Cary was an overprotective, overly obsessive, opinionated control freak. Jackson was an egocentric, demented, biased demon.
Huh, what did that say about me?
As I headed back to Cary’s place, I found myself taking a detour. I wasn’t sure how long I walked, because all I could feel was the weight of everything that had happened. It was suffocating, overwhelming, and each step I took felt heavier than the last.
When I opened Cary’s apartment door, I was shocked to find him standing there looking extremely upset.
“Where were you?” he asked, in a loud and demanding tone.
“I needed to get some fresh air,” I yelled back.
We scowled at each other, at an impasse.
How dare he? He lied to me and kept another crucial secret from me.
“Lauren, you could’ve gone out on the terrace. Where did you go?”
I needed to add overbearing to his list of faults.
“I took a walk around the block. I needed some air.”
“Did it help?” he asked, a bit calmer.
“It helped with my clarity.”
“You needed clarity, about me?”
“About everything.”
He walked over to me, his eyes fixed on mine.
“Did you just get back, Cary?” I needed to gain some control.
“I walked in a while ago.”
“How was your meeting?” I asked to see what he’d say.
“Meeting?” He sounded surprised.
“Didn’t you say you were meeting someone?”
“I don’t believe I did.”
“But you did?”
“I needed to handle a delicate matter. Clear some things up.”
I didn’t respond, hoping he would tell me the truth. He owed me that. But, he became uncomfortable, and started going through his mail as a diversion. Hiding the truth from people would do that.
As he reached for an envelope, our arms touched, and I felt the familiar current between us. The hairs on my arm stood straight up. My heartbeat raced while my breathing became noticeable.
I was losing control.
“Is everything okay, love?” Cary asked.
“No,” I snapped.
He appeared to be assessing the situation. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Do you want to talk about where you were, Cary?”
He looked suspicious at first, then torn. “I wish I could.”
“That’s what I thought.”
When I turned to walk away, he gripped my hand. “Why are you upset? I didn’t mean to start a row. I was concerned.”
I wished I could change how I felt, but I couldn’t. “Cary, I thought I could deal with this, with you, but it’s too much.”
He sighed heavily. “I knew it was going to change things.”
“I don’t even know what you look like. All I see is a shell of a man.”
“But what’s inside me hasn’t changed. Lauren, there is a reason why we don’t show our true selves to humans. The ones who have seen, cannot accept it. If they’re strong enough, some think the entire experience was a hallucination.”
“I wish I was hallucinating or could wake up from this nightmare.”
“I should never have told you, Lauren.”
“You should have told me a long time ago. Before it was too late. You should have trusted me enough to tell me the truth, Cary. The whole truth.”
“You know why I couldn’t.”
“Doesn’t change how I feel. Honesty is something we just aren’t good at, are we?”
It was time to be honest with myself. As much as I wanted to pretend everything was normal, I couldn’t.
“Lauren, you’re overwhelmed.”
“That’s an understatement. I feel as if I’m drowning. I’m trying to bring my head above water, but I am failing.”
His hand pushed a stray hair behind my ear. “If I could change everything, I would. I don’t want to lose you.”
We stared into each other’s eyes.
“Cary, I don’t want...huh.” I paused, evaluating my feelings. “I’m dealing with a lot of emotions here, and anger seems to be winning out right now.”
“You’re angry with me?”
“I’m angry at everything. Angry at myself for not seeing what was right in front of me in the first place. Angry with you for not telling me the truth sooner—I know you couldn’t, but I’m still angry. Angry at God for allowing you and Jackson to come into my life.”
“Jackson?”
“I’m angry at everyone, Cary, so get in line.”
He placed his hands on my shoulders. “Do not be mad at God, Lauren. I should have never told you—”
“Don’t!” I jerked away from his touch. “I am telling you what I’m feeling, please listen. I have been confused and hurt, sad and scared, and extremely overwhelmed. But, right now, I’m angry, and I need more time. Look, I understand why you did what you did. I may not like it, but I understand.”
“Do you regret us?” he asked in a whisper.
That was the crux of the matter.
Cary suddenly grabbed hold of me, embracing me tightly, and all I’d ever wanted was to be in his arms.
“No, I don’t regret us. As much as I want to tell you I wish I never met you, I can’t.”
“I love you, Lauren.”
While my heart hoped for more, I knew those words meant something different to him. A reality check that I couldn’t do it anymore.
One-half of me wanted to believe in true love, that love could conquer all. I was hoping love was powerful enough to give me my happily ever after. Cary was an angel, but he was also my best friend. Everything in me loved him and wanted him to love me, even if heartache was inevitable.
The other half believed happily ever after only existed in fairytales. Life was too short. Have your cake and eat it, too. Jackson was a fallen angel—and my boyfriend. My desire for him was suffocating, and he brought out my ability to overcome my inhibitions. Jackson showed me how life could be without heartache.
I unlocked myself from Cary’s grip. “I’m going back to Mamaw’s. I need time to process everything. Please, if you love me, give me the time I need.”
