Touched (Sense Thieves)

by Corrine Jackson

  He quizzed me on any question that popped into his head, only now his questions were written on a piece of paper, while my answers appeared in my head. It grew easier for Asher to see inside my mind when my defenses were down, even without touching me. As long as I knew he listened, I could censor myself somewhat on the things I’d think about, though it wasn’t foolproof by any means.

  I found this out when he scrawled in his bold print, Where do you see yourself in five years?

  It was a standard question on the college applications I’d filled out months ago when I could only dream of escaping Brooklyn. Instead of my standard response of graduating from a top university with degree in hand, an unbidden image of the two of us popped into my mind. In the mental vision, Asher had his arms wrapped around my waist, and we were obviously a couple. Horrified, I shut down the link between us and couldn’t bring myself to look at him.

  When I ignored his mental prods, he tapped his pen against his desk so insistently Mrs. Welles frowned at us. I lowered my guard and thought, Cut it out! You’re going to get us both in trouble.

  He tapped his paper again, and I read Why you are embarrassed?

  Duh! You have to ask? I didn’t plan on thinking that. It popped into my head.

  He wrote again. Ask me where I see myself in five years.

  There was a definite edge to my mental voice when I complied. Fine. Where do you see yourself in five years?

  When he lifted his pen a long moment later, I stared at what he’d drawn. I thought it was supposed to be the two of us, holding hands. It could also have been an elephant grazing in the grasslands. I couldn’t be sure because he was one of the worst artists I’d ever seen in my life. Looking up into his amused gaze, I realized he’d exposed this weakness on purpose.

  I shook my head at him but didn’t put my guard back up. When his pen tapped again, I smiled at what he’d written.

  Trust me with your heart, Remy.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Asher drove me home again after school. He pulled onto my street but didn’t turn off the engine. Ben was waiting to give me a driving lesson, so I couldn’t linger.

  “So, I’ll see you tomorrow?” I hoped it wasn’t too obvious that I didn’t want to leave him yet.

  He grinned and handed me my book bag from the backseat. “Yes, if you survive your driving lesson. Be careful.”

  I protested with a laugh. “Hey, you haven’t seen me drive. You don’t know that I’m a bad driver.”

  “Yes, but I’ve seen the way you look at my car, and I’ve heard about your nickname.”

  Still laughing, I promised to be careful and reached for the door handle. He stopped me with a hand on my arm and I looked up to find his expression had turned somber.

  “We’ve said it, but we haven’t really said it. You and I—we’re together. Not because of some Protector-Healer bond we have no control over, or any ability you may have to cure us. I care about you, and I think you care about me.”

  His tone sounded so emphatic, I didn’t realize he wanted—no, needed—me to say something. When it occurred to me that he wanted my agreement, I nodded slowly. His square jaw unclenched as if he’d been nervous that my answer would differ from his.

  In a calmer voice, he continued, “I’d like to take you out on Saturday. There’s a place I think you’d like to see.”

  The idea of telling Ben about us had me grimacing.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “I can’t keep sneaking around. It’s not fair to Ben. I’m not sure how this is going to go over.”

  Asher smiled. “I don’t want to hide us. We have too many secrets as it is.”

  I promised to tell my father about us that night.

  As I suspected, it didn’t go well.

  Ben had me drive out to the fort to practice three-point turns in the deserted parking lot in front of Paley Pavilion, a popular location for local events. Officially, Fort Rowden closed at sundown, but the gate was left open for guests at the hostel, campers, and those travelers with RVs enjoying a night on the town.

  When I successfully completed parallel parking, three-point turns, and hand signals, Ben applauded me with a huge grin. He beamed with pride when he directed me to drive us home.

  I decided to tell him now or never.

  “Ben, I wanted to ask you something.”

  A quick glance at Ben in the passenger seat found him looking at me with a curious expression, probably because I hadn’t asked for much since he’d brought me here. Hopefully, that would play in my favor.

