Magic Minutes (The Time Series Book 2)

by Jennifer Millikin

  “I just don’t want to see you hurt,” she says quietly. “It’s really nothing against her. You’re going way out on a limb, and I…” she trails off, shrugging and twisting her lips.

  “I appreciate your concern, and you get a raise because I’m certain I didn’t include driving me around and tending to my injury as part of your job description.”

  I start up the driveway without waiting for Miranda’s response.

  She gets back into the idling car, and I knock on the door. When nobody answers, I go around the side of the house and find a gate. Lifting my hand over the top, I flip up the latch, using my shoulder to prop the door open and finagle my way inside. My crutches are silent on the soft grass. I’m so quiet, Ember never hears me. Neither does Matt.

  I stop right where I am and watch them. They’re on the far side of the yard, seated on a couch. Heads bent toward each other, they talk in low voices. A light breeze picks up a strand of Ember’s hair and sends it flying. Matt catches it, tucking it behind her ear. Ember’s face turns up in a smile, and she presses a cupped hand to Matt’s cheek. He leans into her touch. Her lips move, more words, and the tenderness of the moment spears my heart to the wood fence behind me. My chest fills with fire, but it’s an empty flame. If this is what Ember wants, I have to give it to her. She has stepped aside for me. I should be strong enough to do the same for her. What is good, and what is right, aren’t synonymous. Ember was correct when she said that.

  The silence of my retreat matches the silence of my arrival.

  Pulling open the passenger door, I get in and drag my crutches behind me. Miranda ducks when I lift them and toss them into the back seat. They don’t fit, so they stick awkwardly between us.

  I feel her stare but I don’t look at her. I can’t. I’m certain there’s a gaping hole in my chest where my heart used to be.

  “Your mom wants you to go to their house for dinner. Do you want me to take you there now or back to the hotel?”

  “Let’s go there now, and you’re staying for dinner. You don’t need to eat alone.” My voice is gruff. I don’t mean it to be, but fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m a fool. Ember has moved on. She made a life for herself. Of course she couldn’t wait forever for me.

  Honestly, I deserve it. I deserve to feel ripped open. Bare and exposed. She let me go twice, even when she knew she loved me. Even when she knew I loved her.

  Miranda doesn’t say anything more the whole drive to my parents’ house. When we get there, I head straight to my dad’s office and grab the decanter of bourbon off a shelf. Two thumbs of the brown liquid spill into a tumbler, and I take it like a shot.

  A throat clearing at the door draws my attention. My mother leans against the frame, her arms folded. “You okay?” She tips her head to the side and gazes at me with concerned eyes.

  “No,” I say roughly, pouring more bourbon into my glass. Just one thumb this time.

  “Is it about Ember?”

  I trace the edge of the glass with my fingertip and nod.

  “You know she has a boyfriend?”

  Confusion pulls my eyebrows together. “How do you know she has a boyfriend?”

  My mothers emits a tiny, sardonic laugh. “You’re not going to believe this, but I go to her yoga studio.”

  I bark out a laugh.

  “I know,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Ironic, right? But it’s helped me a lot. She’s a great teacher.”

  I laugh again and shake my head. Of all the things I could’ve been told, my mother becoming one of Ember’s yoga students would have never entered the realm of possibility.

  “She’s engaged,” I say.

  My mother tilts her head again, and pity comes into her eyes. I look away.

  “The guy seems nice, Noah. He comes into the studio sometimes.”

  “She’s settling,” I respond, louder than I intended.

  My mother pushes off from her place against the door frame and strides to me. She takes the tumbler from my hand and sets it on my father’s desk. With her hands on my upper arms, she levels me with a penetrating, parental stare. “Is it settling if it’s anybody but you?”

  “Maybe,” I admit with a disappointed murmur. She gives me a small smile and backs up a few feet, setting her hand on the back of a chair.

  Suddenly my conversation with my dad pops into my head. “You sent Dad to see Ember’s mother.”

