Dusk (Young Adult Paranormal Romance) (8 page)

He slid his hand to the back of my neck and squeezed, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. He seemed to have an uncanny knack of knowing when I didn’t need him to say anything.

“I wanted it to help. Was desperate for it to help. But it didn’t. I still felt awful.” I closed my eyes, the shame of my next words sitting on my chest like a thousand Pre-Cal textbooks. “I still feel awful.”

A
week had passed since the episode with Nikki in the cafeteria. Thankfully, she’d given Adrian and me a wide berth since, and even though I knew she’d come back at me eventually, I was glad for the reprieve.

There’d also been no talk of my dad or my foolish behavior over the summer. Admitting it all to Adrian hadn’t been that difficult, but it still left me pretty raw, and he must’ve realized I needed some time before the subject came up again.

The idea that Adrian must be able to read minds popped up again, and made me smile.

Sitting at the picnic table in my backyard, I tilted my head into the light breeze that cooled my skin. The afternoon was uncharacteristically pleasant for late August, which meant as Adrian walked to my house for our homework session, he was not roasting in the sun.

Pre-Cal homework had become our standing date. Weird, but nice. And pretty special.

And given that I was still on a short leash with my mom, it was the kind of date she couldn’t object to.

I caught sight of him as he rounded the curve just shy of my driveway. He looked almost surreal, like some kind of angel descending into my life, not just a friendly neighbor walking down the road.

Yesterday during our homework session, he’d encouraged me to think about running for student government. I resisted the idea, but the more I’d thought about his logic, the more sense it made. He said I shouldn’t let my dad’s bad judgment or the tragedy that took his life keep me from doing the things I enjoyed. He said that would be like letting the bad guys win. It was still difficult to imagine myself in the role of class president, but maybe I could find a happy medium.

“You look like someone with a secret,” he said, striding to the picnic table and taking a seat beside me.

I felt like I had a secret. Sitting here each afternoon with Adrian, as I’d been for the past week, I felt like I’d found some kind of treasure no one else knew about. Whatever it was that was budding between us, it was the most delicious secret of my life.

“I think I’m going to run for student government.”

He scooted closer and leaned in to kiss my cheek. “I’m glad.”

“But not for president.” The warmth of his kiss stayed on my skin, and I smiled. “Maybe for reporter or secretary. Something a little more low-key. I’ll tell Mr. Austin tomorrow.”

“Great idea.” He took my hand in both of his. “Can I tell you something?”

“Sure.” So much of the time our conversations wound up centering on me and my neuroses, but I never wanted him to feel like this relationship – or whatever it was – was all one-sided. “You can tell me anything.”

“I’m happy.” He tilted his head, his baby blues locking on mine. “Really happy. I didn’t expect that when I came here.”

I couldn’t have stopped the huge grin that spread across my face if someone had offered me a million dollars.

“You like that?” he asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Yeah.” I couldn’t suppress the giggle. “The idea that I could make someone happy. Make
you
happy. I like that idea.”

The truth was, I’d given my family and friends so much grief over the past few months I’d forgotten what it felt like to actually do something positive for another person. Selfishness was a dark pit, and it was nice to think maybe I was climbing my way out.

“Not just happy,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to mine. “Really happy.”

My only response was a heavy sigh. I had no words. None.

“I figured coming here would be like anything else, just something I needed to do. Finish high school. Hang out with Aunt Maggie. I didn’t expect this. You.”

This close, I could feel his breath on my cheek. I caught the minty scent of toothpaste.

He leaned in even closer, his lips moving against my cheek.

“Zoe?”

“Hmmm?” Coherency was not possible at the moment.

“I’m really,
really
happy.”

He kissed me then, and holy cow! Happiness I didn’t deserve took root in my heart, blooming brightly in every corner of my soul. His arms came around me, wrapping me in the sweet serenity his presence had come to represent, and yet there was so much more.

He was excitement and expectation and, yes… let’s face it… passion. No denying it. The passion was definitely there. At least on my side of things.

And if the way he pulled me closer, held me tighter, and amped up the intensity of the kiss was any indication, it was there for him, too.

How crazy was that? That I could inspire a response like this from a guy who could’ve had any girl he wanted.

I felt his reluctance as he pulled away. Felt my own reluctance in the pit of my stomach.

“Homework,” he managed, our faces still pressed together.

I nodded. He was right, but the reminder was pretty unwelcome at the moment.

With one arm, he reached around me for the Pre-Cal book, his other arm keeping me tight against him.

He kissed me once more, quick and soft, as he opened the book and picked up a pencil.

“I probably ought to meet your mom,” he said as we both moved to give our attention to our homework. “She’d probably like to meet the guy who’s nuts about her daughter.”

