by Amy Murray
“Abby, this ring,” James said. “My drawings—it’s the same.” He examined the ring and turned it over several times, examining it from every angle. “There’s an inscription,” he said, bringing it closer to his face. “Yours, for all of time,” he read, and when he looked up, his eyes burned through me.
The words, an echo from our past, came back in a rush. Glimpses of that night shuffled and replayed: the party, the hotel, the laughter, James’s whisper as he leaned against my ear, and those words. They were the last words James spoke before we saw Thomas. I stepped away from James, needing space to help clear the uneasiness swirling in my gut.
For all of time.
Yours, for all of time.
I heard it over and over and over. I saw his eyes, James’s eyes, dark and impossible. I saw him place his hand over his breast. I saw his nervous smile.
“Abby?” I jumped at the sound of his voice. “What’s wrong?”
I stared at the floor, trying to understand what was happening. “That inscription, you said that to me. That night, before we saw Thomas, I think you were going to propose. I mean, I don’t know for sure, since you never did, but you reached for your pocket. The one inside your jacket.” I shook my head and fought the tightening in my throat. “You said, ‘I’m yours, for all of time.’”
I couldn’t finish my thought. It’s like I’d jumped off a cliff, and everything I wanted to say scattered in the wind.
“But I didn’t propose,” James said, removing the space between us. His body, too big for my small bedroom, crowded me. But instead of feeling suffocated, I felt charged up and alive, and the fatigue from the last twenty-four hours vanished.
I shook my head. “No. You saw Thomas. You never got the chance.”
My stomach fluttered, and a shiver spun from my center. James lifted his hand, his fingers opened, and in his palm sat the diamond ring I knew in my heart had originally belonged to him. This was the ring he’d meant to give me, but instead, Colin did.
“If I never gave it to you, how’d you end up wearing it?”
“I can only guess, but the night you died, Colin was looking for the necklace. He probably searched your body. He must have taken it.”
I placed my hand on top of his, and James interlaced our fingers with the ring caught between our palms.
“Why did everything have to go so wrong?” I asked as I placed my other hand over his heart, where I knew the bullet that ended his life had made a scar on his soul.
James pulled me into his arms. “I don’t know, but that was then, and we have another chance now.” His lips trailed across my cheek where he pressed his lips against the base of my ear. My head dropped to the side, hoping for more, but instead of the warmth of his breath, I only felt the chill of the air.
I opened my eyes. James pulled back. His eyes were hooded, his lips slightly parted. He lifted the ring and spun it around his pinky before he ran his fingers through my hair. Fisting his hand at my nape, he gently pulled, urging my head up until our eyes locked. I could see the storm brewing, the whirling emotions that said everything and nothing.
“You have no idea how long I wished for you.”
The corner of my mouth lifted in a smile. “When I was just a painting.”
His heavy brows, black as night, pulled together. “You were always more than a painting.” He released my hair and his hands palmed my cheeks. “You saved me.”
He opened his mouth to say more, but ended up sucking in a nervous breath. He licked his lips, struggled again for words, and closed his eyes.
“You asked me why I painted you.”
I nodded, hanging on every word.
“That night that I came home to find my house on fire, I told you, I didn’t think. I just went in, knowing I needed to find my mother, to save her. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t see, and when my clothes caught on fire—the pain was unimaginable.” He swallowed and his eyes searched mine, memorizing. “I blacked out. The pain was gone. I don’t remember anything except—” His voice faded and his hands fell to my neck. “I heard this voice, a woman’s voice, talking to me. I thought maybe it was my mother, but the tone wasn’t right. The woman was crying and begging me to wake up. When I opened my eyes, I saw her—I saw you—kneeling over me, but I wasn’t inside the fire. I was somewhere else, outside and lying on the pavement. I never understood it before.”
“You were drifting,” I said. “Have you since?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know if I would’ve experienced that had the fire never happened,” he whispered. “And I don’t think I would’ve survived had you not been there to see me back.”
“What do you mean?”
“My recovery was difficult and painful. Sometimes I wished I’d died, but every time I did, I remembered you begging me to come back, and on some level, I didn’t want to let you down. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
I pulled back. “Yes, you could’ve. That image of me had nothing to do with your survival. You survived because you’re strong. Don’t diminish it by giving me any kind of credit.”
“You don’t understand,” he said, his eyes wistful. “You gave me a reason to fight.”
James wrapped his arms around me, and his hands ran the length of my back, through my hair, and down my arms. He bent and lifted me from my feet, our eyes level and unflinching. I traced the line of his jaw, loving the way the coarse stubble scratched my fingertips.
“For all of time.”
“For all of time,” he repeated.
When he set me back on my feet, our lips fell together with a fire that threatened to burn me from the inside out. The blood thrummed loud in my ears, like ocean waves crashing against the beach, and I felt the pull of my drift. Pressing against his shoulders, I turned my face away, hoping the break in contact would keep me here.
“No,” I said as I sat on the edge of my bed. Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to hold on to the parts of me that were desperately trying to slip away.
“Abby?” But it was too late. I could already smell the salty air. I could feel the warm water lapping against my legs. I could see the sky, an endless and cloudless blue.
I opened my eyes, wide and searching, and for a moment, I came back. James was kneeling in front of me, and I grabbed his face in my hands as his image began to fade. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I love you.”
James’s lips parted, and he screamed my name, but all I heard was the call of the ocean.
Chapter Twenty
“Abby,” James whispered in my ear. His fingertips brushed at the wayward strands of hair covering my face. “Wake up.”
I stretched, and he smiled against my cheek. Ocean waves tumbled against the shore, and I slowly woke from my slumber.
“I can’t believe I fell asleep,” I said, turning in to James’s side. The sun was hot and warmed my skin. He tucked my hair, wild from the whip of the wind, back under my wide brimmed hat.
“I’m wounded, truly.” His lips curved into a smile. “I thought you enjoyed my company far better than a nap.”
I smiled. “I find there are few things I like more than a nap. Maybe one day you will be one of them.”
“I don’t know if my pride will survive you,” James said, leaning up on an elbow.
“I hope not, because that other version of you was almost unbearable.”
“Unbearable, huh?”
That forced a giggle from my lips, and James glanced at my mouth, his smile lingering. My heart flipped. I’d never been kissed before, and thinking that he might want to confused me. Our relationship was friendly, sometimes playful, but it had never been romantic. He leaned forward until our faces were inches apart. Our smiles faded, and I was held captive, my breath trapped inside my chest.
Jolts of electricity popped across my skin when he closed the distance between us. His lips were warm and sank against mine for a long second before he pulled away.
“You kissed me,” I said, somewhat confused, and sat up, brus
hing at the sand that stuck to my palms. “You don’t even like me.”
“That’s not true,” he said. His lashes, black as soot, framed concerned eyes equally dark. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
But I didn’t let him finish. I pressed my lips against his, and everything inside me jumped like a thousand bouncing balls. I pulled away only to have him follow, his lips chasing mine. I rose to my knees and finally to my feet. I was flushed and warm, suddenly energetic and wild. Never in my life had I been so brash—so bold. Other girls did that, not me, but here I was, looking down at the most beautiful man I’d ever seen, knowing I’d done what every girl wished she could do with James Bellingham.
My cheeks lifted with a smile, bigger than should’ve been possible, and I ran into the surf. The water lapped over my ankles, and when I turned to James, the wind lifted my hat from my head and carried it out to sea. James was smiling, still lying on a single elbow, and I knew I’d found everything I’d ever been looking for. My other half, my soulmate. My home.
I curled in on myself, folding my knees toward my chest as I pressed my hands against my ears. It was so loud. Why was it so loud? My head rang and pounded, and the yelling—God, the yelling—was making everything so much worse.
“Do you even realize what you’ve done? What could happen to her? Right now? Tonight?” a voice demanded.
My eyes adjusted to the darkened room. James was kneeling by my side, oblivious to the man yelling at his back.
“You’re awake.” He sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes. I lifted my hand and placed it against his cheek. Covering my hand with his, he turned his face and kissed my palm.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—” His voice was rough but gentle, and my chest twisted at his words. Too familiar, too real.
“Kingsley.” The sharp tone turned both of our heads toward the door where I saw Mack angrier than I’d ever seen him before. “Are you listening to me?”
James dropped my hand and stood. “I heard you quite clearly, McCormack.”
“Mack?” I asked, struggling to sit upright under the weight of the bedcovers.
His eyes flicked to mine, and some of the anger seemed to dissipate, but violence was still simmering below the surface. His hands were fisted at his sides, and his arms were tense, held slightly away from his body as if anticipating a fight.
“What’re you doing here?”
He ignored me. James was his only concern.
“You’re going to kill her,” Mack said with venom. “Not that I’m surprised. Leaving women to die is kind of your specialty, right?”
James turned with lightning speed and swung so fast I would’ve missed it had I blinked. His fist connected with Mack’s jaw, and Mack stumbled back several steps before he charged forward. With his shoulder dropped low, he rammed into James’s middle, and the two men crashed against the floor.
I jumped from the bed. Mack had a knee on James’s chest, his fist slung back, but before he could punch, James bucked up and flipped Mack to his back.
“Stop it!” I yelled, but neither was listening. “James!” I screamed just as his fist connected with Mack’s eye. An explosion of obscenities came from Mack’s mouth as he recovered.
They traded punches, each trying to gain the upper hand. Their big bodies hit walls and furniture, and the very ground vibrated with anger.
“No, no, NO!” I yelled when Mack lifted James from the floor and pushed him into the wall. A picture, the only one I had of my mother before she was too sick, toppled to the ground. The glass shattered and the frame splintered. I looked up from the mess to see Mack press one hand around James’s throat and pull the other back, ready to swing.
“Colin!”
Mack turned, his green eyes glittering, and a cut above his eye swelling. He pursed his lips and looked back at James with murder in his eyes. He gave one last shove and dropped his hands. James stalked away from the wall, fury radiating from his body, and wiped at the cut on his lower lip. They were both panting with exhaustion.
“Better now?” I asked.
“Far from it,” Mack said. “I told you being with him was dangerous.”
“I’m a big girl, Mack. I can take care of myself.”
“Really? Have you seen yourself?” His cheeks were flushed, and his face shone with a fine layer of sweat.
When I didn’t answer, he grabbed me by the arm and spun me to face the mirror over the dresser. James took an automatic step in my direction, but I gave my head a shake. “Look. Look at what he’s done to you.”
I froze when I saw my reflection. I was pale, so much more than normal, and my eyes. They were the same blue but now somehow hollow—like the sockets were too big. It was how my mother looked at the end of her life.
“Now do you understand?”
“James didn’t do this, so stop blaming him.” I wrenched my arm from his grasp, but no matter how many times I blinked, or how many times I tried to erase it from my mind, all I saw were her eyes, my mother’s eyes, staring back at me. “You’re as much a part of this as he is.”
Mack shoved a restless hand through his hair. Under his eye was dark purple now, while a trail of blood spilled from the cut on his brow.
I turned to James. “Do you mind giving us a second? Please?”
James shook his head. “Abby, no.” He stood tall by my side and begged me with his eyes.
“I’ll be fine. Just give me a few minutes.”
His eyes flicked to Mack and back at me. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”
I bent and picked up the photo from the wreckage. Swiping bits of glass from the picture, I placed it on my dresser.
“Why are you here?”
Mack touched a finger to the cut on his brow and winced. “Your father called.”
“Of course he did,” I said, mostly to myself.
“He’s worried about you.”
“So he left?” I gestured in the general direction of the front yard. “And called you to pick up the pieces?”
“He spent most of his career researching ways to correct your mother’s drift. Finding out that his only child is suffering the same fate? You have to know how hard this is for him.”
A ridiculous laugh jumped from my lips. “Hard for him? Are you serious?”
“He watched your mother deteriorate for years—decades. He understands the end game. Do you think that’s easy for him? He’s scared.”
“He doesn’t need to be. I’m going to fix this.” I stared at the hole in the floor and hoped I could make good on my words.
“Then let me help you. Stop shutting me out.”
“You’ve given me no choice. After everything that’s happened—after everything I’ve learned—I don’t trust you.”
Mack was wounded. His shoulders fell, and his hand lifted to plead with me. “What can I do? What can I say?”
“Tell me how you know Nino Roselli, because I know there’s something about him that you haven’t told me.”
He let out a frustrated sigh. “It’s more complicated than that.” I turned to leave, and Mack caught me by the arm, sparking the anger that was already kindling. “Where’re you going?”
“It’s no use talking to you. You say you want to help me, but when I ask questions, you brush them off. How is that supposed to make me feel confident that you’re being honest with me?”
“I only want to help you.”
“We don’t need your help.”
“You may think that you don’t, but I’m a part of this, too, or have you forgotten?”
“How could I, when you are the entire reason James and I never got the chance to live our lives together,” I spat and shook my head.
“That was in the past. I’m not that man anymore. Stop turning this into something it’s not and blaming me for something I can’t correct.”
“I’m not turning it into anything. It is what it is.” I ran my hands through my hair and tried to calm the fire that was burning inside.
&n
bsp; “Then, please, see it for what it is, for Christ’s sake. I’ve spent my life, my career, trying to be everything I wasn’t a century ago. Why do you think I chose the military? Why do you think I chose the FBI when they approached me? I wanted a future better than the past from which I came. I wanted to prove to myself—to everyone—that who I was isn’t who I am. Abby—” He broke off and shoved himself back until he was gripping the edge of my dresser. He sucked in two breaths and exhaled his words. “I want a chance.”
I knew I shouldn’t ask, but I couldn’t help myself. “A chance at what?”
Mack closed the distance between us and lifted his hands as if to touch my face. I flinched, and he dropped them to my shoulders. He was struggling with something. I could see it in the way his eyes jumped, never holding on to anything long enough to see it. “A chance at us. A chance to have the life—the ending—we should’ve had.”
My mouth hung open, with speech just out of reach. I stared at the floor, finding it easier to gather my thoughts when I wasn’t looking directly at him. “Mack—” I began, but words wouldn’t follow.
He released me and rubbed at his neck. “I wish I could change the way that night unfolded. I spent the rest of that life and all of this one trying to make up for my mistakes. Please,” he said.
I stepped back, and a sharp pain twisted in my chest. Since finding out Mack could drift, I never once thought about how his feelings—or his life—were affected. And he’d been dealing with it since before we met. I shook my head. “I’m sorry,” I said. “But I love James.”
He nodded and turned away. Knowing there wasn’t anything else I could say, I left the room. Down the hallway, I stepped into the bathroom and let out an exhausted breath when the door clicked closed. I shut my eyes and searched for the calm that would stop the shaking that consumed my body, and dropped my head against the door.
From the main living area, I heard a heavy thud followed by a short scraping sound, like a chair moving against the floor. I turned toward the door and strained to listen, but there was nothing. Just as my hand wrapped around the door handle, the thump came again, but this time it was followed by a muffled grunt. I opened the door and peered outside.