He nodded, regretful. “There’s no way to know what their next move will be, but at least we know what they’re after. It’s easier to control the outcome this way. Until this thing is over, you’re simply going to have to lay low for a while,” he said, his eyes regretful. “I know this isn’t what you want, but that means certain conditions for you, Jemma.”
“Like what?” I gulped.
“Curfew. School and back. And never alone. I’ll stand watch throughout the night and maybe Trace can keep an eye out during the day when I can’t be there. Tessa was adamant about this, and I must say, I fully agree with her.”
My head was spinning. I needed permanent chaperones now? And Trace of all people? He didn’t want to get close to me, and he sure as hell didn’t want to be involved in vampire business.
“Trace can’t do it,” I said shaking my head. “Maybe we can ask Julian or one of Tessa’s—”
“I’ll do it,” said Trace, speaking over me. His eyes locked in on mine. They looked so determined—almost feral. “I won’t let her out of my sight.”
A slash of heat tore through my body.
“Then it’s settled,” nodded Gabriel, content.
“Great,” agreed Trace.
Apparently, I was the only who thought this had all kinds of bad written all over it.
35. BACK TO THE PAST
Trace was outside my house early the next morning under the pretense of driving me to school. It was only after I climbed into his Mustang that he informed me we were actually ditching school and going to his house instead.
I made zero protests.
The rain came down like axes, making it hard to see anything, though I immediately recognized the gated community as Caleb and Carly’s and was surprised to find that Trace lived just a few houses down from them. Where the Owens’ house was all glass and pallor, Trace’s house was the polar opposite; a stunning dark-stone mansion with wood finishing and a decadent porch that wrapped around the house like a ribbon.
Inside, the foyer opened to a vaulted living Room with high beamed ceilings and limestone floors that stretched to what seemed like the ends of the earth. As breathtaking as it was, the chill was unmistakable. The house felt empty—jarringly so. Not of furniture but of something else; of family, of life. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
We left our shoes in the mudroom and went up to the second floor where Trace ushered us into his bedroom. With my back pasted against the door, I scanned the expansive room, taking in the mahogany furniture, the blue walls, the large double bed to the right and matching navy comforter. I noticed a small desk on the adjacent wall-unit and couldn’t help but smile to myself as I tried to imagine Trace sitting there doing his Math homework.
Everything seemed nice, and tidy, and smelled good; the remnants of a spicy cologne I already knew and loved.
“You can come in all the way,” he said, pulling out the desk chair like a ligneous invitation. “I don’t bite.”
“I know that.” My heart was beating so fast I thought I might pass out if I got any closer to him. “So what’s the plan for today?” I asked instead, still not budging from the door.
His dimples flickered as he pressed his lips together. He moved to the edge of his bed and slumped down onto it. “I take you to go see your dad. That is what you want, isn’t it?”
“Yes, that’s what I want.” Desperately.
“Okay.” His eyes traveled down the length of my body. “Did you bring a change of clothes or were you planning on seeing him in your Weston uniform?”
“I have other clothes in my bag,” I croaked, my throat already dry as chalk. I hated the way he disrupted my normal bodily functions without even trying.
His eyes climbed back up in no hurry. “You can change in here,” he said and then instantly appeared in front of me, making my heart flutter. Flattening his palm against the door, he leaned into me, reaching. His mouth hovering around my ear, my neck, dizzying me with its nearness.
Every cell in my body stilled. I was afraid to move or speak or God forbid inhale his heavenly scent and truly lose all control over my limbs.
He turned the door knob and tugged the door open behind me, causing me to lurch forward into him. Thigh to thigh, you couldn’t slide a piece of paper between us, we were that close. And holy smokes, I needed an icepack.
He looked down at me for what felt like an eternity, his jaw hard at work as our nearness charged the air around us. I could feel my body humming—vibrating from the heat of his body pressed up against mine. His head tilted towards me, inching closer as though he were going to kiss me, and I held my breath, curious to know if his lips felt as soft as they looked.
He stopped abruptly and steeled his gaze. Before I could assemble another thought, his arm dropped from the door, freeing me from his cage. It was over before it even began.
I slid away gingerly and watched as he exited the room in silence.
Needing a moment to catch my breath, I staggered to the chair and sat down. I couldn’t figure out how he caused my entire body to go haywire with nothing more than his proximity. I swore to myself that the next time he broke into my personal space like that, or played those damn hot-and-cold games with me, I would give him a real piece of my mind. Or something. Who did he think he was anyway?
I quickly changed into a pair of skinny jeans and my favorite V-neck tee before letting him back into his room. My arms were crossed and my guard was up. Though, they both faltered as soon as I noted the unnerving look on his face.
“There’s a couple of things we need to talk about before we do this,” he said as he walked over to his dresser. He picked up his silver watch and swapped it with the one he was wearing.
I sat back down in the chair and rubbed my palms against my jeans. “Let’s hear it.”
“There’s a reason the Council doesn’t let us travel back without their consent,” he said, taking a seat on his bed just across the way from me. He leaned forward on his elbows. “The temptation to change things can be...overwhelming.”
