by Lily Cahill
“You better not be seeing him behind my back, Cora.”
“I’m not.”
“Well, you better not.”
He turned around, ready to walk out of the room. But she had one more question. She tried to keep her voice light as she asked it.
“What’s your problem with them, Butch? Why do you even care?” He had hated them—not just Clayton, but all of Clayton’s friends—for so long she couldn’t even remember, but she didn’t know why. It seemed out of proportion with plain old jealousy, out of proportion with a tired feud that had never really involved them in the first place. It was more.
“I got my reasons.”
“Tell me?”
But instead of telling her anything—instead of opening up—he turned around and slapped her across the face.
It stung, but she was more shocked than truly hurt.
“I told you to show me some respect. And that starts with mouthing off.” She watched his fist clench and unclench as though he was considering hitting her again. “You’re trash, Cora, and I’ve had enough of your snooty attitude. If you’re not careful, you’re gonna get yourself kicked out. It’s high time Bethany’s started earning her keep around here anyway.”
She couldn’t say anything. Words had disappeared, replaced by images—her worst fears flickering through her mind.
She could take it. But what would happen if he hurt Bethany? Her father wouldn’t put a stop to it. Maybe she could protect Bethany now, but this would only get worse as Bethany grew up, grew bolder—no matter if she was in the house to protect her or not. She could see that now. Clayton had been right. She had to figure out a way to get her away from Huck and Butch, and she had to do it soon.
“And if I find out that you are seeing him, Cora? So help me God. I’ll kill him and I’ll kill you. Don’t think I won’t.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Clayton
“Thanks for meeting me,” Cora said, walking out onto one of the old, abandoned docks on Lake Perseverance, the moonlight washing her in a soft glow.
Clayton had met her there in his speedboat. The motor purred as he shut it off. Tonight they were headed out to the island for more practice. Cora had insisted on it before leaving him at the campsite this morning.
“I’m glad you came,” she said.
“I made a promise, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did.” She smiled and the moonlight seemed to dim by comparison. She had her hair down tonight, full around her face, and she was wearing a faded red cardigan that clung to her figure. It was buttoned up all the way to her neck.
He wondered if she was just cold, or if she was trying to look less appealing in order to make it easier on him. If so, it wasn’t working. The sweater hugged every one of her delicious curves and was just a little bit too tight—the buttons straining slightly across her breasts. He wanted to rip the buttons off with his teeth. It was almost sexier than seeing her completely naked. Almost.
God, he wanted her. It had been too long without her touch. Last night had given him hope—not a lot, he wasn’t a fool—but between that and seeing her here like this he could feel his need for her rise. That was out of the question, of course. He couldn’t risk it.
He tried to regain his focus. Tonight wasn’t going to be easy.
“Let’s get this over with,” he said. He took her hand to help her into the boat, then dropped it as soon as she had her balance.
There were only two seats in the slick mahogany machine. It had been made for speed, not capacity. He expected her to sit down, but she didn’t. She wanted to stand, just like him. He gunned the engine and the boat sped away from shore. She laughed that throaty, full laugh that was too damn sexy for her own good and held on tight as he took the boat to speed.
He liked that she wasn’t afraid of the vessel. Of course she didn’t know yet how fast it went—he was only kissing the boat’s real strength—but he suspected it would delight her nearly as much as it delighted him. He wished he could just drive her around in the boat all night—watching her hair whip behind her like that, watching the stars dance in those eyes—but he had to remind himself that tonight wasn’t for pleasure. In fact, he didn’t know if they ever would have a night solely for pleasure ever again.
They made it to the island faster than he wanted, and he tied the boat to the dock.
“That’s quite a boat,” she said.
“One of the best,” he said. He didn’t mean to sound like a pompous ass, but it was hard to conceal the pride he had in it. He wanted to share it with her. “Shall we get to it?”
She nodded and led the way farther into the island. He felt better when he could see her ahead of him. But he felt worse too. The bright moonlight did nothing to hide the soft curve of her behind in that skirt. He’d heard some of the ladies refer to it as a pencil skirt, but there was nothing pencil-shaped about Cora in that skirt. The way it curved around her backside was a clear promise of all that was underneath. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her as her hips swayed up the path.
He was so transfixed by the tantalizing movement that he nearly ran into her when she stopped. He cursed himself. He had to be more careful.
“How about here?” she asked.
He looked around. They had made it to the far side of the island, the side that fronted Desolation. Everything facing the mountain was rock, an outcropping that dropped about ten feet to the water below. The waters here were full of rocks too, so boats couldn’t come ashore. They’d have plenty of warning if anyone else visited the island. And there was a patch of trees with a flat enough area to have a bit of room to maneuver. It wasn’t a lot of space, but it would do.
“Sure,” he said.
She looked at him expectantly, but he wasn’t entirely sure where to begin.
