The Broken Lake (The Pace Series, Book 2)

by Shelena Shorts

  “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I answered casually. I wanted normalcy again, and I was starving.

  “Anywhere in particular?”

  “No, you pick.”

  He squeezed my leg and I put my hand on top of his. He chose the little sandwich shop where we had eaten many times. This time, I ordered a grilled chicken sandwich and bowl of chicken noodle soup. It was what my grandmother called make-you-feel-better food. What I hadn’t factored in was trying to eat it left-handed. Struggling to balance a spoonful of hot soup with my uncoordinated left hand only highlighted my injury. Noticing him frown, I pushed the bowl to the side and dug into my sandwich.

  “Aren’t you going to eat?” I asked.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Then why did you order?”

  He thought about it for a second. “I thought I was hungry, but not so much anymore.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  He sidestepped my question. “Can you tell me what happened in that basement?”

  “Wes, I don’t really want to think about that too much.”

  He leaned forward. “Sophie, I need to know what you went through. When I saw you strapped to that chair, I…” His eyes started to glaze over.

  “Stop. Please. It wasn’t that bad,” I lied. “He was just some crazy, washed-up guy who wanted to be like you.”

  “How did he know what I was like?”

  I started reeling off what I could remember of what Andy had said, and Wes stopped me at the part about the military operation.

  “Whoa. Slow down. What study?” he asked.

  “Oh. Sorry. I don’t know, really. He said they were experimenting with making soldiers stronger or something. I think he said it was extracts from the blood. He said it worked, but only temporarily. He said the government halted the project and sent the soldiers to rehab and then home. That was the end of it, until he saw me on campus. Then when he saw me with you, he figured out who you are, and he thought I was Lenny. He wanted to have everlasting life, like he thought we did.”

  Wes was shaking his head.

  “So, anyway, I convinced him that he could be like you if he injected himself with cold-blood.”

  “Why was he extracting your blood?” His face was hard and I knew he was seeing an image of me passed out in the chair. I wanted to replace that with a more positive image, so I hurried the story along.

  “I convinced him that my blood was the missing ingredient to the serum, and he believed me.”

  “Sophie, why would you do that? He almost killed you.”

  “I didn’t think it through. I just thought that if he tried it, he’d kill himself and then I’d be okay.” I was finished eating and pushed my plate away. “So what did you do to him?” I asked, not even sure I wanted to know.

  “When I came in and saw him leaning over you, I grabbed him by the back of his neck and threw him up against the wall. You were completely out of it and beyond pale. I took the needle out of your arm and that’s when I saw your hand.” His jaw tightened and he stared off at what I was sure was some unpleasant visual. He took a deep breath before continuing. “I was untying your ropes when he came at me. That’s when I paid more attention to him. He looked like he was on some sort of high. I had my hands around his neck when he screamed from a pain I hadn’t caused yet.

  “You mumbled that he had the blood in him, and then I realized what was happening. He started convulsing and grabbing at his chest so I dropped him on the floor. He was looking up at me with a revolting plea in his eyes and that’s when I leaned over and gave his hand a much-deserved squeeze.” He paused. “And then he died.” I leaned forward because he was speaking so softly by then. “I would’ve killed him.”

  I reached my good hand across the table and placed it over his. “But you didn’t.”

  He exhaled an unconvincing sigh of relief. “Because of you.”

  I felt he was giving me way too much credit, but I took it and ran with it. “That’s what I’m here for,” I said, smiling. “To make sure you’re all right.”

  “I would’ve been just fine if I had…killed him.” He was unremorseful in his admission, and I wasn’t surprised, nor did I really blame him.

  “Me too,” I also admitted. “But the cops might not have been fine with it. They’re already all over you about the hand. You could’ve left his hand alone, you know. He was dying anyway.”

  “No, I couldn’t have.”

  “Okay, maybe you’re right. He deserved the hand, again.” I smiled.

  He returned the gesture. “You ready?”

  I thought of telling him about the dream I had when I was there and then decided not to. I figured it could wait until I actually remembered what was on the pages. It didn’t make sense to tell him I almost saw the formula Dr. Thomas had used to transfuse him. Besides, I didn’t really care about it then. I was sure it would come up sometime in the future, but for now, I was only concerned with the two of us. So I answered yes, and together we walked out to his car with his arm comfortably around my shoulder.

  As we crossed the parking lot, we were both captivated by the view over the mountain. There was a huge mural of bold red and orange hues stretching across the sky. It made me feel so calm and alive. After Wes opened the car door for me, he put his cool palms on both sides of my face and leaned down to press his perfect, gentle lips to mine. It was then that I knew he wasn’t going anywhere, and there wasn’t any feeling better than that.

  Chapter 2

  MELTDOWN

  We were about a mile from my house when I realized our alone time was about to end, so I asked him if he would stay with me that night.

  He placed his hand comfortably on my thigh, while driving, and answered, “Of course. You don’t have to ask me.”

  The perfect corners of his mouth turned into a full-blown smile, and then he winked. My stomach instantly got all tickly. I didn’t know what was wrong with me. It was as if it was our first date again. Almost like starting over, and I suppose it was.