I could understand that—heck, it was one of the reasons I wanted to go back—but I stayed silent, hands folded in my lap like a good little girl.
“The problem is that even the smallest change can open up a Ripple.” He gave me a meaningful look. “And believe me when I say, you don’t want that to happen.”
“Why not?” I wasn’t even sure what it was.
He paused before answering. “Say you go back to the day your father died and you decide to warn him about what’s going to happen—”
Sounded like a perfect plan.
“—you’d inadvertently be setting off a butterfly effect. Chances are he’ll accept that Death is coming regardless of your warning because he’s Anakim, but before he goes, maybe this time he prepares his final wishes for you. Maybe he decides that you should go stay with a distant cousin or an old friend. Maybe you never end up coming to Hollow Hills and you never meet me—we never make the trip. How do you then get back to the present now that you’ve erased it?” His eyes were sharp, focused. “That’s a Ripple. Even a small Ripple could destroy everything.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat.
“I need to hear you promise me you won’t do anything stupid. That you’ll leave the past exactly as you found it because as far as your dad’s concerned, it’s just another day. Can you handle that?”
I didn’t know if I could do it. I didn’t know if I’d be strong enough to see my father and not warn him about the attack—about what was going to happen.
“Jemma?”
I had no other options. My hands were tied. “I promise,” I said, tasting the bitterness the words left in my mouth.
He rose from the bed and walked over to me. “If it’s too much for you, you don’t have to talk to him. We can keep our distance.” He held out his hand and I took it easily. “I’ll still take you to see him.”
“I need to be able to talk to him…to hug him.” My eyes welled up at th
e thought of being able to feel my father’s embrace again after so many months. Something I never even allowed myself to dream of.
“I understand.” He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his thumb grazing my cheek as he wiped away a lone tear that had fallen.
The gesture made my knees and heart tremble.
“When you’re ready to go, just start thinking about the day you want to go back to,” he instructed, soothing me with the deep whisper of his voice.
“Any day I want?”
“Any day.” His dimples pressed in as he hedged a smile. “Just make sure it’s not too far in the past if you plan on talking to him. And make sure the Jemma from the past isn’t around either,” he added, deepening his smile as though he would have enjoyed the doppelganger run-in.
“Got it.” I rubbed my palms against my jeans. “And then what happens?”
“And then I put my arms around you and read your thoughts. I need to see the place in order to get us there so I’ll have to lift the memories from your mind.”
“Okay.”
He took my hand and pulled me in closer to him.
As soon as his arms were wrapped around me, I shut my eyes and began sifting through my memories, searching for a good day to revisit—the perfect day—and settled on the morning of my dad’s very last birthday. I remembered it as if it were yesterday. Our house, the molten sun shining, the bear hug I gave him before leaving to catch my bus. Every moment was still vivid in my mind, and it was Trace’s for the taking.
The cold quickly flooded my body like an arctic blast, and with that, we were in Hollow Hills no more.
36. SUNNY SIDE UP
The scorching sun kissed my skin like a long-lost love. I’d forgotten how good it could feel. How medicinal its warmth could be. I wanted to stay in this moment forever; let the heat encase my body like a tomb. But alas, I had miles to go.
“Where exactly are we?” asked Trace, peering down the length of the street as we stepped out from behind the hedges.
Apparently, getting us there didn’t necessarily mean he knew where there was.
“This is my old street. Well, my old bus stop to be exact.” We both looked up at the stop sign in unison as though it were some fascinating museum artifact.
“And that’s my house.” I ticked my head to the modest cream colored Mediterranean house adorned in tall palmetto trees at the end of the street.
“Have you figured out what our story’s going to be?” asked Trace as we started down the street side by side. It felt like an impromptu quiz the way he pressed me for an answer.
I thought about it for a moment. “I’ll tell him you’re new in the neighborhood and that today’s your first day at Cape High.” I paused as I reran the story in my mind. “And that we missed the bus,” I added, remembering that this would be the second time he was seeing me this morning.
“Not bad,” remarked Trace, his dimples pressing in modestly, beckoning me. “I’m impressed.”
He was impressed that I lie well? I shook my head, “you would be.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” His eyes looked like two dazzling orbs in this sunlight.
“You know, just that you look like the kind of guy that would be impressed by something like that.”
He looked intrigued. “And what kind of guy is that?”
I shrugged as though I hadn’t given it much thought. “The kind of guy that has a lot of secrets. The kind that dates girls like Nikki Parker and answers questions with questions. The evasive kind.” I wanted to add ‘the hot brooding kind’ to the list but figured it was best to leave that one out.
He tipped his head in a nod, soaking it in. “You think you have me all figured out, don’t you?”
I couldn’t hold back my laughter. “Not even a bit.”
By the time we turned up my driveway, my heart had all but climbed up into the back of my throat, threatening a complete system failure. I was going to see my dad again. Right here. Right now. After all this time and a funeral. I had no idea what was in store for me but I refused to let my fear of the unknown stop me. I drew in a lungful of air and pushed open the door.
The familiar sights and aromas assaulted my senses as I walked into the house. It felt peculiar being here after so much time away. Even though everything was the same and I was more than nostalgic for it, somehow, I’d become a stranger to the house. Like I didn’t quite fit here anymore.
