Until We Meet Again (16 page)

“I knew we shouldn’t have messed with time,” I say, unable
to draw a good breath. “I said it from the very beginning. You
mess with the past, and you screw up the future. Once we realized what was going on, we should have left each other alone.”

He grips my hands. “We have no way of knowing if Fay’s
family is even responsible for my death. You could be panicking for nothing.”

“They’re mob, Lawrence. An Italian mob family. Have you
ever seen The Godfather? Do you not understand how these
people operate? They kill at the drop of a hat. You said Fay was
mad when you guys parted?”

“Well no, but she did find out about you…in a way. I can’t
imagine her actually trying to have me killed for it.”
“Not her. But what about her big, mean, mobster daddy?
Her creepy brother who was watching you?”
I massage my temples while Lawrence ponders the idea. As
if things weren’t scary enough, pressing him for details only
makes me freak out more. I feel like I’m spinning out of control.
“I should warn Ned,” Lawrence says. “All this time he’s
thought Fay was a Crest Harbor girl. Rich, clean-cut. One of
us. He has no idea who she really is. If he knew, he’d never have
thought to…” The color in his face drains away.
“What’s wrong?”
The words fall slowly from his lips. “We were supposed to be
married, Fay and I. Ned had it all arranged.”
I sit back, reeling from the revelation. “Wow.”
He grabs my hand. “Please don’t be hurt, Cassandra. It was
never official. And it wasn’t ever my idea. I didn’t even realize it
was Ned’s plan until a week or two ago.”
“You don’t want to marry her?”
“No. I told you. I never loved Fay. My uncle’s been pushing
the relationship since the beginning.”
“Well, I’d say your uncle has some pretty crappy judgment.”
“But that’s just it. He doesn’t realize who Fay really is. When
he finds out, he’s bound to break off the agreement. Maybe the
mob goes after Ned.”
I put the pieces of the theory in place. “And you get caught
in the crossfire.”
Lawrence exhales, scratching a hand through his hair. “We
don’t know anything for sure.”
“Yes, we do,” I say. Each word burns in my throat. “We know
that if you hadn’t met me, you’d be safe. I’m the reason you’re
killed. It’s my fault. I never should have come back to the beach.
I knew what happened to Travis, but I just didn’t care—”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Of course it is!” I shout. Then breathing hard, I stagger
back. “All this talk about fate and destiny? It’s crap. I just
convinced myself of it because I wanted to feel justified in
coming to see you. I wanted a reason to ignore the warnings
that were clearly laid out for me. I’ve been selfish, and now
look what’s happened.”
Lawrence takes my face in his hands. “Don’t talk like this. I
won’t hear it.”
I shake my head, breaking from his grip, and he takes me in
his arms.
“Look at me.”
“No.”
“Cassandra.”
I feel heavy with the burden of everything that’s happening.
I just want to run away. Cry. Scream.
“I would never take back a moment of our time together,
Cassandra. Not a single breath. Not a single word. Meeting
you has been the greatest thing to ever happen to me.”
Tears burn behind my eyes. Squeezing them away, I press my
lips to his. He hooks his arms around me. Our kiss pulses with
longing and fear and hope. When we break apart, I press my
forehead to his.
“I’m scared,” I whisper.
He strokes the hair from my face. “So am I. But now is
the time for courage. We know so much more than when
we started.”
“But we still don’t know how to keep you safe.”
“We know about Cooper Enterprises. And Fay’s family. That’s
big. You better believe I’m going to have my eyes wide open on
Saturday night.”
My stomach twists at the mere mention of it. “You’re planning on going to your uncle’s party?
“Am I supposed to stay in my room all day?”
“No! You’re supposed to get in your car and drive as far away
from here as possible.”
“That might save me on Saturday, but what about the next
day? The next week? Don’t you think they’ll come looking for
me? The only way to stop my death from happening is to face
the murderers, whoever they are, head on.”
He’s completely serious. A surge of unexpected anger rushes
through me.
“Are you crazy? Do you want to be murdered, Lawrence? Do
you honestly think you can go up against the mob and not end
up with a bullet in your head?”
A coldness settles in his eyes. “You have no idea what it feels
like to know that you may die in the morning. Do you know
how much thought I’ve given this?”
“Of course I do! Because it’s the only thing I’ve been able to
think about, same as you.”
“It’s not the same,” he insists.
“How can you say that?”
He shakes his head, turning from me in frustration.
“You’re trying to be brave!” I shout. “But you’ll just get yourself killed!”
“If I run away like a coward, it will be my uncle who dies. He
has no idea about Fay, or even about Cooper Enterprises. He’ll
throw his big, happy party and wind up dead.”
His eyes are red and glassy with pain. The sight fills me with
the desire to hold him and kiss his tears away. But I don’t. The
tension of our argument crackles between us.
“I care about you, Lawrence.”
He scoffs. “Well, I happen to care about my uncle.”
“I’m not saying—”
“I know exactly what you’re suggesting—”
“I can’t lose you. I’d never forgive myself. I’d never get
over it.”
“Cassandra—”
“No! I won’t calm down.” It feels like someone is sitting on
my chest. I can’t breathe. “I’m trying to save your life, Lawrence.
Promise me you won’t go to the party.”
He sighs heavily and then pulls me against him. Feeling
his arms around me is like oxygen. I press my face to his
neck. I hate that we’re spending our last day arguing. It’s
all wrong.
“I can promise you that I’ll be careful,” Lawrence says. “This
is my life and my uncle’s life on the line here.”
He touches my chin and lifts my face so I’ll meet his eyes.
The sound of a sharp exhale makes us both look to the bushes
with a start.
Brandon stands on the beach, staring at us with a look of
utter betrayal.