I excused myself and headed to my room to pack my things. When I clasped on my charm bracelet Cary gave me, the shiny wing stood out. I sighed internally wondering how many hints he’d tried to give me over the years.
When I returned to the living room, Cary was leaning against the terrace door.
“I’m heading out, but first, I want to thank you, Cary. Thank you for looking after me while I recovered. Thank you for helping out Mamaw, who loves you even more, if that’s possible. And thank you for telling me the truth when I asked. Don’t regret it Cary, because I don’t.”
He turned to face me. “I want you to remember that I did what I did, because it was in your best interest, Lauren.” The doorbell rang. “Ruben will take you home.”
At the door, Cary showed Ruben where my things were.
“So, this is not goodbye, Cary.” I looked up into his eyes.
He smiled and reached over to hug me.
“I know, Angel.”
I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at his term of endearment, so I just said, “I’ll call you soon.”
That day, I walked out of Cary’s apartment, not knowing when I would see him again, but I did know where I needed to head next.
There was only one person I could trust with my secret, and I needed to see her at once.
Ruben drove me there in time for final visiting hours. He dropped me off at the front entrance, sternly instructing me to call him when I was done.
I hadn’t seen Mom since my accident. We couldn’t share anything with her that would stress her further.
I opened the door to Mom’s room, and I saw her staring at a photo of Dad she had clutched in her withering hands.
She was still beautiful, despite the distinctive frown lines settling onto her pale face. Her c
urly, dull, reddish-brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail. I made a mental note to ask the nurse if she had been eating. Her hollowed cheeks were more defined from when I saw her last.
Around the room were the familiar decorated walls Ashley had created. There were pictures of Mom and the family in ornamental frames spread out perfectly. Ashley had hung several of Mom’s and my paintings on the adjacent wall, to make the room less gloomy.
However, what truly held my attention was her full drawing board. The ghostly figures filled in more space and . . . wait a second. As I stepped closer to examine the drawings, my fingertips outlined the edges of each detailed figure.
It’s them!
The things I saw in the bayou. Mom had been drawing them the entire time.
How was that possible? Unless . . .
“Mom, what are these?” I asked, as I turned to get her attention.
No response as she kept staring at Dad’s picture.
“Mom, these figures, have you seen them?”
Nothing.
I took Dad’s picture out of her hand. She stared at the empty space, as I kneeled down eye-to-eye.
“Mom, these things you drew on the wall. What are they?”
Silence.
“Mom, if you can understand me, give me some sign.”
Still nothing.
I stood and walked back to the wall. I was a hundred percent sure; those were the same things in drawing form.
I turned around to face her again, knowing what I was about to say could make her mental state worse, but I believed I finally understood what she was trying to tell us.
“Mom, I’m going to tell you something, and I need you to hear me. I have seen the things you have drawn. I saw them one night in the bayou. There was what looked like hundreds or even thousands of them there. I saw them, Mom, and I know you saw them, too.”
She continued to stare at the empty space.
I wasn’t sure what I expected. I knew it was a stretch to think that once I said I saw them, she would snap out of that state. Nonetheless, I wanted some sign she knew I could see what she’d been trying to tell us for years.
Unfortunately, I got absolutely nothing.
I gave her back Dad’s photo, and she grasped it tight. I sat there for a while, watching her, as everything started to settle in my mind.
All along, she knew those things existed. If that were the case, then what about Dad? Thinking about him always brought pain. Besides, none of those images explained why Mom thought she saw Dad’s ghost.
Her nurse came in and stuck up a quick conversation. I asked her about Mom’s eating, and she said it was the new medication causing her weight loss, and they were monitoring it.
When the nurse left, it returned to silence. I told Mom about the art courses and how she would be proud of me for using the talent I’d inherited from her. She was a great artist and an incredible photographer.
I talked about how Blake missed her, but he loved being on tour. Then, I laughed, explaining how his head swelled a little too big from all his new fame.
I spoke about Mamaw, Ashley, and Victor, as well as Uncle James; keeping her up with the latest goings-on in the family.
Visiting hours were almost up, and for the first time in a long while, I didn’t feel Mom belonged there. Even though she was unresponsive, she wasn’t imagining everything.
The nurse came back in, and I asked to see the doctor. I delicately explained why I thought Mom was getting better, because the drawings were actually something we both had seen. I tried to describe it as shadows of light hitting a surface, but he didn’t feel that was a good enough explanation.
I proceeded to ask the doctor if we could sign Mom out and care for her at home. Concerned, he explained, although we admitted her voluntarily, she was still a danger to herself. He reiterated we didn’t have the resources to look after her twenty-four seven. He continued to tell me it was common for family members to feel guilty about placing their loved ones in there, and he said I could speak to a counselor to help me deal with my concerns.
Apparently, I was getting nowhere, and it was obvious he wasn’t authorizing her release until she showed significant improvement.
