Hourglass

  Was Kaleb really as indiscriminate when it came to girls as Michael wanted me to think? He’d seemed so sincere when we talked. I couldn’t imagine that he’d share the things with a random stranger that he’d shared with me, especially the things about his parents. He might be flirty, but I thought he was genuine. Until the phone call from the kissy-faced girl. The way he’d answered practically stamped his forehead with the word player.

  Add that to the conversation with Michael …

  I pulled my pillow over my head and screamed.

  “Emerson!”

  The word was loud, coming from right beside my ear. I choked off my yell and sat up, clutching my pillow to my chest, whipping my head in the direction of the voice. It took me a second to make out the shape standing beside my bed against the light coming in my window from outside, but once I did, I wanted to scream again.

  Jack.

  “Not now,” I moaned in frustration, squinching my eyes shut. I opened them again slowly, hoping he’d disappeared.

  No such luck.

  “Are you all right?”

  I sighed.

  “Did you find your young man? Get the answers you were looking for?”

  “My young man? Oh, I found him,” I grumbled. “And if one stupid boy wasn’t enough trouble, I also found his best friend.”

  “Let me guess,” he said, a sympathetic smile on his face. “They’re fighting over you?”

  “Yes. No! I don’t know.” I slammed my face into the pillow before answering him in a muffled voice. “It’s some kind of … competition, and it’s totally unnecessary. I just want to trap them in the same room and… and …”

  “What?”

  “Slam their heads together until they’re unconscious.”

  He laughed his rich, buttery laugh. “Come now. You must be used to boys fighting over you.”

  “That would be a big no,” I said, but I tucked his words away like a piece of candy into my pocket, to take out later and savor. “Where did you come from? I thought you were gone.”

  Jack’s laughter stopped, and the room grew almost unbearably quiet.

  “I looked for you yesterday. Where were you? Scratch that.” Scooping my hair out of my face, I sat up. His eyes were still the same strange blue, if slightly lighter, and they were staring right through me. His hair seemed lighter, too. I held the pillow clutched to me, very aware of how little I was wearing. “What are you?”

  “That’s an odd question.”

  “Not really.” I readjusted, pulling my covers up higher. “Every time I’ve ever touched rips, they’ve disappeared. You didn’t.”

  “What’s a rip?” he asked, studying me with an expression of amusement.

  “What you are. What I think you are.” I shook my head in irritation. He still wore the same black suit with the vest. Nothing really gave away what time period he belonged in, not even his haircut. His fingers were absent of rings. No visible clues to lock him into any era, except for the silver pocket watch that hinted of a gentler time. “You’re from the past. Right?”

  He nodded.

  “I don’t know why you’re here, Jack.” I leaned forward slightly, wondering what would happen if I tried to touch him. He had to know what I was thinking, yet he stayed still. “Why do you keep showing up?”

  “For you.”

  “What?” I shivered as the air conditioner cut on, the ceiling vent blowing cold air down over my bare arms.

  “I feel … connected with you. I know all the mysterious turns life can take. I wish I could protect you from them.”

  “That’s impossible.” I rubbed my hands over my arms briskly, trying to warm up, wondering how much of the chill had to do with Jack rather than the Freon-cooled air.

  “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? You are so unique. So innocent.” The way he was looking at me didn’t make me feel innocent at all. It made me wish Thomas and Dru were home. “Life is … ripe with choices. Some less clear-cut than others.”

  I centered the pillow more directly over my chest. “You’re not making sense. What you’re saying doesn’t—”

  “One day it all will.” His eyes grew darker for a split second. “And on that day, you’ll know that I’ve done all of this … to protect you. All for you.”

  I heard the front door of the loft open, but I didn’t look away from Jack.

  He smiled a sad smile and took a step back.

  Gone.

  I wondered this time if it was for good.

  Chapter 36

  I don’t know what Dru said to Thomas to keep me out of trouble for going to find Michael. I only know that I was grateful. Thomas didn’t make a sound the next morning when I asked to borrow Dru’s car again, and she handed the keys over willingly.

