I fiddle with my purse strap. “Um, sometimes I just get a little overwhelmed, I guess? It doesn’t happen all the time, but it’s like my heart races, and my fight or flight instincts kick in, except it’s mostly just flight. It’s like I have too much energy for my body and it’s bursting out of me. I promise, though, it’s not all the time. I really get it only once every few months.”
He frowns. “You don’t have to justify it for me. I actually have anxiety. Dealt with depression, too, but that’s a lot better.”
I blink. “No way. You?”
“Sure. I had it bad in middle and high school. I was a nervous wreck trying to make other friends besides Beth. And you,” he adds thoughtfully. “I was depressed all the time, I just didn’t get help for a while because I faked it so well. And then, when I finally got help, I thought, ‘Really? I was dealing with it all this time when I could’ve gotten help so much sooner?’”
“You think I have depression?”
“I’m not a doctor, and symptoms are different for everyone. Maybe you have anxiety. You described my anxiety attacks.”
“But I don’t get it all the time,” I argue. “I mean, aren’t people with that sort of thing supposed to struggle with it all the time?”
“There’s still no harm in seeing a doctor about it. Have you?”
I shrug. “No. I just always figured I needed to learn how to deal with things in a better way.”
“Well, a counselor can help with that too,” he says.
“It helped you?” I ask.
“I mean, I still struggle,” Ethan says, putting his seatbelt on, “but it’s much more manageable than it’s been. It’s rare if I have a hard time with it now.”
“I’m glad,” I say, giving him a small smile. Then it grows. “Go figure. Of course we’re soulmates.”
He barks a laugh. “We’ll be broken together.”
He puts the car in reverse, backing out of the parking spot. Soon we’re back on the road. “Do you want to go home?” Ethan asks, surprising me. “I know it’s late. But if you want to talk more, we can. If you want to.”
“What, you want to spend more time with me?” I say with exaggerated surprise, fluttering my eyelashes at him.
“Yeah,” he says. It’s with such complete honesty that I’m dumbfounded, all humor fading away. He wants to spend time with me. What on earth?
We end up parking by the boardwalk, unbuckling our seatbelts so we don’t feel as confined as we talk. It’s incredibly dark, the moon hidden by clouds. Maybe it’ll snow after all. It’s probably the first time I’ve hoped for snow this early. I mean, I’ll hate it later; we get enough snow in Minnesota, thank you. But for now, it just seems like the right kind of night for it, even though jack-o-lanterns and orange-and-black lights decorate the pier.
“It feels weird to think it’s almost Halloween,” I murmur.
“More like almost your - oh, hang on…there we go.” Ethan looks up from his phone with a grin. “Happy birthday, Abby.”
I look at his phone. It’s midnight. Glancing back up at him, I laugh. “What a way to kick it off. Are you going to kiss the birthday girl now, too?”
…Did I say that?
I just said that.
For f-
“I wouldn’t mind if you’re willing.”
I have entered a rom-com.
I stare at him, searching for any sign of a joke. I don’t know why I’m so shy about this. When I first kissed Greg, I was mildly intoxicated, but I wasn’t ashamed of it. But for once, I don’t want to think about Greg. Now, it’s like I’m a young girl with a massive crush on her big sister’s best friend all over again. Except this time, he’s not my big sister’s best friend. He’s just mine, if only for a minute.
Ethan’s eyes rest solely on mine, but in the faint light of the dashboard, I think I can make out the faintest red on his cheeks.
The fact that he might be affected by this too both makes me more jittery and calm. We’re in the same boat.
“I’m willing,” I breathe.
He stretches his hand out and barely touches my cheek.
“I’m not taking advantage of you, am I?” Ethan asks, his voice lower than I’ve ever heard it. “You weren’t doing so well just a little bit ago.”
“It’s been a couple of hours,” I say. “And honestly, I’m just tired.”
He pulls away, but I grab his sleeve.
“I’m not too tired for this,” I tell him quietly.
