The Everlast Series Boxed Set

by Juliana Haygert

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice croaking under the heavy pressure inside my chest.

  Then I walked away.

  At first, each step was heavy and slow, but as forlorn tears spilled over and shook my body my pace increased until I was running. I ran as if the strides could erase the agony slowly consuming me.

  How could I have been so blind? How could I have believed Victor truly existed and that he loved me? Why had I tortured myself by looking for him? I knew the answers to these questions. If I could make one wish, I would ask for my dream Victor to be real. When I’d seen a guy that could be his identical twin, I thought my soul’s wish had been fulfilled.

  It had been too good to be true. Nobody could be so lucky. Still, I couldn’t believe I found a guy that looked like my Victor—but he would never be my Victor.

  I had to stretch the not-feeling-well lie for a few more days with work since I didn’t have any strength to get up from my bed. Adam was livid for having to fill in for me, while Raisa and Olivia were left worrying.

  On Friday, after I spent three days in bed barely eating or speaking, the girls called Cheryl.

  “I heard you’ve been hiding in here since Tuesday,” she stated. My face was buried in my pillow, but I felt the bed wobble as she sat next to me. “You’re not eating, you’re not going to class or work, and you aren’t speaking to your friends.”

  Through the pillow, I smelled them. Cinnamon rolls—my favorite snack.

  “That’s not fair,” I mumbled.

  Cheryl chuckled. “I’m not above using all weapons available to me.”

  Grunting, I turned to her and instantly saw giant-sized cinnamon rolls on a plate beside her. They were still hot, with extra sugar icing. Exactly the way I liked. And the fact I was starving added to the temptation.

  “God, you’re playing dirty,” I kidded. My first joke and half-smile in nearly five days.

  She passed me the plate. “I’m glad you decided to talk to me.”

  We sat in silence while I ate. It wasn’t an awkward silence though.

  “Thanks,” I said after I devoured three rolls. I was feeling better and cozier. I figured it was Cheryl’s presence, her sure self and kind smile.

  “You’re welcome.” She offered me a mug of coffee I had missed earlier. “So, what is this all about?”

  Where to start? Or, a better question, would I even tell her? Here I was, in the privacy of my room, with a woman who was both a friend who wanted to help and a psychologist. I could take advantage of this opportunity and open up for the first time ever. But was I brave enough? I wasn’t sure.

  I decided to give it a shot and opened my mouth to let the words come out naturally.

  “I-I …” I stuttered, not ready to confess how insane I was out loud. I tried another route, not far from the truth. “I met a guy.” I swallowed hard. “I feel very, very attracted to him, but he has been sort of rude to me. He hasn’t let me get close.”

  “Hmm. All of this because of a guy?” She smiled. “Tell me about him.”

  I stood and smiled. “He’s gorgeous. Perfect. His hair is dark blond, and he is very tall. And his body …”

  Cheryl chuckled. “It’s easy to see when you are nervous or excited.” She pointed to my hair. “You start doing that thing with your hair and don’t even notice it.”

  I looked down at my hand near my shoulder, where my finger was entwined in a strand of my hair. I hid my hands behind my back, holding them together to stop my nervous habit and to steady their trembling. Still smiling, she beckoned for me to continue.

  I took a deep breath and plunged on. “Well, I just feel this pull, this incredible need to be near him. I talked to him on Tuesday.”

  She seemed surprised. “How was it?”

  My brows contracted. “He was rude actually. And that’s why I’ve been hiding in here. Maybe my reaction was a little childish.”

  “Oh, Nadine, maybe it wasn’t childish at all. How do you feel about him? Strongly?”

  I thought about it for two seconds before answering, “Yes, very much.”

  “I’m no godmother from a fairy tale, but I think love is worth it. If you feel like you should be with him, then don’t give up. Go after him. Show him you’re a great girl. Show him what he’s missing.” Cheryl sounded like a motivational speaker.

  At her tone, a reluctant smile appeared on my face. “Cheryl, I’ve never heard you speak like that before.”

