“Wait here,” he tells me and he disappears into his cottage, coming right back out with his picture. He presses it into my hand.
“I’ll see you soon, Calla-Lily,” he promises huskily. I nod, and watch him turn and walk away.
God, he looks good walking away.
And then I float upstairs to my room.
It’s not until I’m staring out my bedroom window and see Finn that I come crashing down.
He’s standing out on the edge of the trees.
And he’s covered in blood.
23
VIGINTI TRES
In my head, all I can see is blood as I clatter down the stairs and rush to get to my brother.
What has he done?
I race outside, but when I reach where he was standing, he’s no longer there. I spin in a circle, gazing about, but there’s no sign of him.
Until I see a flash of green from the corner of my eye, the exact color of his shirt.
Viridem.
He’s headed for the beach so I take off like a rocket, pummeling the ferns as I trip over them on my way to the shore. I skid over the rocks and the clay and the dirt, and when I hit the bottom, he’s there.
Simply standing there on the edge of the water, waiting for me, like he’s been there all along.
He stands limply, his hands at his sides, and blood runs from his elbows to his hands.
“What the hell?” I shout as I race to him, grabbing his arms and examining them. “What did you do?”
Long scratches stretch the length of his forearm, deep enough to bleed, perhaps even deep enough to scar. But not deep enough for stitches, or for permanent harm.
Thank you, God.
I look up frantically, and Finn stares down at me, his pale blue eyes so eerily calm.
“Why did you do this?” I ask, my voice shaking. “Are you upset because I went with Dare? Because you told me to do it.”
“I didn’t do it on purpose,” he says limply. “I was out in the woods. The branches….” His voice trails off and he would really have me believe that the branches cut his arms.
I stare at him in disbelief.
“I’m stressed,” he mumbles. “Maybe it was an accident.”
I open my mouth, but he holds up a hand.
“Calla, I don’t want to fight. And no, of course I’m not upset with you for going with Dare. I want you to go with Dare. I want you to be independent. Can’t you see that? I’m trying to show you.”
His face is pained now, but he’s still handsome and calm. He’s still my Finn.
“I don’t know what you want,” I admit softly. “I don’t want to feel guilty when I do something without you but when I do, I’m afraid you’ll react like….this.”
I purposely don’t look at his arms, at the blood that drips on the sand, staining it crimson.
“What are we gonna do, Finn?” I ask quietly. “We’ve got to get a handle on this.”
He smiles gracefully, his teeth perfectly white and straight. “You say we like it’s your problem, Cal. I guess that’s your problem. You’ve always assumed my issues like they’re your own. They’re not. We’re different in that way. You’re healthy, Cal. Act like it. It’s time.”
His voice is firm, an assertive tone that he rarely takes with me and I stand shocked, mesmerized by this new side of him.
“I don’t understand,” I tell him softly. “What do you want?”
He smiles again, and it’s eerie now in the fading light. Eerie with it’s calm, eerie with its knowingness.
“I want you to let go,” he says simply. “Just a little. You have to.”
I start to shake my head because a desperation wells up in my chest and threatens to overwhelm me. He holds up a hand.
“Let’s not argue,” he suggests. “I’m going to go clean up.”
And so I trail behind him, back up the trail and into the house, where we clean him up and wrap his arms in bandages. He doesn’t flinch when I spray him with first aid spray, even though I know it stings. He doesn’t flinch when I tell him he has to be more careful. He just remains calm.
It’s enough to terrify me.
Because one thing about my brother, he never remains calm. That’s not his thing.
But today it is.
We curl up in my room and listen to music, to old albums that mom loved… the Beatles, the Cure, U2. It starts to rain and it runs down the glass like rivers and finally, Finn turns to me.
“I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“Okay.”
“I’m tired, Cal.”
And he looks so very tired. So pale, so skinny. I suck a breath in because it’s like he’s deteriorating in front of my eyes. Dad is so lost in his grief about mom that he doesn’t even notice.
I’m the only one.
Like always.
“You’ve got to start eating better,” I tell him.
“I know.”
“Let’s take a nap, Finn,” I suggest. He nods and climbs into my bed. I cover him up with a quilt before I curl up beside him. He falls asleep quickly, and he doesn’t stir.
Beneath him, between my mattresses, his journal rests. I know I have to force myself to read more of it, no matter how much it scares me, because I have to uncover the truth.
Something is bothering him, something is eating at him, and little by little, it will drive him completely mad… if I don’t stop it first.
24
VIGINTI QUATUOR
Finn
I can’t sleep. That’s the problem. I seldom sleep now and the redness of my eyes is driving me to the brink. They burn and burn, and still sleep won’t come.
Even now, I feel Calla watching me, waiting for me to be normal, waiting for me to sleep, so I feign it. I pretend to dream.
But I’m a faker.
Instead of dreaming, I lie here listening to the fucking voices.
SheDoesn’tDeserveYouSheDoesn’tDoesn’tDoesn’t. Don’tYouSee? Can’tYOU? Can’tYOU? SheDoesn’tKnow Shedoesn’tknow. She doesn’t.
