Shattered Secrets

by Krystal Wade

  He clenched his teeth, staring straight through me. “I’m not about to cry. I’m furious with me, with our situation, with my inability to come up with a plan that doesn’t make me look like a loser.”

  Loser my ass. Switching out the mugs, I held one full of steaming hot coffee under his nose. “Drink this. Forget about the book—like we were supposed to do for a week anyway—and, please, explain to me what happened yesterday with the ring, when Ms. Anderson was here.”

  “Always the voice of reason, aren’t you?” Derick kissed my cheek, replaced my mug with the coffee pot, then nudged me back to the couch. “My explanation may require more of the book, but sections I somewhat understand.”

  “Whatever you have to do,” I said, wishing my eyes were like Superman’s and I could make History of Kalós catch fire. Stupid thing did nothing but bring me frustration.

  “My mother is a Cognizant, and my father is a Romancer. Do you remember how he said you’re a Guardian just by being alive?”

  I nodded, sipping my will-have-to-replace-Starbucks-while-I’m-pretending-to-be-a-real-adult drink. Budgets and all that. Not that I had a clue as to the amount of dollars at our disposal.

  “Well, no matter what Mark would have you believe, my natural abilities don’t get me all the ladies. As you’ve noticed over the years, I don’t exactly get around.” He waved his hand, clearly frustrated by Mark’s previous insinuation that Derick had me fooled.

  I’m pretty sure at some point almost everyone I knew had me fooled in one way or another.

  “Romancer abilities allow me to change a scene, a setting and the objects in it, in order to smooth over possible dangerous situations. I Romance what people see, not the person. My dad taught me only a few basic ways to control how and when I use the power. But you shouldn’t be able to see through my act.”

  “So you’re telling me I would have unknowingly played along with a charade that we’re married and would have no recollection of it later?”

  “Yes—or I think so.”

  “And this is a natural ability? Something you have very little control over?”

  “Yes.”

  This explains so much! “Now I know why Mark is jealous. He thinks you’ve been unknowingly using your Romancerness on me all these years, changing how I see him. What about the charm and good looks crap you mentioned earlier?”

  Derick set down his mug and yawned, reaching his arm across my shoulders. “Crap?”

  Chump move but not one I cared to protest. “You know what I mean.”

  “Apparently, in tense situations, or in situations where I’m nervous, excited, or my emotions are otherwise stimulated, I have a tendency to speak and act a certain way to make people swoon, if you will, over me.”

  Great. Just great. So maybe Mark’s words held truth—I didn’t want to think about that.

  “You’re wrong.”

  Does he read minds, too? “How do you know you’ve never done something to influence how I feel about you?”

  Derick leaned back and propped his feet on the table, crossing his legs at his ankles. “I already told you. You can see through my act—like you saw the ring and realized something was off. If you were anyone else, you would have gone along with the scene as if nothing was unusual.”

  And what he did to the State Trooper.

  “But what if that’s a secondary ability?”

  “You’re a Guardian. You see some door that no one else anywhere can see. I’m sure seeing through what I do is part of who you are.”

  Please be right. “What about your secondary abilities? You made yourself and the car invisible. How? And how do you control them? And what about the emotion we’re connected to? Do you know what ours are—?”

  “Slow down. I don’t know about you, and I barely know about me. I didn’t want to believe any of this at first, but stuff kept happening that made it impossible not to believe.”

  “Like walking in the front door and no one being able to see you?”

  Derick snorted, and we burst out laughing, doubling over and gasping for breath. Exhaustion makes everything seem so much funnier, even when you’ve run away from home, are hiding from maniacs, and have no idea what the future holds. Laughing like this with him reminded me of simpler times, back when we’d sit next to each other on the bus and secretly watch YouTube videos of cats yowling, the driver glaring in his humongous rearview mirror, just daring the culprits to break the ‘no electronics’ rule again.

