“Actually I don’t know.” My admission stops him in his tracks. “I know about you on a supernatural level. But we must have skipped all the ordinary.”
He takes my hand again, but I shake it off. He tries one more time, but I’m not in the mood to be so close physically when this is all drifting farther away in every other respect.
“Wren. Wren. Wren?” He’s so much taller than I am, he can still walk with slow, steady strides while I’m speedwalking like a retiree making her mall rounds. “Wren, look at me!”
“What?” I whirl to face him, and am so embarrassed by my stupid, nonsensical reaction to his perfectly reasonable plans for what he’s going to do over a year from now. A year! So much can change. So why am I shaking with fury? “I thought we meant something. I thought you would at least consider staying for me.”
He nods and pulls me close even though I stay robot-stiff. He kisses all over my face, rubs my arms, and I loosen up even though I don’t want to. “Of course I’ll consider it. If you’ll consider leaving. For me.”
My own selfishness doubles back and smacks me upside the head. “Oh.”
“Don’t.” He takes my hand again, like he senses I’m going to tumble into a jerky, stupid apology. “We have all year. It’s gonna be fine, and we’ll figure out what works for both of us. Alright? Hey?”
I look over at him, my heart nervous and tired.
“Being with you is amazing.” His words get the instant smile I know he expects. He pulls my hand up and kisses it, and I feel the shuddery pull toward him that my body can’t resist. Now that we’ve been together, now that I know what I want from him, a little taste only leaves me hungry for more. “But it’s brand new. Give me some slack if I forget that you’re actually my girlfriend now. I had this whole lonely existence all plotted out for myself. I never thought I’d luck out and actually get to have you around. Seriously, I was envisioning myself as kind of this independent mountaineer, growing a long, scraggly lonely-man beard. Taking up pipe smoking. Maybe learning to play something melancholy. Like the harmonica or the banjo. You’re putting a very positive, beardless, pipeless spin on my future.”
“What about banjo-less?” I take his hand in mine again.
“Maybe I’ll just play happier songs on it?” he tries, and I snuggle against him.
“Sorry I freaked,” I manage after a few smiley seconds of luxuriating in his words.
“I know I make you crazy.” He throws an arm around my shoulders, and I squeeze him tight around the waist and pinch his ribs.
I’m in love. I’m crazy, head-over-heels in love with this guy, and nothing is going to stop us, ordinary or paranormal.
Epilogue
I feel that heady, amazing swirl of happiness right up to my front porch, where my father sits in a lawn chair. Glowering.
My arm falls from Jonas’s waist, and I look up at him in desperation. He whistles low and shakes his head. “We’re in deep shit, Wren. You ready to face your father?”
“Are you?” I whisper.
“Let’s get it over with.” He puts on a brave face, but his hand is slightly clammy in mine. We walk up the path to the door, and Jonas nods. “Good morning, Mr. Kochi.”
“Good morning, Jonas.” The deep disapproval in his eyes makes us both hang our heads. “Wren, we have a visitor. I think Jonas should go home now.”
I clamp my hand tighter around Jonas’s. I should be able to face this on my own. I should be able to accept that my mother can’t love me and my unlovability drove my father away, but after last night with Jonas, I can’t let go of the one shred of true, good love I’ve ever felt. “I want Jonas to stay.”
I know my father wants to object, but he doesn’t have the years of practiced authority he needs to navigate this petition, so he just nods reluctantly.
“Maybe I should go, Wren. I’ll keep my phone on.” Jonas speaks lowly, his voice tickling my ear.
“No. No,” I plead. “Stay with me. Please. I don’t want you to go.”
It’s melodramatic, but he nods and kisses me with a quick, gentle kiss before we follow my father into the house. Loki sits on the floor, chewing on a piece of bacon between her paws. If she wasn’t a fox, I’d say she was giving me the ‘had a good night did you?’ eyes. I pretend not to notice, but I swear I hear the otherworldly sound of her laughter in my head when I bend over to scratch her ears.
I expect to see my mother, teary and worried at the table, with teacups and baked goods all around her. Instead a young man sits at the kitchen table. His shiny black hair is arranged in a purposefully messy style that I instantly despise. His black eyes sparkle like he’s grappling with a whole lot of bottled-up sarcasm he’s working hard to keep a lid on. His mouth, full and decadent, twitches in a cocky half-grin.