  Surprise makes her eyes grow big and her lower lip drop away from her upper. “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  She walks around to the front of the chair and sinks. Folding her legs up, she wraps an arm around her knees and peers up at me. “I never particularly cared for Maddie Dane, but your father sure did. I was jealous, of course, but it was high school. Everyone is jealous of someone. They weren’t good together. She was impulsive and headstrong. She made him crazy.”

  Her eyes look far away as she talks, one hand waving in the air.

  “Your grandparents died the summer after high school graduation, and your dad needed to grow up. Fast. The vineyard had been my summertime job for three years in a row. That summer, one item on my to-do list was teaching your dad everything I knew about the back office. Maddie didn’t like it. She wanted him to spend the summer with her, doing whatever it was Maddie liked to do at the moment. She was a bit all over the place.”

  Mom wrinkles her nose. Even in memory, she doesn’t appreciate that trait.

  “He told her he couldn’t, their fights became bigger and more frequent. The rest is history.”

  Sometime while my mom was talking, I grabbed the tumbler and drained the contents. Setting the empty glass down, I carefully lean a hip against the side of the desk and look at her. She’s watching me, waiting for me to react. I see the parallels between my dad and Maddie, and Ember and me, but we aren’t the same people. Ember is not like her mother.

  “I sent your father there because it was the right thing to do. When I heard about Maddie, I knew he’d want the chance to see her. Not because he still loves her, but because I love him. When you love someone, you try to do what’s right for them.”

  “Even at your own expense?”

  “Sometimes. It depends on how much it hurts you, I guess. Or what you have to give up. Telling your dad about Maddie didn’t hurt me, and I didn’t have to give up anything. It would’ve hurt him if he didn’t know and something happened to her.”

  “So you encourage selflessness? Is this yoga talking?” I crack a smile at her.

  Her serious demeanor breaks and she laughs. “Maybe. I encourage selflessness and selfishness. They’re situational.” She rises from her seat and walks to the door.

  Propping the crutches properly beneath my arms, I follow. She turns to look at me when I catch up. Her face is close to mine. “Miranda seems to really care about you,” she whispers.

  “That’s because I pay her to,” I whisper back.

  My mother makes a tsk, tsk sound with her tongue. I nudge her forward with my shoulder, and she laughs again, leading the way to the kitchen.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to stay for a few more days?” my dad asks.

  The flames from the outdoor fire pit illuminate his hopeful face. He and my mom have each had a bottle of wine, and its effects are showing. She’s cuddled up next to him, and his arm is wrapped casually across her. It’s good to see them openly showing affection, but it’s a little…weird. Good weird, I guess.

  “Miranda has already set up my rehab in Atlanta.” I glance at Miranda, who’s sitting in the chair across from me. She nods. This afternoon, after I talked with my mom, Miranda called the physical therapist I was referred to in Atlanta and set up my first appointment.

  Entering an Atlanta-based appointment into my calendar hurt every part of me, but I didn’t have a choice. It needed to happen.

  “Starting rehab is priority one,” I tell my parents.

  “And then?” Mom asks.

  I wind a hand around my neck, knead the tight muscles for
a moment, and shrug. Before my injury a life without soccer seemed impossible, yet my foot hasn’t touched a soccer ball in a month. “I don’t know, Dad. I still need to rehab my knee for as long as it needs, even if I’m not playing anymore. After that, I’ll start thinking about my future.”

  “I might retire in a few years,” Dad says. “Maybe you could come back here and take your place at the helm of this ship.” He gestures around us. Though we can’t see them, the acres upon acres of grapes are out there.

  “I don’t know.” Seeing Ember around town, seeing her with Matt. Then the sickening thought, what if her stomach is swollen with his child? “Don’t count on me,” I say tersely. “Ask Brody.” I stare into the fire to escape the disappointment in his eyes.

  “Too soon,” I hear my mother say to him. “Miranda,” she says, her voice falsely bright. “When do you and Noah take off tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow at noon.” Miranda sounds relieved. Atlanta is her home. Shame fills me. I haven’t thought of how she felt this whole time, not even once.

