by H. D. Gordon
I floated in and out of consciousness, barely noticing him gently pull my apartment keys from my fingers when we reached my door. The world was darkening around the edges, disappearing and reappearing as I fought to keep my head above water.
“I don’t need any help,” I heard myself mumble, my voice coming out more juvenile and petulant than I would have preferred. Still, Thomas said nothing as he put the key in my door and pushed it open.
The rest of it was a blur. I was aware of being placed in a soft place, of the absence of his arms around me, of the urge to tell him to stay, and the inability to do so.
Then I was lost to the world, at the mercy of the darkness I’d fallen into.
CHAPTER 51
Mindfulness came in bits and pieces, so fuzzy and broken in my head that I couldn’t even be sure if it was memories of reality, or figments of my imagination.
Several times I felt as though I surfaced, my head breaking the water of the unconscious state I’d been dragged into, and each time I saw only concerned hazel eyes staring down at me before going under again.
When I awoke the next day, however, I was alone, and my heart sank at not seeing that familiar gaze watching me. This didn’t plague me long, though, because slowly the events of the previous evening came flooding back to me.
The party… Dyson… and Caleb. Waking Caleb’s brother from his coma… Being carried up to my apartment by Thomas Reid…
This last thing was somehow more disturbing than all the rest, and I resolved the best course of action was to not think about it.
Sun was slanting through the windows in the eastern wall, and by the looks of it, I had slept half the day away. It was a good thing Rose had insisted I take Sunday off, knowing I’d be going to Caleb’s party the night before, because even though I’d been lying in this bed for over twelve hours, I felt only like I wanted to burrow deeper into the covers and lie there for the rest of eternity.
Eventually, I had to use the bathroom, and my traitorous stomach began to growl, so I pulled myself out of bed with all the enthusiasm of an advanced geriatric and took care of these tasks.
A shower woke me up a bit, but the melancholy that had befallen me was such that I couldn’t wash it away were I to stand beneath all the water in the world. It was just one of those days. Anyone who’s ever suffered from chronic depression knows what I mean by that.
I ate my food without tasting it. My phone buzzed as a message came in, but I ignored it. After what I’d done last night, I needed a break from the world altogether, lest the world break me instead.
So I turned off the troublesome device for a bit. I had no school, no work, no obligations. I knew both Sam and certainly Caleb would want to speak to me about the occurrences of Saturday night, but it could wait until after the thought of jumping into the Grant City Bay stopped appealing to me.
Melodramatic, to be sure, but true, nonetheless.
Turning to my usual source of comfort, I lost myself in the world of fiction for a while, reading The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn for what had to be the millionth time. It never failed to take me away, but as soon as I closed the book, I fell out of the pages and back into my real world, and I ended up only sitting at my window and staring at my view of red brick and cracked pavement.
It would be a lie to say that I didn’t entertain the thought of leaving, of packing up what little I owned and searching for whatever I was searching for elsewhere, but for whatever reason, I stayed put. Maybe I was tired of running. Or maybe, even through my ailing mind, I recognized that I had reasons to stay, that all was not so lost as my churning stomach insisted it to be.
More than once, my eyes wandered over to my trunk, where my staff and the outfit Matt made for me were locked up, most likely forever. Every time I looked at it, I thought of how terribly I’d lost the fight to Dyson, and my self-pity deepened. It didn’t help that my muscles were aching and my head throbbing.
A look in the bathroom mirror told me I looked just as crappy as I felt. My face was pale and dark circles had formed around my eyes despite all the sleep I’d gotten. I hated the fragile look of my reflection, and decided to avoid it for the rest of the day.
By dinnertime, I roused myself enough to turn back on my cellphone, and found that I had one “I’m home” text from Sam from the night before and about twelve million texts from Caleb. Sighing, I read through the messages. A new one from Caleb came in as I was doing so.
It read: Meet me at The Grind? Please?
Deciding a ride on my board and a change of scenery might not kill me, I told Caleb I’d meet him there in ten minutes and then bothered to brush my hair. I threw my mane up into a bun, slipped on a hoody, and paused at the door before stepping out, my eyes going back to the crate in the corner.
I found myself inching toward it, and then kneeling before it and unlocking the hatch. Lifting the lid, conflicting emotions filled me as I looked at the contents inside. My staff sat atop my upgraded jacket, and beside that was the simple black mask that I’d probably never wear again unless I wanted to be Cat Woman for Halloween.
This thought made me issue a tiny chuckle, but there was no humor in it. Thinking about how my efforts to make Grant City a safer place would soon be forgotten, about how I’d lost the purpose I’d thought I’d found, only added to my ill mood. The idea of never being anything more than I was currently was just crushing, but at the same time, the idea of getting myself killed for foolery was just as bad.
This was my life, and I had to accept it. I was an outcast, an orphan, a loner. And all the better, really. If I didn’t make any attachments, I had nothing at all to lose, and that was what I really needed, what I really wanted… Wasn’t it?
These thoughts prevailed as I tucked my staff into my waistband, wanting it close at hand in case something crazy happened. Then, I locked the trunk and tried to leave thoughts of saving Grant City and its helpless inhabitants locked in there along with the ridiculous suit and mask.
