Recalled

by Cambria Hebert

  I reached into my jeans and pulled out my cell.

  “Hobbs,” I rasped when my butler answered on the first ring. “I’ve been in an accident… Piper… she’s unconscious. Please help us.”

  I rattled off our location, then dropped the phone in the snow, completely ignoring his questions and demands. I knew he would come.

  I couldn’t get Piper out of her side because it was smashed into a tree. So, I climbed back in my side and found my leather jacket to wrap around her. Every muscle in my body quivered and protested as I lifted her out. A couple times I had to stop with her in my arms and take a few breaths. I did what I could to make sure she wasn’t injured more, but I knew she got a few more scrapes as I tried to wiggle her out.

  Once free of the twisted metal, I carried her to the road where I dropped, still holding her in my arms, to wait.

  I looked down at her in the dark and more feelings rushed to the surface. I wouldn’t kill her. I was never going to. All of the times I’d “attempted” to do so were never a success because I hadn’t really been trying. If I were, she’d be dead.

  And I didn’t want her to die.

  Even if it meant I’d be recalled.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  “Safe - Free from danger or injury; unhurt. Secure from danger, harm, or evil.”

  Piper

  I heard the beeping, I felt the gentle pressure of a blanket over my body, and I knew finally I was somewhere safe. I didn’t open my eyes because I wasn’t ready yet. When I opened them, I’d have to see. I’d have to see everything I’d been blind to for so long.

  All this time I’d been falling. Falling for a man who wanted me dead. I thought of him fondly while he thought of ways to erase me from this earth. Had I let my obsession with the man who died for me get in the way of everything else? Did I yearn for him so badly that I didn’t care what I had to do to get answers?

  My brain lost these thoughts as a feeling of pain came over me. My body was so tired. I’d fought to stay alive and I was… but for how much longer?

  I heard a soft noise beside me and then felt a presence that had probably been there all along. Was it Frankie? No. Frankie would be demanding that I open my eyes. She’d be yelling at me for scaring her this way.

  This presence was heavy and silent, laced with regret. Was he here, then? Was he waiting to kill me in my sleep?

  Perhaps if I was going to die, doing so peacefully would be best. I tried to die while fighting and that hadn’t gotten me anywhere.

  Something cold touched my skin and then was drawn away. I lay there without one ounce of energy to open my eyes. As I began to fall asleep, I heard a heavy sigh and something warm wrapped around my fingers.

  Dex.

  I thought about reaching for the call button. I thought about getting some help. But I never got that far. Because as soon as the thought entered my mind, Dex began to talk.

  He began to confess.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  “Confess - To disclose (something damaging or inconvenient to oneself); admit.”

  Dex

  If she dies, it’s going to be my fault.

  The thought mixed with the sound of beeping monitors—the two blending together into a constant rhythm that hummed through me as I hunched close to the hospital bed.

  The doctors said she wasn’t going to die. They said she’d be okay, and the beeping of the monitors was proof she was still alive.

  It was also a reminder that in a short time I most likely would be dead.

  I shivered a bit, wondering why the hospital room was so cold, and I reached over to pull the blankets closer around her.

  She was pale. Her cheeks lacked that pink glow that I’d come to associate with her. Because she looked so white, the bruises on her neck stood out even more and so did the many cuts on her face from the shattered windshield. In many ways she looked like a creation of Frankenstein—all pieced together with many different colors.

  Even still, she would be Frankenstein’s most beautiful creation.

  I found the edge of the blanket and pushed my hand under it, my fingers seeking her hand, and when I found it, my skin felt like ice against her warmth so instead of wrapping my fingers around hers I settled for resting mine beside them.

  I felt heavy and confused. I knew exactly how we got here, but the reasoning behind my actions no longer made sense. What made me think death was more important than life? What made me think it was okay to kill for money, clothes, and my own preservation? When I died—when I pushed her out of the way of that bus—I hadn’t been thinking I would gain from my actions. I hadn’t been thinking anything other than this girl couldn’t die.

  What happened to that thought? It somehow got lost between death and life, and now here I was sitting in a hospital beside someone I’d been trying to kill for over a month when, really, from the second I saw her I only wanted her to live.

  It seemed hers was the only life I’d ever valued, but it was to her that I brought the promise of death. Charming wanted her abilities and G.R. wanted her body and soul.

  And me… what did I want?

  I wanted her heart.

  My hand flexed when the thought whispered into my mind… My fingers were no longer cold and of their own accord, they sought and entwined with hers. Somewhere between the plotting and the lying, I’d fallen in love with her.