  I mean, I did almost die, thinking I would never see him again. Yet here we were, together. I felt so happy, so complete, and so scared. Why am I still scared? Almost like when I thought I was dying. I could almost see him slipping away right before my eyes. No, not him slipping away from me…I was slipping away. Maybe not at that exact moment, but I was. It was only a matter of time. I felt it. Feared it. It made me almost sick to my stomach.

  He squeezed my leg to snap me out of my reverie. “Sophie, what’s wrong?”

  I looked at him, and he was more desirable to me at that moment than he’d ever been, and I didn’t think that was possible. I wanted him with me every second, forever, yet something in me was gnawing at my insides, almost taunting me. Telling me, You don’t have much time. It can’t last forever. You will die. It will come for you. I felt a jolt.

  “Sophie! What is it?” The car slowed as he pulled over, and I melted into a basket case as the tears started spilling over. “Is it your hand?”

  Are you kidding me? My hand? I wish. That was nothing compared to the knots and turns going on in my stomach.

  “Sophie, what’s wrong? Tell me, please.”

  I couldn’t stop, and I actually don’t think I wanted to. I had held in so many emotions over the last few days, that all of it was bound to come out sometime. Only now the relief of escaping death was coupled with the haunting knowledge that it was coming anyway. It was too much.

  “I’m sorry, Wes. I’m an idiot.”

  He started frantically searching his console for a tissue. When he didn’t find one, he used his thumbs to wipe away the dripping river.

  I moved his hands. “I’m okay, really.”

  A big, unintentional sniffle sent his car door flying open and him rounding the front end of his hood to get to me. A couple of blinks later and he pulled me out of the car like a toddler.

  “Shh,” he whispered. “It’s all right. It’s okay.”

  I burie
d my face in his chest and squeezed him with all the strength I had.

  “Come on, Sophie. Stop it. Tell me what it is.”

  I couldn’t speak again.

  “Now, now. You’re fine,” he assured. He rested his cheek on the top of my hair and gently rocked me back and forth long enough for me to calm down.

  “I just want you to stay with me,” I murmured.

  Sparing me the pullback to view my face, he kept his face in my hair and whispered, “I will. I told you I will. You know I will.”

  “Okay,” I answered, hoping it could be dropped and forgotten. I knew better.

  “What is this all about?” he prodded.

  I very unattractively wiped my nose with my hand and shook my head. “It’s stupid.”

  “No, it’s not. You’re upset. Now what is it?”

  “It’s nothing.” I tried to slide myself back into the car, and he wasn’t having it.

  “No you don’t. You can’t drop this now. What did I do?”

  Wiping my nose again in defeat, I mumbled, “You didn’t do anything. It’s me. I just had a moment, that’s all.”

  Still not letting me escape into the car, he grabbed hold of my face, and I felt my cheeks squish my lips together. It was a lovely sight, I’m sure.

  “Sophie, what kind of moment?” he pressed.

  My gaze touched every part of his face until I had no choice but to settle on his deep brown eyes, and that only confirmed why I was avoiding them to begin with. I could never refuse them. They were the perfect shade of dark chocolate, with depth that went on for miles. They made it impossible for me to pull away.

  “I’m not staying with you tonight if you don’t tell me.”

  My mouth fell open at his threat and my eyebrows scrunched together.

  “Okay, so I will stay with you, but I won’t like it.”

  I pressed my lips together firmly until he corrected himself.

  “Okay, I will like it, but I’ll go crazy.”

  I caved. “Okay, fine. I was just worried you wouldn’t want us to be together after what happened, and then when I figured out that you did, I was so happy. Then I realized I was too happy, and then I got all scared that it would go away again. I don’t want to die.” There, I said it.

  He took a deep breath and lowered himself, so that he was eye level with me. He was about to say something but decided against it. Instead, he kissed my salty lips until even I began to like the taste. Placing my palms on the sides of his cool face, I pulled him closer to me. If my body hadn’t been so overwhelmed with electricity shooting through my limbs, I might have wanted to cry again.

  “Sophie,” he said, pulling back just enough so his forehead still touched mine, “you are not going to die, and I am not leaving you, and you’re not leaving me.”

  “But...”

  He cut me off with another kiss that pushed me back against his car with more assertiveness than I was used to. He was emitting a fire with the intention of burning everything in his path, including my brain, my voice, my fears, my doubts. It was me and him, and no one else on the planet.

  It didn’t matter that we were on the side of the highway. It didn’t matter that he was a human mutation. It didn’t matter that I was the walking dead. It didn’t matter that it could all be gone in the blink of an eye. Nothing else mattered but me and him, and one question that I couldn’t help but ask.

  I broke for air. “Does this mean you’ve worked on your clarity?”

  With Wes, clarity was time, and time was of the essence. When the cold-blood transfusion was administered to save him from bleeding to death, it transformed his cells. Not only did it make it impossible for him to regulate his body temperature, it changed the way he ages. It changed the way he thinks. It changed his concept of time. It changed everything.

  It had taken him years to concentrate well enough to keep his mind on pace with what was going on around him. His biggest fear was that 365 of my days would only feel like an instant to him. He had mastered it well enough, except, he told me, when I made him lose concentration.

