Forget Me Not

by Stacey Nash

“Teleporting.”

  “No way.” His eyes sparkle.

  I guess I never told him about my last trip to the city. When my plan didn’t work, I just kind of forgot about everything. I hold his gaze and smile.

  “There are four of us, but we’ve only got the porting tech for one.” Jax suddenly sounds tired, like he has no patience for all this idle talk.

  “It worked when I touched you. Can’t we all hold hands?”

  “It doesn’t work that way. It will only port the two people touching the one with bands, anyone else won’t go.”

  Will nods a little too eagerly. “Easy. Lilly, Mae and I can port.”

  Jax splutters and directs a fake smile toward Will. “How are you going to know where to go?”

  “Lilly.”

  She moves from foot to foot, holding her mouth in a strange grimace. “I, ah, have never actually been into Collective territory. I only do rescue missions.”

  Jax reaches across and claps Will on the shoulder. He sits opposite him, across the scrawled plans. “You can’t get rid of me that easy, Dudley.”

  Will shoots him a glare. “How many bikes are there?”

  “Only one that’s rideable,” Jax says.

  “Why don’t two of us port and the other two take the bike? Then we’ve got a spare space when we port back,” I say. We won’t have someone stuck there when we bring Dad home.

  Lilly raises a brow. “Ah, what if you don’t… ah… need that spare space?”

  “It would work.” Jax’s words tumble over the top of Lilly’s.

  My heart takes a dive into my stomach. “I meant, you know, just in case.”

  Will straightens up. “Mae and I will ride. You and Lilly can port.”

  Jax still smirks at Will. Why must he antagonize him all the time? “No go, Dudley. You take Lilly on the bike. Mae can port with me.”

  They glare at each other just like last night in the family room. Just when I need them to be serious they’re acting like pigheaded fools again. Unbelievable. Will needs to realize Jax isn’t going to put me in danger. He’s nothing like Billy French, and he’s not a threat to our friendship. We’ll always be best friends, no matter who else comes and goes in our lives. Heck, I put up with the string of flings he had in the ninth grade. I clear my throat, and they both turn their gazes to me. Neither of them wants to do what the other suggests out of pure stubbornness.

  Idiots.

  Snapping my gaze back to Lilly, I drag my fingers through my untied, frizzy hair. “I’m going with Lilly.”

  She shoots me a knowing smile, bounces across the room, and sinks onto the bed. “It makes sense one of you goes with one of us. You don’t understand tech, you’re not familiar with The Collective, and neither of you have any experience.” She looks from me to Will and settles her gaze on him with a sweet eyelash-batting smile. “Mae can come with me.”

  “Fine,” he says.

  Jax looks from me to Lilly and back again. “I have scanner duty this afternoon. You’ll have to say we swapped.”

  A sigh steals the fun out of her voice. “Shoot. Dad said I can’t fight after last week’s drama. There’s no way they’ll buy me taking your shift.”

  Will glowers at Jax. “Fine. She has to go with you, but if you get her hurt….”

  “Sounds foolproof.” Jax looks a little smug. “It’ll take you longer to get there. We’ll give you a head start.” He turns his wrist over and looks at his wide, trendy watch. “Central Park. Avenue of Elms. Twelve thirty. That gives you two hours.”

  Lilly shoots up off the bed and plants her hands on her hips. “Two hours? We’ll have to speed.”

  “You’ll manage,” Jax says.

  Will’s brow furrows, his jaw juts out, and he looks like someone just told him his bike sucks. His mouth opens to speak, but he snaps it shut and settles for a scowl. I’m not sure if he’s more worried about being separated or about me being with Jax.

  “I promise, I will not go anywhere without you,” I say.

  His shoulders drop with a sigh. “Not a step?”

  I nod. “Not a step.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  WILL AND LILLY LEAVE right away. Jax and I have more time, so we make preparations in stealth. If Beau catches even a whisper of what we’re up to, he’ll find a way to stop us. Or so says Lilly.

