Watch Me: Teen Paranormal Romance (A Touched Trilogy Book 3) (22 page)

She had passed out, but I knew her body would recover and the pain would be gone when she woke. But her gift of healing had worked. She had taken enough from Bastian so he would have the strength to battle what remained, to fight for a future he had chosen.

Chapter 26

Life as we knew it ended. All of us had been permanently altered by the shooting. Nothing about that day or the days that followed seemed real yet.

The last week of classes and finals were canceled as everyone tried to come to pick up the pieces of the life we knew.

Bastian saved so many people, not just Phoebe. John Tuggle hadn’t expected Bastian to charge straight at him, blocking his next selected victim. His surprise caused him to hesitate before pulling the trigger and shooting Bastian. The slight hesitation was enough for Mr. Arnold to tackle him before the gun had time to turn on him.

He saved so many lives, but not all of them.

Ms. Garcia, our English teacher, died before the police and ambulances ever made it to the school. Micah tried to help her, but she had been beyond help. Her funeral was yesterday. The white lilies she had been planning to have at her wedding this summer were used to cover her casket instead.

The other victim fatally wounded by John Tuggle was Nadine.

She had been next to Nathan at the water table when the shooting started. She was the first person shot; the one target he had no intention of missing.

The media exposed the spiraling mind of John Tuggle over the months since his wife’s death in the drunk driving accident on New Year’s. He became consumed with making Ricky pay for his crime, and in making sure those involved in providing him with the alcohol paid as well. For him, that was Nadine. Her party, her booze, her fault.

Everyone else had simply been collateral damage as he searched for peace by avenging his wife’s death.

Nadine’s funeral would be tomorrow and I still wasn’t certain how I would make it through. The distance growing between us the past couple of months vanished as I realized I would never see her again, never hear her giggle as we updated our hot or not celebrity lists.

If she had lived, we would have continued to grow apart, and there would have been no hole in my heart for it would have gradually filled with the friendships I developed along the way. Her death, so soon and sudden, left a gaping wound that would remain with me for years.

I once thought that of my sisters I was the strong one. But I was wrong. We were all strong.

Lily and Phoebe had survived, though the healing Lily did for Bastian took her days to recover from. For Phoebe, she was dealing with the image of Nadine lying dead next to Nathan. At home, she was sarcastic and her usual loudmouth self, but I knew when she was with Nathan, she focused on helping him deal. He watched Nadine die, not a slow ebbing death, but one so violently sudden it was imprinted into the memory of every one of his senses.

Today, my sisters and I ventured out of the house and to the hospital. For Lily and I, hospitals had always been a place to avoid at all costs. The smell of disinfectant and bland cafeteria food was nauseating. That combined with the greater chance of bumping into someone with a morbid future always kept me away. But I needed to see Bastian and know he really was going to be all right.

For the past six days. I felt completely helpless, unable to visit him. Now I was feet from his door and nerves tightened my stomach. His mom came out of his room and I stepped forward.

“Excuse me,” I said. “I’m Chloe, a friend of Bastian’s.”

She squinted then nodded. “I recognize you from some of his drawings.”

“Could I go in and see him?”

“He’s sleeping.”

“I won’t wake him up. I just need to…”

She stared at me for a moment before slowly moving aside.

The room was dim, illuminated only by the light from the bathroom. The machines hooked up to him blinked and one emitted a steady beep.

He was still pale and a bandage peeked out from the neck of the hospital gown he wore. His hair was brushed to the side, and I reached through the soft blue haze of his future to sweep his hair forward into his familiar style, covering part of his forehead.

I pulled a chair from the corner of the room over so I could sit beside him. My trembling hands gripped one of his. So many emotions collided within me, I had no hope of sorting them out.

He saved my life. He saved the lives of so many people; people who would never realize his choice to run in front of Phoebe and me had been the reason Mr. Arnold had a chance to jump John Tuggle and take the gun.

But I witnessed every decision Bastian could have made. To cower or flee in fear, to protect himself, and yet he decided to sacrifice himself to protect me. Not just anyone. Me.

Nanna told me once that my gift left me unable to feel humble, that I assumed no one did anything for me without motive.

I was humbled now.

Before he was shot, I watched him make the choice. And it broke me. That he would be willing to die for me tore me apart. I had done nothing to deserve that sacrifice.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

Leaning forward, I pressed my forehead to his arm. Taking a deep breath, I let myself fall into his future. There was no gray fog, or blurriness to the vision. Only crisp-edged images that gave a certainty to the choices he would make.

For days, I’d been bombarded by the seemingly unlimited number of choices people would have, so it was surprising when I found Bastian’s much more clear cut.

There is us, in the present. Together and then not. His job at NASA and a home. There is no family or love. Only Bastian. That future fades to darkness and brightens as another drifts in.

This possibility lacks the clarity of the first with layers of images. Friends and NASA. A wedding with Lily and Micah. Us. The longer I stay in the vision, the more pictures that come. They flash so rapidly, I struggle to catch even a glimpse of them. I didn’t want to let go of them. Each one a piece of what his life could be.

“Heal. Live. Learn. The future will wait,” I said, the words tumbling from my lips.

“I thought the saying was ‘the future waits for no man’.”

My head jerked up at the sound of Bastian’s voice. He was staring at me though his eyes barely open. His legs shifted restlessly, creating a soft rustling noise.

“You’re awake.”

“Apparently.”

“You’re supposed to be asleep,” I said accusingly.

“Perhaps if a pretty girl weren’t crying at my bedside I would be. However, I figured the probability of it occurring again in my lifetime was less than six percent, so I decided to enjoy the moment.”

