Fated, Books 1 & 2

by Becky Flade

  He noticed she was fidgeting with her small black purse. He didn’t need a super power to know that nerves were eating at her. He eased to a stop at the red light. “We don’t have to do this, Doc. We can just drive right on by and go have dinner somewhere.”

  She looked at him, just looked at him, and he knew there was something between them. He didn’t want to put a word to it. She’ll run if I spook her. And he was enjoying their journey at this pace. He hadn’t touched her since she’d stepped out of the elevator—he’d been worried what his emotions would reveal.

  Henley leaned in close, put her hand over his, and smiled. “The light is green, Carter. Come on, we’ve got a wedding to crash.”

  “Yeah we do.” He grinned, and she sat back, her hand falling away.

  After they arrived, they slipped effortlessly through the crowded room. Carter thought he saw some people glance their way, recognition lighting their faces. But no one approached her to say hello. He spread his fingers over the small of her back. It was meant as a supportive gesture, but the contact steadied him as well. Every wedding he’d attended in the past, even the ones where he knew the marriage wouldn’t last for long, had held an undercurrent of celebration. The room’s chic architecture was elegantly decorated in white tulle and purple lilies. The walls were exposed brick adorned only by naked arched windows stretching from the floor to the lofty ceiling that invited the evening skyline inside, but the tension in the air defeated the clever design.

  “What is this place?” he whispered.

  “Used to be the FirstEnergy Powerhouse—generators fed electricity to the streetcars back in the 1900s. Now it’s an aquarium and banquet center. And this is one of my favorite buildings in the city.” Henley looked around the room. “They did a great job rehabbing it.”

  “Thought maybe it was an old slaughterhouse.”

  She laughed quietly. “Feel like a lamb being led?”

  “Honestly?”

  “Henley?” A thin older man approached them. Based on the tuxedo and cheekbones he’d passed on to his daughter, Carter assumed he was about to meet Mr. Elliott. “What are you doing here?”

  “Hi, Dad.” She didn’t reach for her father nor did he attempt to embrace her. “I think that’s obvious -I’m here for Michelle’s wedding.”

  “We weren’t expecting you.” He glanced around the room, as though checking to see who may be looking. “Are you on medication?”

  “No. I’m not.” She put a hand on Carter’s arm. “This is my friend, Carter McAlister. Carter, this is my father, Professor Bradley Elliott. You look good, Dad. The tux is nice.”

  Carter held out his hand. The older man looked at it as though weighing danger. After an uncomfortable pause, Henley’s father returned the polite exchange.

  “A great many of the guests have probably seen you already, recognized you. It’ll cause a stir if you leave now. I guess you should sit with your mother in the row reserved for the bride’s family.” He gestured toward the front.

  “I can sit in the back, Dad, if you’re uncomfortable. It’s not a problem.”

  “And what impression do you think that’ll make on the guests, Henley?” He shook his head slightly. “You were a smart girl—think.”

  “I think she is the most intelligent and fascinating woman I’ve ever met,” Carter interjected. He couldn’t stand silently accepting her father’s unmasked disdain; a look of repulsion spread over the older gentleman’s face, as though a pile of horse crap had landed at his feet. Carter was confident he’d earned the professor’s dislike. The thought brought a smile to his face. He applied a little pressure where his hand sat on Henley’s back. “Come on, Doc.”

  “He’s just standing there, staring at us. I don’t think he knows what to do,” Henley whispered, her eyes dancing, as they turned into the first row.

  “It’s like when the computer freezes loading a webpage. Look at him.” Carter glanced back. “He’s working, working.”

  Henley stifled a laugh behind her hand.

  “Henley.” A skinny woman with silver hair and in a modest gown addressed them. She didn’t stand or smile but demurely gestured to the seat beside her. Henley sat, and Carter took the chair next to her. “I can’t tell you how glad I am you decided to see reason. It would’ve been completely unacceptable for you to miss your sister’s wedding.”

  “Hello, Mom. Everything looks beautiful.”

