Olivia pulled out of the garage as soon as I closed the door. I covered myself with a blanket and crouched in the footwell for good measure.
At the gate, there was a quick exchange. Olivia said she was out of cigarettes and moved off without incident. The guard didn’t even look in the back seat, hardly even giving her an answer past a polite “yes, ma’am.” It was so easy. I hoped I hadn’t just cost a man his job, but I couldn’t afford to worry about that either.
“Where am I going?” Olivia asked uncertainly.
“The train station,” I replied, making sure my voice sounded nothing but confident. “But park around the corner, on Baker Street.” There weren’t any cameras there to record which car I’d arrived in, and my altered appearance should be enough to keep me anonymous from the cameras in the station. Dot and I had cased the joint on one of our coffee dates.
She nodded and kept driving. It took only ten minutes to get there, and Olivia spent most of the time nervously adjusting her grip on the steering wheel and muttering to herself. “Must be out of my mind . . . so stupid . . . I should turn this car around . . . supposed to be the adult . . .”
But the car continued to move at a steady, sure pace toward the station, so I kept quiet.
When we came to a stop, her muttering stopped too. She remained facing forward, her breathing labored. “Maybe this isn’t such a good—”
“It’s for Charlie,” I cut her off. “Mrs. Vanderford, Olivia, I need to do this for him. For Dot. For me. For all of us.”
She finally turned to look at me, her eyes watering. She searched my face for a long time and then, as her tears spilled, gave me a tiny nod and turned back to the front.
I didn’t wait for her to change her mind; Dot would make sure she didn’t crack. I got out of the car and walked away without looking back, keeping my pace steady, my head turned down under the hood.
My train pulled in just as I made it onto the platform, and I chose a seat near the back. Other than one other guy in a safety vest—probably a shift worker—I was the only one to board. The train moved off, and the shift worker almost immediately fell asleep, his head propped up against the window.
I leaned back in my seat but kept my hood up and my face down. I spent the hour-long ride into the city fortifying my control of my Light and mentally going over the next steps, keeping a careful eye on the handful of people who boarded the train as we got closer to my destination.
But I couldn’t help my mind wandering a little, remembering the last time I’d taken this trip. The two experiences couldn’t have been more different.
When I’d tried to run away all those months ago, I’d been overly emotional, paranoid, and irrational, constantly looking over my shoulder and completely ignoring the amounts of Light pouring into me. I hadn’t even had a go bag ready. I hadn’t created a new identity in months!
This time, I was nothing if not prepared. I’d created a passport and other IDs, with the name Gracie-Lou Freebush on the perfect forgeries. I’d altered my appearance. The cash I’d been slowly withdrawing from my account and storing in the pages of my physics textbook was now tucked into my purse. I’d remembered every lesson my mother had taught me.
And I’d thought of every possible outcome. Some of them were more daunting than others, like the scenario in which black-clad men jumped out of the shadows with one of those black devices, identified me as a Vital, and made me disappear for real. But I’d never get through this if I allowed fear to enter my mind. I had to be brave.
I could do this.
I got off the train a few stops before Grand Central. It was easy to get lost in the jostling New York crowd and make my way outside, where I hailed a cab.
I spent the next hour taking several cabs and walking around between them in various directions. I changed my coat twice and put my hair up and down, altering my appearance when I could.
The last cab deposited me at World Trade Center station with just enough time to get onto the train heading to JFK.
Another uneventful train ride later, I was at the airport, making my way past more armed guards to get in line for passport control. My work was impeccable, and the man checking my ID hardly even looked at me.
Waiting in the departure lounge, another pang of doubt stabbed my gut. The guys would be pissed—and worried. And what if I was caught, abducted, killed? Maybe we should have included them in the plan. But they would never have agreed to it!
No, it was better this way. I shut my worries down and, after a tense hour, boarded the plane with the other tourists, businessmen, and families with screaming children. Before I had a chance to doubt myself again, we were taking off as the sun began to rise over New York.
New York to Melbourne is one of the longest routes in the world. I had to do two layovers, and one of my connecting flights was delayed, but thirty-five hours of travel time later, I arrived—tired, disheveled, and smelly. All I wanted was to collapse into a bed and sleep until my guys found me, but I couldn’t let my guard down just yet.
I still had to get somewhere safe—somewhere without police and CCTV. But for that, I needed help.
After brushing my teeth and changing my top in the airport bathroom, I stuffed my jacket into the duffel bag—both to change my appearance again and because it was a hot day. I made it past customs and passport control without incident and took another paid-in-cash taxi to my old stomping ground of Fitzroy.
It was midmorning as I slowly rounded the corner. The café was two doors down, a post office and a milk bar separating us. I wanted to take it all in before making my move.
Greville’s Café was our regular hangout when I lived in Melbourne. It took up two shop fronts in the middle of a small strip of stores located in a mostly residential area, a few blocks from my old school and within walking distance of both where I’d lived and Harvey’s house. People drove out of their way for the best fair-trade, organic coffee in the city, as well as the homemade jam doughnuts.
