Just as I reach Sebastian, I’m being pulled into Eros’ arms and he’s turning away, carrying me out of the tent.
“Lathan, please,” I beg as Eros carries me past him. “Don’t let him do this.”
He gives me a slight nod, walking toward them in no particular hurry. Eros turns back around, making sure to keep a tight hold on me. Lathan hooks his arms under Sebastian’s from behind, pulling him off Elliot. “He’s done.”
Sebastian’s chest heaves, breathing raggedly as Elliot moans in pain, rolling onto his side. “Get the fuck out of here,” Sebastian spits. “Now. If you come back, you’re signing your death warrant.”
Elliot struggles to get to his feet, and I can’t help but feel bad for him. Violence, no matter how deserved, never feels good.
“Leave your bike. Leave all your shit. Get in your fucking truck and leave. Now,” Eros says, and I can feel his deep voice vibrating in his chest. Eros doesn’t get mean. He’s the opposite of scary. But this version of him is a side I haven’t seen.
Elliot stumbles, getting to his feet, slowly making his way through the tent and to his truck, hunched over, holding his stomach. We all watch in silence as he gets into his truck and drives away until his taillights disappear.
Sebastian makes his way over to me, wrapping his bloodied hand around the back of my head, the other one pulling me in by the small of my back. From the corner of my eye, I see the rest of the guys quietly duck out of the tent. “I’m sorry,” he rasps into my ear.
I shake my head. “You stopped.” I don’t pretend to know the first thing about how he must be feeling, but he doesn’t need that on his conscience.
Sebastian presses his lips to mine, kissing the top one, then the bottom before his tongue sweeps inside. I grab a fist full of his shirt, returning his kiss until we both pull away breathless.
“I love you,” I say, peering up into those green eyes. He squeezes them shut, like it’s painful to hear the words, before pulling me into his chest. I don’t know why I said it, other than I felt it and I couldn’t keep it in any longer. I love this flawed, beautiful, maybe-cursed McAllister boy. And even though he doesn’t say it with words, I know he loves me, too.
Two weeks later
I FEEL LIKE I CAN finally breathe. I don’t know where Elliot ran off to, but he’d be suicidal to show his face here now.
Ever since that day, Sebastian hasn’t let me out of his sight. Not even to perform. In fact, Eros, Tres, and Lathan refused to perform, too. For the first time in history, the Sons of Eastlake canceled a show. Three of them, to be exact. I tried to tell them they were overreacting. Having the four of them breathing down my neck like angsty sentries was enough to send me into a spiral of panic.
It’s Sebastian’s first night back at it, and I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of watching him in the Globe of Death. This is where he’s in his element. I also don’t think I’ll ever get used to the fear that comes along with it. There’s something terrifying about a man who thinks he’s destined to die and climbs inside a metal cage, tempting fate night after night.
I’m so entranced, I barely notice when someone takes the seat next to me, but when the voice speaks, my stomach drops.
“We need to talk,” Elliot—Isaac—whatever his name is—says, grabbing my arm. He’s wearing a black jacket with the hood pulled over his head in a sorry excuse for a disguise.
“Don’t touch me,” I snap, yanking my arm back, my heart beating a mile a minute. I can’t overreact. Sebastian will notice, and a distraction in the globe is the last thing he needs—and exactly why he was against performing in the first place.
I try to think fast, racking my brain to figure out my next move, but I’m not quick enough because he reaches for me again, this time wrapping an arm around my shoulders, pulling me toward the aisle. I try to jerk out of his death grip to no avail. I force myself to stay calm, not wanting to cause a scene.
“Good girl,” Elliot praises next to my ear. I send an elbow into his gut, and he gives a satisfying grunt, hunching over. “You’re going to pay for that.” And then I feel something sharp digging into my side. I swallow hard, casting a glance at the globe, seeing all four of them crisscrossing in their usual pattern, satisfied that they are oblivious to what is going on, but also terrified of what’s going to happen next if no one notices what’s happening. As he pulls me through the tent and onto the paved lot, my eyes frantically search for Miles or Kat or even Selina. But I don’t recognize a soul.