  “Well, I believe that when you think you found the one, you shouldn’t give up easily.”

  I had always wondered if she’d ever been in love. I started whirling my hair again, but stopped a second later. I had to stop with this habit. “And you, Cheryl? You’re talking like you know the feeling, but I’ve never seen you with a guy and never heard you speak of anyone special.”

  Her silver eyes became dull. “I lost the love of my life many years ago.”

  “Oh my God! I’m so sorry.”

  “I’ve never told anyone. I don’t think I’m ready to go looking for another romance. The truth is I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to love again.”

  I reached for her hand and squeezed it. “I think I understand.” If Victor kept rejecting me, I knew I’d become lonely and bitter fast.

  “The past is past.” She perked up. “Now, we must do something about your case.”

  I chuckled at her renewed spirit. “What do you suggest?”

  “Find out where he will be, what he will do. Be there, stare at him, practice some hair flipping and lashes batting. Ask some pointers to Raisa. I’m sure she knows all about those. Nadine, you have to try.”

  My chest still ached from Victor-not-Victor’s rejection, but what Cheryl said was true. I had to try. I truly felt like he was the one for me—at least the one from my dreams—and until I was convinced this Victor was not the one I thought he was, or he remembered who I was, I wouldn’t give up.

  10

  Somehow Adam found out I was feeling better and, after talking to our manager, informed me I was to work double shifts on Saturday and Sunday to compensate for the days I’d missed during the week.

  As a result, when I arrived home Saturday night and was invited by Raisa to go to the club with her, I had to refuse. I felt exhausted and useless. There was no way I could go out, even if there was a possibility of the real Victor being there. As it was, I found out on Sunday he’d been at the club with two classmates.

  “He’s totally hot, but Nad, please, he has this permanent I’m-mad-with-the-world look.” Raisa also told me a few girls tried to talk to him, and he turned them down. “I think he was rude to them.” Then she mentioned how his stance was stoic and detracting at the same time. “He doesn’t look like a bad boy. He just looks antisocial and annoyed.”

  So, I wasn’t the only one he mistreated or the only one who noticed how his posture shouted “back off.” That was sort of a relief.

  When the hospital called me to schedule an interview, my hands started sweating. There was a big chance I would run into Victor there. Despite the fact I wanted to see him and talk to him, I didn’t know if I was ready to face him just yet. But there was nothing I could do. I needed this job. I agreed on an interview time, right after my shift was over on Monday evening.

  Destiny or not, I literally bumped into Victor’s grandma when I left the human resources office after my interview.

  “I’m so sorry, ma’am.” I grabbed her arm to steady her. Bianca Gianni was old and fragile, with a neat white bun and gentle wrinkles adorning her still beautiful face. Sadly, she was alone. No Victor.

  “I’m fine, dear,” she said, her parched tone revealing how sick she really was. But she found the energy to smile at me. She wasn’t as tall as her grandson, but she was still much taller than me. “I was close to the walls and doors. You know, in case I trip.” She chuckled, and I grinned.

  Hmm. Ideas sprouted in my mind. “Do you need any help getting somewhere?”

  “No, no, dear. I’m jus
t stretching my legs. I get tired of spending most of my day in these damned hospital beds.” Her dull laugh became a couple of dried coughs. “I apologize for my inappropriate words.”

  “No need to apologize.” I stepped back, letting her pass me and get on with her walk. If what my vision Victor had told me was right, she stumbled over her feet all the time, and I would be there to offer her my arm for support.

  Not even ten seconds later, Bianca did trip and when I offered assistance she accepted it.

  “There aren’t many nice young ladies around anymore,” she said with a gentle smile.

  “You know,” I said, prepared to use bribery to find out what I wanted to know while we strolled through the hospital’s sterilized corridors. I had a chance to prove if all I knew about the Gianni family was right. “I was on my way to the cafeteria to buy a cocoa cappuccino. Would you like one?”

  Her green eyes brightened. “I would love one,” she exclaimed, then lowered her voice. “My grandson would kill me if he knew I had one. You see, I shouldn’t eat chocolate or drink coffee. And certainly not both at once.”