He groans. “Since when did you become a little minx?”
I wasn’t trying to be, but I’m proud of the results anyway.
A light catches my eye again. It’s the Mark.
Ethan catches my gaze. “Is it glowing?” he asks.
I nod.
He rolls up his sleeve, revealing the Mark to me. “It looks the same as ever to me,” he says.
“Can I?” I ask, stretching out my fingers. I pause just long enough to look up at him for an answer.
He scratches the bottom of his ear, swallowing hard. “Sure.”
My finger grazes the Mark, barely touching it. The light goes out. His skin is warm, but he shivers.
“Sorry,” I say, pulling away, his sleeve falling to conceal part of his Mark in the process. “My hands are cold.”
“They are,” he agrees, taking my retreating hand between his larger ones. He’s like a warm glove.
I like this. I like him. Crap. Oh my gosh. This is going to ruin me when he leaves, but I can enjoy it for now, can’t I? I’m not doing anything wrong. Never mind Greg or Beth or my parents.
For once, I really, really hope there’s something to this whole soulmate thing.
He leans forward, and our lips touch gently.
Allow me to be blunt: It’s less romantic to kiss in a car than I would’ve thought. The center console makes it awkward, and his truck isn’t that big. Plus, he’s kissing me too lightly. But that’s to be expected since it’s his first kiss.
Whoa. I’m someone’s first kiss.
I pull away, heart thudding. “You know,” I breathe, “I’m not going to break if you kiss me a little harder.”
He swallows. “Got it.”
Suddenly, I’m back against him, but this time he’s kissing me with a ferocity and passion I never would have guessed he had. It’s getting harder to think. I don’t believe that’s a bad thing.
I squeeze my eyes shut and cling to him.
Chapter 17
The morning of my actual birthday is amazing. I go to work, cheerful, and when people ask what the occasion is, I just say, “It’s my birthday!” I get congratulations, and I keep my little secret warm against my heart. Ethan’s not here, so I don’t need to worry about how to act around him.
I consider talking to a doctor like Ethan recommended, but honestly, the way I felt last night (I mean the way I felt at the theater, to be more precise) is so far removed from how I feel now that I don’t think I can give an adequate description of how I feel during moments like that. Right now, it’s like those attacks happened to someone else. But it’s nice to know that there are options, even if my case isn’t as severe as other people’s.
I’m on break, scrolling through my phone, when an email pings through.
It’s from my old job.
* * *
By the time I’m off work, my mood has completely changed. The walk home is too cold, even though I’m wearing a winter jacket and gloves.
“Oh, great,” I hear someone mutter. Looking up, I spot Jen. She looks like she’s seen a rotting carcass.
“Not in the mood,” I say. “Go bug someone else.”
She rolls her eyes, walking past. Suddenly, the exchange feels so juvenile I almost want to laugh. I’m an old, wizened woman of 27, and I’m still letting my high school bully get to me.
“How’s Nick?” I call over my shoulder.
She stops and whips around, scowling. “Are you insinuating something?”
I bite back the old impulse to say
, “Wow, you know a word that big?” and instead settle for saying, as calmly as I can, “He didn’t look so good that night at O’Malley’s. I was just curious how he’s doing.”
Jen’s lips tighten. “Since when do you care?”
“I don’t much,” I admit, “but addiction’s a dangerous thing. I’m not completely heartless. Besides, Nick is a nice guy - but completely yours,” I add, lifting my hands in the air at the flash of vitriol in her eyes.
I expect her to cuss me out and go on her way, but she just says coldly, looking away, “He’s not much better than when you saw him.”
Nodding, I ask, “Has he done any interventions or AA?”
“No. I don’t want him to hate me.” Then, as if realizing who she’s speaking to, she turns and storms away without another word.
They’re soulmates, but she’s still afraid to talk to him. I wonder if it’s like that for other soulmates. Maybe that’s what it’s like for my parents.
Soulmates. Do our Marks seal us together, or are they arbitrary? Do they really tie us to the person best for us?