They hiss and whisper and yell and scream and I fight the urge to flinch, to scratch, to shriek. But through it all, I lie as still as a corpse, as quiet as a ghost.
Serva me, serva bo te. Serva me. Serva me. Serva me.
Save me and I will save you.
I will save her. I will I will I will.
It’s my voice now, rising above the others, ringing out loud and clear and most important. I can fend them off for a while, for long enough to do this. For long enough to save her.
My secret will come out. But before that, I will save her.
I will.
25
VIGINTI QUINQUE
Calla
I don’t wake until morning, and when I do, Finn is gone. That’s the first thing I notice.
I open my eyes and my hand runs along the cool smooth sheets of the empty side of my bed.
The second thing I notice is the piano music.
Since I know there isn’t a funeral today, this is very odd. My mother was the only one who knew how to play in our family.
I crawl out of bed and pad down the stairs, inching into the Chapel, not sure what I expect to see. But nothing I expect prepares me for what it is.
Dare sits at the piano in the front, the sunshine pouring in from the windows above and reflecting off of his dark hair, like he’s been chosen by God Himself. His eyes closed in concentration, he plays as if the music flows through him like blood or air, like he has to play to live.
I lean against the door, watching his hands span the keys, urging the music from them, with all the grace of an accomplished pianist. I don’t recognize the song, but it’s beautiful and haunting and sad.
It’s just right for this place.
And even though Dare is wearing dark jeans and a snug black shirt and that trendy silver ring on his middle finger, he’s right for this place too.
Because he’s playing the piano as it should be played.
With reverence.
>
Here in this chapel, it’s only right to revere our surroundings, the quiet peacefulness of a room used to honor the dead.
I close my eyes for a minute, unable to stop myself from imagining what it would be like if his hands worshipped my body in the same way as they worship the keys. My dreams have been like foreplay, because every night, he touches me. He claims my body as his own, and every night, I enjoy it. Right now, I recall those dreams, and my cheeks flush as I picture his fingers trailing over my hip, up my abdomen, pausing at my breasts. My lips tingle from wanting his kiss. My breath hitches, my tongue darts out, licking at my lips, my face slightly feverish.
It’s only now that I realize the music has stopped.
I open my eyes and find Dare turned toward me, watching me. There is amusement in his eyes, like he knows exactly what I’d been daydreaming.
If ever there was a time to wish the floor would open up and swallow me, it is now.
“Hi,” he offers. “I hope I didn’t wake you. Your dad said I could come in and grab some orange juice. I saw the piano and…well, I intruded. I’m sorry.”
His accent makes everything ok. And the fact that he plays the piano. More than ok, in fact, it might make him the sexiest man alive.
“You’re not an intrusion,” I tell him. Or if he is, he’s a welcome one. “You play beautifully.”
He shrugs. “It was one of my step-father’s rules. Everyone in his family had to learn to play because that’s what refined people do.” He looks bored with the sentiment and closes the lid to the keys.
I raise an eyebrow. “Are you? Refined, I mean.”
Because his LIVE FREE tattoo begs to differ.
He smiles. “I’m a bit of a rogue, I’m afraid.”
I’m not. Afraid, that is.
“Your dad said to tell you that he had to run into town,” he offers as he gets up and lithely moves toward me. I can’t help but draw a parallel… between Dare and a graceful jungle cat. Long, lithe, slender, strong. He and I are connected by an invisible band, and he flexes that band as he strides down the aisle of the chapel before he stops in front of me like a panther.
Am I his prey?
God, I hope so.
In the light, his eyes are golden, and I find I can’t look away.
“Thanks,” I tell him. “I bet my brother went with him.” I don’t mention that my brother slept in my bed last night, because that would seem weird. Like always, I have to hide certain things for appearances sake.
“I don’t know about that,” Dare answers. “I haven’t seen Finn today.”
“He must’ve,” I murmur. In fact, my father probably took Finn in to his group. I’m free to focus on what is standing in front of me.
Dare DuBray.
His smile gleams.
“I have another question to ask you,” he tells me, with a certain smug look settling on his lips. I raise an eyebrow.
“What, already? You just asked one days ago.”
He chuckles. “Yep. But not here. I want to ask it somewhere else.”
I wait.
And wait.
“And that is…where?” I finally ask.
He smiles. “Out on the water.”
I pause. “On the water? Like, on our boat?”
He nods. “Is that ok?”
Of course it is.
“It’s just a little boat,” I warn him. “Nothing fancy.”
“That’s perfect,” he answers. “Because I’m nothing fancy, either.”
Au contraire. But of course I don’t say that. And it’s a good thing I slept in my clothes because this way, we can go straight there without pause. But of course I don’t say that either.
Instead, I simply lead the way outdoors and to the beach, not hesitating in the rain.
“We can still go,” I tell him. “It’s just a little rain, the waves aren’t bad.”
“I’m not worried,” he grins. “I’m used to rain.”