I hear a loud commotion, followed by collective screams, coming from the tent we just left, causing my blood to run cold in my veins, and I know, I just know, there was a collision. I look back through the opening of the tent to see all four bikes in one big cluster in the middle of the sphere. No. Please, no.
“Fuck,” Elliot says, propelling me faster, dipping behind another row of tents toward the grassy area that separates the fairgrounds from the main road.
“Sebastian,” I breathe, horrified. I twist away from him, uncaring about the knife at my side. But he snatches me by my hair, pulling me back. “Get off me!” I yell, but we’re almost off the lot now, and no one notices the struggle going on with the chaos of the carnival. I start to panic, the lights and sounds blurring together, wondering if they’re hurt. I couldn’t handle it if something happened to any one of them.
“Do you know how long I had to wait for your guard dog to back the fuck off?” Elliot spits. “I thought he’d never leave you alone.”
He’s been watching us? I cut my eyes at him and a chill runs through me, realizing how deranged he must really be. “Why are you doing this?” I ask, stumbling over a rock, Elliot’s grip on my arm the only thing keeping me from face planting. “I’ve never been anything but nice to you.”
He gives a bitter laugh. “Maybe in the beginning. But when Sebastian told you to jump, you asked how high.” He pauses his stride, looking into my eyes. “And when he told you to stay away from me, you listened. He took something from me. Now, I’m going to take something from him.”
“Look at you, Elliot—”
“It’s Isaac,” he snaps, correcting me.
“Isaac. You’re holding a knife to me. You’re not exactly proving him wrong.”
“Shut up.”
“Where are we going?”
“I said shut up.”
“Did you hurt my dad?”
“I came to see you. He interfered,” he says easily, like he’s commenting on the weather.
I should feel afraid, but all I feel in this moment is white-hot anger. I don’t know what he has planned for me, but he’s the reason I don’t have a father to speak of. He’s the reason my family is in shambles. My dad made the choice to abuse his medication, but Elliot’s the one who set this whole thing into motion. My fists clench, my heart ratcheting in my chest, knowing what I’m about to do. I see his truck pulled off the side of the road, and I know I need to act before he gets me in there.
I stop short, and when he turns into me, I send my knee between his legs as hard as I possibly can.
“Fuck!” he yells, dropping the knife, his hands flying for his crotch as he drops to his knees. I debate on running, but as I stare at him, anger surging through my veins, I realize I’m not done yet. I kick the knife out of his reach then lunge for him, taking him to the ground. I swing my fists down onto his face over and over. My hair flies into my face, blocking my view, but I just keep swinging blindly.
With a yell, he throws me off him, straddling my waist before sending a fist flying into my face. I’m momentarily stunned, but I don’t even feel the pain.
“Look what you did!” he screams. “I don’t want to hurt you, Evan.” He pins my wrists down next to my head. Before I can react, I see Sebastian from the corner of my eye, running up behind Elliot half a second before he’s being thrown off me. The two of them are in the street before Sebastian pins him and cocks his fist back before sending it flying into his face.
My initial feeling i
s relief. Sweet and utter relief that Sebastian’s okay. I don’t believe in curses, but you’d be surprised at how much you fear something being taken from you when you love it so deeply.
Fury is painted all over his face as Sebastian slams his fist into Elliot’s face, but Elliot manages to get a few good hits in, too. I run toward them, anxiously watching for a car to come barreling around the sharp corner. Dread settles in the pit of my stomach. If a car doesn’t hit them first, they’re going to kill each other.
“Sebastian!” I scream. “Stop!”
But he doesn’t listen. Elliot manages to gain the upper hand long enough to get Sebastian underneath him. My legs carry me faster than I’ve ever run before, shoving both hands into Elliot, but he throws an arm out behind him, propelling me into the street. I hit hard, the asphalt scraping my elbows, knees, and the side of my hip. I wince against the pain, slowly peeling myself off the ground when I hear Sebastian.
