by Maegan Abel
Evie smirked at me behind the server’s back, but I ignored her, only glancing over to watch her expression turn guarded again as I ordered her favorites. It was bold, and probably not the best idea, but at the same time, I wanted her to ask questions. She wrapped her hands around her beer bottle and drew patterns in the condensation, her eyes not meeting mine. She was thinking again and I took the opportunity to study her.
I couldn’t be sure if our appearances stayed the same in every cycle or if our memories just took that version of us and implanted it into each scene. Her face, her body, even her mannerisms were so familiar. I wondered if that was just a side effect of the bond. Like the connected part of us instantly recognized things even though, physically, we’d never seen them. I thought about asking her, but dismissed the idea. It was too early for that.
“Can I ask you a question?” she finally broke the silence, her gaze still locked on her hands.
I rested my elbows on the table, wrapping one hand around the other fist and placing my chin on top as she avoided my eyes. I stared, waiting until she lifted her gaze so she knew I was serious. “You can ask me anything. Anytime, anywhere.”
“And you’ll answer honestly?” She wasn’t second-guessing me, and more importantly, I could see genuine emotion behind her eyes.
“Always.”
“How much do you know about me?”
“That’s a loaded question. You’re kind of jumping into the deep end,” I said, sighing even though I expected it. “This might be easier if we start with what you know. I can fill in the blanks,” I offered.
“I know I’m cursed.”
The word was like a ten-ton steel beam to the chest. “Cursed,” I said, my disgust apparent. I sat back as the server brought our food, crossing my arms defensively as if I could somehow protect myself from what was undoubtedly about to happen.
When the silence stretched on, she started eating, looking somewhat unsure of my response. I remained quiet, getting lost in my thoughts while focusing on my food.
“You don’t agree?” she asked after several minutes.
I took a long drink from my beer before looking up at her. “No. I don’t.” At her confused expression, I continued, “But I’d like to hear why you feel it’s a curse.”
She straightened, pulling on her guard again to prepare herself to speak. I hated seeing the emotion hidden away. “My grandpa died when my mom was less than a month old.” She stopped speaking, but it was clear she wasn’t finished. I continued eating, giving her time and waiting patiently as she gathered her thoughts. “My grandma had it rough. She didn’t know how anyone could continue without their Infinity, but she also had my mom to worry about.” It was a small relief to hear her say the word aloud, to know she had at least some knowledge of the story, even if it was a little skewed. “Then, when my mom found hers, my grandma was skeptical. She warned her, but…” she shook her head, “from what I hear, it’s hard not to fall.” I nodded in agreement. “Mom got pregnant with Cara and Dad got sick. Grandma was so worried. Dad survived cancer only to get hit by a car in a parking lot less than two months after Cara was born and weeks before my mom found out she was carrying me.” She swallowed, looking away as she continued. “Mom couldn’t handle it. At least, that’s what I was told. She committed suicide the day they released her and I from the hospital.” Her voice was flat and my mind conjured up images of the people in her life, people I knew from previous cycles, who had all suffered this time around.
“When you and I…when we met, Grandma freaked. I remember that. I remember she packed up Cara and me that night and moved us to Portland.”
I remembered that day. While I’d known, in theory, she was out there, seeing her fall from her bike, the boys kicking her, hearing her cries of pain, and then the feeling when I rushed to her and she looked at me with tears in her eyes, it was impossible not to believe. It all started flooding in as I tried to keep her still while I found help, her arm cradled to her chest, looking gruesome with the bone having pierced the skin. I was worried she would pass out, but I remembered her and felt complete because I’d found her.
My gaze automatically went to that spot, seeing the scar on her forearm. I glanced back up and met her eyes.
“I get it, Evie. You’ve had a shit draw this time around and your family has dealt with a lot of loss, but it’s not like that for everyone. And it’s not like that for you every time either. It hasn’t been like that…” I tried to explain—tried to think through the frustration. I understood why she hated me now, and it made perfect sense, but that didn’t make it any easier. “I can’t give up, though.” I hadn’t meant to say that last part out loud.
Her expression told me she wasn’t happy to hear it.
“As bad as you think it could’ve gone, it was worse.”
Dom chuckled and I lifted my head from the table, knowing I looked as miserable as I felt.
The rest of dinner and the walk back to her place had been no better. It was either long silences or fake conversation on topics that meant nothing in the long run. I’d planned to walk down the pier and enjoy each other’s company, but it was obvious we both needed to take a step back for a moment. I waited for her to tell me to leave, but when I walked her to the door, she just honored my request for her phone number and we parted ways. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to beg her to hear my side of things, but Evie would only listen in her time. I couldn’t force her. No one could. One thing I knew about Evie was her will was stronger than iron. Some things about her may change from cycle to cycle, but Evie’s stubbornness was with her every time.
“It couldn’t have been that bad. She didn’t sever it, right?” Dom asked, leaning back in his chair.
“No,” I said, confusion sliding through me. “I really expected her to, though.”
“Why?”
I met his eyes, letting out a breath. “She thinks she’s cursed.”
Dom got serious, the front feet of his chair hitting the deck of the boat with a thump that made us sway a little deeper. “Cursed is a pretty heavy word.”