“Six percent?”

“Yes, well, I am accounting for the possibility of it being my mother - making the physically attractive part a bit creepy - or a gentle nun praying over me as I lie on my deathbed when I’m ninety.”

“Ahh, then I suppose I’m glad you took the time to appreciate the event.”

“It will be a much relived moment of time as I go forth and live out my future days. Assuming I do have a future.” He cocked an eyebrow. “What did you see?”

The memory of the vision flowed through me. I couldn’t tell him what I saw. At least not all of it.

“Do you really want to know?”

His head tipped to the side as he considered my question. “Let me rephrase it. Will my dreams come true?”

“By dreams do you mean NASA, a DeLorean, and no love? Or the ones you may or may not have of something more?”

“Who said I dream of something more?”

I smiled. “It doesn’t matter if you have them or not. Your future is like anyone else’s. Some of them will come true, some won’t, and some will gradually morph into something you never even considered.”

His chin lifted, pushing his head back against the pillow and he stared up at the ceiling.

“What do you think it means?” he finally asked. I thought of the words his future gave.

Heal. Live. Learn. The future will wait.

For the first time since they started coming to me during visions, I knew exactly what they meant. The shooting changed us. Bastian was physically healing and both us were emotionally scarred. We needed to heal, to live the lives we thought we wanted and to learn from those experiences. If there is a future for us, it will wait until we are ready.

Being together now would only lead to us drifting apart later. The healing and growing we had to do couldn’t be done together.

“I think it means you shouldn’t rush into anything. Take your time to make decisions.”

“Sounds like sage advice my grandpa would have given me.”

It was actually something Nanna would have said. It was close enough to the truth.

I lifted his hand still clasped in mine and rubbed my thumb along the back of it. He had nice hands. His fingers were long and the tips blunt. Two calluses on the top knuckles of two fingers formed from hours of drawing, roughened his skin.

“Why did you never consider becoming an artist?” I asked, lower his hand back to the bed.

He smiled. “Artists rarely make enough money to afford a DeLorean.”

“I’m serious. I saw your sketchpad. You’re amazing.”

“Art is hard for me. It’s personal. I couldn’t imagine selling a piece, because each of them is a part of me. I draw what appeals to me emotionally, the things I love. To give them away or sell them would be like selling my soul.”

His eyes found my before I glanced away. There was that intense feeling of being humbled yet again. My throat tightened and tears I’d held in finally fell.

I rested my head on his arm again.

“Bastian, I… Thank you.”

“It was nothing,” he replied.

I gave a strangled laugh. “It was everything. When you stepped in front of me and Phoebe, you saved her life. She was going to die.”

“Anyone would have done the same thing.”

“No. They wouldn’t have. There were five other people who could’ve done it, but they didn’t. They never even had a future where they considered it. You are the reason she’s alive. You’re the reason I still have my sister.”

His hand tightened around mine and I looked up at him.

“I didn’t do it for Phoebe. I would have, but I didn’t.”

I swallowed painfully around the lump forming in my throat. “I know.”

Silence encompassed us and I knew he waited for me to say something, yet what could I say? I knew how he felt. I knew I had feelings for him that would one day grow into something even greater, but I couldn’t be with him. Not now.

“It’s easy to want something new. To take it without thought. But some things are worth waiting for.” I squeezed his hand tightly and leaned forward a little, trying to get him to understand what I was telling him. “Your future is one of them.”

He slipped his hand from mine and gave me a weary smile. “Perhaps one of my top five brush offs.”

“It’s not a brush off,” I said.

“Based on previous experiential data I’ve collected-”

I kissed him, halting his words with my lips. He tasted like mint toothpaste and strawberries. Everything about the kiss felt right. The shape of his lips, their softness, and the butterflies taking flight within me. Nothing had ever felt so right. It was new and exciting. But it was also familiar. Not from the previous kisses we shared, but from the futures I’d seen, from the kisses we’d have.

Ending the kiss was like leaving a part of me with him, knowing the piece wouldn’t come back to me for years, if ever.

“Don’t rush the future,” I whispered. “Go to Lily and Micah’s wedding. That’s when the future will be ready.”

“When is it?”

“I don’t know, but if you’re there then it’ll be time.” It was as close to telling him without actually saying the words as I could get.

“What happens between now and then?”

“We heal. We live the life we choose.”

He licked his lips. “Are you sure it’s not a brush off?”

“I’m sure. And no, I won’t be repeating the kiss,” I said, laughing despite the ache in my heart begging me to kiss him again.

“Hmm, guess I’ll have to reconfigure the criteria for my top brush offs.”

“Top brush offs, huh?”

“Yep, and you had the esteemed privilege of holding the title for three of them.”

“Three? How is that even possible?”

“The first to make the list was the stalker conversation. Not only did you manage to completely destroy my attempt at conversing with you, you also implied my flirtatious gazes were creepy. The second was when you checked my future at the pool hall. You freaked when you realized I was holding your hand.”

“To be fair, that was not a brush off. That contact threw me into a dark place.”

“Fine, but you can’t dispute the third and most detrimental to my ego. Prom.”

The air left my body in a rush. It had been painful to do, but what I said to him about love that night played a huge part in his decision to take a bullet for me and save Phoebe’s life.

I took a deep breath and pressed a kiss to the palm of his hand. “Knowing the future sucks sometimes. Knowing it can be changed by a few simple words makes it even harder.”

“What do you see in yours? Will it lead you to everything you dreamed of?” he asked.