North Woods University

by Beck, J. L.

  “Thanks, Sebastian… I mean, Dean Miller,” she smirks. “See you around.”

  “Take care, Lily,” I call after her as she disappears from my office.

  The door closes behind her, and I slump back down into my leather chair. Why does it feel like I just got hit by a bus? Motherfucker. My jaw aches with the tension inside of it. I wasn’t even aware I was clenching it.

  All the walls I’ve so carefully built around me for the past ten years are suddenly cracking, leaving huge empty spaces to let light, sand, water, and most of all, feelings in.

  That damn woman. Why does she have to look so much like my soulmate, the one I was supposed to be with for the rest of my life? Is this God’s way of saying fuck you? I’ve tried my hardest to be a good man. No, I haven’t been perfect, but I’ve been damn near close to it. Did he send Lily to me just to torment me?

  Thrusting my fingers into my hair, I hold my head in my hands. This is crazy talk, and I need to shut the fuck up. Lily isn’t Amy. She’s not. End of story.

  It takes me about thirty minutes to compose myself enough to get up and finally exit the room. The hunger I felt earlier is long forgotten. The emptiness in my stomach is now replaced with an assortment of feeling, none of them good.

  I’m worried about what Lily is going to stir up inside me, how my heart is going to handle seeing my soulmate’s lookalike walking around campus. I only saw her for a few minutes, and it took me half an hour to recover from it.

  Is this going to be a recurring thing? How it’s going to be every time I see her on campus? I decide that the answer is no. I can’t let her distract me like this.

  Once again, I tell myself that she is not Amy.

  Not Amy. She’s not Amy. I need to remember it, burn it into my fucking skull.

  On the drive home, I let the words run rampant in my mind over and over again.

  She is not Amy. It’s not her. Amy is gone.

  The same chant replays, like a bad pop song, caught on repeat inside my head.

  By the time I walk into my place, I must have said the words in my head over a hundred times, but the ache in my heart still remains. In my head, I know it’s not her, it’s Lily, her baby sister… but my body responds to her, just as it did to Amy.

  To my body, there is no difference. My heart yearns for me to be near her, and it’s earth-shattering to my brain. In the ten years since Amy’s death, I’ve been with a handful of women, but none to which my body reacted like it did when I saw Lily today.

  Stop this. Make the ache in your chest disappear.

  Heading straight for the kitchen, I get out a bottle of whiskey and a tumbler from the cabinet. Generally, I don’t make it a habit to drink on school nights, but I don’t give a fuck right now. I have to stop this before it gets out of control.

  My hands shake as I pour myself a glassful before taking it and the bottle to the living room. Settling down onto the couch, I start to sip on the amber liquid, welcoming the burn in my throat and the warmth in my stomach that it brings.

  I can’t remember the last time I got drunk. I prefer to keep a clear mind, but it doesn’t matter today. Everything inside my head is fucked now, her presence ruining everything. I down the glass in two gulps and pour myself a second one right away. I can still feel her eyes on me, and my skin burns. Wrong. It’s wrong. I take another gulp.

  Briefly, I consider calling Rem over to talk but decide against it. He doesn’t need to see me like this. No one needs to see me like this. I’m a mess, a fucking complete and utter mess. So instead of doing what I preach most and reach out for help, I sit by myself like a loser in my living room and get drunk. The world around me is spinning, maintaining the same speed but everything inside of me has stopped, the air, my heartbeat, it’s all unmoving.

  Don’t break. Do. Not. Break. I grip the glass in my hands tighter. Tight enough to shatter it. Tight enough to break me. It’s been years since I wanted to use anger as an outlet to my pain. Years since… the memory pulls me under, the memory rushes in before I can stop it and just like that I’m back there, being the old me.

  I slam my bare fists into the walls of my room over and over again. The anger inside me so great, I don’t know any other way to let it out. It’s like a volcano of rage, erupting, spewing from deep inside me.

