Drake wasn’t your typical faery. He didn’t get “normal” assignments. They were complicated, and he normally didn’t “get” what he was supposed to do. But he’d never been reprimanded—ever. In fact, he’d never gotten any feedback at all. So, he assumed he was doing okay. He just went with his gut. And his gut in this case told him the boy needed help—but he didn’t need to die.
So, Drake stuck around, helping the boy as much as he could. He wanted to just stay in the body—the boy didn’t realize he was there—and actually having a physical body Drake found to be fantastic. Feeling wind, sunshine, rain. But the pain the man provoked upon the boy—it was immense. The boy wanted to kill the man. Drake wanted to kill the man.
And Drake found he had no real control over his emotions. It was curious, suddenly having so many feelings. He never realized what humans went through. What they experienced. And there was this thing—love. The boy had it for his family, for his sister, Regan. But they were gone. His family was no longer in the boy’s life. Drake didn’t understand. Something had happened. But the boy refused to think about it, to let Drake comprehend. The boy did that a lot. Held things back. Consciously or unconsciously—Drake wasn’t sure—but the boy blocked things out. He refused to contemplate his feelings. So, Drake was left with holes. Feelings he didn’t understand. The boy had loved his sister, Regan. He cried for her practically every night. But now—for some reason—the boy was with these people. They twisted the word love, leaving Drake, as well as the boy, completely confused.
But through the boy’s torment and agony, Drake discovered Rafe still found solace at night with thoughts of home—his other home. The thoughts were hazy and uncertain, but they were there. And the thoughts that seemed the strongest to Drake were those of the boy’s twin sister, Regan. She was part of the boy. And somehow she became a part of Drake. Because slowly, over time, Drake and the boy became one.
So, when it happened—when at last, at age seventeen, the boy came across his long beloved sister—it was Drake’s first experience of love. And although the intense emotion wasn’t the same as Rafe would have otherwise felt for his sister, it was love nonetheless. It tied him to her forever—into the eternities and beyond. It couldn’t be shook or escaped or even examined. It was simply there, and would always be there, until the end of time.
***
Regan had been away at boarding school when she got the news that her twin brother, Rafe, had been found.
Her mother called her dorm, sobbing with joy. “He’s in New York. We’re flying out there to see him tonight.”
Regan couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Rafe had been missing for ten years. The conversation seemed unreal.
Regan wiped a gush of tears away on her sleeve. “I want to come too!” she begged. “Please mom, let me come.”
“No, sweetie.” Her mother was sympathetic. She knew how desperately Regan wanted to see her twin. The whole family did. But she had been advised by the police what was best for her son. “He’s gotten into some trouble. There’s some sticky business we’re going to have to deal with. We need to go alone. Stay at school and dance.”
Dance? Regan’s school dance recital seemed inconsequential now. She didn’t care about dancing or school. She only cared about her brother. She wanted to be home to see him. That was all she wanted. Nothing else mattered, nothing. However, no matter how hard she begged, her mother wouldn’t budge. Regan had to stay at school.
“But it’s him mom? There’s no question—it’s him?”
“Regan—sweetie,” sobbing, laughing, crying, “it’s Rafe.”
After hanging up, Regan stood for a moment in the dorm hallway, mesmerized with wonder. She couldn’t believe it; it was too amazing to be true. After all these years, Rafe had been found. He was alive! He was coming home!
Regan raced to her room and belly flopped across her bed. She was tempted to tell her roommate the exciting news, but resisted the impulse. Bella knew nothing of Rafe’s disappearance. She didn’t even know Regan had a twin brother. Regan had told no one at her boarding school. There had been no point to bringing up the subject. Her family had pretty much given Rafe up for dead, and that was too personal for Regan to talk about with anyone, even Bella. So, she kept the pain of her loss to herself. Generally, that’s what she did with most things—she kept them to herself.