“Evan!” His yell is a guttural, thundering sound that has my head snapping up in alarm. It all happens in slow motion. I hear the sound of it before I turn my head to see a big white semi coming straight for me. I hear Sebastian screaming, the sound breaking my heart, as I try to make my body catch up to my brain.
Suddenly, Sebastian is in front of me, throwing out his arms, scooping me up right as the truck whizzes by, nearly swerving off the road before straightening out. I land on my back, his weight coming down hard on top of me. My eyes are huge with disbelief as he stares down at me, panting hard.
The tears come fast and thick, rolling down my cheeks. I feel my chin wobbling, unable to speak, while Sebastian uses his thumbs to clear the tears from my face, chanting, “You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,” over and over, and I think he’s trying to convince himself more than me. I nod shakily, and he reaches for my hand at my side. His warm palm wraps around mine before he gives me three purposeful squeezes. He swallows hard as I look up at him, my eyes searching his.
“You love me?” I ask, my voice shaky, but before he can answer, I see Elliot standing above us half a second before he jerks forward, his arm lunging forward toward Sebastian. Sebastian’s beautiful green eyes widen in shock, and at first, I don’t know what happened, but then Elliot pulls his arm back, holding a knife. A knife coated with Sebastian’s blood.
THEY SAY YOU FEEL THE most alive when you’re closest to death. But that isn’t true. The times I’ve felt most alive weren’t spent in the globe defying gravity or even looking into Evan’s eyes as I bled out. It was the nights spent in my bunk with her wrapped around me. The nights I spent inside her, knowing I’d never be able to keep anything that pure, hell-bent on getting my fill for as long as I could.
But that was selfish. Because look at us now. I always knew my life would end like this. Evan was the only thing I didn’t see coming.
I’m the curse; she’s the casualty.
I hear Evan’s frantic screaming, but it sounds muffled to my ears, like I’m underwater. At first, I think I’ve just been punched in the back. I can’t figure out why Evan’s blue eyes fill with horror. Then I feel it. The searing, excruciating pain that slices through me. I grit my teeth as the world seems to sway around me.
I’d give anything to keep you.
I think I say the words out loud, but I can’t be sure.
No. I don’t feel alive. I’ve never felt more dead than the moment Evan’s eyes told me I was dying.
October 12th-two years later
11:59 P.M.
THAT DAY WILL FOREVER GO down as the worst night of my life. The day I realized I was wrong and the curse was real—that Sebastian was right all along. That day, I felt the absolute horror of losing the person I love most and being completely helpless to do anything to stop it. Hope died right along with my heart, and I cursed the stars for cursing Sebastian.
I watch the numbers on my phone change to twelve, the date switching to the thirteenth of October. Sebastian’s twenty-fifth birthday. The tears fall, thick and heavy as I light a birthday candle for him, sticking it into the center of the funnel cake I got for this occasion. My chest shakes with my sobs, and a hand comes down onto my back, consoling me. I turn toward him, my hand covering my mouth, and then I’m pulled into his arms, smelling the scents of leather and tobacco and campfires that feel like home.
“Happy birthday, Sebastian,” I manage to say, my voice cracking on his name. I wipe the tears away from my eyes with the sleeve of my shirt, looking into those bright green eyes with a deep crease between them.
He swallows hard, like he can hardly believe it.
That day was the worst day of my life, but it was also the best, because it was the day Sebastian survived. Against all odds, he fought to live. He fought to stay here. And I knew I’d fight to keep him every day after.
“Sebastian!” I hear myself scream, but it doesn’t sound like my voice. It doesn’t even feel like it came from my body. “What did you do?” I yell at Elliot, who just stands there, looking dazed. Sebastian’s slumped against me, but I manage to pull my flannel off with one hand, pressing it to the bleeding wound in his back. There’s so much blood. Too much. I need to get help.
“I’ll kill you,” I scream at Elliot, and then I hear dirt bikes right before Eros and Lathan come into view. Where’s Tres? They take one look at the scene before them, and then they’re jumping off their bikes, tackling Elliot to the ground.
“Eros!” My throat is raw from screaming. “Call an ambulance!”
