Connected (Twists of Fate #1) (2 page)

Doesn’t that make you a lucky lady. Actually, it probably benefits me more. I’d hate to be stuck
in your head while they shove you in the nut house for talking to the voices in your head.
He barked out a laugh.

“Thank you so much for your concern,” she muttered, glancing at the closed door to her room. She probably
should
try to keep the conversation inside if she could.

You think.

And if this was really happening, and he wasn’t going away, she needed to learn how to enact some sort of mental filter.

Good luck with that, sweetheart.

She crossed her arms, trying to wipe out any thoughts. Instead, she pictured a field with daisies flowing in a mild breeze, the petals brilliant white as they caught the light of the sun.

Why am I seeing a pansy-ass field?

Those are daisies,
she retorted, half-curious if he’d hear her responding thought without the verbal words to accompany it.

Of course they are.

And he heard her.

Of course I did.

Aaaand she had to find a way to turn him off.

Don’t worry. You are in no way, shape or form, turning me on. Guaranteed.

Why did
she
have to be the one to get the rude, obnoxious, condescending, arrogant male stuck inside her head? What had she done to deserve this?!

You’re unbelievable lucky to have me. Any woman would be. And I’m
not
obnoxious.

She cleared her mind again and snuggled back down in the covers. This conversation was over, and when she woke up, she’d realize it was all just a horrific nightmare.

And if she didn’t, she was asking for a CAT scan.

Sweet dreams, Addison.

Are you really in a church?
His tone was incredulous and lifted with levity.

Did the man take anything seriously?

“Yes,” Addison murmured as she made her through the nearly deserted church.

I thought I made it clear.
His voice dropped flat as he droned,
Look into my eyes. You have a
extremely sexy man in your head, and you are damned grateful to have him, as you should be.

He chuckled, his voice returning to its normal pitch.
Isn’t that why you didn’t ask the good
doctor for a CAT scan after you found out about your untimely death?

His voice still carried the smugness of ‘I told you so’ since she’d received confirmation of her death and resuscitation. And then he’d rubbed her face in it as she came around to one indisputable realization: she had some guy’s soul stuck inside her.

“I didn’t ask for a CAT scan because the doctor would’ve had me committed. I figured a priest would be safer.”

And what’s a priest going to do for you, sweetheart?

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I figured this was a spiritual problem, right?”
I’m not a problem. I’m a helluva blessing.

“Doesn’t that border on blasphemy or something?” she mumbled, glancing around in search of a black outfit and white collar.

Where were all the priests?!

What the fuck kind of Catholic are you?

“A lapsed one.”

She stopped at the end of the aisle and looked up at the huge cross displayed proudly above her. A shiver ran down her spine as she inspected the inflicted wounds.

What was that?

“Looking at the cross,” she whispered.

Those always creeped me out as a kid.

What creeped her out was the brutality behind it. “Yeah. Creepy,” she mumbled as she turned around, almost mowing down a little old lady. “Oh! I’m so sorry.” The woman held her rosary-wrapped hand close to her heart as she looked at Addison with a measure of censure. Her steely gaze shifted between Addison and the cross, a hard glint to her eye.

Well, crap.

Addison blushed fiercely as she attempted to smile, embarrassed by what the old lady must have overheard. She half-considered assuring the woman she didn’t mean the cross itself was creepy, but decided to give up on the whole endeavor as The Voice roared his amusement in her head.

Did you just get busted? Tell me. Oh, shit, woman…you gotta tell me. I’m dying in here!

She cleared her throat. “Ma’am, could you please tell me where to find a priest?” The old lady nodded sternly as she gestured to the confessionals. “That is where you need to be.” She put a gnarled hand on Addison’s arm. “I will pray for you.” Addison wanted to crawl in a hole, knowing her own grandmother would’ve smacked her with a yard stick if she were here. She managed a quiet ‘thank you’ before rushing off.