  We head out to the workshop where Marcus is bent over the bench top. Pieces of a gadget cover his workspace. He’s so confident here. There’s no sign of the awkward, nerdy guy who eats with us at dinner. He’s comfortable in his domain, surrounded by his tech and tools. Marcus doesn’t look up when we walk through the door. “Hope Will knows what he’s doing, taking my bike like that. I mean, he’d better be a good rider.”

  “Sure is. He’s owned a bike for years. We used to spend every weekend riding.” When we were younger, his dad used to drive us to the reserve on the outskirts of town, and we’d spend all day riding through the brush. I’d sit behind him with the air rushing through my hair, free from the pain of Mom’s disappearance.

  “A dirt bike’s not the same,” Marcus says, his cheek caving in like he chews it.

  He’s right. It’s nothing like the speedy muscle bike Jax and I rode to my house, but Will’s a good rider. “It was only before he got a license. He’s ridden a road bike for the past year.”

  “Good, he’d better bring it back in one piece. Where’s he off to anyway?”

  I look to Jax, but he’s rifling through the large metal locker, not listening at all. I’m not sure if I should trust Marcus. If he’ll snitch on us to Beau or not. He raises his brows and stares at me, waiting for an answer. “Umm, he’s taking Lilly to town.”

  He shoots me a disapproving look. “Don’t lie. You’re all going after your father, aren’t you?”

  He knows. I can’t hide it. “Please don’t tell Beau.”

  He yanks tiny parts out of the gadget, and looks up out of the corner of his eye with a shy smile. “You can trust me. You should take these.”

  He pulls some strange-looking fabric out of a small drawstring bag. When he holds it up, it falls into the shape of a one-piece suit. It’s kind of tan, like the color of Lilly’s skin, and looks like fishnet stockings, only the diamond-shaped holes are much larger. Tiny, raised half-spheres sit at each join of the silky threads.

  “What is it?”

  “I only have three.” He stuffs it back into the bag. “They’re called protect-its. Jax knows how they work.”

  He hands me the package. This must be one of the protective suits Jax mentioned. “Thanks.”

  “I’m actually after a couple of telcoms,” Jax says from over by the cabinet. He’s examining a thick black stick and shoves it into his canvas backpack.

  “I have four.” Marcus retreats to a cupboard at the back of the room.

  “Perfect. What’s Will’s weapon of choice?”

  Jax stuffs a dagger into the bag. He tugs at the zipper, but he’s piled so much in, it won’t close. I can’t help but stifle a small laugh, at the bag and at the thought of Will having a favorite weapon. The thought feels a little alien.

  “I don’t know. He’s never needed one, and I haven’t noticed what he uses in training with Sam.”

  “You should take Mae’s cover-up as well,” Marcus says.

  The brooch is pinned to the inside of my warm woolen coat. I smile to myself and reach for the pendant which never leaves my neck. “Got it.”

  Marcus pats Jax on the back. “Good luck.”

  Jax tosses the dark bag under a table in the hall on our way to the kitchen. It’s too early to leave yet, so we may as well fill our stomachs. Surely full is better than empty. A coffee percolator gurgles on the bench and the smell, oh, the divine smell. He scarfs down a banana in two bites while I’m still holding the coffee pot in my hand. Twisted tangles of nerves fill my belly, leaving no room for food.

  “How can you eat?” I ask.

  A second banana disappears into his mouth. “I’m a growing boy
,” he says around a mouthful. He tries to smile, but it comes out lopsided.

  “Disgusting. Don’t talk with food in your mouth.”

  “Eat.”

  He shoves a plate of cold pancakes—no doubt breakfast leftovers—into my hand. Their sweet smell makes my stomach roil. “We’ve still got plenty of time to kill.” He flips pancakes from a pile beside the stove onto another plate. It’s too late for breakfast; it’s nearly lunchtime. Someone must be making them for lunch.

  “Are we stealing someone’s lunch?”

  I drop the plate onto the bench. He picks it up and pushes it back into my hand.

  “You’re as bad as Dudley.”

  With nothing more than a look, I take it. We enter the dining room with plates piled high and mugs steaming with coffee.

  Beau and his team are still hard at work. Not doing anything. It’s been hours since I confronted them, and they’re still sitting here with paper sprawled out, pretending to help. We were right to take action. I exchange a quick look with Jax as we take a seat on the opposite end of the long table.