all frozen in place. Then I step away from Lawrence.
randon—”
He holds up a hand to silence me. “Don’t.”
“Let me explain.”
“No need,” Brandon snaps. Then he says bitterly, “So this is

why you’ve been blowing me off. You know, your mom told
me you’d been spending a lot of time at the beach, but she
thinks you’ve taken a sudden interest in swimming. I guess
we’ve both been played.”

Lawrence and I exchange a swift, tense glance. He senses as well
as I the potential seriousness of this turn of events. I have to diffuse
the situation quickly. Too bad my words have abandoned me.

Brandon sputters. “Spare me, Cass. It’s kind of obvious what’s
going on. You know, you could have told me you were dating
someone. It’s not like I can’t handle it.”
“I know that.”
“So why didn’t you say something?”
“Look, I don’t owe you every detail of my life, okay?”
“Whatever,” he snorts. “You know, in some ways, I’m glad I

The impulse to tell him off again burns in my throat, but I
swallow it. I guess I deserve it. And besides, I need him on my
side. He can’t tell anyone about Lawrence. It’s bad enough that
he’s been seen. I don’t even want to think about the rippleeffect this all might bring about.

“Brandon, I’m sorry, okay? I never wanted to hurt you. I
actually tried to tell you, but…”
“But what?”
When I don’t immediately answer, he holds up a hand. “You
know what? Never mind. I know why you didn’t tell me. It’s
because you’re a drama queen. You love having secret boyfriends and leading guys on.”
“That’s
not—”
“Don’t lie to me, Drama Queen.”
Lawrence takes a tense step forward. His fist is tight at his
side. “I’ll ask you only once to speak to Cassandra with more
respect.”
Brandon turns to Lawrence, his eyes suddenly bright with
rage. “Is that right? And who exactly do you think you are?”
Lawrence’s fierce glare stays locked with Brandon’s.
“Both of you chill out,” I say. I have to get Brandon away.
Every second he spends here is dangerous. Every word complicates our situation.
“No, really,” Brandon says. “Who is this guy? I don’t recognize him.”
My stomach tenses, but I force a laugh. “So you know every
person in town?”
“Pretty much.” Brandon gives Lawrence a scrutinizing look.
“Trust me,” Lawrence says with irritation. “We don’t know
each other.”
“My point exactly. Anyone worth knowing is on my radar.”
“Or perhaps you’re not as popular as you presumed,”
Lawrence says.
I shoot him a warning look, but he’s still staring down
Brandon.
Brandon’s jaw sets. “You want to come a little closer and say
that to my face?”
“Gladly.”
Brandon and Lawrence both step toward each other, and I
run in between them.
“Stop it. Both of you.” I turn to Lawrence. “Maybe you
should go.”
“I’m not leaving you with this goon. He’s fighting mad.”
Brandon sneers. “Goon? What, are you from the Fifties or
something?”
“I can handle him,” I say pointedly to Lawrence. We have no
other choice.
Lawrence doesn’t respond, but I can tell he’s not happy with
me. Finally, he nods once. “Fine. But I’ll check to make sure
you’re safe very soon.”
“Do that.”
Lawrence starts back to the house. As he passes Brandon, he
bumps Brandon’s shoulder deliberately.
I could kill him.
Brandon’s eyes flash. Lawrence continues walking, and I hold
up my hand, as if I could stop the impending explosion.
“Brandon—”
But he’s after Lawrence like the snap of the whip. I fly
after them.
“Brandon, wait!”
In the thin alley of bushes, Brandon grabs hold of Lawrence’s
shirt and spins him around.
“You want to make this serious, bro?”
Lawrence pushes Brandon’s arms away. “Take your paws
off me.”
“Stop!” I shout.