***
It was hard for Regan to get through the rest of the week. She didn’t want to wait until Friday to see Rafe. She wanted to see him now, this minute. But no matter how hard she begged and pleaded her parents always gave the same answer. “Wait until the weekend,” they insisted. “We’ll have a family party for him Saturday—with the whole family—a family reunion.”
Regan didn’t want to meet Rafe at a party, where she had to share him with the rest of her family. He’d be mobbed with nephews, nieces, and sisters. She wanted him all to herself, completely to herself, for at least a week, more actually—forever. She and Rafe had been close as children, best friends, truly best friends. She desperately wanted that again.
When Friday night finally rolled around, Regan called her parent’s house over and over but no one answered. Finally, about nine, Regan’s oldest sister, Donnett, showed up. She looked hassled. No one in Regan’s family liked to make the three-hour trek up to Pendrell’s School of Dance, Regan’s boarding school. But Regan refused to move back home and go to her old school—the school where everyone hated her and called her a murderer.
Regan sighed, disappointed to see Donnett walk in her dorm door. She was expecting her parents and really hoping Rafe would be with them.
“What’s he like, Donnett?” Regan asked on the long drive home.
“He seems really nice—polite,” Donnett said. “It’s strange though. He doesn’t look like the kind of guy who’d be polite—wait until you see him.”
“Wait until I see him?!” Regan groaned in frustration. “That’s all I’ve been doing! I’m beginning to think I never will see him.”
“Just a couple more hours.” Donnett smiled with a teasing gleam in her eyes. “Patience, Regan.”
Regan sat in silence. Patience was not one of her virtues. “So, what does he look like?”
Donnett thought about it for a moment. “Well, he’s really big—masculine, you know? And, handsome. Ruggedly handsome—I guess that’s a fitting expression. And, how old are you guys?—seventeen? He looks a lot older. Regan, he’s gorgeous.”
“So, he’s good looking?” Regan asked with a smile, since basically that was the only thing Donnett had said.
“Regan, babe, he could be a model.”
That made Regan happy for some reason. She guessed it was because she’d started to picture him differently in her mind and she was saddened by what she saw. Regan had conjured up an image of a timid, skinny boy who looked as though he’d been abused—kind of like a puppy that had been mistreated and kicked around a lot—pathetic and scared of everything. It was heartening to hear he was ruggedly handsome. Ruggedly handsome—it was a cheerful image.
“Why then,” Regan asked, “doesn’t he look as if he’d be polite?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s just because I knew he must’ve been through all kinds of awful things, you know? So when I first saw him, and he looked all tough, and had face stubble and tattoos and piercings, I just expected him to be different. I was afraid all of his experiences had made him bitter and hard—but he wasn’t like that. He was really sweet, and he has the most adorable smile. He just wasn’t what I first expected at all.”
So, Regan had expected him to be timid and afraid, and Donnett had expected him to be mean. Regan was happy to learn they were both wrong. It made her heart feel lighter. Not that she would have loved him any less if he’d been scared, or mean. No matter what problems he had, she was just glad to get her brother back.
When Regan finally reached home it was long after twelve, and she was disappointed, but not surprised, to discover everyone had gone to bed. She
tossed and turned all night, too excited to sleep. When she finally did drowse off, she had a horrifying dream about Rafe. She woke sobbing and trembling. In the dream Rafe had become a monster while he was away—with garbled speech and soulless eyes. The dream had frightened her beyond reason and made her afraid to see Rafe.
Regan curled up in a tight ball, throwing the covers over her head. She couldn’t stop shaking—her body was a shivering wreck.
She wanted to go back to sleep. It wasn’t even six yet, but she couldn’t stop her thoughts from returning to the nightmare.
Finally, she pulled herself out of bed, not even tempted to peek at her sleeping brother as she passed his closed door on her way to the bathroom. The dream had made her frightened to see him—frightened that all of the horrible experiences he’d faced during his time away from them had warped and twisted his brain, and turned him into a monster with no soul.
The warmth of the shower relaxed her, and helped calm her fears, but it couldn’t abate them entirely. The dream had seemed so real. The memory of it lingered, haunting her mind.