  I got while the getting was good, driving toward campus with the windows down. The air already dripped with humidity, and I was glad I’d put on shorts and a tank instead of jeans and a T-shirt. Blasting the radio, I let the music numb my mind. I didn’t want to think about how to handle the Michael/Kaleb situation. By the time I reached the Renegade House I had to give myself a pep talk even to get out of the car.

  I walked in without knocking. The screen door banged to a close behind me, announcing my presence. I followed my nose to the kitchen and found Kaleb standing by the stove. He stirred something that smelled absolutely delicious, a wooden spoon in one hand and a huge chef’s knife in the other.

  “Are you sober?” I asked from the doorway.

  He turned and leveled a smile that made me a little wobbly. “I am.”

  “Good. Because if not, I was going to take the deadly kitchen utensil away from you.” I crossed the room and pulled myself up to sit on the counter beside the stove. A cutting board full of green peppers and two uncut stalks of celery waited for attention from the knife. Melted butter and diced onions bubbled in a sauté pan on the stove. “You cook?”

  Kaleb was so pretty I was jealous. Pretty, with ripped muscles and a tattoo of a red dragon covering most of his upper body. “Yes,” he said. “I cook.”

  “Do you usually wear a wifebeater and”—I pushed him back a little by his shoulder—“an apron that says ‘Kiss the Cook’ while you’re doing it?”

  He leaned so close to me my heart skipped a couple of beats. “I’ll wear it all the time if you’ll consider it.”

  “Ha-ha. So,” I said, hastily changing the subject and pointing to the cutting board, “what are you chopping up?”

  “The trinity: onions, green peppers, and celery. Étouffée’s going in the pot. Dune and Nate are on the way back from their consult, and they’re bringing crawfish. So,” he said, scraping stray bits of cut vegetables from his knife onto the side of the stainless steel pan, “final judgment’s on the way.”

  My stomach twisted at the thought, knowing all of Michael’s plans depended on Cat’s answer. We couldn’t go without her. “Any idea what she’s decided?”

  “No clue,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “You sure you still want to go?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “I don’t believe you.” Kaleb put the knife on the cutting board and leaned on the counter beside me. “You were fine yesterday. Today you’re nervous. What changed?”

  “Are you reading my emotions? We just met yesterday. How?”

  He lifted one shoulder and smiled.

  “It’s really annoying when you do it without permission.”

  “I can’t help it.” He picked up the sauté pan and tossed the vegetables a couple of times. I’d never be able to do that without dropping everything all over the kitchen floor or burning myself. “Are you nervous because of something Michael said when he followed you to your car yesterday?”

  “Not really.” I guessed Michael hadn’t shared his hook-up opinions with Kaleb.

  “You know, I bet I could take your mind off your worries.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I asked, teasing.

  He put the pan back on the stove and placed his hands on either side o
f me on the counter, his fingertips touching my outer thighs. “Yep.”

  “Oh.” Shazam. I bit down on my bottom lip.

  He reached up to gather my hair in a loose ponytail at the base of my neck, his forearms resting on my bare shoulders. “I’ve been thinking about how much I’d like to distract you. Thinking about it a lot.”

  “Really?” I sounded a little too breathless. My mind scurried to come up with the right words to stop him, but I couldn’t seem to find any words at all.

  “Really.” Kaleb’s hands slid down my arms, his thumbs tracing lines from my inner elbows to my wrists. Chill bumps formed on my skin and anticipation ripped through my system. I leaned back, bumping my head on the cabinet behind me.

  Smooth.

  He laughed, but it made me feel warm instead of embarrassed.

  I got only warmer as he moved his hands to my face to hold my head still. I was kind of glad. I didn’t want to bump it on the cabinet again.

  “You distracted yet?” Kaleb asked.

  I was at a complete loss for words. I didn’t protest when he leaned forward at a snail’s pace, a breath away from touching his lips to mine. In that second I closed my eyes.