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  “Well, there’s this boy . . .” Ben’s expression turned cautious, and I hurried to get the rest of the words out. “I really like him, and we’re kind of seeing each other. He wants to take me out on Saturday. On a date.”

  “Absolutely not,” he said, his tone ringing with finality.

  “You don’t even intend to discuss this, do you?”

  He folded his arms and glared at the windshield. “No.”

  For the first time since Ben had brought me to live with him, my temper flared at him. I drove out of the park, fuming. The moon had disappeared behind clouds, and the road appeared black with groupings of tall fir trees separating houses. Unlike in New York, streetlights were sparse, leaving long expanses of gloom on the road, like Morse code. Deer made a habit of grazing in front yards, which made me nervous when they could run out into the street at any time.

  If my speed hadn’t slowed to a crawl, I probably wouldn’t have seen him in my rearview mirror. Dean. He stood in the shadows near the park entrance. The brakes screamed when I slammed on the pedal, bringing the car to a skidding halt. It took only an instant to unbuckle my seatbelt and climb out of the car, but he’d disappeared.

  “Remy! What’s wrong?” Ben opened his door and peered into the shadows.

  Either I’d imagined seeing Dean or he’d managed to disappear into the trees in the park. Since Dean was in Brooklyn, I didn’t want to worry Ben about my state of mind.

  “Nothing. I thought I saw a deer in the road. I’m sorry if I scared you.” Even I could hear how shaken I sounded.

  “Want me to drive?” Ben offered.

  At my nod, we switched seats and drove home in silence.

  I waited until the front door closed behind us before I picked up the thread of our discussion. “Mind telling me why you’re against me going on a date? It can’t be the guy since you don’t even know who it is.”

  Laura looked up with raised brows when I entered the living room on Ben’s heels. Lucy was nowhere in sight.

  Ben turned to me with a stiff expression as he stripped off his coat and gloves. “Remy, we’re not discussing this. It’s too soon. Your mother died last week.”

  I froze in the act of removing my scarf and coat. “You think you have to remind me?”

  He folded his arms over his chest. “Laura and I have been talking about this. We think you need to see a counselor. I don’t think you’re dealing with your grief.”

  “How would you know? You don’t even know me.”

  His blue eyes hardened. “I know what I’ve seen. You haven’t cried once. Not even at the funeral.”

  The rage I’d been holding in each time I saw how perfect his life had been here—without me—boiled to the surface like poison. “And you think you have the right to judge me for that, don’t you? I’ve been here a month, and suddenly you know what’s best for me. Who do you think you are?”

  Laura stood and placed a cautionary hand against Ben’s chest, but he ignored her. “I’m your father, Remy.”

  With a humorless laugh, I pulled off the sweater I wore over my tee and flung it at the couch. “You’re not my father. If you were, you would never have left me in that hellhole with Anna, no matter what she told you.”

  Ben’s voice stiffened with defensiveness. “I didn’t know what was happening, Remy. I can’t make up for that, but I’m doing my best.”

  The poison didn�
��t just boil; it foamed and spilled over the edge. “How can you make up for it when you don’t even know what happened? Oh, you think you know because of the abbreviated version you heard me tell the officers, but what do you really know? That Dean knocked me around a little from time to time?”

  Laura stepped toward me now. “Remy, let’s calm down before you two say something you’ll regret. You have a right to be angry—”

  “No offense, Laura, but do you know how many people have told me I have a right to be angry or sad or hurt? Usually when they want to shut me up. Ben wants me to talk to someone, so let’s talk. I think you owe me.” My gaze impaled Ben. “Do you have the courage to hear what I have to say?”

  “I’ll listen to whatever you have to tell me.” The grief in his voice didn’t stop me.

  “Glad to hear it, Dad! Where to begin? How about we start with the first time Dean hit me when I was eleven? To be fair, it was an accident—he was punching Anna’s face when I stepped between them—but that didn’t stop him from hitting me a second time to teach me a lesson.”