  Jax shovels pancakes into his mouth while I slide them around my plate, not hungry at all. Tilting my head to the side, I strain as hard as I can to hear.

  Nothing.

  Only a dull murmur. They talk way too quietly. Sighing, I slouch in my chair. My stomach feels sick and heavy, like I’ve eaten too much, but I haven’t swallowed a bite all day.

  They finally leave; maybe Beau’s tired of me staring. It’s time for us to go too. Jax grabs the bag from under the table, and we stride down the hall to the staircase leading to the basement. When we move onto the stairs a chill runs across the back of my neck. It could be the cool damp air, or it could be the dank, musty smell, or it could just be my nerves. I flick my collar up and pull my coat around me, glad to have one this time. On the last step my breath holds, stalling in my lungs. Who’s going to be there? Hopefully we will get around them. At least it’s not Beau.

  We step into the empty basement. The lights on the scanner are flashing, but no one watches, which is really weird. Oh well, it works in our favor. Air rushes between my lips.

  “I thought you said there’s always someone on duty.”

  “Hmm, it is a bit odd.”

  Jax goes straight to the computer and clicks at the keyboard with his head cocked to the side, setting the address of our destination. Chestnut locks fall in his face and brush his cheeks. His shoulders and arms curve and divot in perfect muscles as he works at the keyboard. I wonder what it’s like to touch them, what it would feel like to run my hands over them. I snap my slack mouth shut just before he turns around and meets my gaze. My cheeks burn, and my gaze falls.

  “Okay, we’re ready.” He passes me the drawstring bag containing the port bands.

  “You wear them this time.”

  He shakes his head. “No. You might need to get your dad out quickly.”

  He’s right. Dad’s the priority. I pull the bands over my wrists, making sure the nodes sit flush against my skin. “This time stay within arm’s reach,” I say, knowing he won’t.

  He doesn’t answer, just graces me with a lopsided smile.

  I move to the red circle in the center of the port-all mat. Jax throws the canvas bag over his shoulder and moves toward me, hands outstretched. I give him a small, uncertain smile and take his hands in mine. The warmth of his palms against mine shoots a tingle through me. He doesn’t squeeze, so neither do I.

  We stand like frozen statues in the bull’s-eye, his gaze flicking across my face, making my tummy flutter. Surely he’s not nervous. This is Jax. He doesn’t know what the word nervous means. He extends two fingers on his left hand to my wrist and taps the node once, twice, three times.

  “Stop!” Beau bursts from the narrow stairwell, but it’s too late. Jax taps the fourth time.

  We fall.

  Downwards, like leaves from a tree floating to the ground. Still not understanding how I can see him while we port, the thought slips from my mind as I focus on his face instead of the blackness. The feeling of being all alone, just the two of us in a vast sea of nothing, reminds me of our kiss. He scans the darkness, searching for what, I’m not sure. It gives me the chance to watch him. A small white scar shaped like a crescent cuts through his left eyebrow, so fine it’s barely noticeable.

  It’s over. The floating, dreamy sway ends with my stomach in my throat.

  We sink.

  His face contorts in an odd expression like he’s holding in the need to vomit.

  We land in a thick copse of bushes.

  “What’s so funny?” he asks.

  I force my mouth into straightness. “The last little bit’s unpleasant, eh?”

  “Roller coasters and porting, they’re the same. Just the last bit makes me want to puke.”

  A giggle bubbles in my throat, but I stifle it with a hand to my mouth. Better not laugh at the first sign of him showing friendship, sharing a tiny piece of himself.

  The bubble escalates into a gurgle, and I can’t help the laugh bursting through my lips. “You puke on roller coasters?”

  “All the up and down, round and round. It’s unnatural for people to move like that.”

  I try to force my mouth to stay straight, but it’s no use. I can’t stop laughing.

  “They’re stupid things. Who wants to feel like that anyway?” He raises a loose fist and pretends to punch me in the arm.

  I clutch the stitch in my side while he strolls away. Taking long, slow breaths, I pull myself together and stride to catch up.