  The rest of my room is already destroyed. I tore it apart when I got home from the hospital. The same hospital where she took her last breath. The doctors said they did all they could… but it wasn’t enough. They did all they could? A cruel smile appears on my lips. If they did all they could, she would be here, right in front of me.

  The skin over my knuckles is gone, blood drips from my hands and paints the walls. My hands should hurt, but I don’t feel the pain… not there at least. My body is too overwhelmed with a different kind of pain, a pain a thousand times worse than any physical pain.

  She is gone… dead… she left a hole inside me so deep that I know there is nothing to fix it. No one will ever be able to fill that space again.

  She left a void that will forever leave me empty and alone.

  Drink, after drink, I try to drown the memories I’ve been trying to forget for so many years. Amy, my sweet, Amy. God, how I miss you. I look around this room, and all I can think about every day is how empty it is. How pathetically alone I am because I refuse to move on with my life.

  I should be married and starting a family right now, not drowning myself in a bottle of fucking whiskey, all alone.

  Loser. You’re a loser, Sebastian Miller.

  Raising my glass, I drink like it’s a celebratory event. My thoughts shift and swirl like shit being flushed down a toilet.

  “Lily…” I say her name out loud just to see if it burns as badly on the outside as it does on the inside. Nothing. Slamming the glass down on the table, I force my shaking hands away from the whiskey bottle and into my hair. Even as angry, and hurt, and burning with sadness as I am over Lily reappearing in my life, I’m concerned for her. Riddled with worry.

  Is she alone? Why is she here? How is she doing? What’s her life been like the last ten years? The questions stack up, higher and higher, threatening to topple over.

  Is she suffering like me? Does she hate herself for not being in the car that night, like I hate myself? When she moved away with her grandparents, I never once stopped to check on her, to consider what she might be going through. I’m not really sure why. Maybe I figured she still had someone to hold onto, to make sure she pieced herself back together again. I had no one, at least, not anyone that would really understand.

  She didn’t just lose her sister, but her entire family all in one swoop. Where I had lost the love of my life, she lost it all.

  Ha. Pathetic. Here I was whining over something as superficial as lost love when the person who should really be hurting was smiling as if the world hadn’t done her wrong. Hadn’t taken everything from her.

  Selfish asshole. I was going through my own shit, yes, but she was just a kid. This is dumb, ridiculous. Why the fuck do I even care? The past is the past. It’s not like I can go back and change what I did, or what happened.

  Nothing can, because if I could, I would find a way for Amy to be here with me.

  Fuck, I need to get out of my head. Stop thinking about her. About all of it. It was easier when I pretended that part of my life never happened. I thought I was over this, over Amy but one look at Lily and the flood gates opened.

  Lily was a reminder of everything I had lost, and everything I would never have.

  There was no moving on from someone you loved, someone you never got the chance to say goodbye to. All there was, was learning to deal with the absence that they left in your heart.

  Nothing will bring Amy back. It’s now a reminder I’ll have to repeat again to myself often.

  But Lily… she is still here and as badly as her presence made me feel it also brought me a sliver of excitement, a zing of pleasure so foreign I nearly forgot what it felt like to be even a li
ttle joyful. I feel like an even bigger ass thinking about it. I shouldn’t feel this way about anyone, especially not about Amy’s sister.

  Betrayal. I know the feeling all too well. It burns through me like a hot knife slicing through butter. Every time I would fuck another woman, look at another woman, it would sneak up on me and sink its razor teeth into my back. It was always there, in the back of my mind, eating away at my subconscious. Gnawing on me.

  I was good, but I wasn’t good enough to get Amy back.

  I wasn’t good enough to let go of her memory, and now I was thinking about her sister and how much they looked alike. Making a fist, I slammed it against the side of my head over and over again. The fucking thing inside my head had better start working or else…

  Finally, the whiskey I all but guzzled down starts to work and my brain slows, a fog settling over my thoughts, and lifting the elephant sitting on my chest just enough for me to suck in a full breath. Everything inside of me screams for me to leave Lily alone to forget about her. To forget about Amy.

  Forget, forget, forget.