I unlock my phone again, looking at the email. I don’t know why I’m staring at it again; I’ve basically memorized it at this point. Apparently, someone - Greg? - recommended me for a position. I guess they heard about the soulmate situation; usually people are given a slight leniency when they get their Marks, but I never bothered informing anyone at work. Now that they understand my situation, they’re inviting me back.
Greg has texted me, too. He asked if I received an email from our - his - company.
That haunts me almost more than the email from HR.
That, and the fact that his Facebook relationship status has switched back to single.
I might get my old life back.
I’m not spiraling or anything. I just can’t feel much of anything. I think I’m stunned stupid.
I need to talk to someone. Greg’s number is just at my fingertips, but so is Beth’s. Cassie is working right now, but Jane’s probably available. I have people to turn to.
But I call Ethan instead.
“Hey!” he answers by the second ring, a little breathless.
“Hi,” I say, astounded that I’m not blushing. “So, I have news.”
“Yeah?”
“Apparently, New York wants me back.”
There’s silence for a long time. I hear him make a few computer clicks, and then something - his laptop? - shuts. “Okay,” he says after a while. Then, in a much brighter tone, “That’s great! Congrats.”
I don’t know what I was hoping for. An excuse to leave? Permission to stay? Do I want him to push me away or cling to me, make some passionate speech about how he adores me?
“Yeah, thanks,” I say at last. “Um, I don’t know what to do.”
It sounds like I’m fishing for advice. I mean, I am, but still. I annoy myself.
“Well, I always figured this would happen,” he admits. “You’ve always dreamed of getting out of Lake Redwood. And you have some roots in New York, too. You might as well go for it.”
The speech is too prepared, too smoothly delivered. “So you’ve basically just been waiting for me to leave.”
He laughs a little, and there’s just the faintest undercurrent of bitterness. Good. I’m glad he’s not perfectly fine with this. “You’ve been pretty obvious that you don’t have much of a desire to stay in Minnesota. I mean, you mentioned looking at that publishing company nearby, so I thought maybe we could try something….But let’s be honest. You want out of here.”
“Is that why you asked me out? It was convenient for you, and you’d just drop me the second it wasn’t?” I don’t know what’s pouring out of my mouth. I want to stuff it back in, swallow it down.
“Don’t turn this around on me.”
“I’m not turning it around on anybody. I’m just saying. I’m your soulmate, and I was nearby, so I was convenient. You said it yourself that you’re not that comfortable with other people besides me or Beth. I was convenient. Easy. And if I move, I’m not anymore.”
“Wow, okay,” he drawls sourly.
“Well, you don’t seem like you’re all that excited to fight for us to figure this out or anything.”
“I’m being a good guy and giving you options.”
“No, you’re acting like Greg.”
Oops.
“Are you really comparing me to your ex right now?” he snaps. I’ve never heard him so angry. Good. I don’t want to be the only one upset.
“Well, neither of you particularly care if I stick around or not.”
“We just went on one date, Connie. You two were together for, what, two years? Not quite the same thing.”
Every piece of me freezes. One date. I know. I know it’s ridiculous to act this way. I mean, maybe not so much with my soulmate, but - you know what? Yes. Soulmate or not, I shouldn’t act this clingy since we’ve only been out together once. But that didn’t feel like a first date. It felt like something we’ve been building toward for a long time, longer than the past few months.
But maybe that was just one-sided.
“You’re right, I’m being stupid. I had a fun night, in any case.”
His sigh crackles through the phone. “That’s not what I meant - ”
“Bye, Ethan.”
I hang up before he can hang up on me.
* * *
It’s a forty-minute walk to Beth’s apartment. In the time to get there, I’ve scheduled a doctor’s appointment - in Lake Redwood, since I’m sure it’ll take time to move back to New York - and scrolled through my apartment app for some affordable options. Ha. Like there’s many affordable options in New York.