“That’s right,” I answer as I motion for him to climb aboard. “I forgot.”
He steps across and I untie the boat from the dock, before I toss the rope to him. I leap before the boat can float away, and land unceremoniously beside him.
He lounges against the hull as I steer through the bay, and suddenly, the rain stops as suddenly as it started. The clouds part, the sun shines down upon us and I lift my face to the warmth.
I live for times like these, when my grief pauses long enough for me to enjoy something.
And I have to admit, I’ve been enjoying more and more moments since Dare came to my mountain.
“You make me feel guilty,” I tell him quietly, opening my eyes. He’s sprawled out, his legs propped up on a seat. He glances at me, his forehead furrowed.
“Why in the world is that, Calla-lily?”
The name makes me smile.
“Because you make me forget that I’m sad,” I say simply.
Softness wavers in Dare’s eyes for a minute before they turn back into obsidian. “That shouldn’t make you feel guilty,” he tells me. “In fact, that makes me happy. I don’t like the idea of you being sad. Come sit by me.”
He opens his arms and I sit on the seat next to him, leaning against his hard chest and into his beating heart. His arms close around me and for the first time in my life, I’m lounging in a guy’s embrace. And not just any guy. Dare DuBray, who I’m guessing could have any girl he wants.
And right now, in this moment, he wants me.
It’s unfathomable.
It’s the perfect temperature as we drift in the sun, as the warmth saturates my shirt and soaks into my skin. I drag one hand over the side, letting it float on the surface of the water as I listen to Dare’s heart.
It’s strong and loud against my ear.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The rhythmic sound reminds me of the day he was punching the shed.
I look up at him, reluctant to bring it up, but wanting to know the answer.
“That day outside,” I begin. “When you were punching the shed. What exactly was making you so upset?”
He almost flinches, but he doesn’t move. He keeps his arms wrapped tightly around my shoulders and his dark eyes closed.
“Why do we have to talk about that?” he asks, his voice husky with relaxation. “I thought you wanted to hear my question?”
“I do,” I tell him quickly. “But I want to hear this first. You told me you were mad at yourself, that you were letting something get to you. What was it?”
Because I have to know.
He sighs, and then opens his gorgeous eyes.
“You,” he says softly, the word grazing along the edge of my heart. “I’m letting you get to me.”
I suck in my breath and draw back, trying to see more of his face, trying to figure his answer out.
“Why would that piss you off?” I ask him hesitantly. “I’m a girl, you’re a guy, I think it’s an entirely normal thing.”
He closes his eyes again, but his arms are still wrapped around me. Thank God.
“It is. But you’re not in a good place and I guess I was pissed at Serendipity for her bad timing.”
I’m silent because I don’t know what to say, and Dare opens one eye.
“Back home, girls often want to date me because of my step-father’s family, because they have a lot of money. I hate all of it, but I especially hate the part where I never know when someone is sincere and wants to be close to me just because I’m me.”
He pauses for a minute. “You have no idea who I am, but you like me just the same.”
I’m desperately confused now. “And that’s a bad thing?”
He shakes his head and opens his eyes and stares out at the water. “No, it’s just a bad time. You’re not ready for someone like me. You’re not in a good place.”
That sort of pisses me off and I shrug out of his arms. “Not in a good place? My mother just died. I’m hardly balancing on the edge or something. People die, and it sucks but it doesn’t
mean that I’m a fragile little flower.”
He levels a gaze at me, a look as black as night. “Be that as it may,” he concedes. “You’re still grieving. And we can’t begin something beautiful when there is still so much ugliness around us.”
I’m stunned and sad and silent as I stare away from him, out toward the opposite side of the boat. So he likes me, but he can’t be with me. What the hell kind of thing is this?
After a minute, he turns my chin with his thumb, making me look at him.
I don’t want to, but then again, I do. Because even when he’s infuriating, he’s beautiful.
“Ask me what my question is,” he instructs me.
I lift my chin.
No.
“Go on,” he urges. “Ask me.”
I want to know. I want to know why he wanted me out here in the middle of the water so he could ask it. I want to know what it is. I want to know what it could possibly be. So I ask.
“What is your question?”
He smiles and I swear it’s brighter than the sun.
“Calla, I want you.”
I suck in my breath at that. I wait and wait and wait for a question, all while his eyes penetrate my soul.
“I wake up in the night wanting you. I dream about you. But right now, you’re tied up in a lot of painful, hard things. I need to make sure that you’re not just drawn to me because you’re confused. I want to make sure that you really want me. I’m willing to be patient and find out. So my question is, can you be patient and wait, too?”
He wants to be with me? That’s all I can think of and never mind that he wants to wait until my mind is clear. Of course I’ll wait.
I start to nod and to ask how long, but he continues.
“Can you wait, no matter what happens in the meantime?”
I pause because what a strange thing to say. I must look as puzzled as I feel because Dare reaches out a finger and touches my lips.
“Don’t ask, because I can’t tell you right now. Everyone has secrets, Calla, even me. But can you wait until we have a fair shot, despite the secrets?”