  He chuckled. “I’m working on it now.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” He kissed me again.

  “So does that…”

  “No, Sophie. Don’t push it. I just want you to know how I feel about you.” He kissed me again, gently. “I love you.”

  “You loved me before,” I noted. “What’s different now?”

  “What’s different is that I thought I’d lost you again and realized I don’t want to waste time not showing you how much you truly mean to me. I love you more than anything, and I want you to know.”

  I smiled. “But I do know.”

  “No you don’t. Not really. I have loved you forever, and love you now—more than air. It’s that simple. I would give it up for you in a heartbeat.” He grabbed my face again and gave me a light shake to let me know he seriously wanted my attention. “I love you, and I’ll never leave you again. I promise.”

  Something in me wanted to weep again, but then the old Sophie came back, and I got a grip and simply, but honestly, stated, “I love you too.”

  He took me home, and although I still felt a nagging worry deep inside, the fighter in me was coming back. I didn’t have to give in to fear, and I wasn’t going to. But I was going to spend as much time with Wes as the seconds would allow.

  As we pulled up to my house, my mom was peeping out between the front curtains. “You promise you’ll be back. Right?”

  He ignored the question and walked with me up my steps.

  “Wes?”

  “Sophie, don’t ask me silly questions.” I was about to demand a confirmation when Mom opened the door, prompting us to step inside.

  “Did you guys have a good time?”

  “Of course we did,” I answered, smiling artificially.

  She noticed and gave me a wide stare. “Good. Now you need to get some rest.”

  “No, I don’t. I’m fine,” I replied with equally wide eyes.

  Wes was standing there, uncomfortably in the middle of our stare war, when my mom turned, thanked him for returning me safely home, and practically shoved him out the door.

  I yelled after him, “Talk to you later, Wes. I’m going to get my mom a cappuccino!” I turned to face her. “That was not necessary, Mom. He could’ve stayed awhile.”

  “I know, but I really want you to get some rest.”

  “No you don’t, you just didn’t want him here.”

  “That’s not true, Sophie.”

  “You’re not fooling anyone, and it was downright rude.”

  She dropped her shoulders in admission. “I’m sorry. You’re right and that was not called for. I don’t mean to be rude. I’m just worried that you’re growing up too fast. He’s way…” I thought she was going to say out of my league, and I was really going to put her on mute. “He’s way too old.”

  I thought about a few responses then decided not to argue, so I started up the stairs.

  “Sophie, stop.” I turned. “Honey, I’m sorry. Give me a break. I almost lost you. I just want you to be a kid and graduate high school and do what normal kids do. Not be into high-technology, medical-breakthrough, secret-lab stuff that can get you kidnapped.”

  “Two things wrong with that. One, it was not Wes’ fault. And two, I’m not a kid anymore. I’m sorry, Mom. I love you, but you have to relax. Wes saved my life and you owe him more than a shove out the door.”

  “Okay, you’re right—again. I’m sorry.”

  I finally made it to my room. I had accepted her apology, but it wasn’t owed to me. It really bothered me to see her shove him out like that. Being an outcast is all he has ever known. Before his transfusion, his hemophilia prevented him from interacting with other kids, or even having a normal life. Since his transfusion, he hasn’t been able to truly make friends and let them in enough to trust them.

  Wes was an exceptional, kind, giving, and selfless person who deserved more love and
acceptance than I could give. And thinking about how my mom shoved him out made me want to go back downstairs and…

  “Sophie?”

  Oh, my gosh. She knocked on my door and walked right in.

  “Mom.”

  “Hi.”

  Hi? This can not continue. In the last year, I could count on one hand how many times she had come into my room. Now, at a time when I valued my privacy the most, she was popping in.

  “What is it, Mom?”

  She tiptoed across my room, to my bed, and sat at the foot. “I just wanted to see if you needed anything.”

  “I don’t need anything, but you already know that. Why are you really here?”

  “All right. I just want to spend some time with you.”

  Yikes.

  I sat down beside her. “Mom, please stop this. You’re going to drive me crazy. I just want things to get back to normal, and it can’t with you hovering like this.”

  She stared at me like she’d lost her favorite puppy. I didn’t mean to hurt her feelings, but that was how I felt. Yes, I did want my privacy back, so I could spend it with Wes, but her hovering was making me remember my near-death experience even more.

  “I just want to see you more. I feel like I don’t have much time left with you.”

  “Is that what this is about? It doesn’t have anything to do with what happened?”

  She flinched at the question. “I would be lying if I said it didn’t. I was scared to death while you were gone. Now I have you back and I know you’ll be safe, but it made me realize that I don’t have much time to take care of you before you’re gone.”

  A golf ball-size lump built in my throat at the mention of time left and gone, all within one minute. I shook the thought, but knew I couldn’t argue with her concerns. It wasn’t fair to push her away.

  “Okay. I get it. I will spend more time hanging out downstairs, but you can’t act weird. I just want things to be normal.”

  She stretched out her hand and, like we were making a secret pact, we shook hands and both whispered, “Deal.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked.