by Amy Murray
“You’ll pay for this. Somehow, someway,” James said. “I’ll make sure of it.” His face was pale and nearly as lifeless as my own.
“No,” Roselli answered. “I don’t think so.” He holstered his gun. “But you’re welcome to try. That is, if you can get up before I get out.”
From somewhere in my center I felt a tug, like someone had reached inside me and pulled me inside out. I let it happen, anything to get me out of this hell. It was a quick shift, and my lungs suddenly burned like they’d been starved of oxygen. I opened my mouth and sucked in a breath so fast it was a gasp. I turned onto my elbow and coughed until my stomach seized.
Blinking rapidly, I brought the room into focus. I was no longer standing over my body. I was inside it. Mack lay partially on top of James, pinning him to the ground, and Roselli stood over us, shocked and appalled.
Before I could think through what I was about to do, I reached forward and closed my hands over the gun that had fallen from James’s hand. Turning to Roselli, I shot twice. The sound was deafening.
He fell, and I scrambled to my knees. Roselli wasn’t moving, but I kept the gun trained on him for several seconds until I realized he was dead. Outside, tires squealed as his accomplice fled.
I dropped the weapon and looked around in sudden and complete silence. I hadn’t aimed with any intent other than to stop him, but I managed to hit him once in the head and once in the heart.
I knelt next to Mack and lifted his shoulders enough that James could pull his injured leg out from underneath. Carefully, I rolled Mack back down and wasted no time pressing my hands against his wound. When the blood began to seep between my fingers, I swallowed back the rise of vomit. I’d done this before. I’d watched death stain my hands, and it was happening again.
“Colin?” I whispered.His eyes fluttered open, but his lids remained heavy. “Hang on, okay? Hang on.” I kept one hand on his chest and reached for the telephone sitting on the end table. I dialed 911 and spoke with the operator. I don’t know how I made any kind of sense—my voice was shaking, and my words stumbled over one another.
“Ma’am,” the operator said. “The ambulance is on its way. Stay on the line, okay?”
Mack’s eyes fluttered, and I dropped the phone. “Colin?” I asked.
“You’re alive,” he breathed, and his eyes drifted closed.
I shook his shoulder. “Please, you can’t die. Not now. Colin, please.”
His eyes opened a quarter of an inch. “I love hearing you say my name.” He attempted a smile, but it faded with a grimace. “I’m so sorry, for everything.”
“Don’t be sorry. It wasn’t you. You didn’t kill James that night, it was Roselli.”
“I know,” he breathed.
“Then why did you let me believe it had been you?”
“Because it doesn’t change the fact that I would’ve. I would’ve done it without thinking twice. You’ve deserved better from me, but you have to know that everything I did after that moment—it’s always been for you.” Colin stared at me, his brow furrowed, his lips tight with pain. “I love you. I always have.” His eyes closed. “I always will.”
My breath seemed too loud in the ensuing silence.
“Colin?” I asked giving him a little shake. I didn’t want to admit that his blood had stopped pulsing between my fingers. “Colin,” I said more loudly. When he didn’t answer I grabbed his hand and pressed my face into his chest and screamed.
“Abby,” James’s words were whispered, pained.
I pulled away from Mack and turned to James. “He’s gone.”
James nodded once, and the fire that had always lit his eyes was dim, like it was seconds from blowing out.
“I’m sorry.” James words trailed into nothing, and he closed his eyes.
My entire body shook in a way that rattled my bones. I was cold, I was hot. I was devastated and relieved. There were too many emotions fighting to be heard. I fell against James’s side where he pulled me weakly in to his chest and held me while I cried.
“Don’t cry,” he said. “This isn’t the end. You know it isn’t.” He gave me one last squeeze and his hand fell from my back. The muscles at his neck and shoulder loosened, and his head lolled away from me.
My knees curled protectively into my chest, and I wrapped my arms around his waist, breathing him in. The pain that sliced my heart probed deeper with every passing second until my insides were eviscerated, and I was hollow.
Sirens blared, and lights flashed blue and red through the windows. When they cut off, there was no sound aside from my gasping tears.
Someone was talking from beyond the front door, and the 911 operator told me to open it, but I couldn’t answer. Instead, I rolled to my back, and with my head still nestled on James’s shoulder, I reached to my right and took Colin’s limp hand in my own.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Spring was usually my favorite time of year. So many new beginnings, and possibilities seemed not only endless, but guaranteed. I leaned back and basked in sunlight that blinded me even while my eyes were closed. Sand worked its way under my shirt and between my toes, and as the water lapped against the beach. It carried the echo of a distant time and place. The nightmares from that day still haunted me, but my drift—a nightmare of its own—had vanished.