Regan slipped into her leotard and quietly made her way downstairs to the den. Ballet always helped her unwind, and at the moment she desperately needed unwinding.
Regan glided to the music, getting lost in ballet.
“Mom,” she said as she pirouetted, sensing her mother in the doorway rather than actually looking and seeing her there, “when Rafe wakes up—oh!”
Regan flushed, stopping in mid-sentence.
Her breath caught and her heart thumped spastic in her chest as she stared at the person in the doorway. It wasn’t her mother after all…. It was the most incredibly handsome boy she’d ever seen. Only … it was more than just that he was handsome. There was almost a glow about him, a light radiating from him like something magical. Something … yes, magical.
Regan slowly came down from her toes, gazing at the beautiful boy in wonder.
He stood leaning against the doorframe, his intense gaze stirring something inside her that made her flush.
The way he was staring, it was as though he’d been watching a long time. Realizing that did funny things to Regan’s thundering heart, made it fluttery and wild.
The boy’s hungry eyes sparked as Regan’s gaze met his. He wet his lips, seeming to drink her in—her long hair, her pale skin, her red lips. Every inch of her. It made her catch her breath and want to hide. To be alone—just for a moment—to collect her baffled thoughts.
She had experienced so many feelings since learning Rafe was alive—elation, excitement, even fear. But his heated gaze wasn’t something she anticipated, not at all. It stirred something inside her that even in her wildest dreams she could never have foreseen. It confused her, made her want to escape from his gaze so she could examine her emotions—and get a grip. However, even with that strong desire—to run and hide—there was still that glow about him—like a magical draw.
Regan stood frozen. Uncertain.
All week long, she had envisioned this moment, dreamed of it—finally seeing Rafe again. She had imagined she would run to him and throw her arms around him and cry into his chest, gushing on and on and on forever about how wonderful it was to have him back. She had planned to give him a hero’s welcome. Instead, she stood frozen and silent. It was so lame! Yet, she could do nothing but stare at the beautiful boy.
Regan swallowed hard. Come on, Regan! You’re being stupid. And crazy. Get a grip!
“I’m sorry,” she said clumsily. “I thought you were my mom.”
Her words seemed to make the boy’s gaze relent slightly. The hungry spark Regan had first caught in his eyes seemed to soften, turning tender, maybe even brotherly. Maybe.
“Our mom,” he murmured.
His voice was low and husky, alluring beyond belief, but she latched on to his beautiful words. It was Rafe.
He’s home. Rafe’s home!
Her throat went tight and her eyes welled with tears.
“Rafe,” she managed to choke out, but that was all she could say.
He gave a slight nod, still watching her as though she was going to melt away.
Regan bit her lip, wanting to do it—rush to him and throw her arms around him as she had always envisioned. But he didn’t have on a shirt. It would be awkward.
She took a tentative step toward him anyway, but it made his eyes spark again. Regan froze, her heart pounding. It thundered in her ears over the soft, flowing music she had been dancing to only moments earlier.
Rafe wet his lips, eyeing the distance between them. Slowly, his gaze flickered back to Regan. His dark eyes glistened, making her breath catch once again.
They stood like that, silent, until their mom came bounding into the charged room, bubbling with happiness.
“You’re both up early,” she chirped, not noticing her sudden entrance had made them both jump.
She smiled. “I thought I heard voices down here. I was planning on running to the market to get some breakfast fixings before you got up—but you’re already up.”
Rafe nodded, his gaze cutting to the little dancer who stood frozen and silent. “Yeah, I guess I was just excited to see Regan.”
“Did she wake you?” Mrs. Turner asked with a laugh, knowing how anxious Regan had been to see him.
“No, I did it on my own,” he said, as though he too was amazed.
Mrs. Turner beamed, still giddy to have her son home. “Well, how do pancakes sound this morning?”
“Anything’s fine,” he shrugged. “I don’t usually eat breakfast.”