As I locked my apartment door behind me, I decided I needed to go offer my neighbor a thank you before I lost the nerve. Taking a deep breath, I crossed the hall and stood before Thomas Reid’s door. A lump formed instantly in my throat, but I forced myself to knock anyway.
My cheeks flooded with heat as I rapped my knuckles against the wood. Then I considered the possibility that Thomas wouldn’t be the one to answer, and instead a certain buxom blonde, and I spun around on my heel and retreated like a mouse into a hole.
I almost made it, too.
Just as I was getting ready to disappear down the staircase and away from the horrors of facing Thomas Reid’s possible lover, his door opened and he spoke behind me.
“Aria?” he said.
My shoulders tightened a fraction and I hoped he didn’t notice. Swinging around to face him, I suddenly wished I’d taken a bit more time with my appearance. “Oh, hey,” I said, feeling lamer than a fixed pup.
We stood in silence for a moment before I recovered. “Um… just wanted to say thank you… for, you know, carrying me up the stairs again.”
He said nothing to this, only watched me with those striking eyes. I offered a weak smile and an even weaker wave. “Okay,” I said. “Good talk. See you later, then.”
I took a step down the staircase, and this finally broke his silence. “Are you okay?” he asked, in a voice so low I was scarcely sure I heard him.
I paused. I knew what the universal answer to this question was when regarding acquaintances; I should have just said I was fine. But, for whatever reason, I didn’t want to lie to him. I didn’t want to pretend in order to fill the status quo.
“I’m sure I will be,” I told him, and then disappeared down the stairway before I could reveal more of myself than I was comfortable with.
The whole ride to the coffee shop, I told myself to forget about the man across the hall from me, and the way I felt when I was near him, but didn’t succeed until I arrived at The Grind and saw Caleb Cross waiting at a table for
me.
Seeing him effectively made thoughts of Thomas dissipate, because Caleb was practically glowing. Upon seeing me, he stood from his seat, immediately drawing the eyes of every female in the place, and moved around the little circular table to pull a chair out for me. The staring ladies’ auras flushed with jealousy as I accepted the offered seat, and the handsome young man reclaimed his across from me.
His blue eyes saw the skateboard I tucked under the table. “I’m glad you’re getting use out of it,” he said. “And thank you for coming. I’m sorry if I sent too many texts. I just had to see you.”
It was impossible not to be affected by this outpouring, and suddenly the weight that I’d taken on by awakening Chris from his coma felt a little more manageable. Just looking at the true joy it had added to the young man across from me eased the pain.
“How’s your brother?” I asked.
Caleb’s face glowed. “He’s doing great. Everything is slowly coming back to him… It’s like… It’s like I never lost him.”
My throat felt tight at these words, my stomach clenching. “You must be happy,” I said.
“Happy?” he laughed, and surprising me, reached across the table and clutched my hands. “Every day since Chris’s accident, I’ve asked the Heavens for one thing; to bring him back to me.” His eyes filled with a bit of moisture, and though I could tell this embarrassed him, it only endeared him to me more. He cleared his throat. “I’d honestly given up hope. I’m afraid I might be dreaming.”
I bit my lip. “Well, if this is a dream, I’m trapped in it with you.”
His fingers tightened around mine, the blue of his eyes so deep I thought I might drown in it. “I’d be okay with that,” he said.
A barista stopped by just then with two drinks, and as I took a sip from the cup she offered me, my eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You know how I like my coffee?”
One side of Caleb’s mouth pulled up, creating a single heart-stopping dimple in his cheek. “I pay attention to things,” he answered.
I eyed him over the rim of my cup, taking my time with a sip of the liquid to form an answer to this. I didn’t like the direction that statement could take us in, so I asked a question I wanted to know the answer to.
“What happened to your brother that put him into a coma?”
Caleb was silent a moment, and then he met my eyes again. “If I tell you, will you tell me what you did that woke him up?” he whispered.
My jaw clenched, my stomach tightening. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He gave me a dubious look and sat back in his seat, straightening the bottom of his expensive sweater as he did so, watching me all the while. “So it was a coincidence, then? You seeing him had nothing to do with his sudden waking?”
I shrugged, my eyes narrowing. “I guess so.”
“And the fact that you look like you haven’t slept in a week? The circles under your eyes and the slowness of your movements?” he asked.
I lifted my hands from the table a bit, reminding myself to remain cool. “What do you want me to say, Caleb?” I said. “That I’m a witch and I cast a magic spell on your brother to pull him out of his coma?”
He shrugged. “If that’s the truth.”
“It’s not.”
“Then what is?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Because you don’t trust me.”
This was not a question, but my frustration was growing, and piled on top of my current mood, I found myself treating it as such. “Am I supposed to?” I snapped. “I’ve known you, what, a week?”
“You trust Samantha. How long have you known her?”
My fists clenched, and I worked to relax them. “Who was that guy with your father last night? The bald one with the dark eyes?”
Caleb’s brow furrowed, and I didn’t need to read his aura to know that this seemingly random inquiry generally surprised him. “Who? Mr. Gracie? I told you, he’s an old friend of my father’s. I’ve known him since I was a kid... Why do you ask?”
