Fall Forever (Fall For Me) (11 page)

But through the boy’s torment and
agony, Drake discovered Rafe still found solace at night with thoughts of
home—his other home. The thoughts were hazy and uncertain, but they were
there. And the thoughts that seemed the strongest to Drake were those of the
boy’s twin sister, Regan. She was part of the boy. And somehow she became a
part of Drake.
Because slowly, over time, Drake and the boy
became one.

So, when it happened—when at
last, at age seventeen, the boy came across his long beloved sister—it
was Drake’s first experience of love. And although the intense emotion wasn’t
the
same
as Rafe would have otherwise felt for his
sister, it was love nonetheless. It tied him to her forever—into the
eternities and beyond. It couldn’t be shook or escaped or even examined. It was
simply there, and would always be there, until the end of time.

***

Regan had been away at boarding
school when she got the news that her twin brother, Rafe, had been found.

Her mother called her dorm, sobbing
with joy. “He’s in New York. We’re flying out there to see him tonight.”

Regan couldn’t believe what she was
hearing. Rafe had been missing for ten years. The conversation seemed unreal.

Regan wiped a gush of tears away on
her sleeve. “I want to come too!” she begged. “Please mom, let me come.”

“No, sweetie.” Her mother was
sympathetic. She knew how desperately Regan wanted to see her twin. The whole
family did. But she had been advised by the police what was best for her son.
“He’s gotten into some trouble. There’s some sticky business we’re going to
have to deal with. We need to go alone. Stay at school and dance.”

Dance? Regan’s school dance recital
seemed inconsequential now. She didn’t care about dancing or school. She only
cared about her brother. She wanted to be home to see him. That was all she
wanted. Nothing else mattered, nothing. However, no matter how hard she begged,
her mother wouldn’t budge. Regan had to stay at school.

“But it’s him mom? There’s no
question—it’s him?”

“Regan—sweetie,” sobbing,
laughing, crying, “it’s Rafe.”

After hanging up, Regan stood for a
moment in the dorm hallway, mesmerized with wonder. She couldn’t believe it; it
was too amazing to be true. After all these years, Rafe had been found. He was
alive! He was coming home!

Regan raced to her room and belly
flopped across her bed. She was tempted to tell her roommate the exciting news,
but resisted the impulse. Bella knew nothing of Rafe’s disappearance. She
didn’t even know Regan had a twin brother. Regan had told no one at her
boarding school. There had been no point to bringing up the subject. Her family
had pretty much given Rafe up for dead, and that was too personal for Regan to
talk about with anyone, even Bella. So, she kept the pain of her loss to herself.
Generally, that’s what she did with most things—she kept them to herself.

***

It was hard for Regan to get
through the rest of the week. She didn’t want to wait until Friday to see Rafe.
She wanted to see him now, this minute. But no matter how hard she begged and
pleaded her parents always gave the same answer. “Wait until the weekend,” they
insisted. “We’ll have a family party for him Saturday—with the
whole
family—a family reunion.”

Regan didn’t want to meet Rafe at a
party, where she had to share him with the rest of her family. He’d be mobbed
with nephews, nieces, and sisters. She wanted him all to herself, completely to
herself, for at least a week, more actually—forever. She and Rafe had
been close as children, best friends,
truly
best
friends. She desperately
wanted that again.

When Friday night finally rolled
around, Regan called her parent’s house over and over but no one answered.
Finally, about nine, Regan’s oldest sister, Donnett, showed up. She looked
hassled. No one in Regan’s family liked to make the three-hour trek up to
Pendrell’s School of Dance
, Regan’s
boarding school. But Regan refused to move back home and go to her old
school—the school where everyone hated her and called her a murderer.

Regan sighed, disappointed to see
Donnett walk in her dorm door. She was expecting her parents and really hoping
Rafe would be with them.

“What’s he like, Donnett?” Regan
asked on the long drive home.

“He seems really
nice—polite,” Donnett said. “It’s strange though. He doesn’t look like
the kind of guy who’d be polite—wait until you see him.”