“You must be the famous Wren Kochi?” He kicks back the chair and stands up. He’s not much taller than I am, but he has this kind of commanding presence that fills the entire kitchen and makes him feel towering. He bows to me, then holds out his hand. “Taro Kochi.”
Jonas lets out a long breath at the last name, and I take Taro’s firm, smooth hand and shake. His smile curls wide, and his eyes run over my body appreciatively, but stop at my face with a look that hinges on a dare. I feel my cheeks go pink under that look.
“You’re Wren’s cousin?” Jonas guesses. When Taro takes his eyes off of me and looks at Jonas, there’s an instant crackle in the air. Jonas puts his hand out. “Jonas Balto. Wren’s boyfriend.” Jonas adds a dumptruck’s worth of emphasis to the last word and I resist the urge to dance in gleeful circles around the kitchen.
My father chokes on his morning coffee. Taro shakes Jonas’s hand, and I can tell each guy is trying to break the other’s fingers during the polite social exchange.
Taro’s words are smooth and mellow. “Not a blood relation. I was adopted into the Kochi family by Wren’s grandfather. I owe my life and my undying respect to that man, which is why I’m here today.”
The merciless handshake would have gone on indefinitely if I didn’t put a hand on Jonas’s arm and clear my throat. He relents and lets go. “You were telling us why you’re here?” I prompt Taro as they both discreetly shake their hands out at their sides.
“Right.” He smiles at me, and I have a feeling it’s evenly half to flirt with me and half to get Jonas’s fists up. “Sofu has asked that you come visit him at the Kochi family compound this summer.”
Loki’s ears twitch, and she comes to sit at my feet, her eyes focused on Taro and her head tilted, as if we’re two diplomats at a summit meeting. Taro looks from me to Loki as if he knows exactly what Loki’s thinking and agrees.
“Sorry.” My decision is pretty instant, and I have half a dozen reasons to support it, all of which I’m about to rattle off when Taro adds:
“Sofu hears your grandmother isn’t well. There are several powerful healers you could train with.” Taro’s black eyes snap and his fingers slide over the handle of the coffee mug with the same calculated caress a Texas Hold ‘Em addict would use on his poker chips.
“Yes.” The word takes a running leap off my tongue, sure and absolute, and Taro’s mouth smiles behind the rim of the mug in smug triumph. Loki puts her head on her paws, satisfied.
“Wren,” Jonas murmurs, his eyes bulged with his attempt to keep his wild panic at bay. “Do you want think about this first? Do you even know anyone there? Where will you stay? What about Sakura?”
“I would go with you if you wanted, Wren,” my father says, his solid, stable voice weighing in against Jonas’s darting, bouncing worry.
I look at Jonas. I don’t want to leave him, not when we finally found our sweet spot of happiness, not after I harpooned his plans to travel and leave me behind. I need to mend fences with my mother. I need to tighten the coil of my best friendship with Vee. I need to gear up for senior year, set my life back on track.
Then Loki rubs against my ankles and I take her warm body in my arms, her calm heartbeat slowing my ma
nic one, and I know that no amount of arguing will change my steady, one-word answer.
Bestemor is lying in a bed and she might never recover. The only person who would know if she’s under some kind of spell is Sakura. The only person who’s offered me any hope to help her is Sofu.
There is no question. I’m going to Japan with Taro.
I look at Jonas, ready to tell him, but he can read my face at this point, and I know he gets that I won’t change my mind and why. His mouth presses into a line and he averts his eyes. It gnaws at my heart to leave him, but I have to. I have no choice. I turn to my father and focus on his warm golden eyes. “You need to stay here with Mom. She’s not strong enough to be without you.” I turn to Taro. “When would we go?”
He looks at his watch. “You have two hours to pack if you’d like to take Sofu up on his offer.”
Jonas turns and walks out the door, throwing it behind him with a bang, and I put Loki down gently and follow, my feet tripping down the cement.
“Wait! Jonas!” I cry. He turns, and the pain on his face makes my throat raw.