“I’ve agreed to try,” he said. “But I need you to set your expectations realistically, Cora. There’s a very good chance that our efforts won’t work.” He thought back to the first time he’d ever manifested the energy in his mother’s garden—how angry he’d been. It had been the same with Cora, too, but the consequences were so much worse. “My emotions, they seem to have greater control than I do.”
“You know, it was like that in the beginning with my powers too. At first I could only make it happen when I was feeling things very intensely. The first time it happened I was angry with Butch and I nearly drowned him in the laundry water.”
She took a few steps closer to him, and he tried not to back away. She seemed to sense his discomfort and paced past him in a wide berth.
“But that just sort of went away. The more I practiced, the less dependent I was on my emotional state. Now it’s more about my concentration. And even that’s become so much easier.”
“We have no guarantee that it will be the same for me.”
“I know. But that’s why I want you to try. As long as you try, I’ll be happy.”
“And where do you suggest I start?”
“I’ve been thinking about something,” she said, leaning up against a tree. “Last night, with the water, you said you could feel that there wasn’t any life force inside of it.”
“Yes.”
“So you have a sense for it—when things contain the kind of energy you need for your power and when they don’t.”
He hadn’t really thought about it, but he supposed she was right. He did sense it last night, and he could sense it now as he stood near a large boulder—there was nothing inside of it that he could use.
“Yes. I think so.”
“And you can do that without touching anything? You weren’t touching the water last night.”
Clayton looked around. He’d be damned if she wasn’t right again. He hadn’t even realized it—hadn’t thought to even try to look at things that way. But he did have a sense for it. The tree that Cora was leaning on was teeming with energy—so were the shrubs and wildflowers and grass. Cora herself was the greatest source. It pulsed within her almost as fast as his own
beating heart, calling to him with a sickening pull. But once he scanned the rocks and the water beyond them, he could see that there was nothing there.
“Yes,” he said. “You’re right. I do feel it.”
“It’s like that with my power too. I don’t have to touch it to know it’s there. At first, I thought it was just the sight of it—I mean, water is water, right? But it’s more than that. Something about me has changed. I can sense it. I still have to see it to control it, but I know when it’s there.”
His chest tightened. He thought he understood where she was going with her questions, and he didn’t like it.
“I guess I’m wondering if it’s the same with you. Can you—do you have to touch something to pull the power from it?”
“Cora—”
“I know. I know what it means. I know it scares you more if it’s true. And I’m not saying that if you can our agreement doesn’t matter. But we have to know, don’t we?”
He didn’t necessarily agree with her. What if now that he knew, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself? The idea of it took away what little hope he’d had of being able to be near her.
“I think you should try,” she said.
“No.”
“Wouldn’t you rather find out now than through another accident?”
It was a fair point.
“I won’t do it with you around,” he said.
“I knew you’d say that,” she said, taking a deep breath. “And I understand.”
Did she? With her around, what she was asking would be impossible.
“I’m going to walk back to the boat,” she said.
Relief spilled over him. “Thank you.”
“Just promise me you’ll try.”
“I will.”
He meant it. He would try. She was right, he had to know.
As she disappeared around a bend in the path, he realized he could sense her distance—sense the energy she held leaving his periphery. The space was emptier without her.
As much as he feared what could happen if she was there, he hated what it felt like when she was gone. Was he so weak that he couldn’t be without her, even for her own good? He feared it was the truth. It had to be the truth—if not, why had he let her convince him to put her in danger like this?
He couldn’t be without her.
The realization stung. He hated being without her so much he was willing to take chances that he shouldn’t.
Which meant that there was only one answer now—one impossible answer. He had to find a way to control his abilities. Otherwise, what would become of them both? He would ruin her with his love.
But if he could control them, if he could ….
With the possibility in his mind, he began to envision better things too—what life could look like with her by his side. His mind flashed a year into the future, five years, ten. An image filled his mind of them in a different boat. It wouldn’t be flashy or fast. This one would be slower, safer—large enough for children. He could see them now, a crew of sweet small faces. Little girls with her eyes and little boys with her smile. Suddenly all the trouble between his family and hers felt like nothing at all. They could overcome that. They could overcome that if he could overcome this.
He had to do it. He had to try.
He tried to clear his head of all of it—of what it meant to get himself under control, of the life they could share if he did, of even the smallest thought of brushing his fingers across her cheek one more time, of kissing her full lips.
He closed his eyes and tried to see what was around him. Without his natural vision, his senses grew even clearer. He could feel things moving, so vividly it was almost as if his eyes were open. The wind kicked up and he could see the wildflowers sway in the breeze. He could see the trees bend slightly against it too. There was another movement to his left—one he couldn’t place—he opened his eyes and saw a bird pecking at the ground for food.
He nearly laughed. This was unreal.
Each source of energy was distinct. He could sense not only the amount of energy in each being, but its frequency. The way the energy moved, its flavor. And now that he noticed it, it was as easy as breathing to tell the difference between a flower and a bird, between a blade of grass and a creeping vine. There was something else he felt too—a connection.