I
was still awake long after I heard my mom turn in for the night. Lying in the bed, my mind kept returning to Adrian and our afternoon together. He’d quickly become such an important part of my life, and apparently, he felt the same.

Enough that he wanted to meet my mom.

Things we so strained between Mom and me that I had no idea how to even bring it up. It would be pretty awkward to just come right out with it after months of practically no meaningful communication between the two of us.

Hey Mom, I’m still really pissed about all that crap with Dad, and I don’t want to talk about it with you, but hey, I met a guy.

Somehow I just didn’t think that was the right way to approach it.

For a split second I wondered if my dad would like Adrian, or if he’d be like most dads were about the guys who dated their teenage daughters. A wave of sadness swept over me when that errant thought brought home all over again that my dad was gone forever.

Taking a deep breath, I nestled further into my pillow and pulled the blanket up over my shoulders. I could feel the first moments of slumber sliding toward me and welcomed them and the brief escape they offered.

Sleep claimed me, and in that dreamy place the scene began to change before my eyes.

Beyond the gray, hazy fog, the Rison Town Cemetery sloped with the gentle hills on which it sat. The lack of sunlight increased the creepy vibe the place gave off. My feet took me in that direction, even though my mind argued bitterly against it.

I hadn’t been here since the day we buried him, and I couldn’t figure out why I’d chosen such an eerie day to make my first visit.

The words ricocheted around in my head as I walked in the direction of his grave. All the things I wanted to say – things I should’ve said when he was still alive – clamored for attention. I wanted so badly to hate him forever. It would be easier that way. But somewhere along the way, after putting my father in the ground, the feelings of love that had once been so natural came seeping back into my heart.

His headstone was simple.
Jason Gray. Beloved Husband and Father. 1969 – 2013.
I almost laughed at the beloved husband part. Almost. Then I remembered why I was here.

I sank to my knees, unbothered by the damp ground beneath me. And in the quiet, mist-filled morning, I started to cry.

And the words rolled right out of me.

“I’m sorry, Daddy. So sorry. I don’t hate you. I never did. I wanted to, but just because I was so mad at you for hurting Mom and screwing up our family. I guess I’m still mad. But I can’t stop loving you, Dad. And I miss you so much.”

Dragging the back of my hands across my cheeks, I cleared the tears from my eyes and looked up.

Somehow, he was there. My Dad. A cloudy, translucent vision of him, standing behind the headstone. His empty eyes stared through me, as if I wasn’t even there.

“Daddy.” My voice broke, but I continued, and said what I’d come here to say. “Can you forgive me?”

Without moving his eyes to look at me, and with zero emotion in his voice, he replied, “It’s too late.”

His image began to fade into the haze. Stumbling to my feet, I tried to reach him before he vanished.

“No, Daddy,” I wailed, the misery welling inside me too overwhelming to bear. “Please!”

But he was gone.

Collapsing to the ground, I let despair overtake me, sobbing there beside my father’s headstone.

*     *     *

I felt awareness begin to return, not in an upright bolt the way I might’ve after a nightmare, but in a slow trickle, that amplified the sadness and carried it from my dream into my consciousness.

In that moment, the weight of my grief choked me from the inside.

Cool wetness dampened my cheeks, and as I reached up to wipe my tears I opened my eyes, hoping that the sight of the real world would calm the emotions whirling in my soul.

And Adrian was there. On my lavender beanbag. Arms propped on knees covered by frayed blue jeans. Black tee shirt that matched his hair. His face etched with concern and compassion… and a barely caged anger.

What the –

I blinked, clearing away the moisture in my eyes for a better look.

But there was no one on my beanbag. I was alone.

I didn’t imagine him. I hadn’t even been thinking of him. So how had my mind conjured him there in my bedroom?

A crazy sense of déjà vu swept over me, and my mind flashed back to the morning after the crash. Waking up to the nasty effects of the night before, and hallucinating a guy sitting on my beanbag.

In my mind I pictured the vision from that morning. Blue jeans. Black hair. Biker boots.

Adrian.

It wasn’t possible. The idea was absurd. And yet…

How often had I thought about how familiar he seemed, how familiar it
felt
to be with him? How many times had I asked myself since meeting him how he had the ability to show up or call or text at
just
the right moments? He saw me searching for my Pre-Cal book, and somehow it mysteriously appeared. Without asking he knew I’d need help with Pre-Cal homework. He texted to check on me just after a confrontation with Nikki and Courtney. He found me at the horse paddocks after a near fight with mom.

Then there’s the way that when I’m with him, his presence wraps around me like warm breeze.

And now I was almost certain it had been him in my bedroom the morning of the hangover from hell. And there was no way I’d placed him there with some sort of wishful thinking. I hadn’t even laid eyes on him yet.

Something was definitely weird about Adrian Shaw. Probably not in a bad way. At least I hoped. But something weird for sure.