My cheeks ache from the cold. Thankfully, I know it’s not a useless venture this time; I’d texted Beth, and she said she’d be home. As I approach, someone exits the apartment complex, and I grab the door before I can be locked out. Immediately, warmth surrounds me. Too bad it can’t warm my cold dead heart, am I right?
Beth must have just gotten back from a showing, because she’s dressed beautifully when she opens the door. “Hey,” she chirps, letting me in. I take off my shoes while she surveys me. “You look freezing. I should’ve picked you up in my car.”
“It’s fine. I needed the walk. Do you have some coffee?”
“I just brewed myself a cup. It’s decaf, though.”
“That’s fine. I just need something hot.”
She grabs me a cup as I unbutton my jacket, hanging it up in the closet and plopping down on her sofa. Within a couple of minutes, she brings it to me. I thank her quietly, letting the mug warm my hand. It’s not searing anymore, but it’s definitely not lukewarm.
“So,” Beth says after a moment, taking a seat, “happy birthday.”
“Thanks. Wow, it’s been a weird one.”
“Yeah.” She surveys me, her smile remaining firmly, stubbornly, in place. “So, you and Ethan, huh?”
“Actually, that’s what I came to talk to you about,” I say, taking a sip of my coffee. It burns my tongue and throat as it makes its way down. I revel in it. “He’s all yours.”
Beth blinks. “What did you do?”
Irritation floods me. “What do you mean, ‘What did you do?’ We had a great date - no offense. I got an offer to go back to New York. He’s totally okay with it. And it doesn’t sound like he’s that interested in me staying.” I take a breath. “It’s not his fault. Not really. But it’s not my fault either. I guess we just don’t want to fight for each other.”
“That’s a tall order after only one date.”
I sip my coffee.
“Oh, Abs. You like him.”
I remain staunchly silent.
“Do you love him?” she asks slowly.
I choke on my coffee.
“Geez, Beth! I’ve got feelings for him, but I’ve barely accepted that much! Took me a year to say those three words to Greg, and I was kind of the pursuer in that relationship from the start.” I glare at her, not
because I’m mad, but because I’m trying to understand. “But seriously. Don’t you hate me right now?”
“Why would I hate you?” she asks, blinking at me as she sips her own coffee.
“Because I’m his soulmate and we went out on a date and yeah, it’s not working out, but still! You can’t honestly tell me you’re so perfect that you don’t hate me even a little.”
“I never said I was perfect,” Beth says blandly. Looking into her coffee, she says, “Do you want to know the truth?”
“Um, yes. Obviously.”
“I do hate you. A lot. And not just because of Ethan.”
Ouch.
Immediately, though, she looks at me. “But it’s not like I hate you more than I love you. You’re my sister. Please understand that.”
I nod, a little numb.
“It’s just…God, I’m so jealous of you. You got to get away from here. You have the chance to get away again. You own your own business now - "
“It’s just occasional freelancing - ”
“Shut up, I’m talking. Anyway, you’ve got your own business, you’re actually financially stable - "
Because I live with Mom and Dad, I think, but I don’t dare interrupt her again.
” - and you have Ethan.”
When I’m sure she’s done, I grumble, “I just explained, I don’t have Ethan. We’re done. I mean, we didn’t even start.” But that’s not the part I’m focused on right now. “How come you’re still here, Beth? You’re smart. You could’ve left, too.”
She shrugs. “I could have, but Mom and Dad seemed like a raging trash fire and I figured someone ought to be here to help put it out sometimes.”
Guilt slithers its way through the numbness. “I should’ve stayed.”
She shakes her head. “No, I was just being the martyr. I don’t know why. I just kept waiting for them to split up and help them both through the divorce, but it never happened.”
“It’s happening now,” I say, and I tell her about the divorce papers I found Dad staring at last night.
“Hmm,” she says, pursing her lips. “Do you think he’ll actually sign?”
“Do you think she will?”
We lapse into silence.
“Do you think things will get better between them?” I ask after a moment. “Like, with couple’s counseling?”
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