  And saw Michael’s face.

  I didn’t have to push Kaleb away. He stopped. We opened our eyes at the same time.

  “I was afraid of that.”

  “What?” I asked as I exhaled.

  “Michael. And you.”

  “How did you know? I mean, what are you talking about?”

  He frowned, focusing on my face and slowly tracing his thumb along my jawline. “Listen. If this were purely physical, I’d be carrying you upstairs to look for an empty room. With your consent, of course.”

  I think I squeaked. While Kaleb was ridiculously sexy, he was equally as terrifying. At least to me.

  He laughed. “But it’s not just physical, which is confusing enough. There’s something between you and Mike, even if he won’t admit it.”

  “No, there isn’t. There isn’t,” I protested when he narrowed his eyes.

  “Do you feel something for him?”

  “Maybe.” This time I banged my head against the cabinet on purpose. “I have no idea what. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. Just let me know when you figure it out.” His hands still cupped my face. He leaned over, placing a gentle kiss on one corner of my mouth, keeping his eyes focused on mine. Then he whispered, with his lips still on my skin, “For a chance with you, I can wait.”

  Michael picked that exact moment to walk into the kitchen.

  Kaleb pulled away from me quickly, going back to the sauté pan as if nothing happened. Michael’s face was completely unreadable. I wondered for a second if he saw anything. Or cared if he had.

  “Emerson?” His voice was empty of emotion. Too empty.

  “Yes,” I answered, sliding down from the counter. I almost fell when my feet hit the ground, and would have if Kaleb hadn’t caught me by the arm.

  “Sorry,” he muttered under his breath.

  “Weak in the knees?” Michael asked.

  He’d definitely seen it.

  I smoothed down my hair and adjusted my tank top. “I’m fine. It’s fine.”

  “Cat’s not here. I went to see her at the lab, and we need to reschedule for tomorrow morning. I wanted to talk to you about our … discussion yesterday, but it looks like you’ve found other ways to amuse yourself.”

  Then he turned on his heel and walked out of the kitchen.

  “Something’s up.” Kaleb’s eyebrows were drawn together in concentration. “His emotions are all over—I think I should go talk to him—”

  “No, let me.” I put my hand on Kaleb’s arm. “You guys have been fighting enough as it is. And I need to settle this.”

  Chapter 37

  Michael.”

  He was walking out the front door when I caught up to him. I followed him outside. “Where are you going? I thought you wanted to talk.”

  “Didn’t know how long you’d be.” He stalked across the wide planked porch, the boards hollow sounding under his weight. “Thought I’d let you finish up.”

  “Wait!” I reached out, catching the edge of his sleeve. He flinched as I accidentally brushed his skin with my fingers. “We were done. I was done. We weren’t doing—”

  He jerked his arm free and started down the steps. “What the hell were you thinking, kissing Kaleb?”

  “I wasn’t kissing Kaleb!”

  “I just saw you in the kitchen with him,” he said, spinning around after two steps. “And you were kissing.”

  I tried to explain. “It wasn’t like that—”

  “It never is.” He crossed his arms and managed to look superior. “Isn’t that the excuse everyone gives when they get caught?”

  “Get caught? You say that like I was doing something wrong.” I threw the next words out defensively, wanting to wipe away his smirk. “Why do you even care?”

  “I only want you to … forget it,” he said, turning away.

  I put both hands on his left shoulder, yanking him around so I could yell in his face. “No, you don’t, Michael Weaver. You don’t get to unload on me and then reel it all back in without telling me why.”

  “You can do whatever you want,” he said, his voice cold and distant, shutting me down. Shutting me out. “I don’t have a right to an opinion.”

  I still wanted him to have one. And vocalize it. Fighting the urge to push him, I attempted to push his buttons instead. “Kaleb did try to kiss me,” I said, sounding like a taunting bully on a playground.

  Michael flinched as if my hand had actually connected with his cheek. “Looked like he succeeded to me.”

  Bingo.