  Miranda and my mom start a conversation about when she should come for a visit, and my dad and I stay quiet. I hate to upset him, but the wound is fresh. Right now, I can’t imagine coming back here and living in the same town as Ember, without being with her. The way he has with Maddie. Maybe he didn’t love her the way I love Ember. Maybe they had fire, but no magic.

  Maybe—

  My phone vibrates against me. I pull it out, see who it is, and get up as quickly as my crippled ass lets me. Miranda stands to help me with the crutches, but I’ve got them already, and I’m hobbling away as fast as possible. I round the corner of the house and lean against it.

  “Hello,” I say, trying not to sound breathless. I’m in total darkness, but slowly my eyes adjust.

  “Noah.” Ember breathes my name.

  The sound of her voice makes me want to ignore my resolve. Loud, incessant words pound through my head and I want to scream them. Don’t do it. He’s not the one for you. We’ve been right since the beginning. We were kids but we knew. Even then, we knew.

  I hold it in, and at that moment I know it’s the hardest thing I’ll ever do. I want to give Ember everything she desires, and if Matt is who she wants, I have to back out. My broken heart is a small price to pay for making her happy.

  “Noah, I—”

  At the same time, I say, “I’m going back to Atlanta tomorrow. I’ll rehab with the team and play again soon.”

  Lies. The words knife me. They are the wrong words. They leave a foul taste in my mouth, but it’s a flavor I’ll live with if it means Ember will be happy.

  “I saw you with Matt today. I came by and saw you two in your back yard. Good luck with him, Ember,” I choke out. “You deserve the best.”

  Her sniffles pierce my heart.

  “Thank you,” she murmurs.

  “Goodbye, Ember.” Two tears blaze trails down my cheeks.

  “Goodbye, Noah.”

  She hangs up first, and I follow. My chin droops to my chest. My heart falls somewhere, maybe down to my feet. It may even be gone from my body. So this is what it feels like to really sacrifice. Ember said sacrifice feels good, but that’s not true, because my chest is splintering and it feels a hell of a lot like agony.

  Every ounce of me wants to call her back. Or better yet, go to her house and barge in, grab Matt by his ears and toss him out.

  I hate this.

  “Noah?” my mom calls.

  Taking a deep breath, I push off the wall and rejoin my parents and Miranda. I fake my smile, I fake my laughter, I fake my jokes.

  The pain in my heart?

  Genuine.

  32

  Ember

  When I was eighteen I remember waking up with this feeling in my chest. Hollow but somehow heavy. Pain is only painful until you get used to the feeling. Then it becomes your normal, until one day its absence is what you take notice of.

  This morning, it’s the return of the pain that is excruciating. I hoped to never feel like that again, but here I am, rolling over and clutching my sheet in a fist. I’m older now, but hardly any wiser.

  Noah leaves today. I roll from bed, walk to the bathroom, and load toothpaste onto my toothbrush.

  Noah leaves today. I stare into the bathroom mirror, my hands going through the motions, the scrubbing sounds secondary to the noise in my head.

  Noah leaves today. Back to the bedroom, where I get dressed mechanically.

  Today, it feels final. More final than college, more final than when he went to play professionally. We’re real adults now. Our decisions carry more weight.

  That’s what I was thinking yesterday when I told Matt I can’t marry him. It wasn’t just about Noah. I had to make that choice for me.

  “Ember?” Sky pokes her head in my door. She’s already dressed. Her voice is high-pitched, and her smile is so large it takes over her face. “Mom’s doctor just called. She woke up during the night.”

  My hands freeze in my jewelry tray, my fingers on the metal cuff I was reaching for. Relief, joy, apprehension, and more joy fill me. Hot tears warm my eyes.

  “Let’s go,” I say, slipping on the bracelet and jamming my feet into shoes.

  Sky drives while I stare out the window and wonder if the plane I see up above is Noah’s. It’s heading north, and I know that’s the wrong direction, but still. I pretend.

  “You want to tell me what’s going on?” Sky asks.

  I sigh and look at her. She glances at me and then back to the road.