  Though her mother’s welcome wasn’t warm, it was decidedly less unhappy than her father’s. Regardless, Carter couldn’t believe the woman insinuated Henley’s absence would have been Henley’s fault when he knew the woman was aware this daughter had not been invited.

  “Your sister has worked herself to the bone making sure the wedding planner got everything just right.” Carter recognized the note of pride. “You should’ve told us you were coming. We don’t have place settings for you.” She sighed deeply. “We’ll figure something out.”

  “I didn’t know, for sure, I was coming until this morning. And I thought it might be a nice surprise.”

  Her mother reached out, hesitated, and settled for patting Henley awkwardly on her leg. “We’ll make do.”

  “Mom, this is my friend, Carter McAlister. Carter, I’d like to introduce my mother, Eliza Elliott.” Carter noticed Henley ignored her mother’s odd gesture of affection. He’d thought the woman condescending, but he had already irritated one parent and didn’t see the sense in alienating the other. He tilted toward the woman and held out his hand.

  “Mrs. Elliott, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I can see where your daughter gets her good taste. You look lovely.”

  She delicately placed the tips of her fingers in his palm. Her skin was paper-thin, fragile. He hoped she didn’t expect him to kiss her hand. He drew the line at that. But she removed her hand after the barest of contact.

  “McAlister? The name is familiar. Is your family local?”

  “No, ma’am. I’m from Philadelphia. I don’t believe I have relatives in Ohio.”

  “Mom, I’ve mentioned Carter on the phone before,” Henley provided.

  “I don’t think you have. Wait. The sheriff?”

  Carter nodded.

  “Oh, Henley,” she condemned. “You brought your employer?”

  The music began, cutting off any further conversation. Every head turned toward the back of the room as notes from a soft, lilting piano solo filled the air. Carter took a moment to look at Henley. Her back was stiff, her shoulders rigid. He could only imagine how she felt at that moment. She had warned him this wouldn’t be a happy reunion. But he’d thought she’d underestimated her loved ones, just as she’d underestimated Rissa. It pained him to realize he’d underestimated Henley.

  An unattractive woman in an unfortunate bridesmaid dress of deep purple reached the front of the room. Mendelssohn's wedding march echoed romantically throughout the space, and a collective gasp sounded as the bride and her father appeared. Carter had eyes only for Henley. He wrapped his arm around her waist and gently pulled until her back rested against his chest. He kissed the top of her head and felt her shoulders droop as she relaxed her weight against him with a choppy sigh.

  The bride reached the end of the aisle. She glared at them before turning to her groom.

  Ah, shit.

  • • •

  “Are you going to lose it again? Because I swear that was the most entertaining Winter Ball. Ever.”

  “I heard, the following year, they sold a record amount of tickets because everyone had heard about the meltdown and was hoping for a repeat performance.”

  Minny and Jan weren’t deliberately insulting. Henley had known them the whole of her life; both women suffered from privileged excess combined with a shared three brain cells between them. Carter had gone to get beverages, and the sisters had descended upon her.

  “Sorry to disappoint, but that was a one-night show.”

  “Who’s that guy you’re with? He’s hot,” Minny said around the stuffed mu
shroom she’d snagged from a passing tray of hors d'oeuvres. She had recently divorced—information she’d shared upon saying hello. Maybe it was talking with her mouth full that had caused husband number three to head for the hills.

  “My friend Carter.”

  “Mmmm,” Jan added. “Is he single?”

  Ah, the serial dater. Jan would never settle down. Commitment would dent her active and varied sex life. Her “fuck ’em and duck ’em” credo was legend at The Brighton Girls Academy.

  “Of course he isn’t single, dummy. He’s here with Henley.” Minny stared, obviously waiting for Henley to confirm or deny her and Carter’s dating status.

  “Ladies.” Carter handed her a martini and looped his arm around her shoulders before raising his tumbler. “A toast to beauty.”