Colin was pronounced dead that evening, and a small memorial service was held four days later. I hated that I wasn’t able to tell him that, finally, I understood why he did the things he did, and to this day, nearly three months later, when I thought of him, regret rose inside me with such ferocity that I wished I could claw my skin off just to relieve the pressure.
The FBI cleaned everything up. They’d taken over the police investigation, and they’d given me a cover story to explain the events at my father’s house. It was a stupid story, but whatever I thought of it, it worked. Gracie believed the events of the robbery in progress that Colin, James, and I conveniently walked in on, but every time I had to tell the story, another layer of ice wrapped around my heart. Colin deserved better. James deserved better. The real sacrifices they made deserved to be known.
But it wasn’t my decision. Agent Alistair, Colin’s boss, reminded me over and over and over again how important it was that no one—“and, I repeat, no one”—know what really happened. The truth was more dangerous than fiction. But even knowing that, there were a thousand times I almost told Gracie the truth.
Yesterday marked my last final exam, which meant the semester was officially over. I couldn’t believe it. I thought for sure I’d have to repeat my classes, but my professors were willing to work with me and provided extensions where they could. They didn’t ease up. I’d still had to come in and make-up every test. I’d still had to turn in every paper. I’d still had to study like hell for exams. But in the end, I got it done.
Footsteps shuffling in the sand caught my attention. I opened my eyes and squinted into the sun. The person approaching was a silhouette in the bright light, but I knew from the slow, easy gait who was coming.
“Hey,” James said. He stood over me. His body was dripping wet and his eyes, as dark as ever, were narrowed with solemnity.
“Hi.” I patted the sand next to me. “Join me?”
He sat and leaned against his palms, nodding briefly at the surf in front of us. “Gracie and Xander seem happy.”
I looked out to the water and saw the way Gracie was looking at her friend. “It’s only a matter of time before they get together.”
It was then that Xander leaned forward and kissed Gracie without warning. “I guess that moment is now,” James said. I turned away and rolled to my side to better face him.
I didn’t say anything for a while, and neither did he. “A moving truck came.” I couldn’t finish my sentence.
James gave a short nod of his head. “I heard Gracie telling Xander.”
This morning, I’d heard noises outside the apartment. I looked through the peephole and my eyes nearly bulged out of
my head. Colin’s apartment door was propped open. I’d flung myself outside only to be greeted by a crew of men packing and hauling boxes. Over the last few weeks, I’d often wondered what would become of his things. This morning I found out, and it was like he’d died all over again.
“Sometimes, it feels like I can’t breathe. Like no matter how big a gulp of air I take, it’s never enough. This morning was like that. I mean, they were just throwing things in boxes without care. Without respect.”
James was quiet. He was wearing a short-sleeved white T-shirt—the first I’d ever seen him in—which showed his scars unapologetically. He was tracing one of them with his finger in a way that made me think it was unconscious, and I smiled.
“Do you miss him?” He dropped his head and turned to look at me from under his lashes. “I’m sorry. That was a stupid question.”
“No, it’s not.” Bands of grief wound their way around my ribs so that every time I took a breath, I was reminded of how difficult it actually was. “I thought I’d come to terms with it. You know?” I fell silent and dug my fingers into the loose sand. “But seeing them clear out his apartment, to know it would be available for someone else to rent—I guess I’d always thought he’d eventually come home. As crazy as that sounds.”
James was slowly nodding, but he didn’t interrupt.
“I know he’s gone. I know it, it’s just that a part of me—irrational as it may be—doesn’t really believe it.”
I peeked at him, half expecting to see him scooting away in fear. Instead he was nodding like he understood what I was going through.
“After my mom died,” James began. “I saw her everywhere. From the corner of my eye or in a crowd of nameless faces.” He rubbed his hands together and stared out into nothing. “I think it was because I never saw her body. I buried her, but what was left wasn’t much. It all fit in this tiny box.” James’s hands mimicked the shape. “I mean, how could my mom be in there?”
My heart twisted. “Have you stopped seeing her?”
“Sometimes I think I have. But then I’ll be walking and see a head of black hair, and I have to remind myself all over again that she’s gone.”
“This is all my fault. All of it. His death, and what happened to you. I mean, you were almost killed. If I’d found the diamond, none of this would’ve happened. It doesn’t seem fair that I escaped without a scratch.”
“You almost died, Abby. I wouldn’t say you came out unscathed.”
I shrugged, but his words didn’t lift the guilt.
“You can’t hold the blame.” James shifted me toward him and looked me in the eyes. “None of this is your fault.”
“I can’t see it any other way. And believe me, I’ve tried.”
James clucked his tongue. He took my hands in his and rubbed his thumbs over the tops. “Do you blame your mother for her drift? For the things that happened because of it?”
I shook my head. “No. She couldn’t help it.”
“Right, she had no control over what was happening to her. Just like you had no control over what you could and could not see.”
“All the same, I wish I would’ve found it in time. Maybe all of this could’ve been avoided,” I said.
James took in a breath and held it for a moment before speaking. “What if finding the diamond was never the reason for your drift? Have you ever thought of that?”
“What would it have been then? What was the purpose?”
James sat quiet for several moments, and when he spoke his words were careful and crafted. “I don’t know. That’s something you’ll need to figure out on your own, but for me, it’s been about finding you.” He placed his hand on top of mine. “For McCormack, it was protecting you.”
“He died protecting you,” I reminded him.
James’s brow furrowed. “And why do you think he did that? I can guarantee it wasn’t for me as much as it was for you.”
I’d spent hours dissecting the last moments of Colin’s life, and no matter which way I looked at it, I knew James was right. He’d died to save James for me, and it twisted my heart so hard it was physically painful.
“I don’t want my drift hurting anyone else.”
“It won’t.”
“How do you know?” And here we were at the root of my biggest fear. Since finding out he was going to survive, I’ve lived with a simmering panic I’d wake up and James would be gone. Just like that. Just like Colin.
The wind picked up and blew my hair across my face. James reached forward and pushed it behind my ear. “Have you had a drift since the last?”
The way his hand was tickling the skin at my neck caused gooseflesh to rise on my arms. “No.”
He leaned forward and pressed his lips to my neck just below my ear. “What about now?”
I swallowed. “No.”
“And now?” He trailed his lips up my neck.
“Nothing.”
James pulled his scruffy cheek across mine and placed a gentle kiss against my lips before pulling back to look me in the eye. “I think you’ve seen everything you were meant to see, and whatever the reason for your drift, it’s gone now. You can’t keep blaming yourself for things that exist outside your control.”
“I want to believe that. I just can’t get rid of the feeling that it’s waiting for something. My mother’s drift never left, it never let go, not once in all the years she suffered. So, why would mine just stop? It doesn’t make sense.”
“I don’t know.” He gripped my hand in his and squeezed. “But maybe it’s time to put your drift behind you.” I was about to protest when he shook his head and spoke. “I’m not telling you to forget. What I’m saying is not to worry about drifting while you don’t have to. Remember what you saw, remember McCormack, remember us, but don’t let it keep you from living.”
Moving on. Putting this behind me, behind us. Was it possible? I looked from our linked hands to his face. I’d never doubted the reasons for my drift in the early days. It had always been about James. About finding him. About realizing how much we’d lost. Only later had it been confused and manipulated by the desires of others. Roselli wasn’t coming back, I’d made sure of that, so why was I still so scared?
I blew out a breath and lay down in the sand. “During that last drift, I watched myself die. I was floating on top of the ocean, and I was at peace. Nothing hurt, it was like I was outside of myself, and it was beautiful. I wasn’t coming back. A part of me didn’t want to. I was happy there.”
James furrowed his brow. “Then how? Why?”
I took a slow breath. “You,” I said, reaching for his hands. “You brought me back. I heard your voice. Once I realized what was happening, I knew I had to come back.”
James stared at me, silently. He pulled his hands from mine and ran them through the length of my hair before linking them behind my neck. There was a breath of anticipation that swelled between us, and my heart picked up a beat.
“When you died, I thought I’d lost everything. How cruel was fate to bring us so close just to take you from me?” He studied my face as if he were memorizing it. “I’m never letting you go. I love you.”
I didn’t wait for him to make the first move. I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his, needing the connection more than words. The early spring air whipped around us, and I smelled the salt of the ocean. I wasn’t entirely convinced my drift was gone for good, but right here, right now, was exactly where I was supposed to be.
And maybe, just maybe, that was the reason for it all.
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Acknowledgments
I want to thank my husband, David, and my two beautiful children, Jon David and Taylor. Your support, encouragement, and understanding during this process has meant so much to me. You guys are my world.
To my agent, Michelle Wolfson. Thank you for loving Drift first.
I feel so lucky to have you standing beside me.
I want to thank everyone at Entangled who had a hand in this book. Particularly, my editor extraordinaire, Candace Havens. Thank you for making Drift better than I could’ve ever done on my own. It is so bright and shiny thanks to you.
To my mom and dad. Thank you for your unwavering support through all my adventures. Words will never be able to express my gratitude.
To my sister-in-law, Karli, for your crucial insights and perspectives, and to my brother, David.
To my friends, Alicia and Teija. Thanks for encouraging me when I was down and for making me laugh when I wanted to cry. Our gang is the best.
Lastly, I want to thank my sister, Gretchen, for reading every draft of Drift and loving them all, even the ones that were horrible. Thank you for always being kind. For always listening. And for always being my champion. I’m not sure this book would have been finished without you.
About the Author
Amy Murray graduated from the University of Houston with a B.S. in Psychology. She lives in Cypress, Texas with her husband and two children.
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