It was as though a string tethered him to each being. He could sense a pulse, tiny but clear, that seemed to bounce off of them and radiate back to him. Like a telegraph, perhaps. Or rather, more like the sonar systems in a submarine.
He decided it was time to try. He focused on that pulse—the one that connected him with a nearby wildflower—and willed it to come to him.
Just like that, it did. The energy seemed to twine through the air—a spiral of glowing blue dots that curled toward him and formed into a perfect sphere in his palm.
He hadn’t touched the flower at all.
He practiced it several more times. Honing it until he barely had to concentrate anymore. Each time, rather than destroying something with the energy, he either sent it up into the air or tossed it in the water as he and Cora had practiced the night before. He wondered if she could see it from the boat. He hoped so, imagining her silently cheering him on from afar.
Finally—after he had satisfied himself that at least this part of his power was fully under control—he was ready to show her. It wasn’t a solution to his problem. If anything, his newfound strength made her even more vulnerable to him. But it was progress, and it was progress that she had helped bring forth. He couldn’t wait to share it with her.
He darted through the trees and came upon her kneeling on the dock. She was leaning over the water, the sleeves of her sweater pulled up to her elbows, splashing water onto her forearms.
Something about them looked wrong. He rushed forward.
“What happened to your arm?” Clayton asked.
“Nothing,” she said, startled. She pulled her sleeve back down to hide it.
He knelt next to her, clasped her wrist gently, and pulled the fabric back up. There was a constellation of tiny blisters scattered across her forearm. His eyes snapped to hers.
“Tell me what happened.” Panic made his heart race. Had the fireworks he’d made done this? Had they rained down after all, too far away for him to see?
“It was stupid, I was frying eggs and I dropped the pan. The grease went everywhere.”
She was a bad liar. He could see it in her eyes. Something had happened and she wasn’t telling him the truth about it.
“If I hurt you, I need to know. That was part of our deal.”
“Oh!” she said. “No, Clayton. It wasn’t you. I promise.”
He looked at her more closely. She looked uncertain—maybe since the first time he’d met her, she looked like she wasn’t sure what to do. Then he noticed something else when she shifted in the moonlight—a swelling on her cheek that he hadn’t ever seen there before. No wonder her hair had been down. No wonder she’d worn that sweater in the middle of June. He’d been so stupid—blind to the fact that she’d been hurting the whole time. Anger bubbled inside him, threatening to boil over.
“Your face,” he said, sliding her hair behind her ear.
Her hand flew up to her cheek.
“Who hurt you, Cora? Tell me. I want the truth.”
She sighed, “Before I tell you, you have to promise not to overreact.”
He wasn’t making any such promise. “Tell me.”
She hesitated, looked into his eyes.
“Tell me, Cora.”
Her eyes darted away from him. “I got into a fight with Butch this morning.”
“A fight? What kind of fight?”
“It was nothing. He was just mad about me being out all night. He thought I was with you.”
“Did that bastard actually hit you?”
Her silence said what her mouth wouldn’t.
Anger flared in his chest, even hotter than before. He took her hand and guided her back to
the boat in three quick strides.
“Clayton, you can’t—”
“I’ll be damned if he’s going to hit you, Cora.”
“It’ll only make it worse.”
He heard her, but he no longer agreed with what she said. They’d tried to deal with the problem by hiding, and look what had happened. He had been a fool.
“He crossed a line. Someone has to put a stop to this.”
Cora pulled her hand away from him. “No! I won’t let you.”
She shot out her hand toward the water.
In an instant, a wave rose from the lake—large and strong and churning. With a roar, it carried his boat away, its force so hard and fast it snapped the tether from the dock.
“You’re defending him? After what he did to you?”
What kind of control did Butch have over his sister, to make her value herself so little? Clayton felt his rage building, a monster in his chest, and with it, a desire for power. It called to him, begged for him to use it, to destroy everything. The energy hummed around him everywhere—the trees and the grasses and the creatures that made their homes there.
And Cora, too. Cora burning bright and hot and blinding in front of him. Her presence so much greater that it tempted him beyond anything else.
It didn’t just tempt him, it tortured him. He longed for it. His need was overpowering. He felt on the very edge, a whisper away from taking everything she had.
Calm down, he warned himself.
He looked at her, and could see that she knew what was happening. Fear sharpened her eyes. Vigilance focused her stance.
She was ready to fight him. And as powerful as she was—as strong and clever and prepared—he knew she would lose.
Calm down.
He closed his eyes.
Calm down.
He closed his eyes and remembered her face. Pale and drawn and lifeless. He remembered her body, so still that he feared she would never move again.
And that fear—his fear for her—pulverized his anger, crushed it until it was only dust, blew it away on the breeze.
When he opened his eyes again, he knew without question that she was out of danger. And always would be.