Apparently, I didn’t fit in anywhere anymore.
“Jemma? Is that you?” called my father from the kitchen. The sound of his voice hit me like a lightning bolt.
I staggered back, shaking my head. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to set my eyes on him without breaking down.
Trace slinked our hands together. “You can do this,” he whispered, rubbing soothing circles on the back of my hand with his thumb. “Just breathe. I got you.”
My insides pinched at his words. I couldn’t figure out how he was able to transmit exactly what I needed to push forward, but he did, and I liked him more for it.
I walked into the kitchen and found my father sitting at the table with a cup of coffee cradled between his hands. The sun dusted his features, giving him that same ethereal look I often imagined him with nowadays. It took every ounce of strength I had to resist the urge to run over to him and crawl into his lap like I did when I was a kid. When I didn’t know any better and thought there’d never come a day when I wouldn’t have my father.
“Who do we have here?” he asked, furrowing his dark brows similar to the way my uncle did when he was talking Rev business. It was unnerving how much they looked alike.
I couldn’t stop staring. “This is Trace. He just moved here. We missed the bus.” Frankly, I couldn’t have done a poorer job lying if I tried doing it on purpose.
“Nice to meet you,” jumped in Trace, extending his hand to my father. The sight of them shaking hands made my heart swell.
“Likewise,” said my father. His dark eyes bounced between the two of us before settling back on me. “Are you okay, Jems? You’re looking a little—”
“Yeah, I’m totally fine.” I stood there looking anything but. I needed to get a major grip.
“Alright.” He nodded in a circular motion, not quite believing it but unwilling to press the issue. “Let me grab my keys. I’ll give you two a ride to school.”
“It’s okay, Dad. You don’t need to do that. We’re catching the next bus,” I lied, easy as breathing.
He looked rather confused by my decline. I guess that made sense considering I wasn’t exactly one to turn down rides at that particular point in my life. You might have even said I was allergic to public transportation.
“Trace is new, remember? He needs to learn the route,” I added, hoping it sounded plausible enough. I felt bad lying to him like this but I guess it was for his own good.
“Alright, fair enough. You might as well sit down then,” he said, motioning to the table, grinning copiously. “Looks like you have time for that breakfast after all.” He winked at me before bending down to pillage the fridge, and I nearly broke down in complete hysterics. I never in a million dreams thought I’d get another chance to have breakfast with my dad.
I remembered asking him for a rain check this very morning all those months ago, assuming there would be a lifetime of tomorrows to have breakfast with him. The younger Jemma had far more important things to do—like meeting Jake Miller at the bleachers before class. Everyone said he was going to ask me to the dance and I couldn’t think of a single more important place to be at the time. How utterly stupid I was.
If only I knew. I’d take it all back, trade a hundred dances and first kisses for this one breakfast with my dad.
And now, thanks to Trace, I wouldn’t have to do any of that. He made the impossible possible by giving me a chance to right my wrong and rewrite the past.
I sat down at the table and watched as Trace interacted with my father while he whipped up a batch of h
is famous pesto scrambled eggs and bacon. I’d never seen Trace so loquacious before. It was kind of endearing to see, and the fact that it was with my dad made it that much more special.
As they carried on about junior hockey and classic cars, I found myself studying my dad; his voice, his mannerisms, the lines in his face. I needed to remember it, all of it, and brand those memories into the forevermore of my mind.
“Jemma here is on the varsity cheer squad,” said my dad as he set down a plate in front of me. “She’s the only sophomore on the team.” He sounded so proud of me when he spoke. I never noticed that about him before.
“Is that right?” Trace’s eyebrows shot up with interest. He was eating up every word of it. Probably picturing me in my cheer uniform this very second.
I rolled my eyes at him.
“I got lucky with this one,” continued my dad. “Never gave me any problems. She’s a good kid. A little high in the maintenance department, but a good one just the same.”
Was he trying to make me sob? I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep it together. Sucking in a lungful of air, I bore down into my scrambled eggs and blinked back the budding tears as Trace and my father went on with their near perfect, off-the-cuff conversation. It was far too easy to fall in line with the normalcy of it all. I would feel the loss later, of this I was sure, but for now, all was right in the world.
The morning passed like falling water, evading me with every drop. It didn’t matter how bad I wanted to reach out and trap it—freeze it—keep the water at a standstill. It was impermanent, another fleeting moment that would soon be over. I ate my breakfast in a daze, hardly saying a word all morning which was very unlike me, especially back then. But I couldn’t help it. I just wanted to hear my dad speak. I wanted to hear him complain about the stifling humidity and rave about his super bowl predictions. Every word he uttered seemed so important, so utterly crucial to my survival. I only wished I could stay here and listen to him speak forever.
Once everyone had finished their breakfast, I cleared the dishes from the table and loaded the dishwasher for what felt like the last time. The sun was shining through the window, though it didn’t feel right on my skin anymore. Inside I felt as gray and unsettled as the Hollow Hills firmament. The storm clouds had already gathered in my heart, knowing I was going to have to say goodbye to everything all over again.
Inception (The Marked Book 1) Page 29