  I chuckled at the old lady’s enthusiasm. I loved the fact that during one of my visions, Victor had commented how it was hard to keep his grandmother away from chocolate, and coffee, and other things she shouldn’t consume in excess.

  My heart rate rocketed. Oh God, it was all true!

  “I won’t tell him if you don’t,” I whispered, and she eagerly agreed, looking like a child who was about to get a new toy.

  After getting cocoa cappuccinos, Bianca and I sat at one of the cozy internal gardens the hospital had built after the darkness had taken over. By then, we had formally introduced ourselves, and she had told me about her illness—like in my visions, she had stomach cancer.

  “I don’t think I have much time left,” she confessed, seated by my side on one of the wooden benches. She had on a heavy wool coat, but she looked cold. I considered getting her inside, but she seemed so relaxed next to the living plants. “I try to be strong, you know. I have to. Otherwise I don’t know what will become of my grandson.”

  To keep her talking, I pretended I didn’t know what she meant. I asked questions I knew the answers to just to make sure we were talking about the same Victor. “Where are his parents?”

  “Oh, they died when Victor was thirteen, dear.” Her voice was strained. “My husband, my son, and his wife were in a store that was robbed. The criminal became nervous and shot everyone.”

  I nodded, recalling when he had told me the same story. “I’m so sorry.”

  I was going to ask more, but a shadow fell over me. I glanced back and found Victor glaring at me.

  “Grandma.” His tone was dangerously low. “What are you doing outside? And with a stranger?”

  “She isn’t a stranger,” Bianca said. “Her name is Nadine, and she’s a nice young woman. She’s in the NYU pre-health program and just had an interview for a position within the hospital.” His grandma sounded like she was trying to sell him on me. I didn’t like it. And, from what I could see, neither did Victor. She turned to me. “I apologize for his behavior.”

  “You don’t need to apologize for me,” he retorted. “I’ll apologize when I think it’s necessary.”

  “Then at least be polite,” she chided him. I guessed this was a regular situation, seeing as she had raised him since his parents’ deaths.

  He puffed up but remained quiet.

  “I’m sorry,” I muttered, smiling feebly at Bianca. “It was nice meeting you.”

  “Oh, it was nice to meet you too, dear.” She reached out and patted my face. “If you ever come around again, I wouldn’t mind your visit.”

  My weak smile widened, but it was short lived since Victor’s glare made my whole being wilt.

  Afraid of answering, I just nodded. “Goodbye,” I said.

  I stalked away, wanting distance from this rude, cruel Victor whose sharp voice I could hear behind me. He reproached his grandma for talking to me and trusting a stranger. Even as tears brimmed in my eyes, I hummed to myself to mute his offensive words. How could the two Victors look so alike yet be so different?

  The next day I left my apartment in a hurry, nearly late for work. Ugh, I had never been this disorganized before. I was usually the most punctual, organized, and responsible person. Now I was a jumble of messy thoughts and goals. I just wanted to get on with my life, to make it to the end of a normal day like a normal person with normal problems.

  When Micah stepped in front of me, I realized my normal day would have to wait. The air swept out of my lungs. With thoughts of Victor consuming my energy, I had forgotten about Micah and how gorgeous he was.

  Like some dark stallion, he was dressed in all black, except for the T-shirt, which was white. Black pants, boots, and leather jacket. Added to that combination was his endless ebony eyes, jet black hair, full lips, and tanned skin. I wondered if he was real at all. Like Victor, he was too handsome to be true. Perhaps he was another trick of my mind, another hallucination sent to haunt me and make my legs tremble.

  “What do you want?” I asked, walking past him. Why did I become irritable every time he was near me?

  “What? Can’t I just want to see you?” With his long strides, it didn’t take him more than three seconds to catch up with me.

  “Last time I checked, no,” I snapped. Poor guy, I was releasing my anger and frustration on him. Was it because I was mad real-life Victor wouldn’t give me the attention Micah did? Mad because I wanted the attention to come from Victor, not Micah?