  She’s happy, going to college, finding her way. She has her whole life in front of her, a promising, happy life. If she hasn’t already, she’ll find love and a life worth living for.

  Falling back against the couch, I tilt my head back and stare up at the ceiling. I don’t know where the thought comes from, but something inside my head says…

  Do what Amy would want you to do. Be there, but only if you need to be.

  The voice inside my head calms me enough for me to rationalize with myself. Yes, I’ll only be there if I need to be. Only help if I’m needed.

  A little of the guilt in my gut fades away, but I still feel it deeply, like a crater of an asteroid impact it remains, the gaping hole refusing to ever heal. Lily already left her mark on me, and it’s going to take an epic amount of effort to forget that she fucking exists again.

  68

  Lily

  Sebastian was different. Yes, I expected him to be different given the last time I saw him I was only nine, but I just didn’t expect him to stir all these feelings inside me.

  It left me breathless, and dare I say, flustered. Age looked good on him. Tall, toned, and tanned. Sebastian was gorgeous, and he knew it. Guys like him always knew how good looking they were. At first glance, I thought maybe he was a student and not the Dean of the school, he looked young, and very much like the rest of the men that I had seen roaming around campus.

  I tried to stop myself from thinking about him, his face that looked like it had been carved from stone, his lips, full, and his eyes dark and brooding.

  He’s the same guy I remembered him to be, but without the sparkle, the life in his eyes had dimmed. I knew all too well about that. Every day, I thought about how I was still here, and they weren’t.

  Every day, for the last decade, I’ve beaten myself up for being alive; breathing air, and doing all the things Amy never would, because she’s dead. Dead. All of them are dead, and a part of me wishes I was too.

  Stop. I mentally tell myself. I need to stop thinking like that. I need to live up to my family’s wishes because, in the end, that’s all I have left of them. This is where Amy and my parents would’ve wanted me to be… in college, living my life to the fullest.

  Sipping on the piping hot cup of hot cocoa that I’d ordered, I make my way to a corner seat near the window. My roommate, Delilah, is still upfront trying to decide what she wants. I can see her from where I’m sitting, her long brown hair bobbing in a high ponytail, while she has her hands on her hips and stares up at the menu board like it’s her enemy.

  When she demanded we come to this place, I wasn’t so sure about it. I didn’t intend to make more friends than I needed to while at school. All my focus needs to be on my art and my homework, not on expanding my social circles. I don’t have the same luxuries that many of the other students do here.

  I’m riding high on a scholarship; one I’ve worked exceptionally hard for.

  Finally, having made up her mind, Delilah walks over to me, her own steaming cup of mystery goodness in her hands.

  “What did you get?”

  “Tea,” she answers before bringing the mug to her lips to take a tiny sip.

  Wrinkling my nose at her, I reply, “Ewww, tea is gross. What’s it got in it? Flowers?”

  Delilah’s blue eyes narrow. “Maybe? What’s it matter? You drink your disgusting chocolate stuff, and I’ll drink my flowers steeped in water.”

  Shaking my head, I smile. Back home, or at my grandparents’ house, I had only a handful of friends, and none of them were anything like Delilah. She’s goodness, with a touch of light. She makes me smile when I don’t feel like smiling, but above all, she’s the friend I wish I’d had in high school.

  Bringing my mug to my lips, I’m seconds away from taking another sip when the bell above the door sounds, and I glance up, seeing him walk in. Sebastian, and he’s not alone. It only takes me a second to recognize who it is standing beside him. Remington Miller. He looks so grown up now, mature, his body having filled out from the little boy that I remembered him to be.

  My gaze flickers back to Sebastian. Is it wrong that my stomach starts to flutter in his presence, and my heart hammers against my ribcage, threatening to break free? If so, then I don’t want to be right, at least not until the guilt trickles in a second later. He hasn’t noticed me yet, so I use the moment to my advantage and drink him in.

  His suit is tailored to his body, showing off all his sharp edges. My teeth sink into my bottom lip as I wonder what he looks like beneath that expensive suit.

  Does he have an eight pack? Does he work out?