  I couldn’t stand still, pacing as I talked. “Apparently, I didn’t learn the lesson well enough because he taught it to me over and over again for the next couple of years. It took eight broken bones and two concussions, but I finally got it. This?” I lifted my shirt and twisted to display the football-sized bruise that had turned my hip and lower back an ugly mix of blue, purple, and green. Laura’s gasp sounded loud in the room as she glimpsed the injury for the first time. “This is nothing. Something this small happened when I merely looked at him the wrong way. You should see the lesson he taught me when I didn’t get him his beer fast enough.

  “My voice? All the guys seem to like it, but it didn’t always sound like this. It was a parting gift from Dean.”

  My words came out harder now, with equal scorn for Dean the abuser and Ben the abandoner.

  Laura touched her own neck, her eyes wide with horror. “The bruises on your neck?”

  “I’m pretty sure he meant to kill me that last night. Who knows?”

  She choked on a sob. Ben cried now, too, silent tears tracking down his cheeks. I couldn’t make myself stop.

  “You know, I didn’t learn the lesson Dean meant to teach me, but he taught me another entirely by accident. See, it was the tears Dean got off on. He liked hurting us and loved to make us cry. So, when I turned thirteen, I refused to shed even one more tear—my pathetic way of telling him to go to hell. Do you want to know how he retaliated?”

  Within a few steps, I stood in front of Ben and shoved my exposed arm under his nose. “You saw it at the hospital. The officers and doctor guessed what it was from. Did you? A year of Dean putting out his cigarette in the same spot, burn on top of burn on top of burn on top of . . . You get the picture, right? He was pissed because he couldn’t make me cry. And Anna watched the whole thing and did nothing. Nothing!” I shoved my face in his and my shout echoed off the walls. “Do you want to tell me again how I should cry for her?”

  Ben’s hand came up in a sudden movement. Years of habit had me flinching away from him and raising my arms to cover my face from the oncoming blow.

  Everything stopped. My shouting. Laura’s sobbing. My heavy breathing and Ben’s filled the quiet room.

  “Remy, sweetheart. It’s okay. You’re safe.”

  Laura’s gentle voice finally reached me through the nightmare I’d fallen into. My arms lowered and revealed Ben’s destroyed expression. He’d been reaching out to comfort me, and now he looked horrified, as if he really had struck me. A switch flipped inside me, and shame replaced anger. I felt sick when he took several swift steps away from me and put his hands behind his back to appear less threatening. As if Ben would ever threaten me. He was nothing like Dean.

  Instinct had me wrapping my arms around his waist to comfort him, healing his skipping heartbeat out of habit and penance. “I’m sorry, Ben. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” His heartbeat sounded strong beneath my cheek, and he nearly cut off my air supply when he returned my hug, carefully avoiding the bruise on my back. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”

  His breath ruffled my hair. “You meant every word. I swear to you, Remy, I’d never hurt you.”

  I had to get away from him and the intense emotions in the room. Ben let me go with reluctance when I pushed against his chest. “I trust you not to hit me, but you could hurt me.”

  When he started to protest, I held up a hand. “I’m not Lucy. I didn’t grow up in your safe home with a kiss good night and a story before you tucked me in bed. I love Lucy, but sometimes I hate you for loving her more. Because you can’t tell me that there is anything on this earth that could take her from you. And you let me go.”

  Ben swallowed and said nothing.

  A headache threatened, and I rubbed my forehead. “I’m sorry, Ben. I’m not trying to hurt you, but I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time. I learned how to survive without you, and I can’t change that to make you feel better.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “I want . . . I want what you offered before. Be my friend. No counselors and no telling me you know what’s best for me. Trust me.”

  Ben stepped forward. “I can do that, but we need something from you, too. For good or bad, I’m your guardian now. There have to be rules.”

  “That’s fair.” In an attempt to put things back on normal, even ground, I smiled, though it felt plastic. “What are your rules on dating?”

  It was Laura who stepped forward this time, taking Ben’s hand. “Dating is a privilege. If your grades suffer, the privilege is revoked. Ten o’clock curfew on school days and midnight on weekends. You tell us where you’ll be at all times, and we meet the boy first.”