At least a dozen alfresco tables were situated out front, boxed in by low planters with succulents. Several oversized umbrellas provided necessary shade—a respite from the harsh Australian sun.
Harvey was sure to come here at least once, although I worried he’d already been today and wasn’t planning to come back. I had no idea what his schedule was. He’d finished high school the year before and would have started his graphic design course by now. It was all he could talk about when we were together.
I really didn’t want to go to his house and risk his sister or parents answering the door. I couldn’t hang out inside all day either—too many people I knew frequented the place. But loitering on the corner of a residential street all day would be way too suspicious.
I chewed my bottom lip, fidgeting with the strap of my duffel. The strong sun beat down on my back, making me sweat, and when my stomach growled, I decided to take the risk and go in.
The morning rush had ended, and I didn’t recognize any of the few seated patrons. I ordered a cheese toastie, a friand, and a latte. The food came out before the coffee, but when the barista placed the little glass full of happiness down in front of me, I abandoned the sandwich and immediately took a slow sip. I moaned loudly, my eyes closed, as the exquisite, smooth, creamy flavor hit my tongue.
When I opened my eyes, the hipster barista was looking at me with raised eyebrows, fighting a smile.
I cleared my throat. “I really needed that—rough morning. It’s really good.”
“No worries.” He chuckled, moving back to the coffee machine to make more liquid pleasure.
I stayed at my table for nearly two hours, ordering another coffee and taking my time with the food while pretending to read a magazine. But as the lunch rush started, I got worried about looking suspicious; I’d already drawn the barista’s attention.
I paid with cash and got up to leave. Halfway across the room, the little bell above the door tinkled as two girls my age walked in, chatting. My heart flew into my throat. They’d
gone to my school when I lived here and had hung out with us sometimes at Harvey’s house. I cast my eyes down and hunched my shoulders, hoping my heavy makeup and crazy hair were enough of a disguise.
One of them glanced in my direction as we passed each other, but by some miracle, she didn’t seem to recognize me.
I walked to the park across the street, on the opposite corner, and hid behind the slide, my heart hammering against my ribcage until they came out and strolled away. I stayed in the park to keep watching the café, praying to the universe Harvey would show up.
It was two thirty, the café buzzing with moms grabbing an afternoon caffeine hit before school pickup, when I spotted him. He was with two other guys I didn’t know. Uni friends? I smiled to myself.
I wondered from time to time what might have become of Harvey and me had I not screwed up and started us on a course that changed my entire life. But I’d realized, ultimately, there was no avoiding that course. I was made for those four incredible, loving, frustrating men. I was their Vital, and we were always going to find each other, one way or another.
What I’d had with Harvey was superficial by comparison. I was sad about how it had ended—he would have been confused and scared when I just disappeared like that—but I harbored no unresolved feelings for my old boyfriend, just a strange kind of nostalgia and a hope that he was happy. Seeing him laughing and joking with friends made me feel better about it all.
I crossed the street again and stood around the corner, watching. When they came out of the café, takeaway cups in hand, I started to worry they would leave together and I’d have to go to his house. But his two friends took off in the opposite direction, and Harvey headed toward me.
I pulled back and leaned against the rough brick, my palms a little sweaty and not just from the oppressive heat. What if he was really mad and refused to speak to me? What if Variant Valor had somehow got to him, and he kidnapped me? What if he didn’t remember me?
My paranoid thoughts were interrupted by their subject walking around the corner. He was in a Deadpool T-shirt, his backpack slung over one shoulder. He looked taller.
He was tapping away at his phone and didn’t even notice me standing there.
“Harvey,” I called out.
He pulled up, turning distractedly, his attention still half on his phone. He lifted his eyes to mine, a mildly curious expression on his face, before dropping them down to his screen again. Then he froze, his fingers tightening around his takeaway cup, his eyes flying back to mine.
Shock and disbelief were heavy in his raised eyebrows, his parted lips. “Holy shit.” The words came out on a breath.
Suddenly unsure what to do, I gave him an awkward smile and a pathetic little wave.
“Holy shit, Eve!” That time he practically yelled the words, throwing his almost full coffee to the ground as he lunged forward.
“No need to waste perfectly good coffee . . . oof.” He knocked the breath out of me as he enveloped me in his arms, giving Josh a run for his money when it came to lung-crushing hugs. He was definitely taller. We used to be about the same height, but now he had almost a head on me. His voice sounded deeper too. The boy who had been so many firsts for me had turned into a man.
I returned his hug, feeling comfort and nostalgia in his arms but not a scrap of the angst-ridden pining I used to feel. I’d found something much deeper with my Bond than Harvey and I could ever have had.
“Can’t breathe,” I managed to get out with the last bit of air in my lungs.
He released me only to grasp my shoulders and stare into my eyes. “My god. It’s really you!” His volume was still high.
“Shh!” I glanced around.
His eyebrows pulled together in suspicion. “Eve . . .” He dropped his arms by his sides but kept staring at me as though he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.
“I know this is a lot—me showing up like this.”
“I . . . there are just so many questions. I don’t even know which one to ask first.”