  “He stopped.” I stood as close to him as I dared. “You want to know why?”

  Michael covered his face with his long fingers, his silver thumb ring glinting in the sunlight. “I don’t know, Emerson. Do I?”

  I said the next words distinctly, hoping for maximum impact. “Kaleb stopped because of you.”

  “What?” He lowered his hands, his voice soft, incredulous.

  “Your best friend is an empath. And he didn’t kiss me because of you.” It was out before I could stop myself. Why couldn’t I keep my mouth shut? I growled in frustration and dropped down to sit on the top porch step.

  “Um … I thought maybe … But then Kaleb …” He trailed off awkwardly. “I didn’t know if you were confusing the way we make each other feel … physically … with actual feelings.”

  “Maybe I am.”

  “Nothing can happen between us, Em.” At least he sounded sad about it.

  “I know that.” I stared down at the white paint flaking up from the porch steps. I leaned over, scratching at it. “I should go find Kaleb and take him up on his offer to distract me.”

  “Don’t.”

  “Why? ‘Nonfraternization’ rule or not, I’ve practically thrown myself at you. One second I think you want me back, then the next I don’t know. I barely recognize myself when I look in the mirror because I don’t ever act like this, and then I meet Ava and—”

  The screen door opened behind me, the hinges in desperate need of oil. Grateful for the interruption and an excuse to end my humiliation, I pushed up forcefully from my seat on the stairs, cracking my head on something hard before feeling the sensation of cold slime sliding down my back.

  I twisted around to see Dune holding a cooler half full of mud and crawfish heads.

  The other half was all over me.

  Chapter 38

  For a horrible second, no one moved. Everything around me stood out with startling clarity. The dismay on Michael’s face, the sludgy water dripping from my tank top, the crawfish heads in my hair.

  Michael jumped into action. “Dune, go inside and grab some paper towels. Have Kaleb bring us some ice. She hit her head pretty hard.”

  “Emerson, I’m so sorry.” Dune dropped the cooler onto the porch and reached out to me. Mic
hael waved him away and he took off in the direction of the kitchen.

  “Are you all right?” Michael asked, peering into my eyes as he rested his hands gingerly on my shoulders. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to avoid the slime or my skin. “Your pupils look dilated. Does your head hurt? Tell me your name.”

  “Of course my head hurts,” I snapped. “Ask me my name again, and I’ll turn you into a soprano.”

  His eyes filled with relief as he let go of my shoulders and stepped away. “At least you’re okay.”

  I was so far from okay.

  Pulling a mud-caked strand of hair in front of my face, I crossed my eyes as I looked at it. “Do you have a garden hose somewhere? I can’t drive home like this.”

  “I’m not going to let you wash off with a garden hose,” he said, shaking his head. “You can go up and take a shower. I’ll wash your stuff.”

  “So I’m just going to sit somewhere naked while I wait?” I asked. Then I blushed.

  Thankfully, at that moment Dune appeared with a whole roll of paper towels. He started ripping them off and dabbing at my hair and my shirt, all the while mumbling under his breath about how sorry he was.

  “Dune,” I said, grabbing his wrist when his dabbing got a little too personal, “it’s fine. I know you didn’t do it on purpose. Accidents happen.”

  His serious sea-colored eyes were full of apology. “I really am sorry.”

  “How hard did she hit? Do I need to call 911?” Kaleb asked as he burst through the screen door, ice in hand. When he saw me he froze for a few seconds before exploding into laughter.

  “Knock it off,” Michael said, scolding. “She could’ve been hurt.”

  “Are you all right?” Kaleb asked, with tears in his eyes.

  I pursed my lips and crossed my arms, surprised to feel a giggle bubbling up in my chest. “Peachy.”

  He started laughing again. I wondered if I really had hurt myself when I hit my head, because I joined him.

  “This really isn’t … funny.” I sat down to try and catch my breath, landed on a particularly slimy pile of crawfish heads, and slid to the bottom of the steps, hiccuping on impact.