  Micah grinned slyly. “Come on, you must know you’re beautiful enough to make a guy want to see you again.”

  I skidded to a stop. “What? Is that a joke?”

  He stepped toward me, closing the gap between us, and ran his fingers over my cheek, taking my breath away. An ice-cold shock came with his touch, but it was much fainter this time. I shivered and realized he was taking advantage of my vulnerability to make contact with my skin.

  I pulled away. “Back off!”

  He was laughing, but, oh God, he was so sexy when he laughed. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist.”

  “I knew it.” I stomped on. “You’re after my touch.”

  He fell into step with me easily. “Will you stop running from me?”

  I didn’t answer him. Instead, I asked, “Why do you need to touch me?” I kept my gaze fixed ahead.

  “I’ve told you. You’re too beautiful to resist.”

  “Cut the crap.” I halted and faced him. “If you’re not gonna give me real answers, then leave me alone.”

  “Well.” He raised his hand as if he were going to touch my face again, but gave up and buried his hand inside the pocket of his jacket. “I just wanted to see you.”

  My heart skipped a beat. “No. You want my touch.”

  He leaned closer, his intoxicating scent making me dizzy, and whispered, “That wasn’t the only reason.”

  My throat was suddenly dry. My pulse accelerated. It was impossible to resist him. “Here.” I extended my hand, curiosity corroding my stomach. I wanted to find out if the touch of our hands would bring that bizarre effect again.

  For a second, his black eyes shone with surprise. But soon eagerness took over, and he clasped my hand. The icy shock that returned with the contact made me gasp. I watched him close his eyes and tilt his head back. I was hallucinating again, wasn’t I? How could a person touch another and—I don’t know—gain energy from it? Drink from it? Feel better because of it?

  I hadn’t thought of this before. Victor said my touch made his pain go away. Was this what happened to Micah, too?

  He released my hand. “Thank you.”

  “What does it help you with?” I asked, the wheels in my mind starting to function. “Pain? Is that it? You feel constant pain, and my touch relieves it?”

  His eyes bugged. “I—” He closed his mouth. “How did you know?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I resumed walking to
ward the café, Micah by my side. No more stomping now that he’d told me the truth.

  He shrugged, his hands inside his pockets. “You would think I’m crazy.”

  I laughed out loud. “Oh no. That’s not even close to craziness in my dictionary.”

  He smiled at me. A true smile. “You should laugh more.” Then he sighed, returning to his somber mood. “Not just pain,” he continued. “Your touch also helps with queasiness.”

  “Are you sick?” I touched his arm, worried.

  He glanced at my hand on his arm and showed me his sly grin. Self-conscious and flushing, I pulled my hand back.

  “I don’t think I’m sick. If I was, wouldn’t I feel aches and nausea all the time? It comes and goes without reason. And there are times it’s so intense, I can’t get up.”

  So that was what had happened with Victor. He had crumpled to the ground because of this intense pain. But what was it? How could both of them feel the same thing? And why did one feel cold and the other felt hot?

  Now I was super curious. “Does something trigger it?”

  “Not that I have noticed.”

  “Who else besides me can relieve your pain?”

  “No one. I’ve never thought it was possible to lessen the aches.” His smile widened, and he halted then continued, “Until I met you.”

  I stared into his eyes, hypnotized. “What?”

  “We’re here.” He motioned behind me.

  I turned around. The heat of embarrassment flushed my cheeks. We had arrived at the café, and I hadn't noticed. Should I invite him in? I wanted to. He was a charming guy who actually wanted to talk to me. Dreamy.

  A knock on the glass behind me snapped me out of it. Adam. He pointed to his wristwatch and glared.

  “Well, see you later,” Micah said. He took my hand and kissed my palm, his eyes on mine the whole time.

  I felt hot again. “See you,” I muttered. He released my hand, bowed, and started walking away.

  I stood there, watching his perfect form grow smaller and smaller, my mind so lost.