  Derick caught his breath and propped his feet back on the coffee table. “You know, the invisibility thing is actually cool. I just imagine myself somewhere else and I disappear.”

  I smiled, big and cheesy, my heart warming from his words, his little confirmation of how he felt about me.

  “What?” he asked.

  Dork moment. “Where were you imagining yourself the night we kissed, when you walked in your parents’ house?”

  Derick glanced sideways at me, his face tight from suppressing a grin, his eyes happy and twinkling. He leaned next to my ear and whispered, “I imagined us lying under the shade trees at Lunga Park, no one else around for miles, me kissing you, you kissing me back.”

  And just like that, he was gone, leaving me squirming alone on the couch! “Holy shit, Derick! Where’d you go? I can’t even feel you!”

  His form reappeared from the outside in, as if someone created a fading effect in Photoshop and hit the play button—or something. But now, Derick’s expression held a hunger to it, a longing, something I easily recognized, something I’d felt since our kiss at The Griffin, and maybe even before. He held my gaze, his lips parted, his breathing slow and even.

  “I never meant to hurt you,” he said, picking at the seam of the sofa cushion. “I wanted what any guy our age wants—to kiss you every day, to call you mine, and to make all the other guys jealous—but when that happened, I freaked.”

  I swallowed hard. “You hurt me. A lot.”

  “I know,” he said, abandoning the cushion to draw his thumb across my bottom lip.

  “But I’m here now.”

  And I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. Derick served as the one constant in my life, the one person I could trust with anything, every piece of me; he’d be gentle, loving, loyal, everything I needed him to be.

  Derick nodded, removing the blanket from my lap; he tossed the thing to the floor with a swift flick of his wrist. “You are.”

  Heart fluttering, I licked my lips and moved closer to him until our thighs touched. “You can make it up to me.”

  “I plan to.”

  Derick pressed his soft, warm lips to mine and gently moved my mouth with his. He slid one hand to the back of my head and the other trailed down my arm, making me ache for more of him, more of us… a bed.

  But just as quickly as the thought formed, he pulled away.

  “Mmm. I give up on making any sense of this. One week. No books, no news, no responsibility. Rich high school drop-outs on vacation.”

  Heaven. “More kissing?”

  “More kissing.”

  I leaned forward—

  “I know I’m probably breaking every teenage guy’s code or something, but sleep first.” He jumped to his feet and then dragged me by my hand into the bedroom.

  My heart had never beat so hard, never rejoiced so much, until he got in the bed and fell asleep. Then, my metaphorical love monitor felt betrayed.

  ake up,” Derick whispered, drawing me closer—if that was even possible.

  I smiled and enjoyed the secure comfort being held brought me, glad that our closeness in a bed wasn’t as scary as I’d originally thought. My dad would die. Just die! “I’m awake.”

  Gray light filtered into our room, and the wicker fan whooshing overhead created a sound I would always relate to love and warmth and my feet tangled with Derick’s. I flipped over and faced him, a nervous churning in my belly, my heart fluttering ever so slightly.

  “What’s your favorite thing?” he asked, twi
rling a strand of my hair around his index finger.

  Uhh. “Coffee?”

  Thinking past my morning ritual proved impossible.

  Derick huffed, a sort of half-laugh, half-gasp thing. “I mean your favorite thing, something your parents collected for you longer than you can remember, something you adore, something you have about a thousand of on your nightstand.”

  I really needed coffee. “Turtles?”

  “You have a thousand turtles in all shapes and forms on your nightstand, and you just phrased that as a question. I never knew you were such a caffeine-addict, Abby.”

  I did. “Where are you going with all this?”

  “It’s 5:30 a.m. How about we go meet some turtles?”

  5:30? “We slept nearly twenty-four hours? That’s crazy. And look at your face; it’s not red any more. Wait—did you say turtles?”

  He laughed at me, like laughed at me, and pushed some of my surely messy brown hair behind my ear. “I said turtles. It’s the wrong season to see them nest, but we can go to this aquarium called Mote Marine.”