He backs away from Elliot, frantically patting his pockets for his phone as Lathan continues to beat him brutally. Keeping pressure on the wound, I touch Sebastian’s face, half-sitting, rocking him on my lap, begging him not to die, begging the powers that be to let him live. “I’m not ready,” I sob.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Elliot reaching for the knife, and I scream for Eros who’s relaying our whereabouts to the operator. He shouts, “Hurry!” into the phone before hanging up, just as Elliot’s hand closes around the knife. Lathan’s oblivious in his fit of rage. Eros bends over and skids on a patch of gravel, picking up a rock. When I see his intent, I look down at Sebastian, not wanting to watch what comes next.
A sickening crack rings out, and then it goes silent. Lathan and Eros crouch around us, trying to talk to Sebastian, but he doesn’t respond. “Where were you?” I cry. “He needed you!” It isn’t fair, but I’m in the mood to blame anyone and everyone. Eros and Lathan exchange a look.
“What?” I ask, even though I’m afraid to hear the answer. “Where’s Tres?”
“He’s hurt. Bad.” A tear rolls down Lathan’s cheek as he grits his jaw.
I shake my head, tears blurring my vision. I didn’t think it was possible for my heart to hurt any more than it already does, but Tres is just a kid. He’s too young to die. They all are.
I alternate between telling Sebastian I love him and repeatedly saying please for I don’t know how long before the ambulance shows up.
Finally, I hear the sirens, the paramedics rushing out of the ambulance a second later, peeling me away from Sebastian, leaving me sitting there, empty and dazed. They notice Elliot’s lifeless body next, one of them rushing over to check his pulse.
“What happened, here?” the frantic paramedic asks.
“Self-defense,” I say flatly, looking into Eros’ eyes.
“I’m here,” Sebastian says, pulling my face away from his chest, his thumbs wiping away my tears. “I’m here.”
I nod, sniffing.
We rewrote the stars. We made our own fate. We met two thousand miles from home, only to run in to each other again a year later. And a year after that. It wasn’t the carnival I was drawn to. It was Sebastian. That wasn’t a coincidence. If anything, that was fate.
The curse may not have been real, but the fear? God, the fear was.
Tres also survived that day, suffering three broken ribs and a punctured lung. Sebastian saw Elliot dragging me out of the tent and hesitated for half a second, causing
Tres to swerve out of the way. He fell in front of Lathan, but Lathan couldn’t avoid him. Tres has already returned to the globe, but Lathan isn’t ready, still. He doesn’t think he ever will be. I’m just glad everyone’s alive.
“Make a wish,” I say, reaching for the funnel cake and holding it out in front of him. Sebastian smirks, that moon-shaped scar winking with the movement, and leans over to blow out his candles.
Two months later
I stare at Evan’s sleeping form on the bed inside the RV we share. She insisted on putting off school, dead set on traveling with us for as long as she possibly could. But I was done sharing her with everyone else. Done with not having the privacy I wanted, so I bought us our own little bunkhouse.
We had a deal. I gave her until my twenty-fifth birthday, and then, regardless of what happened, she had to promise to enroll in college. I didn’t care where she went or what she did. I just didn’t want her throwing away more years of her life for me. She’d argue that she wasn’t throwing them away, but it was important to me that Evan live for Evan for once. Not her mom or her dad or her shitty friends. She ditched her political science major, instead opting for a film school in California, starting next summer. She makes trailers for The Sons of Eastlake on her computer, and I have to admit, she knows her shit.
The most surprising part of the past few years came from Evan’s dad, Gavin. When he heard Evan’s voicemail, he was facing prison time unless he went to court-ordered rehab. Hearing that she still cared about him was the push he needed. The first stint in rehab didn’t work, or the second, but the third time was a charm. He’s now part of the Jessup clan, working as a ride jock. Never saw it coming.
Their relationship isn’t perfect, by any means. Being sober means having to face all the shitty things you did while you weren’t. He’s guilty and ashamed, and she’s still full of resentment, but they’re a work in progress.
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