They both ignore me. Brandon gives Lawrence a fierce shove.
The bushes shake where he lands, causing a bird to flutter into
the sky. I’ve never seen Lawrence look so angry. I grab him
from behind.
“Leave it,” I say. I press my face to his neck and add in a sharp
whisper, “Think about where we are.”
Lawrence gives me a tense glance, but then we both notice
Brandon coming at us, eyes blazing. He throws a punch, and
Lawrence darts out of the way, pushing me to the side to protect
me. Brandon swings again, and this time when Lawrence
dodges, he jumps back.
Too far back. He begins to blur.
Not realizing this, Lawrence retreats further. He blurs
even more.
“I’m not going to fight you,” he says, but his voice is muffled.
Brandon freezes, and terror grips me.
“Lawrence!”
Only now does he realize what’s happening. His eyes widen.
He makes a move toward the beach, but Brandon is blocking
the way. Brandon advances, and Lawrence has no choice but
to back up another step, becoming even more obscured by the
shadows of time.
“What the hell?” Brandon’s voice is soft with confusion
and shock.
I grab Brandon’s arm. “We have to go back to the beach.”
He shoulders out of my grip, not taking his eyes off Lawrence.
Lawrence looks to me. His expression is hard to make out,
but I can tell that he’s as alarmed as I am. What can we do?
What can we possibly say?
Then, out of nowhere, Lawrence turns and runs, vanishing
completely into 1925.
This is bad. This is beyond bad.
I grab Brandon, so that he faces me. He stares at me, waiting
for me to explain what just happened. But no words come.
Brandon steps through the bushes. When he reaches the backyard, he looks around. Looking for Lawrence. But Lawrence
isn’t there. Brandon slowly raises a hand to his forehead. Then,
after a moment, he speed walks for the house. I’m paralyzed
with fear. This is exactly what I was afraid would happen. The
worstcase
scenario.
I run after him. “Wait! Brandon!”
He strides ahead without looking back. I run in front of him,
trying to block his path.
“I can explain.”
He shakes his head, backing away from me like I’m a leper.
“Don’t talk to me.”
I follow him through the house and out the front door. As he
gets in his car, I lean through the driver’s side window.
“Brandon, please. It’s not what you think.”
He looks me in the eye for the first time. He’s afraid. I
can see it. I touch his hand, which grips the steering wheel,
whiteknuckled.
“You need to give me a chance to explain,” I say.
Brandon fumbles for his keys. His hand trembles as he turns
it in the ignition.
“I have to go.”
The engine revs to a start.
“Brandon.”
Without another word, he pulls the car into gear and roars
away. I jump back to avoid getting run over.

I call Brandon twelve times over the next three hours. I even
track down his home number and ask his mom if I can speak
to him. She goes to get him and then comes back on the line to
awkwardly fumble over some line about Brandon being asleep.
At four thirty in the afternoon. Hanging up the phone, I flop
back onto my bed, unsure if I want to scream or cry.

A menacing train of what-ifs roars through my brain. What
if Brandon tells my mom about Lawrence and she prevents me
from seeing him? What if that awful chance meeting sets off
the butterfly effect again? But that’s not even the worst of it.
What if somehow the bargain we’ve made with fate was contingent on secrecy? I could save Lawrence as long as no one
knew we were messing with time. But now Brandon knows.
Maybe the deal is off. Maybe I’ll walk back to that beach, and
everything will be like it was before. And Lawrence will be on
his own to face his death.