Going back to Mom’s room, I had less than forty-five minutes of visiting time left. I brushed her hair and pulled back her bed for the night. She climbed in with Dad’s picture clutched to her heart.
I sang her a song and said prayers aloud. Then I told her the story of a young girl who found out her best friend was an angel, and her boyfriend a fallen angel. I went on to tell her how the girl had to figure out what to do about both of them, and how confused she was. Mom stayed silent while I told her my story, which concluded with saying the ending hadn’t been written yet.
Before turning off her light. I told her one more time I loved her, and I was sorry for not believing her.
While taking a detour to Mamaw’s house, it gave me time to ponder over memories of when Mom first started seeing things. I racked my brain trying to remember descriptions or comments she would have made, but I came up flat.
All that time Mom knew. I wasn’t sure why the angels showed themselves to her, but Cary said they were protectors, and weirdly enough, that gave me peace.
I’d been avoiding Jackson’s calls for weeks. Knowing his schedule in Spain was full, it was simple to leave him messages in the middle of the night, using the excuse of the time difference. I knew it was cowardly, but I needed time away from him.
I looked at my cell as it rang, debating. I had to do it.
“Jackson?” I answered.
“Where have you been, Lauren?” he yelled.
“Excuse me?”
“I asked you a question!”
“I’ve been here.”
“I’ve been trying to get in contact with you for weeks. You’re purposely ignoring my texts, and it better not be because of him!”
My mind thought of all kinds of smart remarks, but I didn’t actually say what I wanted to: I recently found out you’re not human, but a fallen angel who snatches souls. No chance of any future for us, which I expected it, but absolutely no chance in hell. Oh, and how sick is this? You stated you loved me, but you don’t have the guts to tell me you’re not human, but a demon!
“Lauren . . .”
“What!”
“What is going on with you?” Jackson asked, quieter.
I wanted to tell him I knew, and that his lies had been exposed. But, what would happen once David Black found out I knew the truth? “I have to go.”
“Baby, if you hang up, so help me—”
“What?” I raised my voice. “You’re in Spain, right? It’s not as if you can magically appear in front of me.”
“Lauren, what did I do wrong?”
“You called me and started yelling at me, and then you assumed it had everything to do with Cary.”
“I assumed he was preventing you from taking my calls.”
“Not sure how he could, since I haven’t seen him for over two weeks.”
He lowered his voice. “I’m sorry, baby. I miss you.”
I hated when he used that tone. I swore he was acting sometimes when he sounded panicked and hurt, his way of trying to make me feel guilty. It was entirely his fault. He should’ve been honest with me.
“Lauren, please, I didn’t mean to go all caveman.”
Why did he make me feel so unsure?
“Jackson, I’m sorry, I have to go.”
“No. Please, Lauren, every part of me misses you. It hurts because I have never felt this way about anyone. I should’ve told you that in person, but it’s true. Nobody has ever made me feel the way you do. I miss your eyes, your lips, your touch, baby. I want you to come to Spain.”
I had been going back and forth with that decision. He knew I was having a hard time making up my mind. He didn’t realize he made the decision for me the day I heard Cary and him in the cemetery.
Every word stabbed into my heart. I didn’t want to bel
ieve his lies anymore. I’d been on an emotional roller coaster, and it was time I got off.
“I’m not coming to Spain.”
I heard the shock in his voice. “Why?”
I tried to find a place in me where I wouldn’t let on I knew. As much as I wanted to climb through the phone and choke him, I couldn’t.
Cary had made it seem I was out of imminent danger, Jackson had said so as well, but I felt otherwise. I knew what David was capable of, and I needed to protect myself.
“Jackson, so much has happened in such a short period of time. I need time to take a step back and reevaluate everything, clear my head.”
“I thought we settled everything?” He sounded confused.
“It doesn’t have anything to do with that, Jackson. Consider it a much-needed summer vacation at home. Too much has happened, and I need to take a mental break.”
“Does this have to do with . . . your mother?”
Animosity stirred inside me as I took several deep breaths before answering. “Why would you say that?”
“You’re not her, Lauren. You don’t need mental breaks.”
“She’s a part of me, Jackson, and because I need a mental break, doesn’t mean I’m breaking down.”
“Lauren, you’re making this decision for the wrong reasons.”
“This is the best decision for me.”
“You are a maddening woman. Anyone else would love . . .” He paused, followed by incoherent rants and mixed in curse words. I heard his breath steadying as he pushed out a deep sigh. “Lauren, whatever you want to do is fine.”
I could hear the defeat in his voice. I was prepared for him to break up with me, to end the facade of our relationship. Why I was too much of a coward not to end it first, was beyond me.
Jackson cleared his throat. “As much as I want to come there and actually drag your ass on a plane, I want you to be happy. If you change your mind, you can come any time; the ticket is open-ended.”
I didn’t know how to respond, and yelled, “You bought me a ticket without asking me first?”
The Devil has a British Accent: Book One: Jackson (White Carpet #1) Page 28