  “Not really. I don’t want to hear what you have to say right now.” My tone is even, but I think I hurt her feelings anyway. I didn’t mean to, but I can’t listen to her tell me that Noah isn’t worth this heartache. Because he is. He’s worth all the minutes I’ve spent on him. There is no waste when it comes to Noah.

  Sky doesn’t say anything more, but on our way into the hospital she catches my hand and squeezes it.

  I expected my mom to be my mom, but she’s not. She’s more like an awake infant. Her eyes are open, alert, but her arms randomly lift and flail, and she’s not talking. Her lips move, but I can’t tell if that’s because she is trying to speak or if it’s just twinges.

  “Mom,” I whisper, pulling a chair closer to her bed. My mom watches me, her cheeks lifting as she tries to smile. I sink down into the chair and Sky stands behind me, her hands on my shoulders. “We’ve been so scared for you, Mom—”

  “Why didn’t you wear your helmet?” Sky’s anger and frustration comes out in her harsh tone.

  Twisting around to look up at her, I shake my head. “Not now, Sky.” She mashes her lips together and looks away.

  I get it. I want to yell at our mom too, but right now, finger-pointing won’t benefit anybody.

  Turning back to my mom, I tell her what happened. “I don’t know what you remember, but you were thrown from the motorcycle you were riding. You hit your head and were brought here. There is some brain swelling, and you’re on medication to reduce that.” I skip over telling her about the possibility of surgery. She might feel stress, and that would only make things worse. “You have a good doctor, and you’re in good hands.”

  My mom’s eyes widen as I talk. Her head tips to the side and she looks out her window.

  “It’s Wednesday,” I tell her. “The accident was Sunday. Three days ago.” I’m guessing what she wants to know, thinking of what I’d want to know if I woke up in a hospital this way. “The guy you were with broke both legs.”

  She looks back at me. I smile and take her hand. Her fingers move, like she’s tapping piano keys.

  Sky moves around so she’s next to the bed, and leans down, kissing our mom’s cheek. “You terrified us, Mom.”

  Mom looks up with an apology in her eyes, and tears fall down Sky’s face. “I’m going to ask one of the nurses to send Mom’s doctor in here,” she says, clearing her throat. “I want to talk with him.” She walks out, the door falling closed with a soft thud. />
  Rubbing a thumb over the top of my mom’s hand, I open my mouth and words pour out of me. I intended to talk about nothing of importance, but when the words come out, they’re about Noah.

  “Noah came to see you. To be here for me. Dayton called him.” I picture Noah on his crutches, swinging his braced leg around the waiting room, struggling to stay awake. My heart aches. “He’s on his way back to Atlanta now. I didn’t stop him from leaving. He said he’s rehabbing with the team and he’ll play again, and I couldn’t say the words to stop him. I don’t even know if I should have. I’ve never stopped him from pursuing his dream. How can anyone ask that of another person?”

  I shake my head as I talk, feeling tears pricking my eyes. Mom watches intently, the corners of her eyes moving.

  “I broke it off with Matt. I realized I was filling a Noah-shaped hole with someone who couldn’t possibly fill it. Nobody can. I have to let Noah be a memory.” I swipe at the tears. “Except, I don’t want him to be memory, Mom. I don’t.” Shaking my head, I continue. “I’ve spent years loving him, but I have to admit it. It’s over. I need to let him go. I can’t keep doing this to myself.”

  Her fingers tap my hand, and I look down at them. They curl in, like she’s trying to squeeze.

  “Mom, I—” I’m halted when I look up and see her eyes. They are alarmed, like she’s trying to tell me something.

  “What, Mom?” I lean forward, as if that will help me decipher her thoughts.

  “She doesn’t agree with you.” Sky says from behind me.

  I turn around. Sky stands two feet inside the room. She walks closer and sits down in the chair opposite me, closer to the window.

  “About what?” I ask.

  “About Noah. She doesn’t agree about letting him go.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because she wishes she would’ve fought harder for poem guy. The one who wrote in that journal she keeps.” She looks at our mom, then back to me. “Mom’s a romantic, Ember. She wants you to go after Noah, maybe even fly to Atlanta, and tell him he needs to be with you.”