Oh, man! What happened now? You’re like a one-woman-hormone-parade, bouncing from
one damned emotion to the next. Are all women like this? Shit. How to keep up with yourselves?

“Would you can it? I gotta concentrate on what I’m gonna say.” She cut through a row of pews to make it to the confessional.

A quick laugh escaped him.
Here we go! Did you find a priest?

He sounded far too excited about this.

“She sent me to the confessional.”

Confessional? Shouldn’t you be setting up a meeting or something?

“I don’t know,” she hissed, pulling the thick red curtain aside to step into the small booth.

Oh, this ought to be good.

She imagined him kicked back in her head with a bag of popcorn, waiting for the show to begin. As the panel between her and the priest slid open, she panicked. What was the protocol?

Was she even allowed to be in there?

After a few agonizing seconds, she realized the priest had spoken and was now waiting on her. Totally clueless, she dug deep into the only education she had on this situation: the movies.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have…”

Sinned? No, that wasn’t right.

Remember, he’s a priest, Addison. The man can probably smell a lie a mile away.

Her heart went into double-time as she fumbled for her words. “Ahh…I haven’t…um…

sinned. Well, not—”

You can’t tell me you’ve never fucking sinned before, sweetheart. And you sure as hell can’t
tell him that! God will strike you down where you sit. Lying in a church? In a confessional, on
top of it? That’s like sitting in the hot seat in front of the good lord Himself, and then claiming to
be totally innocent! I’ve never heard of such a thing! And you have the gall to say I’m
blasphemous when you’re attempting to deceive a man of the cloth?

Sweat broke out across her palms as he ranted. He was giving her a hard time, obviously, but damn!

“Jesus,” she muttered, and then snapped to when she heard the shift of fabric on the other side of the screened window. “Not you…I mean, not Him. I… Oh, my God. Gosh!” she quickly corrected with a cringe. “Excuse me!”

Addison whipped the curtain aside and rushed down the aisle, stuck with the riotous laughter of The Voice in her head.

That was it! She had to be crazy! The only explanation for this insanity was exactly that: she was insane.

Time for that CAT scan.

She groaned, shoving open a heavy ornately-carved mahogany door as she mumbled under her breath, “That could have gone better.”

Are you kidding me? Now
that
was a good time! Okay, so you have the priest thinking
you’re possessed. What’s next?

“Shut up.” She glanced around to make sure she was alone as she jogged down St. Peter’s steps, well aware she was talking to herself again. When she got to her car, she draped her arms on the steering wheel and buried her face. “That was
so
humiliating.” He laughed so hard she almost felt the need to hold her
own
belly.
How did you think that
was going to go?

“Much better than that!”

Face it, sweetheart. You’re stuck with me. You might as well help me out. It’s the only way
to get rid of me.

“In theory.” She scrubbed her hands down her face and stared blankly out the windshield. “I still might be crazy.”

You’re not crazy. Well, not in the way you’re thinking you are. Come on. You just left the
hospital. Let’s get you home and situated, and then I’ll prove to you that you’re not insane.

“And just how are you going to do that?” she asked, not sure she really wanted to know.

You have a computer, don’t you?

“Ahh…yeah. Who doesn’t?”

Then we’re gonna do a little search.

“On what?”

My death.

*****

What is wrong with you?

“What did I do now?” Addison asked, easing into her computer chair.

No, I mean
physically
wrong with you. I can sense pain in your abdomen.

“Um, hello. Just had surgery here. Or did you miss our little rendezvous in the hospital.” She was surprised to not get an immediate, biting remark.

Are you gonna be okay?

Uncomfortable with his concern, all the worry she had successfully tamped down surged to the surface. “Yeah. Just had a tumor removed.”

I didn’t mean to weird you out, Addison.

“You didn’t—”

Don’t even go there. I know you started a mental girly freakout when I asked.

She tensed at his tone and punched a finger at the power button on her computer, grateful to have the anger to overpower her uneasiness. “Look. I don’t know who you think you are, but—”
Rhys Alexander.