  Instead of tasting his drink, he bent his head and kissed her softly. Laughter danced under the brief contact; he was amused and sharing the joke with her. Carter must have overheard the catty interrogation. She smiled against his lips. Henley turned back toward the sisters, whose mouths hung open.

  “Not single,” Henley advised smugly.

  The two hurried off without a word, and she sighed.

  “That was fun. But they’ll tell everyone what they saw and heard. It’ll be on social media in about five minutes.”

  “You think it’ll take that long?”

  She grinned. “Probably not. Thank you for the drink and the rescue.”

  “You’re welcome.” She watched him grab food as a waiter passed. “Is everyone in Cleveland as rude as the people at this wedding?”

  She thanked him for the crab cake he offered. It was delicious. He seemed to enjoy plying her with food. “No, of course not. You met Rissa.”

  “Can I ask you something?” She nodded. “Am I single?”

  Henley bit into the appetizer and used the moment to consider him. His eyes sparkled. She thought he was teasing, but did a real question lurk under the playfulness? She’d only just accepted the reality that she was in some form of relationship with him; she wasn’t ready for a commitment. But could she handle Carter dating someone else while he waited for her to catch up?

  “I would prefer if you didn’t date other people while pursuing me, as you put it.”

  She watched Carter’s face as she waited for his reaction. Instead of responding, he nodded his head toward something beyond her shoulder. Henley turned; her parents huddled in the far corner of the room. Their conversation appeared hostile.

  “Proud of your handiwork?”

  Henley swiveled to her right and found Michelle standing there, her back to most of the room, her eyes angry, but a stiff smile gracing her lips. Henley imagined the grin was meant for any of her guests who happened to glance this way. The anger was definitely aimed at her.

  “I don’t know that whatever Mom and Dad are discussing has anything to do with me. And neither do you.”

  “Yes, you do. Who else would have upset them?” Michelle’s smile widened, and she waved to someone who called her name. Her tone, set low enough not to arouse attention, held enough frost to bring an early winter. “You weren’t invited. I don’t want you here. This is my day, and you’re not going to ruin it. Feel free to finish your drink before you leave.”

  “I’ll go when I’m ready and not a minute sooner. We came a long way to be a part of your special day.”

  “I don’t understand what part of ‘I don’t want you here’ is fucking confusing. You’d think after twelve years of secondary education and being a former psychiatrist, you’d be more intuitive. Showing up uninvited with a guest is so far beyond the realm of socially acceptable behavior—even you should know it was rude.” Michelle shifted her body toward Carter. “I don’t know who you are, but my sister’s bad manners must be rubbing off on you.”

  “I find it amusing you have the gall to judge anyone else’s manners, Mrs. Hutson; yours are appalling,” Carter reprimanded.

  “Michelle, this is my friend Carter. And he’s right; you’re out of line.”

  Ignoring her, Michelle smiled coyly. “I didn’t know they bred them this handsome out in the boonies. I’m going to give you a solid piece of advice, Carter. Be careful with my sister—she destroys everything and everyone around her. It’s not enough to be mad as a hatter; she spreads insanity like a virus.” She laughed meanly. “I suggest you ask what happened to the last man who cared about her before you get any further involved.”

  Henley sucked air in noisily, desperately trying to fill lungs that suddenly felt empty. On the heels of the shock came a flare of anger, and she shook with the need to physically strike her sister. Michelle looked at her, gauging the effect of her words, and smiled, the first genuine emotion she’d displayed since her approach. Henley couldn’t do anything without causing a scene that would further embarrass her family. And Michelle knew it. Secure in the knowledge her barb had struck home, Michelle floated into the crowd of well-wishers.

  Calm down, breathe naturally, Henley chanted silently. Carter pulled her into the safety of his embrace, rubbing her back and murmuring soft words she couldn’t quite hear but still found comforting. His palm was warm between her exposed shoulders, and she absorbed his emotions greedily. He was angry, too, but with it there was a soothing combination of concern and affection—for her. When she stepped back, she was in control.