I nodded. There really wasn’t anything to say. He was right.
“So, what’s your plan?”
I laced my fingers, resting my palms on top of my head as I stared out at the waves. Dom’s boat wasn’t much, but I loved the view of the water. There was something about the vastness of the ocean that was soothing. “No idea.”
“Okay, well, how much does she know?” he asked, and I turned my attention to him. This was why we got along so well. If there was anyone I could talk through this clusterfuck with, it was Dom.
“I’m not entirely sure, but whatever it is, it’s all been skewed by the fact that the two Infinities she’s seen in this life have ended in early death and she thinks that’s what will happen.”
Dom sighed and I nodded, thinking about calling her, but dismissing the thought. I needed to give her time and figure out what I was going to say first.
“I’m not sure which is worse, not finding your Infinity in what feels like a hundred cycles now or finding and losing her,” Dom said, and I felt that same bolt of pain for him I always did.
“She’ll come. And when she does, I promise, you’ll forget every minute of the pain.”
“Is that what happens with you? You forget the bad lives?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. He knew the answer, but I shook my head anyway.
“It does make them more tolerable, though.” It was true. After last night, the pain of a cycle spent severed from Evie was in the forefront of my memory, but it could be easily pushed aside if this cycle went well.
I just had to hope it went well.
In the silence that followed, my phone buzzed, vibrating the table between us. I glanced at the screen, assuming it would be work related, but Evie’s name flashed across and my eyes widened. I took a breath and answered, not giving myself time to rethink it. “I thought girls always worried they’d look desperate if they called the day after a date?”
&n
bsp; “Pretty sure that only matters when the girl gives a fuck what the guy thinks,” she said, a smile in her voice. The sense of relief flooding through me after the way things went last night was immense.
I closed my eyes and shook my head as I forced a casual tone. “Touché. So, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
She sighed down the line. “Don’t let this go to your head, but…” she hesitated and every second felt like an eternity, “I was wondering if you wanted to come over tomorrow night.”
I sat in stunned silence, blinking at Dom, who was staring at me like I’d lost my mind. “Are you—I mean…sure. What time?”
She groaned and the sound was physically painful. “This is such a bad idea.” Did she think I didn’t want to see her?
“What’s a bad idea?” I asked, pushing myself to standing as I wondered if she was at home now. I hated having a conversation when I couldn’t see her face. She was quiet so long, I pulled the phone from my ear to see if she’d disconnected. “Ev?”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “What did you call me?”
“Ev,” I repeated, the squeeze in my chest threatening to cut off the flow of oxygen in my lungs. I hadn’t thought about it before I’d said it, but it was definitely a sign of familiarity to call her that and she might not be ready for it just yet. “Stop over thinking this.”
“I shouldn’t have called,” she said, sounding torn.
“No!” I rushed out, hoping I could make her see this was a good idea. “No. I mean, you asked me over and I’d be honored.” As soon as the words were out, I groaned. “And apparently, I sound like a tool when I try to talk to you. No wonder you changed your mind.”
“You always sound like a tool, Gavin,” she said, the edge in her voice bordering on playful again. “Okay,” she sighed. “Eight p.m. Don’t be late.”
She hung up and I dropped my phone to the table while lifting both fists into the air in victory. I didn’t care that I now looked like a tool, she wanted to see me again, and that meant I still had a chance. At this point, it was the only thing I had to go with.
It was beyond absurd that I had pangs of nervousness fluttering through my system. I never got nervous, especially about guys I only planned on sleeping with—and that was all I was going to do with Gavin.
After our date, I still hadn’t been able to put thoughts of him aside, no matter how hard I tried. So much of me craved him and a big part of that was the sexual tension I’d felt, which could be quenched by a romp in the sack. After that, I would be able to think straight and figure out the right way to get Gavin out of my life completely.
Though the urge was there, I refused to dress up for tonight and stuck to a tattered pair of jean shorts and a black tank top. In an effort to keep myself from changing my mind—about my outfit or tonight in general—I slid off the couch and headed to the kitchen.
Liquid courage. That was what I needed.
“Whiskey,” I said to myself, opening the cabinet and sifting through it. Crap. I hadn’t replaced that bottle yet. Tequila shots were the next best thing.
I took two straight while standing in the kitchen and hissed in a breath through my teeth before taking the bottle and shot glass to the living room with me. Just as I settled on the couch, Stitch lurched up from the floor, a low growl sounding as he headed to the door. A second later, the knock came. I crossed the room and steadied myself as I turned the knob.
“Damn. I hoped you were a Girl Scout here to sell me cookies,” I snarked, sticking to my routine of insulting greetings.
He chuckled, his hand going out to pet Stitch as he jumped excitedly, huffing and begging for Gavin’s attention. He took the small step up into the doorway, causing me to move back slightly before he leaned in and brushed his lips on my cheek.
“Sorry to disappoint.”
I paused, a little stunned by the boldness of the move. “Next time you better bring cookies,” I said over my shoulder as I headed into the house, leaving him to close the door and follow me.
“You invited me. If you wanted cookies, you should’ve mentioned this was a grocery call.” He grinned when I glowered at him before dropping onto the couch.