He takes a few steps towards me, shakes his head, and closes the space between us, folding me into his arms in a cruelly loving crush. “I just got you. I just got you, finally. And you’re leaving.” He kisses me hard and fast over and over, and it’s like he’s ripping the kisses out of my mouth with his. “It’s not safe. I’m not saying it just because I’m a selfish dick who wants you around. This isn’t right, Wren. Something isn’t right. I can feel it. You must be able to feel it.”
I take a deep breath. “I have no choice, Jonas. Bestemor is in there, dying, and I have to help her if I can.” My voice is thick with the tears I am not about to shed right now. “I may have the chance to help her. How can I say no to that?”
He nods, a heavy, sad swing of his head, and rubs his hands up and down my arms. “Alright. Okay. Listen. Listen to me. Remember when we talked about supernatural and ordinary?”
“Yes.” My voice is small. He kisses my lips with hot, desperate kisses that set my blood on fire.
He pulls back and holds my shoulder with biting fingers. “Everything is a balance between the two. Sometimes you get so consumed with one, you forget the other exists. Wren, your grandma? It might just be her time. I know you don’t want to hear the ordinary explanation, but they might be the ones that are true.”
The sun drizzles waves of warmth over our heads. The sky is a mind-numbingly perfect blue. My life is gravitating towards cosmically good things like I’ve never known before. An adoring boyfriend I love. My best friend, who I can learn to embrace in new ways. Parents who just might love me after all. Loki to hone the supernatural with. A rich, wonderful future.
But none of that means a damn thing without her.
I know what Jonas is trying to tell me. I know he might be right. But I can’t dismiss the fact that it’s just as likely he’s wrong.
My kiss is light and soft, a soothing balm of a promise. “I’ll remember that. I promise. I promise you. And I’ll be home soon. Before you know it.”
“I’m your magus. I should be with you.” His arms circle around my shoulders, and my body wars against ever leaving the perfect comfort of his embrace.
“You’re a shieldmaiden’s magus, Jonas. I’m about to go learn to be a witch. Let me go. I’ll be careful, I promise.”
And this is the part where, if we were ordinary, parting would be sad because we’d be lonely and jealous and miss each other. But, because we’re supernatural, parting is ferocious because Jonas knows that my powers give me access to the edge of an abyss that I might fall into and never come back from.
“You be careful, or I swear to God, I will come across the world and get you.” His voice is fierce and scraped away. His pale eyes glitter and his mouth curls in a fierce scowl. “I swear to you, I will rip this world and every other one apart to get to you if you need me. Okay? I love you, Wren. I love you.”
“I love you. I love you, too.” I nod and hold on for dear life, because something deep in the lightless, secret part of my mind knows that Jonas’s fear isn’t without foundation. I won’t tell him what I can barely admit to myself. That in the darkest, closed-off, shielded corner of my brain, I’ve heard a voice I know well, a voice that is unhinged, full of hate, and promising to do me in. A voice hell bent on a particular triumph that can only be achieved by getting rid of me.
“Wren. Promise me you’ll use your head. Promise me you’ll be safe.” Jonas’s face communicates his wild range of emotions, and I dig my fingers tight into his skin and say the words I already know are a lie.
“I promise. I’ll be fine, Jonas. I’ll figure it all out and be home in a few weeks. I promise.”
I bury my nose in his chest, focus on the hammered rhythm of his heart, squeeze my eyes shut, and wish, against all odds, that my words are actually the truth.
Acknowledgements:
Jumping into the world of paranormal has been an exciting and thrilling haunted house visiting/skydiving/ bungee jumping/spelunking/surfing with sharks kind of good time, and I want to thank some very, very awesome people for helping make this journey a smooth criminal.
Huge sloppy smooches to my incredibly cool husband, Frank, who pulled me deep under with his comic book fangeek adorableness and shared my sadness about the horrifying lack of episodes in the only season of Firefly…*sniffle.* His love of all things weird rubbed off on me. Or maybe I’ve just always been super weird and we found our weird sweet spot together. His motorhead tendencies also taught me to adore the smell of motor oil, hence Jonas’s particular fragrance.