  “I’m sorry, Carter.” He kept his arms loosely circled around her. She could tell from the look on his face he was going to reject her apology. She had an idea why and what he would say, but she was still sorry. She touched a finger to his lips, quieting him with the simple gesture, and whispered, “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “Sticking up for me. With my father, with Michelle, with the words you wanted to say just now. Knowing I needed a minute and offering comfort while I took it. For being you.”

  “Being me is the easy part.” He winked, and she had a sudden urge to weep.

  “I’ll be right back.” At his arched look, she explained, “Restroom. Don’t get into any trouble while I’m gone.”

  “Can’t make any promises.” His comment drew a laugh from her as she made her way to the ladies’ room. He’d replaced her tears with humor. Henley noticed a few people looking at her speculatively, their attention no doubt drawn by her distinctive laugh. Wondering if the bad apple is going to snap out, I bet. Or, knowing some of these people, hoping I will. I’m not giving them the pleasure. She lifted her chin and pushed open the door to the ladies’ room.

  Her mother sat at the vanity, her expression miserable.

  “Mom? Is everything okay?”

  “No. No, it’s not. I thought, I was so sure, that if you came to the wedding and your father and sister saw how well you were doing for themselves, they’d be happy to see you. And then you would come home for good. Instead, they’re both mad at me. All the guests are talking about what happened at the Winter Ball. And asking intrusive questions about your mental health, just as they did then. It’s like it happened last month rather than over two years ago.

  “You shouldn’t have come. Ever since that unfortunate incident in college, you’ve done your best to darken every bright moment,” her mother accused. Henley bit back the angry words on the edge of her tongue. The “unfortunate incident” had irreparably changed her, and her mother minimized it. Treated her illness as an intentional machination designed to . . . what? Screw with the Elliott clan? She took a deep breath and counted to ten before speaking.

  “You invited me. I’ve missed you and Dad. I wanted to be a part of the most important day in Michelle’s life. You can’t hold that against me.” She sighed. “I’d hoped for a better reception, true. But I was prepared for worse.”

  Her mother appeared smaller, older to her; she looked defeated. It had been only two years since Henley had fled, and she remembered her mom as vibrant. Did I cause this?

  She knelt and cradled the elegant hands between her own. She couldn’t remember the last time she h
ad touched her mother. And Henley had never deliberately used her ability this way. But she needed to know not what her mother said or for what purpose those words were intended, but what was really in her mom’s heart.

  What Henley felt took a chokehold on her throat. Disappointment, trepidation, sorrow, guilt, worry—every conflicted emotion Henley had inferred from her mother’s doublespeak—flowed from her into Henley. But under it all was a thick, painful thread of love and confusion.

  “Oh, Mom.” Henley laid her cheek against their clasped hands. “I tried so hard to be the person you wanted me to be, but I couldn’t. I know you don’t understand the woman I am, but I think I’m starting to like myself. Please try to accept that.”

  “Are you happy, Henley?”

  “I think I could be, yes.”

  “That’s all I need. That’s all any mother needs.” When Henley looked up, her mother smiled and patted her cheek. “It’s been a long time since you allowed me to touch you. Is it getting better?”

  It was the closest Eliza Elliott had come to acknowledging Henley’s ability wasn’t a delusion. “I’m learning to deal with it. Accept that it’s part of me instead of trying to ignore it and avoid living. Something I should have tried years ago.”

  “I can see bits and pieces of my little girl, the one who went off to college full of hope and dreams, in the woman you’ve become since you left. Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it. No matter what your father, your sister, or I think.” Henley nodded. “The young man you’re with, is any of this because of him?”

  “Mom.” Henley smiled. “He’s my age.”

  “And in comparison to me that makes him a young man. Answer the question.”

  “It’s not because of him. It’s not for him either. But he has helped. Along with the other friends I’ve made.” At her mother’s skeptical glance, Henley clarified. “It’s not like it was with Jacob. I promise.”

  “Okay.” She patted Henley’s hand and stood, checking her appearance in the mirror. “We’d better get back.”