“What?” she snapped. Was the man going to let her finish a damn sentence?

That’s my name. Rhys Alexander.

Oh. That’s right. She didn’t even know his name. And was a little embarrassed she hadn’t thought to ask. To her, he was just The Voice.

Yeah, talk about being rude.

She sighed as she typed in her password. “Is it possible for you to be serious for more than two seconds? I mean, really. This is going to be one long-ass depressing life if I have to have Mr.

Condescending Assface in my head for the rest of my years.” She meant the comment as rhetorical, but it occurred to her that that might actually be the case. “Oh, crap.” Her chest seized as her breaths came in little pants.

Here we go again
, he mumbled.
Breathe, woman. Just keep breathing. You’ll get rid of me
soon enough.

But she could sense his doubt. “I heard that,” she said between gasps.

He chuckled uneasily.
Bright side? You’re getting better at reading me. That’ll make it
harder on me, right?

Yeah. Yeah. Make him suffer. Make him pay for being an Afterlife Leech.

Thata girl. Plan my suffering. Plot my demise. Oh, wait. Already dead over here.

“I’m sor—”

Shut it. Just trying to get you to breathe again. You see how nicely my tactics work. Maybe
this won’t be so hard on me after all. You’re a blast to manipulate.

“Maybe I’ll be lucky enough to get hit by a bus,” she muttered, only half-kidding as she pulled up a search engine. But her tasteless humor about her death had her thoughts shifting back to the nearly-suppressed concern nagging at the back of her mind. The needling question whittled its way to the forefront of her consciousness.

What if her tumor was malignant?

Is that a possibility, or are you just screwing with me?

She lifted a shoulder, let it drop. “It’s unlikely.” And it was. Focusing on the positive, she shoved the thought deep down again.

The silence was awkward, and deafening with its vastness.

Who knew she could get so used to The Voice in such a short period of time?

See?
, he said in an easier tone.
I’d knew you’d come to like me eventually. Everyone does.

She ignored his baiting to address the task at hand. “What do you want me to search?”
You got the computer up?

“What do you think?”

Well, I wouldn’t know, would I? Not unless you—

Addison quickly focused on the screen, assuming it would offer him a visual of what she saw.

It worked.

Okay. Good. Go ahead and search by my name.

“How do you spell it?”

A—L—E—X—A—

Her frame slumped. “Not your last name, Einstein. Your first name. I think I can manage

‘Alexander’.”

He chuckled.
Fiesty one, aren’t you? It’s Rhys (for the second time). That’s R—H—Y—S.

She punched in his name, hit search, and was immediately rewarded with well over a hundred hits. Her jaw dropped. “Who the hell are you, Rhys?”
Got a lot of hits, did you?
The pride in his voice was clear.
I’m a bit famous.

“Don’t bother with the feigned humility. It doesn’t suit you,” Addison stated dryly. “So, you are…”

A rock star.

She threw her hands up and let them fall. “Aaaand of course you are. This just keeps getting better and better. Let me guess, you’re the singer.”

Nope. Rhythm guitarist. My brother and I started the band.

“So he’s the singer then?”

Wrong again. That would be Connor. My brother, Xavier, is the lead guitarist. We formed
the band, brought it together. And compose most of the music.
His voice turned introspective as he explained.

She could feel his worry and grief. “I’m sorry, Rhys.”

She heard a throat clear, and then,
For what?

“Now you’re the one forgetting about our little connection here. I’m sorry you’re…”
Dead?

She cringed. “Yeah. And I’m sorry you had to leave a brother behind.”
Now that’s the kicker, isn’t it? Leaving my brother. Shit. This has got to be fucking killing
him.

Addison knotted her fingers in her lap, not sure of what to say or how to comfort him. All she could do was sense his frustration and pain, and try not to intrude on the emotions.

Enough of that. Pull up the first hit. What do we got?

It was as if he just tucked all those feelings into a hole and buried them under a mountain.

She was a little jealous he could disconnect like that.