  I can tell just from his frame that he does, the bulging of his shoulders, and biceps. The way he carries himself and how the fabric clings to him. He’s hiding a whole lot of deliciousness under that suit, and I’ll be damned if I don’t want to peel back all that fabric and take a peek. Just a peek. A tiny little one.

  Those hazel eyes of his swing around the room as if he knows I’m staring at him. At the last second, right before his eyes land on mine, I look down into my mug, watching as the little marshmallows dissolve. Stop thinking about him, Lily. I scold myself.

  “Earth to, Lily. I’ve been calling your name for like ten minutes now,” Delilah huffs, dipping her tea bag in and out of the hot water, as if that could possibly make it taste any better.

  “Don’t be so dramatic, you were not.”

  “I was, and you were off in space, gazing at…” Delilah’s voice trails off, and she twists around in her seat to look at what I was staring at. Leave it to D to draw more attention to a subject than it needs.

  “Stop, you’re going to embarrass me,” I growl, slapping her arm like a small child, after a second.

  “Please,” she twists around, but not before locking eyes with Sebastian who is still standing in place, off to the side, just inside the door. He looks like I feel—uncomfortable. Why is this so weird? It didn’t feel this weird the other day in his office, did it? Maybe I’m just making it out to be weird. It must be all in my head.

  “You aren’t the first to drool over the newly appointed Dean, and you won’t be the last. He looks young enough to be a senior attending the university, never mind, running the place. Don’t be embarrassed.”

  She’s right, but that doesn’t mean I should be staring at him, basically drooling over him. Other students don’t have a connection to him like I do. He’s your dead sister’s boyfriend. The thought appears like a bright blinking warning sign in my mind. As if I need a damn reminder of how wrong it is for me to want his attention or affection. He might as well be fucking forbidden at this point. Not only is he the Dean of the university, but he’s also everything I shouldn’t want or need.

  Pretending not to exist, I wait for the floor to swallow me whole as he goes up to the cash register with his brother and orders. This is normal, right? Us being in the same place at the same time? It’s not weir
d besides the fact that I kinda-sorta-want him?

  My stomach twists and knots, so badly I’m certain I won’t be able to unknot myself later. I feel sick like I might actually vomit on the floor.

  “You’re staring at him. Like staring deeply. Like maybe you know him?”

  Know him would be an understatement.

  My lips press into a hard line, and I avert my gaze back to Delilah, brushing a few strands of blonde hair from my face. I try my hardest not to take notice of him as he and Rem take a spot a few tables away from us.

  “Oh, that’s it. You know him. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be turning pink in the cheeks, and look like someone’s taken your panties, and hung them up next to the school flag in the quad.” Del announces in a whisper.

  If I could will knives from my eyes right now, I would. Luck must not be on my side because as if they can hear what she’s said both of the Miller brothers look up, and in my direction. Sebastian, of course, looks away first, but Remmy holds my gaze, his eyes narrowing but not in a way that is worrisome, but more of an I-think-I-Might-Know-This-Chick.

  The brothers lean in and start talking amongst each other, and I let out a heavy breath, thanking God that I wasn’t forced to face them right this second. I don’t know why, but Sebastian makes me nervous, antsy, like a crack addict on the search for her next fix.

  Taking a sip of my drink, I nearly spit the now somewhat cool liquid on Delilah when she leans in and whispers, “Shit, they’re getting up and walking over here.”

  Dear Lord in heaven…

  “Lily Kline, is that you?” Remington stops at the edge of the small round table. His presence is one you couldn’t ignore even if you tried. Peering up through my lashes, I give him a smile. Remington Miller is as beautiful as he was the day I left. All the Miller boys are, taking after their mother. Toned, tanned, and a smile that owns every room.

  “That’s me,” I chirp, trying not to sound nervous, or excited, or anything at all.

  Sebastian grunts beside him, and I let my gaze slowly drift to him. He’s holding the paper coffee cup in his hand so tightly it looks like he’s going to crush it at any given second. Does my presence annoy him that much? He seemed fine in his office the other day.