responsible caretaker. The Lite-Brite technology is so important to me. And to the team, of course. I love them. But having success has always been about gaining stability. But now … I don’t know where the project stands. They’re going to cancel it and Shemesh-Tek will never get work again.”
“We don’t know that will happen, but we will figure it out. And we will get Lincoln. I promise you that.” I squeezed his hand and made the vow. I would get his brother away from that man no matter what it took.
He smiles but I don’t know if he believes my vow.
“It’s funny. I always annoyed him. The way my brain worked. When I went to visit Lincoln when he was first born he told me something like, ‘maybe this one won’t be such a fuck up.’”
He rubs at his chest.
“I loved Lincoln as soon as I saw him. Our connection was as unpredictable and illogical as they say it is for a new mom. I felt fiercely protective at the time. I was only twelve when he was born. My father had married his mom a few years before that. I remember hoping, this will make everything better. This will make him happy. Even though I wasn’t enough, this little guy will be.”
He pauses to clear his throat.
“But with guys like that … They’re broken inside. I understand that now. It was never about Lincoln or me. It was about his traumas and generations of fathers taking out their fears on their sons. Even understanding that, I thought, at least Lincoln will be better. At least he won’t have to go through this.” He lets out a shuddering breath. “But I was wrong.”
I stop to hug him and he squeezes me back, shaking a little.
“It’s not your fault. Like you said, your father is a monster. Thank God Lincoln has you.” I wipe my eyes. “We will make everything better. I promise.”
“You already make everything better,” he whispers in my ear.
As we drive back to his house for dinner we share our dreams. They seem so infinite for me now. I can stay here. I can help Nathaniel. We can make a life together. “I have a confession. I don’t want to be a manager. I just want to do research and play with toys. I want Lincoln to be safe and live with me. And you too.” He smiles over at me.
For the briefest moment, my whole future is bright. There will be hard times. Getting Lincoln will not be easy, but with Nathanial by my side, we will get through whatever.
And then I sense him tense. I look over to see the blood draining from his face as we pull up to his house. There is a body crumpled on the doorstep.
And I know in that moment that nothing would ever be okay again.
26
Julia
Nathaniel is out of the Jeep and running before I can put it in park. Time slows down. I’m walking toward them. I take out my phone. Call the police. I feel outside my body. Just acting, not thinking.
I inhale sharply as Nathaniel drops to his brother. “Lincoln?”
“I’m calling 911,” I say listening to my phone ring.
Nathaniel’s face is pale as he nods to me before returning to Lincoln who is bleeding from a cut on his forehead and holding his arms around his stomach.
Nathaniel gently pulls up his brother’s shirt and I gasp back the tears that instantly prick my eyes.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“We need an ambulance,” I say, distantly aware of Lincoln moaning and shaking his head. Nathaniel helps me get the boy into his house when I hand him the phone for his address.
I kneel next to Lincoln and push back the dark curls that line his face. “It’s going to be okay. You’re safe now.” I say it over and over and hold his hand until the ambulance arrives.
“I’m going to go with them,” Nathaniel says to me. He’s lost, his mind working a million miles an hour.
“It’s fine. I’ll lock up when I leave. Take your phone and keys.” I hand him both things as I pushed him toward the ambulance.
“It’s going to be okay,” I repeat to Nathaniel. “Go with him.”
His eyes come into focus and search my face. “He should have been here with me. This is my fault.” Unshed tears balance on red-rimmed eyes.
“This is nobody’s fault but William’s. Do you understand me?” He nods numbly as I pull him in for a hard hug. “You are with him now. He’s going to be okay.”
He runs a hand over his face. He shakes the tears back and nods. “Okay, I’ll call you later.”
“Yes. Go.”
* * *
I drive home checked out from my body. My mind keeps flashing images of Lincoln’s battered body and the anguish that twisted Nathaniel. I have to keep shooting out sparks of harmless light to keep myself from boiling over. My powers seem stronger the more I use them. Instead of running out of steam, they only seem to grow, like a muscle being worked regularly.
That monster, William—their father … I could kill that man. I want hi
m to hurt. To suffer as his sons have suffered. What sort of twisted monster takes out his own pain on children? In my mind, he’s strapped to a chair and I explore all my abilities on his flesh. I’ve never burned with such hateful revenge but I have never cared so much for two people since my grandparents.
I sit in my car and stare at the front of my house. I’ve only come home to pack a few things and check on Ginger. Then I’ll get some coffee and head to the hospital for the night. The sun is in the process of setting, fat and hot in the sky. Blaring pink light reflects off the windows of the house, causing me to squint.
I’m almost to my front door, keys in hand, when the sound of feet crunching in the gravel behind me makes me pause.
More than one set of feet.
“We meet again,” a deep voice grumbles.
Slowly, I turn, positioning my keys between my knuckles. A trick every girl learns as soon as she gets breasts.
Adrenaline slows time and messes with my head. It takes my panicked brain several seconds to analyze the scene. The large man in front of me is straight out of a slasher film. Dressed in a long leather apron, his face is obscured by a full-sized welding mask. The two men that flank him are wearing similar outfits.
The man in middle smacks a crowbar smugly against his palm. The one to his right, equal in girth but slightly short in stature, wraps a thick chain around his wrist. The third has a crossed piece of metal—a tire iron?
At least they’re not guns.
If their intention is to intimidate me, they’re succeeding.
“Miss me?” The middle man’s voice is muffled under the mask. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”
I put it together then. This is the asshole from the Quickstop, Camo Shirt. Was he so offended that he gathered his friends to come kill me? Was his fragile male pride so easily bruised? They weren’t here for a cup of tea.
The Untouched: THE UNSEEN SERIES, #2 Page 21