“Wait until I see him
?!
” Regan groaned in frustration. “That’s all I’ve been
doing! I’m beginning to think I never
will
see him.”

“Just a couple more hours.” Donnett
smiled with a teasing gleam in her eyes. “Patience, Regan.”

Regan sat in silence. Patience was
not one of her virtues. “So, what does he look like?”

Donnett thought about it for a
moment. “Well, he’s really big—masculine, you know?
And,
handsome.
Ruggedly handsome—I guess that’s a fitting expression.
And, how old are you guys
?—
seventeen? He looks a
lot older. Regan, he’s
gorgeous
.”

“So, he’s good looking?” Regan
asked with a smile, since basically that was the only thing Donnett had said.

“Regan, babe, he could be a model.”

That made Regan happy for some
reason. She guessed it was because she’d started to picture him differently in
her mind and she was saddened by what she saw. Regan had conjured up an image
of a timid, skinny boy who looked as though he’d been abused—kind of like
a puppy that had been mistreated and kicked around a lot—pathetic and
scared of everything. It was heartening to hear he was ruggedly handsome.
Ruggedly handsome—it was a cheerful image.

“Why then,” Regan asked, “doesn’t
he look as if he’d be polite?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s just
because I knew he must’ve been through all kinds of awful things, you know? So
when I first saw him, and he looked
all tough
, and had
face stubble and tattoos and piercings, I just expected him to be different. I
was afraid all of his experiences had made him bitter and hard—but he
wasn’t like that. He was really sweet, and he has the most adorable smile. He
just wasn’t what I first expected at all.”

So, Regan had expected him to be
timid and afraid, and Donnett had expected him to be
mean
.
Regan was happy to learn they were both wrong. It made her heart feel lighter.
Not that she would have loved him any less if he’d been scared, or mean. No
matter what problems he had, she was just glad to get her brother back.

When Regan finally reached home it
was long after twelve, and she was disappointed, but not surprised, to discover
everyone had gone to bed. She tossed and turned all night, too excited to
sleep. When she finally did drowse off, she had a horrifying dream about Rafe.
She woke sobbing and trembling. In the dream Rafe had become a monster while he
was away—with garbled speech and soulless eyes. The dream had frightened
her beyond reason and made her afraid to see Rafe.

Regan curled up in a tight ball,
throwing the covers over her head. She couldn’t stop shaking—her body was
a shivering wreck.

She wanted to go back to sleep. It
wasn’t even six yet, but she couldn’t stop her thoughts from returning to the
nightmare.

Finally, she pulled herself out of
bed, not even tempted to peek at her sleeping brother as she passed his closed
door on her way to the bathroom. The dream had made her frightened to see
him—frightened that all of the horrible experiences he’d faced during his
time away from them had warped and twisted his brain, and turned him into a
monster with no soul.

The warmth of the shower relaxed
her, and helped calm her fears, but it couldn’t abate them entirely. The dream
had seemed so real. The memory of it lingered, haunting her mind.

Regan slipped into her leotard and
quietly made her way downstairs to the den. Ballet always helped her unwind,
and at the moment she desperately needed unwinding.

Regan glided to the music, getting
lost in ballet.

“Mom,” she said as she pirouetted,
sensing her mother in the doorway rather than actually looking and seeing her
there, “when Rafe wakes up—oh!”

Regan flushed, stopping in
mid-sentence.

Her breath caught and her heart
thumped spastic in her chest as she stared at the person in the doorway. It
wasn’t her mother after all…. It was the most incredibly handsome boy she’d
ever seen. Only … it was more than just that he was handsome. There was almost
a glow about him, a light radiating from him like something magical. Something
… yes, magical.

Regan slowly came down from her
toes, gazing at the beautiful boy in wonder.

He stood leaning against the
doorframe, his intense gaze stirring something inside her that made her flush.

The way he was staring, it was as
though he’d been watching a long time. Realizing that did funny things to
Regan’s thundering heart, made it fluttery and wild.