  All the Google searches I did while Derick vacationed here with his family led me to articles about turtles and how the locals documented new nests every morning. Jealousy ravaged me when I thought of how close he was to the aquatic reptiles my parents had somehow convinced me to love, and I wanted nothing more than to go on Turtle Walks with him… and no one else. Seeing the creatures in the wild would be amazing, but the Mote Marine would have to do.

  I bolted out of bed and then ran to my dresser. Pulling out crumpled khaki shorts and a bright-blue ribbed tank, I pretended not to hear Derick’s laughter echoing through our room, then lifted my pajama shirt over my head.

  He sucked in a quick breath, and I about fell over from embarrassment. Cheeks burning, I covered my chest with my tank, thankful I faced away from him. Being half-naked in front of a guy was not normal for me, and given his response, seeing that much skin wasn’t normal for Derick either. And if it was, well, we’d have issues.

  “I… I’ll go make coffee.”

  There was no time to say another word; Derick’s track star legs carried him out of the room too fast. At some point, we’d have to get used to seeing each other change clothes—we lived together—but clearly not today.

  Longboat Key’s beaches stretched on for about twelve miles. I should know; after spending hours in the aquarium, Derick and I went home, changed, then walked all over the soft, white sand. We met up with a group of activists we’d talked to at Mote Marine, and they trained us how to find loggerhead nests, document, and protect the turtles’ fragile homes.

  If we weren’t back in Virginia by June, we’d be prepared for Turtle Walks.

  We headed back to the condo now, holding hands, breathing in the refreshing smell of salt and humidity, allowing the ocean breeze to whisk around us. The sun beat at our side, closer to setting than rising, and the surf washed between our toes. This morning’s momentary indecency existed as only a distant memory, forgotten by spending the day doing normal things, in a normal world, with normal people.

  But no matter how hard I tried to focus only on the good, I couldn’t help but worry about tomorrow, and the day after that, and how we would ever get back to school so we could fret about exams, the daily gossip, who to eat lunch with, and what to wear to graduation.

  Those problems sounded awesome.

  Those problems were normal.

  We were not staying in Florida forever. But getting out required learning about ourselves, about—“How did you discover your other abilities?”

  His hand tensed. “I thought we were on vacation.”

  “We are”—I jogged ahead and turned to face him, continuing backward—“It’s just a question.”

  “Well, invisibility kind of surprised me.”

  And his kiss surprised me. I picked up my pace, sucking in sharp breaths of the warm air. “What else do you have?”

  “Speed?” Derick kept up with me, his muscles flexing under his fair skin in ways that made me wish we weren’t in public.

  I tossed that thought. “You don’t know?”

  “I’ve always been fast, Abby. Who knows why.”

  I whipped around and ran as fast as I could, which probably rivaled the speed of a geriatric in a 100-meter dash. My feet sunk in the sand or crashed on an occasional shell, slowing me down even more, but not Derick. He breezed right by like someone on a leisurely stroll.

  “So you’re suggesting… what exactly?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

  “You’ve got invisibility and maybe speed. Thank God neither of us knows what emotion we’re connected to.”

  “Why?”

  “Because aside from being a Guardian—something I don’t even control—all I’ve got is an ability to see through your weird Romancing—”

  “Weird?”

  Wiggling my ring finger at him, I said, “Yes, weird. Very weird at that. But that sight is probably a part of me being a Guardian.”

  “You got me.” He slowed, allowing me to catch up to him, then slipped his arm around my waist. “And you have weird stuff, too. You saw Kalós—which you couldn’t before—and… I’m not sure what else. But I’d say that makes us equal.”

  “I saw Boredas at the Capitol Ale House.” Any jealousy over Derick’s various other physical abilities flew out the window and a seemingly more important thought struck me, though I had no idea why it mattered so much. “If he’s not from our plane or here, how did he hide in the restaurant? Your dad said they’re our opposites with all the same powers. So that means… he has invisibility, maybe?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Can’t be, though. I can’t see you when you’re invisible.” Was there a difference between my power to see Kalós and whatever power Boredas used to stay out of sight? If so, maybe I possessed more magical crap than I realized. And if not, how did he do it? How did he disguise himself?