“He seemed… untrustworthy,” I answered evasively.
“Mr. Gracie is the reason you don’t trust me?” Caleb asked incredulously.
I tilted my head. “On top of the fact that you’re rich, handsome, and all together too kind for your circumstances… yeah, the creepy guy at the party last night was not helping.”
Caleb’s eyebrows went up, and I could see from his aura that his guard was going up as well, and I regretted the words.
“Wow,” he said. “Judge books by their covers much?”
I swallowed, thinking that I should have just gone with my gut and stayed home today. I was never any good at human interaction when I was in my lowest of moods, and having Caleb Cross, of all people, point out my jackass-like behavior wasn’t helping.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “That was crappy of me… I’m not myself today.”
He watched me for a moment, his feelings toward me instantly softening. He sipped at his coffee and then offered me one of his heartbreaking smiles. “It’s all right. I’ll just concentrate on the part where you said you think I’m handsome.”
I couldn’t help a small chuckle at this. “I’m glad your brother’s awake.”
Caleb nodded. After a minute, he said, “It was a car accident. It took my mother’s life.” He leaned forward now, staring down at his hands. “I’ve never told anyone this, but there were some days this past year that I wished the accident had taken Chris’s, too. I know that’s selfish, but watching him lie in that bed day after day… I think it was slowly killing me.” His eyes rose to mine. “And now I can breathe again.”
This admission struck me right in the center, and I suddenly felt like the stupidest girl in the world for my mistrust of him. Here he was, being so very open with me, and I was sitting here refusing to give him an inch.
I opened my mouth, unsure as to what was going to come out. Half of me wanted very much to trust Caleb Cross, to let him into my circle of faith that had both shrunken and widened exponentially in the past two months. The other part of me warned heartily against this idea. There were already two too many people who knew the truth about me, and that was if you left Thomas Reid out of the equation. Despite the fact that I’d come to despise many of their practices, the necessity of secrecy that the Brokers had taught me was a point I wholeheartedly agreed on.
Before I could issue my utterance, my phone buzzed where it sat on the table between us. I ignored it, but then it buzzed again. And again.
Caleb was leaning back in his seat. “Go ahead,” he said. “Take it.”
I shot him a grateful look and saw with some surprise that it was Matt who had texted me. He wanted to know if Sam was with me. I replied that she wasn’t, that I hadn’t seen her since the party the night before… and for whatever reason, a stone seemed to settle somewhere in my gut as I typed out the words.
Picking up on my abrupt change in mood, Caleb asked, “Everything okay?”
I told him the nature of the texts.
“Did you talk to her after she got home last night?” he asked.
I went back to the text Sam had sent me the night before about having arrived at home. It had been just after 9:30 pm when she’d sent it. I called her, and got no answer. Then I texted and got the same. Before I could do much more, my phone was ringing, Matt’s face and number appearing on my screen.
I answered the phone, my movements feeling oddly robotic as I placed it to my ear, my hands suddenly sweating. The tight sound of Matt’s voice upon my greeting did nothing to assuage the feelings.
“Aria,” he said. “I can’t get a hold of Sam. You haven’t heard from her?”
I told him I hadn’t.
“I’m going to go by her house, then. I’m sure she’s fine,” he said, chuckling in a short manner that told me he wasn’t sure of this at all. “She’s just always so quick to answer that when she doesn’t I can’t help but worry.”
I thought now about h
ow odd it was that Sam hadn’t texted me this morning, as she had ever since giving me the phone in the first place, and about how I’d been so lost in my own sorrow that I hadn’t even thought about it.
“I’m closer,” I told Matt. “Right around the corner from her house. I can go check now, if it’ll make you feel better.”
Matt agreed that it very much would, so I told him that I’d do that now and not to worry, telling myself silently to take the advice as well, and not quite succeeding.
Hanging up, I stood, apologizing to Caleb for my abrupt departure. He was as understanding of this as I had come to expect him to be, and in my apprehension, I kissed his cheek as we were parting.
This made him smile big, and his hand came up and covered the cheek I’d kissed. “What’d I do to earn that?” he asked.
I shrugged, anxious to get to Sam and laugh about how stupid my nervousness had been, but barely able to muster a smile with all my worry. Surely, I told myself, Sam was fine.
“For being so kind to me,” I told Caleb after realizing that he was still waiting for an answer. “Even though I’m not sure I’ve deserved it.”
I turned to go, but Caleb caught my hand and pulled me toward him. I was so distracted with my thoughts that all I did was let him. For a moment, I let the world pause, and breathed in the faint scent of his cologne, basked in the light of his aura. I couldn’t help but absorb a little of his good feelings, as they were such a stark contrast to my own, and I closed my eyes as he brushed a thumb slowly over my cheek.
“You deserve all the kindness in the world, Aria Fae,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Before I could respond, he released me and disappeared around the corner. I swallowed hard as I watched him go.
Then I dropped my skateboard to the sidewalk and headed off toward Sam’s apartment at a speed that revealed the dread swirling through my stomach, though my face was cautiously composed.