“Do you hate me?” It wasn’t exactly the question I’d planned to ask, but it had been playing on my mind since the night my mother forced us to pack up and leave. Of course he would have worried, but how long had that lasted? How long before he’d turned to anger, looked for someone to blame? If he still held a grudge, my chances of getting his help were significantly lower. Harvey could be almost as stubborn as Alec. Almost.
“Hate you? No.” He chuckled, shoving his phone into his pocket. “Eve, I knew you would never leave like that for no reason. I could never hate you . . .” He looked a little awkward, and it struck me in that moment that we’d never actually broken up. It would be the logical conclusion after not seeing each other for over a year and a half, but technically . . .
I breathed a sigh of relief, choosing to focus on my current situation. The afternoon was slipping away and taking the light with it. I needed to get on the road soon.
“Harvey, I’m sorry for so many things, and I wish I had all the time in the world to explain them to you, but . . .”
“But you’re in trouble.” Tension returned to his posture.
“Kind of, I guess.” I wasn’t technically, but I could be. “I need your help.”
“What do you need?” I knew he burned for answers, but he put that aside and was willing to do what I needed. He reminded me of Ethan in that moment; my big guy was the most selfless, caring person I knew.
I pushed the longing down, making sure to shut my Light flow down with it. “I need to borrow your car, and I need the keys to the Carboor house, just for a few days, and then everything will be OK.” I didn’t sound convinced, but I really hoped what I was saying was true.
“Who are you running from, Eve?” He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Is it the same people as before? Is that why you left? Maybe I can help. Maybe we could call my uncle Steve. He knows some guys in the federal police . . .”
“No!” My voice rose. “Harvey, no police.” I fixed him with a firm look, poised to just run away from him again if I had to.
“OK, OK. No police. Just please tell me what’s going on?”
“I can’t.” I sighed. “There just isn’t time. I need to get going before it gets too dark to navigate the dirt roads. Please, Harvey!”
I injected as much desperation into my look as I could. He watched me for a beat, then sighed and rolled his eyes, and I knew I had him.
“Come on then.” He headed toward his green Range Rover. “Don’t suppose there’s time to get another coffee.”
“I wish.” I looked longingly back toward the source of the best coffee I’d ever tasted.
Eighteen
Harvey drove in silence, and it almost started to feel awkward, but his house was really close, and we were pulling up in no time. I took in the big eucalyptus tree in the front yard, the red mailbox, the curving path to the front door. It looked exactly the same as when I used to come over after school, and another pang of longing shot through me for something that almost was but never really could have been.
Harvey wasn’t getting out of the car. “It’s getting late, Eve. It could be dark by the time you get out there. Maybe you should just stay the night. Mum and Dad won’t mind, and Mia will be ecstatic to see you—”
“Harvey,” I cut him off, “you can’t tell them I’m here.” The fewer people knew I was in the country, the safer. Plus, while Harvey had talked about his family’s holiday property often, I’d never been and would be relying on GPS to get me there. I needed to get going.
It had been over forty hours since I’d left. Dot would have told my guys about it by now. If the Lighthunter was legit, they were probably already on a plane on their way here. I needed to be somewhere isolated, and I needed to stay put until they found me. It was safer for me—away from creepy little Vital-identifying machines—and it was safer for the general public; I wasn’t sure how well I could control the amount of Light that would come gushing out when we reunited.
“I’ll do my best to explain it all.” I owed him that much.
Harvey nodded, got out of the car, and walked up the curved path. I shifted over to the driver’s side and fastened the belt, ready to head off.
He came back after ten minutes, just as I was beginning to panic he’d blabbed to Mia. But he emerged on his own, carrying a bag and a cooler. He dropped both in the back before coming around to the window, playing with a set of keys.
“I packed some extra supplies for you.”
“Thank you, Harvey. For all of it.”
“Just be safe.” He handed the keys to me.
Not knowing what else to say, I nodded and started the engine. He stepped away from the car as I moved off. I could see him for a while in the rearview mirror, watching me drive away.
Once I was past the rush-hour traffic of the city and on country roads, the rolling hills in shades of muted green and brown soothed my nerves. No cars followed me out of the city, and Harvey’s GPS guided me toward my destination.
The sun had set by the time I had to navigate the dirt roads on the approach to Harvey’s vacation home, so I put the high beams on and took it slow, looking out for wombats and kangaroos. I finally arrived around nine, unloaded the car, took a quick shower, and collapsed into the first bed I found, not willing to walk even the few extra steps to the master.
It had been over forty-eight hours since I’d slept in an actual bed, and I was beyond tired. I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.
When I woke up to the sound of kookaburras outside the window, my arms and legs were itchy. I’d done my best to keep the Light at bay, but there wasn’t much I could do while I slept.
I groaned, getting out of bed. After another long shower, I removed my brightly colored extensions and got dressed in shorts and a tank top; even though it was only ten, it was already sweltering hot. Scratching at my arms, I rifled through the supplies Harvey had packed. The extra bag had spare blankets, flashlights, a first aid kit—the kind of things I’d need if the car broke down. The cooler had food.
Vital Found (The Evelyn Maynard Trilogy Book 2) Page 21