  Figuring out our lives gave me a headache.

  “Maybe someone’s helping him?”

  I shrugged. “The book said there are only two here working for Aedan. I probably just have some other awesome unnamed specialty.”

  “Now I’m jealous.”

  The sound of children giggling startled us out of our conversation. We looked up. Two or three families occupied the stretch of beach in front of our condo, scattered about and rubbing gobs of white sunblock over their skin, building sand castles with bright pink and blue buckets, splashing in the surf, or just being happy.

  My heart ached. I wanted to be like them, to be here with Derick without all the other pains in my life. Mom would love this place, the crystal-clear water and small waves and tiny fish scuttling in the shallows, and the solitude of uncrowded beaches. Dad would like the island, too, but he’d follow me around, trying to prevent any guy from even looking at me, wishing I was still his baby girl who wore her hair in pigtails and went to dance class merely to collect the stickers, the girl who Mom wouldn’t allow on the beach in anything less than a one piece bathing suit.

  “I’m going to miss performing in the Twelve Twisted Days of Christmas.”

  “Wow. That was quite a change in subject.”

  I shook my head, trying to snap out of my daydream.

  “Feel like hanging out on the beach to watch the sunset?” Derick asked, drawing my attention back to him, where my attention always found itself, where I liked it to be.

  “Sure, as long as I can bury you in the sand.”

  “I’ve always wanted to know what living like a crab felt like. Stay here. I’ll go grab some towels.”

  He took off running toward our place, and I claimed a quiet seat on the sand, removing my cover up. Turning my face toward the bright-blue sky, I drew in a deep breath and leaned back.

  Stop thinking like a grownup. Stop worrying. You’re a teenager. You’re with your boyfriend, the guy you’ve been shamelessly addicted to for five years. Be happy.

  A flock of white pelicans soared over the shore,
mere inches above the water, flapping their wings, necks tucked in, forcing me to enjoy the peacefulness of nature. The kids stopped giggling and pointed at the sky, running out toward the surf with their short little legs.

  I love this place.

  “Hey there, gorgeous.” A guy who was not Derick sat next to me.

  Last time a stranger surprised me, I found myself in the trunk of a car, bound, gagged, and scared. I gathered my white and black striped cover up and then tromped toward the condo, toward Derick.

  “Can’t a guy say hello these days?”

  Suddenly, moving toward my house seemed as dense a plan as staying and saying hello. Panic rose in overflowing bubbles, making my heart rush faster than my retreating steps. My ears rang with the memory of Ruckus’s hand greeting my cheek, and the smell of smoke filled my nose. I can’t handle this. Where’s Derick?

  “Before you go all paranoid and call the cops, you should know I work here and just need to know what unit you’re in. We get a lot of trespassers.” The guy grabbed my arm and spun me around to face him. He looked eerily familiar, close to our age, maybe a bit older, and had bushy blond hair and blue eyes and a tan so many girls were probably jealous of—really, boys should not have skin that golden. “Whoa. Since when does saying hi cause a girl to cry?”

  Jerk. “Get your hands off me.”

  He let me go, holding up his hands, causing his biceps to flex—athlete of some sort, had to be, all lean muscles with veins roping around them. Not an ounce of body fat to be found.

  Actor maybe? Boy band member? No. He said he worked here. Where do I know him from?

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry? You’re sorry? You sit next to a girl on the beach and greet her with ‘hey, gorgeous’ as if you know her? Then when she leaves, you follow her? Is it your job to sneak up on people?” My voice was high-pitched, a tad maniacal.

  “Sometimes.” He laughed, eyes widening and—did they change colors?

  I shook my head. Nope. Still blue.

  “Do I know you from somewhere?”