The boy’s hungry eyes sparked as
Regan’s gaze met his. He wet his lips, seeming to drink her in—her long
hair, her pale skin,
her
red lips.
Every
inch of her.
It made her catch her breath and want to hide. To be alone—just
for a moment—to collect her baffled thoughts.

She had experienced so many
feelings since learning Rafe was alive—elation, excitement, even fear.
But his heated gaze wasn’t something she anticipated, not at all. It stirred
something inside her that even in her wildest dreams she could never have
foreseen. It confused her, made her want to escape from his gaze so she could
examine her emotions—and get a grip. However, even with that strong
desire—to run and hide—there was still that glow about him—like
a magical draw.

Regan stood frozen. Uncertain.

All week long, she had envisioned
this moment, dreamed of it—finally seeing Rafe again. She had imagined
she would run to him and throw her arms around him and cry into his chest,
gushing on and on and on forever about how wonderful it was to have him back.
She had planned to give him a hero’s welcome. Instead, she stood frozen and
silent. It was so lame! Yet, she could do nothing but stare at the beautiful
boy.

Regan swallowed hard.
Come
on
, Regan! You’re being stupid.
And crazy. Get a grip!

“I’m sorry,” she said clumsily. “I
thought you were my mom.”

Her words seemed to make the boy’s
gaze relent slightly. The hungry spark Regan had first caught in his eyes
seemed to soften, turning tender, maybe even brotherly. Maybe.

“
Our
mom,” he murmured.

His voice was low and husky,
alluring beyond belief, but she latched on to his beautiful words. It was Rafe.

He’s home.
Rafe’s home!

Her throat went tight and her eyes
welled with tears.

“Rafe,” she managed to choke out,
but that was all she could say.

He gave a slight nod, still
watching her as though she was going to melt away.

Regan bit her lip, wanting to do
it—rush to him and throw her arms around him as she had always
envisioned. But he didn’t have on a shirt. It would be awkward.

She took a tentative step toward
him anyway, but it made his eyes spark again. Regan froze, her heart pounding.
It thundered in her ears over the soft, flowing music she had been dancing to
only moments earlier.

Rafe wet his lips, eyeing the
distance between them. Slowly, his gaze flickered back to Regan. His dark eyes
glistened, making her breath catch once again.

They stood like that, silent, until
their mom came bounding into the charged room, bubbling with happiness.

“You’re both up early,” she
chirped, not noticing her sudden entrance had made them both jump.

She smiled. “I thought I heard
voices down here. I was planning on running to the market to get some breakfast
fixings before you got up—but you’re already up.”

Rafe nodded, his gaze cutting to
the little dancer who stood frozen and silent. “Yeah, I guess I was just
excited to see Regan.”

“Did she wake you?” Mrs. Turner
asked with a laugh, knowing how anxious Regan had been to see him.

“No, I did it on my own,” he said,
as though he too was amazed.

Mrs. Turner beamed, still giddy to
have her son home. “Well, how do pancakes sound this morning?”

“Anything’s fine,” he shrugged. “I
don’t usually eat breakfast.”

“Then lets have waffles,” Regan
suggested—finally finding her voice. It helped having Mom in the
room—a little normalcy.

Waffles were Regan’s favorite.
Usually she was the celebrity around the house and got meals planned around
her, since she only came home on the weekends, if even then. Her mom always
made big, elaborate breakfasts while she was home, apparently liking Regan to
think she was missing all this great food while she was away at school. But her
youngest sister, Carly, told her that on weekdays they normally just had cold
cereal for breakfast.

Before Mrs. Turner left for the
grocery store she turned to her son. “Rafe, don’t forget, you have an
appointment with Dr. Heath at eight.”

Regan knew about Dr. Heath, the
psychiatrist Rafe would have to see for the next few years. The couple that had
abducted Rafe had been demented and cruel. He needed help to recover.

Also, the New York police had only
released Rafe from their custody on the condition he live under his parent’s
supervision for the next year and receive scheduled psychiatric counseling, as
he had gotten into trouble with the law. The trouble was a bad thing, of
course,
only the family wasn’t seeing it quite that way,
since Rafe’s getting into trouble was how they had come to find him in the
first place.