  I’d never known love in my life. I always felt like I had a slow leak in my heart… that eventually everything good would drain away until I was left with nothing but a deflated, useless organ inside my chest. But now… now I felt like the leak was patched and someone was slowly breathing life back into what I thought was a lost cause.

  And this was how I repaid her.

  “I’m a miserable excuse for a person,” I whispered to her, glancing at the closed door. “They let me in here without question when really they should’ve kept me far away.”

  The monitors continued their steady beeping as my confession poured right out.

  “That man that died for you, the man you mourn for everyday… I’m that man. I know it sounds impossible, I know it sounds like a lie, but it’s the truth and it’s where our story began.”

  My fingers curled a little more closely around hers and I took a breath. “I was given a new body and I was promised money and cars and homes… I was promised an eternal life to enjoy and all I had to do was Escort people to death. I never thought death was that big of a deal. But then I was told to kill you. I thought I could do it. I told them I would. I did try… but when it came down to it, I just couldn’t. Death feels like a very heavy burden now.”

  I bowed my head so all I could see was my feet.

  “I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. That from here on out, your life is safe. I won’t hurt you and no one else will either. Your life is ten times more valuable to me than anything else. I know you won’t forgive me, and I don’t think I deserve it, but I had to say it before I walked out this door and never came back.”

  I gently untangled my fingers from hers and pushed out of the chair. I leaned in close, taking advantage of the fact she was still asleep to brush the hair from her face and press my lips against her forehead. She hadn’t heard anything I said and when she opened her eyes, I wouldn’t be there. But I figured leaving now was the kindest thing I could do.

  I pulled away and looked down one last time before I went.

  She was watching me.

  There were tears on her face.

  Without thought, I brushed them away with my fingers, watching as her eyes briefly closed. When they reopened they were filled with fear. I pulled my hands back, stuffing them in my pockets, and took a small step backward.

  “I know you’re scared of me. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m leaving,”

  I turned away and went to the door, reaching for the handle.

  “Wait,” she called from the bed. Her voice was still hoarse and scratchy, but it was loud enough that my hand paused.

  I
looked over my shoulder.

  “I heard what you said.”

  “I know it seems unbelievable,” I began, but she shook her head.

  “I believe you,” she whispered, her voice growing lighter. She held out her hand and motioned for me to come closer.

  I released the handle and went back to her bedside.

  “I knew you were connected to him,” she whispered. “That night he—you—died… when he touched me, I had a vision. A vision of him smiling.”

  I sat down in the chair, heavily, listening to her words.

  “Then that first time in the diner, that time I met you again… when you touched me… I had the exact same vision. I’ve never been more confused. When I touch someone and get a vision, it’s about that person and only that person. But here I was, touching a stranger and having a vision about someone else. Someone that died.”

  “You have visions?” I asked, understanding dawning. I finally knew what Charming was after. And I also finally understood why she’d been so sure I was connected to the man who got hit by the bus.

  She nodded. “Ever since I was a little girl.”

  Her voice cracked on the last word and I reached to grab the pitcher of water and pour her a glass, holding it out so she could sip through the straw. She drank it gratefully and then fell back against her pillow.

  “You should rest,” I told her. “You’ve been through a lot.”

  She reached for my hand, her grip surprisingly strong. “Please don’t go.”

  “You want me to stay?” After everything I admitted?

  “I feel like I only just found you,” she whispered.

  “Listen to me, the guy you think I am… the guy that got hit by that bus. That is me. The me standing in front of you. I know I look different, but I’m the same. I still tried to kill you.”

  “Stay,” she whispered, her eyes getting heavy, but the grip on my hand remained.

  I pulled the chair closer and sat down, knowing I should go but wanting to stay.

  * * *

  She was sleeping when I slipped out the door. The doctor said she was going to be just fine, would probably sleep all night long and be released tomorrow. My clothes were rumpled and ripped, I had blood all over my shirt, and my face hurt from all the cuts from the shattered windshield. I needed some glasses because I couldn’t see and it was giving me a headache.

  I told myself those were the reasons I was leaving.

  But I couldn’t fool myself, no matter how badly I wanted to.

  I was leaving because I couldn’t sit there and watch her die.

  No, she wouldn’t die from the car accident. But she was dying. Somewhere right now Charming and G.R. were plotting against us, against her. I couldn’t sit by while someone planned the death of the only person I ever loved.

  That’s the thing about death. It doesn’t care about love. It doesn’t care if you’re not done living. It doesn’t stop… It keeps coming until it claims everything a person has, until there’s nothing left.

