***
Later that night, as I drifted off to sleep, I dreamed of Drake’s study.
“You’ve had quite a day, ma minette,” said Drake as his familiar image formed completely out of the smokiness.
I stayed quiet and pensive in the chair. I needed so badly to escape from everything. It was all becoming too much: the house, Jill and Ada, Drake and Ryan. My brain was on overdrive and my body was still recuperating from all the exhausting events of the week. I struggled to categorize everything, but I was too overwhelmed with new questions and utter confusion. It was all too much. On top of my own personal issues, the gnawing guilt that I let Jill down persisted. What if I hadn’t done enough?
I lowered my face into my hands and started to cry. Hot tears fell from my eyes and all of my recent worries came spilling out with them. They splashed onto the leather armchair. Drake sat down next to me.
“I’m sorry,” said Drake. “I know I’m partially to blame for how you feel.”
“You never told me Lucien had a son! Or that you left him the house in your will… You never told me anything!” I nearly shouted at him.
“I didn’t know! I promise you. I hated my brother. I wouldn’t have left him my toothbrush. In fact, I never even wrote a will.”
I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter now,” I said drearily. “None of it matters.”
“Of course it matters! Look at you, ma minette! I apologize that any descendant of mine dared to cause you any anguish.”
“Oh, Drake,” I sobbed pathetically, “I’m not crying because of the house.”
“Then why are you crying?” he asked, his expression softening.
I shook my head, “I’m crying because he looks exactly like you!”
It took everything I had to let go of Drake. Even so, I still refused to release my thoughts of him. The only reason I had to abandon him, one which I clung to for dear life, was that Ryan was real. He was alive. Drake was a ghost. But seeing him in the flesh again, even though he was only Drake’s nephew, really rattled me. The familiar chocolate irises stirred something deep inside me, something Ryan never touched, despite how lovely and amazing he was. I was feeling so vulnerable. I no longer knew which way was up. My mission into the past solved nothing. All I’d done was confuse my heart into potentially doing irreparable damage to the man I loved.
Drake let me cry and it wasn’t a pretty affair. My shirt was wet with tears and he was very careful to give me more space—the constant gentleman.
“I want to show you something,” he said. Unsure if I could handle anymore excitement, he offered me his hand. I placed my trembling fingers into his sturdy palm. His hand was warm.
The scene around us instantly changed. The room began to spin and swirl to black. Slowly, I saw a bright, well-lit corridor forming. The long, white hallway stretched on almost infinitely and led to a brighter light-filled doorway. Standing halfway between Drake and me and the door were three women. I squinted until I recognized the dark hair and fragile features of Dorothy and Ada. Standing between the two of them with her hands clasped tightly around their hands, was Alice. When they saw me, all three women turned to me with glowing smiles. They waved and kept walking down the hallway until they were absorbed by the light at the end of the corridor. A surging wave of love and warmth and relief flooded me. The anxiety and tension faded as I stared at the light, knowing the three women had finally found peace together at last.
When I awoke the next morning, I felt a little more like myself. Still adjusting to the silence in my head, I rolled over in bed and turned on my phone. In the Google search bar, I typed in the name “Luke Montague.” My breath caught when the images came up. Staring out from the colorful, twenty-first century screen were the very real, very much alive, chocolate brown eyes of the man who ignited all of my passion, the man I couldn’t join because he wasn’t here. But suddenly, hope grew in my chest. I hated myself for what I was thinking, but I couldn’t help the small glimmer of elation from entering my fantasies. I stared down at the screen into his warm, dark eyes, lost in thought, when suddenly, I jumped as the screen changed. Ryan’s name appeared at the top of the phone. My thumb hovered over the answer icon, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer it.
It seemed like I’d always been moving toward this singular moment. Even though I never envisioned all the layers of complexity, I knew it was coming ever since my first adventure into the past. There couldn’t be two men in my life, as much as I longed to never have to choose between them. It was easy enough to delay when I thought it meant choosing between the man I loved in my head and the man I loved in real life. But the events of the last week cast everything into sharper focus: thinking I lost Drake forever made me realize how important he was to me.
I knew I wanted Drake back inside my head. I wasn’t prepared to lose him yet; the simple truth was: Drake was part of me now. I also knew I had to be a better girlfriend to Ryan. But a heavy weight settled on my shoulders when I realized that being Ryan’s girlfriend might not matter after I told Ryan the truth.
And the truth was: I couldn’t let go of Drake.
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H. P. Mallory is a New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author who started as a self-published author.
She lives in Southern California with her son and her enormous dog, where she is at work on her next book.
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H. P. Mallory, Brown Eyed Ghoul
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