Gremlin love to the utterly fabulous Nichole Chase, YA para novelist extraordinaire, who listened to me whine, called me from Atlanta to add one more note to her critiques, and helped suck me into the world of supernatural romance with her own outstanding tales.
Fan girl squees to the wonderful Sarah Ross, who allowed me the awesome opportunity to beta read her action-packed, swoontastic YA paranormal and did me a solid by culling through my book and helping me make it shine.
Noogies and hugs to Tamar Goetke, who runs through my books with an iron editing eye while juggling a million responsibilities at the same time. She’s never afraid to tell me like it is, and my love for her is bordering on sickeningly gushing.
Atomic high fives to Laura Bradley Rede, whose wonderful YA para encouraged me to stretch the limits of my own story, and whose friendship and positive vibes are so strong, I totally believe she’s got fairy in her and stopped by to sprinkle me with some of her magic dust.
Oceanic squeezes to Lani Wendt Young, whose fabulous books exploded the idea of cross-cultural legend and gorgeous, ancient/modern power in YA paranormal. Not only is she a writer who will blow you away, she’s one of the funniest, sweetest, warmest people I’ve ever had the great fortune to “meet.” (And I do plan to take the quotes off “meet” and actually meet her one day!)
Glitter cannons and pagina sparklers to my lovely, amazing, wonderful, supportive FP girls. You are rockstars, goddesses, sisters, jokesters, friends, and comrades. I wouldn’t know what to do without you, and am thankful every day that I have your love.
So many unlimited cyber smooches to the readers, bloggers, and book lovers everywhere who take a chance on authors and carry our books in their hearts. We authors cannot thank you enough for the passion you show our fictional worlds. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to the readers who took a chance on my books and spread the word in the most positive, humbling ways! You guys rock…hard!
The ultimate, intergalactic hugs to my fam, the outrageously distracting and wonderful people who I love even while they drive me to the edge of the abyss of crazy. And to my lil’ bean, Amelia, who can melt my soul when she presses one finger to her lips, pulls the door closed, and says, “Da, shh, Ma’s writing. It’s hard work.” My heart is bursting!
Biography
I’ve been interested in writing since I rewrote the ending of Romeo and Juliet and killed
them all off…every last one! My teacher loved it, and my inner writer came out kicking and screaming.
My writing passion is YA, the more verbal sparring, melodrama, and steaminess the better! In my real life I love my gorgeous daughter who makes me laugh and drives me insane, my awesome husband (who is the inspiration for many of my best bad boys…shh!), all the rest of my crazy family, plus travel, great books, good food someone else cooked, movies, and laughing.
I am the author of the Brenna Blixen Novels (Double Clutch, Junk Miles, Slow Twitch), Forgiving Trinity, and the upcoming YA romance, Fall Guy. My YA dystopian novel, Blue Rebellion, will be out in 2012/2013.
Write me if you want! I’m at [email protected]. I’d love to hear from you and am open to any questions/comments/hilarious Youtube video links. Oh, and check out my blog; www.elizabethreinhardt.blogspot.com. Sometimes it’s very funny! (Sometimes I’m the only one laughing.)
ARC Excerpt
Fall Guy:
A Youngblood Book
By
Liz Reinhardt
Coming 2012
My grandmother’s pearls slide soft and cool against the skin of my neck as I twist them nervously. I always imagined myself fingering them as I prepared to walk down the aisle on my wedding day, their soft gold hue complimenting a snow white wedding dress that showed a tasteful amount of skin and hugged me in all the right places. I had no idea I’d get a chance to wear them so much sooner and for such an embarrassing reason.
This morning she slides the little gold hook into the eye-shaped clasp and presses it tight, her dry fingertips light and gentle on my shoulders, the softly sweet, rich smell of her perfume reassuring in my nostrils. “Ninety percent of this entire ordeal is how you look, sugar. Keep that backbone straight, but don’t you dare even think one solitary saucy thought. You don’t have what it takes to keep your temper off your face.”
I glance up at her face reflection in the gold-framed mirror of my vanity, and guilt gives a long, silent scream in the back of my brain. There are lines between her ash-blond eyebrows I can’t recall being there before I’d become a permanent fixture in her life. Her smile strains across her face and her blue eyes, the same light, icy blue as mine, are dull with worry.
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