  When I walked by the waiting area I saw Hobbs leaning back in a chair with his feet outstretched before him and his ankles crossed. He had his hands lying over his middle and his head leaned back, looking up toward the ceiling. His eyes were closed. I stepped up before him and he opened his eyes and straightened.

  “Is she all right?”

  I nodded. “She’s sleeping and I need to get cleaned up. Can you drive me home?”

  The Roadster was totaled. And I really didn’t care.

  “Of course.” He stood. The gray suit he always wore looked fresh and unlined—even though he’d spent most of the night sleeping in a hospital chair.

  In the car, Hobbs tried to talk to me. “About the accident, sir, what happened?”

  I leaned my head back against the seat. “I don’t want to talk about it, Hobbs.”

  “Of course,” he murmured.

  There was nothing left to say. I knew what I had to do.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  “Love - an intense emotion of affection, warmth, fondness, and regard towards a person or thing.”

  Piper

  When I opened my eyes, they went to the chair pulled up close beside the bed. It was empty. Dex was gone. I wasn’t sure how long he stayed, but I know he had for quite a while because the chair cushions still bore the imprint from his body.

  As much as I wanted to see him, I was sort of relieved he wasn’t here. I needed to sort out everything that happened and I knew that I wouldn’t be able to do that with him so close.

  I’d always known there was something about him I recognized—something I was missing. It wasn’t just the vision. The night Dex walked into the diner, I knew he was there for me. I hadn’t understood it at the time; I probably would’ve brushed those feelings off right then if he hadn’t touched me. If I hadn’t seen the man that saved me in that vision.

  And I was right. All along. He was connected to the man who was hit by the bus and he’d also been there for me.

  But he wasn’t there with good intentions.

  The cold truth was that he tried to kill me. More than once.

  But he also saved me. More than once.

  What was a girl supposed to do with that?

  A smart girl—me—would run far away. Would hit the call button beside me and tell the nurse when Dex came back to keep him away, to ban him from the room.

  I heard his confession. I felt his hand holding mine and I heard the acceptance and finality in his tone that he would walk away and I would never see him again.

  A smart girl would have let him go.

  But I loved him.

  Did that make me stupid?

  Maybe so, but I wasn’t going to change my mind. For so long I was torn between a man that I hadn’t known, a man who was dead but still felt alive, and a man who was right in front of me, a man I had feelings for but tried not to.

  Turns out they were one in the same.

  I wasn’t entirely sure how that was possible and what it meant for us, but I was sure whatever it was we could figure it out. I saw the way he looked at me when he thought I was still asleep. I felt the gentleness in his touch and heard the longing in his voice. He loved me too, and for now, I was going to hold on to that. I guess time would tell if it was enough.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  “Cracked—Broken so that fissures appear on the surface.”

  Dex

  I rushed through my shower and then quickly pulled on a pair of beat up jeans, a white long-sleeved thermal shirt, and a navy blue zip-up hoodie. I rummaged through the bathroom until I found the wire-rimmed glasses that came with my body—the glasses I thought were dorky and stupid looking—and shoved them onto my face. My vision straightened out and I breathed a sigh of relief. It no longer mattered what kind of glasses I wore; there were more important things in life.

  Like living.

  I pushed my hands through my damp hair a couple times and jammed my feet into the black converse sneakers before rushing downstairs into the kitchen.

  “Can I borrow your car, Hobbs?”

  Hobbs turned from the stove where he was frying bacon and looked at me with lifted eyebrows. “Going somewhere?”

  “I have something I need to take care of.”

  I thought I saw a flash of respect in his eyes, but then it was gone and he was gesturing toward the keys on the island. I grabbed them up and snagged my coat off the back of a chair.

  “Thanks, I don’t know when I’ll be back.” Or even if I’ll come back.

  “Don’t you want something to eat?” Hobbs asked in mild surprise.

  “No time.”

  “Here, I made you a coffee to go,” he said, sitting a travel mug on the counter.

  “Sweet,” I said, taking the coffee and then snatching a couple pieces of bacon right from the pan.

  It was snowing when I pulled out of the garage and onto the street—big, fat flakes that were the purest shade of white. They seemed to attack the car in a frenzy,
clinging to what parts it could and rushing at the windshield as I drove.

  I remembered exactly how to get to G.R.’s. The Grim Reaper’s address wasn’t something I think anyone would forget. True, I hadn’t known at the time he was the Grim Reaper, but it had always been obvious he wasn’t just an ordinary rich guy in the suburbs. As I drove through the gate of the community where he lived, I wondered what all the residents in the neighborhood would think if they knew they lived next to the ultimate life stealer.