  “Sorry.” I force down a smile. “You should have seen the look on your face.”

  “Can’t take your eyes off me, can you?”

  I roll my eyes. He thinks he’s so hot, like I check him out every chance I can. The tip of my tongue burns with the desire to say I wasn’t looking, but that’s a lie, and we both know it. I pull at my impossibly tight shirt, trying to drag it away from my body while he ambles down the path, chuckling.

  His quick comebacks remind me of Dad. Mom used to complain that he enjoyed making her squirm. An image of Dad, curled up in a ball in the corner of a dim, dark prison with rats scurrying around him flashes into my mind. My stomach sinks. No food, no water, no warmth. We are his hope. I suck in a sharp breath and expel it as a whimper.

  Jax appears at my side, his hand sliding into mine with a squeeze. “We’ll get him out, I promise.”

  We will. I believe him.

  With Jax’s help, I can rescue Dad. We can do this and, no matter what happens, Dad and I will be together. My stomach turns upside down, but this is too important. I push the nervousness away. I need to be strong. Something about Will coming along just doesn’t feel right either. I can’t quite put my finger on it; maybe I’m worried for him too. Worried he’ll get hurt or get in the way trying to keep me safe from danger.

  Jax squeezes my hand again, bringing me back from my thoughts. We’re in another park. A long, wide, straight footpath disappears into far-off trees. Each side of it is lined with tall elms whose branches reach over the path, creating an abundance of dappled shade. This must be the Avenue of Elms. Park benches dot each side of the path like flowers. I glance all the way along, but I can’t see anyone who looks like Will or Lilly.

  “They’re not here.”

  “They’ll be a while yet. Maybe half hour.” Jax lowers himself on the closest green bench and leans forward, resting his head in his hands. He looked so tired this morning, like he hadn’t slept in days. He must feel even worse by now. I sink onto the cold, hard bench beside him.

  “What are you grinning at?” I ask him.

  Jax looks up, the biggest smirk I’ve ever seen dancing on his lips. He nods toward the bands on my wrist. “Pity we only get one jump with those things. We’ll be jumping back into the basement, and Beau—” His words are cut short by laughter. “Did you see the look on his face?”

  I smile, and secretly hope they don’t come to try and stop us.

>   We sit for a long time, neither of us speaking. His back rises and falls with each breath. Maybe he dozed off. I glance around the park, which seems like it’s a popular escape from the city. Parents watch their children playing on the green lawn, men and women dressed in lycra jog along the path, and dogs yank on their leads, walking their owners.

  Finally, Jax sits up and relaxes back into the seat.

  “Did you sleep last night?” I ask.

  He shrugs and doesn’t answer. It must mean it’s not worth talking about. I open my mouth, and the first thought to cross my mind blurts out. “You can fight, you’re wicked with a blade, you get a rush out of danger, Ace loves you to bits, and you don’t like roller coasters. Tell me more about you.”

  He raises an eyebrow and looks at me like I’ve gone as crazy as Al. Oh my God, I think I have, that was so lame. I need to give it a better shot.

  “Come on. If we have to wait for half an hour, I need to distract myself with something or I’ll go insane.” I reach up and clutch at my pendant. “How did you come to be with the resistance?”

  “My parents dumped me there,” he says with as much interest as if he’s telling me he just ate pancakes for lunch. “What about you, what happened to your mother?” He glances down the wide avenue.

  “She disappeared when I was eight.” I swallow past the lump in my throat, searching for the words to continue. If I want him to open up, maybe I need to first. “Dad came home from work, I came home from school, and she was gone.” I stare at the ground and scuff my boot along it.

  He nods to the pendant clutched between my fingers. “That cover-up, it’s hers?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did she know what it is? It could explain her disappearance.”

  Wow. Why didn’t I think of that? Perhaps she was a resistance member or maybe, like me, she used it, not knowing it was tech? Did an agent come and take her away… no, she only had half. Crazy Al’s had the brooch. Just the pendant belonged to her. So it can’t be what happened. This was supposed to be about him, not me. Time to turn the conversation back around.

  “I don’t know. Where are your parents now?”