I resisted the urge to complain when he sat in the chair and not beside me. “So…”
“So, what?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched me, one eyebrow raised in what I felt might be a challenge.
I poured myself another shot, needing a little more courage. Why the fuck was I still nervous?
“How was work?” I asked before tipping the shot back.
He watched me for a moment, considering my question with a tilt of his head. “Quiet. I hope you’re not planning to make the night shift’s evening more interesting.”
Damn. My cheeks heated at the memory and I hated that he knew exactly what buttons to push to make me feel off balance.
“Nope. Just loosening up.” I felt rude, so I offered, “Did you want a drink?”
His eyes were probing, trying to penetrate all the way through me, digging deep and settling in as he assessed what he saw. And I was terrified he might be the one person who could see it all. He finally shrugged. “Sure. Nothing wrong with loosening up a little.”
I couldn’t hide my shock as I stood and headed to the kitchen to grab another shot glass. By the time I returned to the couch, the third shot was starting to hit me. I patted the empty spot beside me before focusing on pouring the alcohol.
“What are we drinking to?” he asked as he sat, forearms on his knees and those fucking eyes on me, which I could feel even when I wasn’t looking his way. I tried not to, but my gaze slipped back over to him and glided up his arms, taking in the tattoos and the way his dark gray shirt clung much tighter across his upper arms and chest than his uniform had. Next, I studied the dark scruff, leaving just the barest hint of that sculpted jaw. I could feel the ghost of that scruff still lingering on my cheek from the kiss and it made me curious to feel more of it. Finally, I found his mouth, seeing the smirk as he caught me staring.
Then I remembered he asked a question.
“I’m not really the sentimental type.” I shrugged as I pushed his glass toward him and lifted my own.
“Well then, cheers,” he said, raising it to his lips and swallowing it back easily. I couldn’t help but watch, fascinated by the simple movement of his throat and the satisfied expression that came over him.
I took mine quickly, eyeing him as I put the empty glass back on the coffee table, the alcohol finally blurring the edges of my senses. I leaned back, resting against the cushions of the couch. “You know, I never did get a kiss goodnight on our date.” My voice was calm, matter-of-fact even.
Gavin glanced over his shoulder, watching me for a moment before turning back to the bottle. He poured himself another shot and downed it. When he was done, he settled back beside me. “I didn’t want to press my luck. It was our first date, after all.”
“Press your luck? You’ve already seen me naked. Most guys have to take me to dinner before that part. A kiss would’ve been tame compared to what I expected.” I ran my fingers through my hair, brushing the bangs back from my face as I watched his eyes darken. My body responded automatically, alert and nearly begging for attention. Good God. Was that really all it took with him?
I sucked in a breath, and that was it. His hands were on my face, in my hair, and his mouth was on mine. I had to admit, it was unlike any kiss I’d ever had. It wasn’t soft or hard, gentle or rough, but some mixture of everything at once. My heart, already on alert, pounded the blood through my veins at warp speed and it took only a few seconds for my body to ignite.
Crawling onto his lap, I straddled him with my knees at his hips, not breaking our kiss for any span of time. When his hands dropped, skimming along my bare thighs before gripping my waist and tugging me closer, I ran my tongue along his lips and he growled. Actually growled. And fuck if the sound didn’t nearly give me an orgasm on the spot. His mouth opened and I lost my train of
thought as my tongue slid against his. I couldn’t hold back my moan and it came out muffled between our mouths. I ran my hands through his hair, loving the thickness as I tugged it in an attempt to pull him closer. No matter how much I had of him right then, my entire body craved more.
Reaching between us, I gripped the hem of his shirt and pulled it up. He broke our kiss just long enough to reach behind him, tug the fabric over his head, and toss it aside. Then, his lips were on me again and his hands grasped at my hips, yanking me flush against his body. The warmth of his skin radiated through my shirt as my fingers ran along his shoulders. The muscles and definition on that small area alone made me all but melt into him. Holy shit, he was built. I wanted to tear his remaining clothes off and only just managed not to. Instead, I pulled back enough to remove my tank top as well, leaving me in a deep pink bra and shorts. As his eyes traced my body, I trailed a finger along his collarbone and down to what had to be the absolute best set of abs I’d ever seen outside of a magazine. I leaned in, grazing my teeth along his neck as my finger hit the waistband of his jeans, and then I was moving.
He flipped us so fast, I almost didn’t realize it was happening. One minute, I was on his lap, and the next, I was flat on my back on the couch with his body over mine and my legs wrapped around him. All the best parts of our bodies aligned and it. Was. Bliss.
“Yes,” I breathed on a moan, locking my ankles behind him to pull him in closer, but he froze.
He stayed completely still, only his chest rising and falling as he took deep breaths. After several seconds, I was about to speak, but he beat me to it. “I can’t do this.”
I laughed and lifted my hips, pressing myself against the very obvious proof he could do this before his head came up and I saw the conflict in his eyes. The heat I’d been feeling moments ago washed away as ice flooded my veins. “Wait. Are you serious?” My hands dropped from his body as I tried to put distance between us.