“Then lets have waffles,” Regan suggested—finally finding her voice. It helped having Mom in the room—a little normalcy.
Waffles were Regan’s favorite. Usually she was the celebrity around the house and got meals planned around her, since she only came home on the weekends, if even then. Her mom always made big, elaborate breakfasts while she was home, apparently liking Regan to think she was missing all this great food while she was away at school. But her youngest sister, Carly, told her that on weekdays they normally just had cold cereal for breakfast.
Before Mrs. Turner left for the grocery store she turned to her son. “Rafe, don’t forget, you have an appointment with Dr. Heath at eight.”
Regan knew about Dr. Heath, the psychiatrist Rafe would have to see for the next few years. The couple that had abducted Rafe had been demented and cruel. He needed help to recover.
Also, the New York police had only released Rafe from their custody on the condition he live under his parent’s supervision for the next year and receive scheduled psychiatric counseling, as he had gotten into trouble with the law. The trouble was a bad thing, of course, only the family wasn’t seeing it quite that way, since Rafe’s getting into trouble was how they had come to find him in the first place.
Regan snuck a quick look at Rafe before he started upstairs to shower and dress. He glanced back at her at that exact same moment. He caught her gaze unexpectedly and a small smile crept across his lips.
His smile was like the sun shining through a window, lighting up everything it touched, warming everything it touched. The startling feeling it stirred in Regan made her gasp.
“Oh!”
She had to look away. Had to. So she could breathe.
Her heart felt as though it was going to burst as she ran upstairs to her room and flung herself across her bed. There she lamented. Why oh why had she just stared at him like that? It was embarrassing. And crazy. And weird.
She desperately wished she had handled everything differently. She wished she’d like, actually spoken, said something meaningful or comforting. Or anything. Anything at all. Now it was too late. He must think she was a freak-o spaz, the way she’d just stood there, gawking at him. Of course, he’d done the same … but it was different for him. Way different. He’d been abducted and abused; he’d been traumatized. He had an excuse. A HUGE excuse. She didn’t have any. None at all. She was just weird—apparently.
Only … it
had been like she was in a trance. Seriously. A supernatural trance. Ugh. Whatever.
Okay, she was weird. Weird, weird, weird.
***
Regan could hear music coming from Rafe’s room. A guitar. It made her stop lamenting about him, and catch her breath as a strange sensation washed through her—a yearning to be near him. It was almost impossible to resist.
As if Rafe were the Pied Piper himself, leading her with his music, she woke to find herself standing outside of his closed bedroom door, transfixed. The music was haunting. Beautiful.
She put her hand on the doorknob, but didn’t dare go into the room. Instead, she squeezed her eyes shut. This is crazy! Yet the music called to her. Stirred things inside her that she didn’t understand, things that made her long to be near Rafe.
Regan, don’t do this. You’re going to make an idiot of yourself.
She couldn’t do as she wished, though—go back to her room. She stood frozen, listening to the breathtaking music, her heart in her throat. And her soul wanting to be on the other side of the door.
However, the instant Rafe’s music stopped, Regan blinked, as though waking from a dream. What was she doing here?
Confused, she snatched her hand from the doorknob, ready to scramble back to her room, but immediately Rafe opened his door. Regan sucked in her breath.
They stared at each other.
Rafe’s breathing seemed to grow as rapid as Regan’s pounding heart.
He tilted his head. “Do you want to come in?”
He opened the door further for her, but Regan didn’t move. Indecisiveness flickered in her eyes. She didn’t want to explain why she couldn’t come in, but she couldn’t come in. She wasn’t ready. Not yet. It was silly, she knew that, and she wished desperately that things were different, but she had to get used to him. Right now he was like a boy to her—a guy.
Rafe bit his lip, watching her.
His warm brown eyes stayed locked on hers. Slowly, carefully, he held out his hand to her. The unexpected gesture made Regan’s heart pound.
Fall Forever (Fall For Me) Page 8