  Her no-nonsense speech sounded rehearsed, as if she’d told the same thing to Lucy. “I can live with that. Asher Blackwell will be here in the morning to pick me up for school. You can meet him then.”

  Ben’s eyes lit with recognition at Asher’s name, and he nodded. “Good.”

  We eyed each other across the room, having come to an understanding. Spent, I turned to leave the room. Laura touched my arm when I passed, and I squeezed her hand in apology. I’d never meant for things to go so far tonight and wanted to crawl into a hole to hide. I ran up the stairs and was at the top of the landing when Ben called my name. He stood at the bottom of the staircase with one hand on the railing.

  “You were wrong about one thing. I don’t love Lucy more.”

  I didn’t know how to respond to the honesty in his voice. I nodded, turning toward my room, and he said to my back, “’Night, Remy.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Sleep eluded me.

  I couldn’t believe how I’d unloaded on Ben. The rage I’d felt had taken me by storm, and I’d meant to draw blood with my words. That I could treat someone I loved like that shocked me, and I could hardly look at myself in the mirror the next morning.

  A knock sounded on the front door as I left my room. From the top of the stairs I heard Ben open the door and greet Asher in a cordial tone. “Hey, Asher. Come on in. Remy’s not down yet.”

  Asher responded in the charming, proper voice he reserved for adults. “Mr. O’Malley. It’s good to see you again.”

  Despite everything I knew about the evils of eavesdropping, I couldn’t face Ben yet and couldn’t bring myself to walk away. I sank down on the top stair and listened as they moved into the living room. From the shifting of fabric, it sounded like Ben had invited Asher to sit. Their familiarity reminded me of something Lucy had said my first day of school, something about Asher and Gabe buying sailboats from Ben’s company that they’d later wrecked while racing. Ben wouldn’t know they were immortal. Perhaps he thought he had reason to worry if I dated Asher.

  Ben cleared his throat. “Remy mentioned last night that the two of you are seeing each other.”

  Asher picked up on something in Ben’s voice. “And you’re not happy about that?”


  “To be honest, I’m worried. Your behavior has proved a little reckless in the past, and I’m not sure that’s what she needs right now.”

  “Mr. O’Malley, Remy’s not like anyone I’ve ever met. I won’t let anyone hurt her, including me.” A fervent promise infused his words that I recognized from all the times he’d sworn he would protect me.

  My father sounded surprised. “You care about her.”

  It wasn’t a question, but Asher answered anyway. “Yes, sir.”

  “Has she told you anything about her past?” Ben’s palpable tension had me clasping my knees to my chest to calm myself.

  Now, Asher sounded cautious. “Some. She’s grieving for her mother right now. She blames herself for Anna’s death.”

  “She told you that?” Again, the surprise in Ben’s voice mingled with hurt, and I knew it was because I hadn’t shared that information with him myself. He didn’t understand how hard it was for me to talk to him, how my emotions for him were a tangle of newfound love and old, sour disappointment. I used to have fantasies about making Ben sorry he’d abandoned me. An amazing thing had happened since I grew to care for him. When I hurt him, it hurt me, too. My guard was already lowered, and I had a feeling Asher had been listening to me since entering the house. My head rested on my knees, and I whispered a thought to him that I hadn’t been able to say aloud last night.

  Asher, please make him understand that I love him.

  “Yes, sir. When you brought her here, you made her feel safe for the first time in her life. Your family means the world to her, but she feels guilty for choosing you over protecting her mother.”

  Ben reacted to Asher’s solemn assertion the way I always did—he believed him without question. “She should never have been put in that position in the first place. I should’ve been there.”

  Asher said again, “Yes, sir,” and I knew he included himself in that statement.

  A long moment later, Ben said, “Thanks for not lying, Asher. People have said that I couldn’t have known what was happening to her, and I’ve even said the same thing myself. But damn it, I should’ve known!” I strained to hear his low words when he added in a quiet tone, “She’s my daughter. I should’ve known.”