For This Life Only (15 page)

“Okay,” I said slowly.

She laughed. “It's like ripples in a pond after you throw a rock in. It means something kicked off the start of the universe, something outside of the universe itself.” She lifted her shoulder. “I don't think some old guy in robes was out there pushing dirt and rock into a ball to make planets, but that doesn't mean there's not a benevolent force out there somewhere. It seems pretty improbable that the universe came together randomly.”

My head was spinning. “So we just pick what we believe. It's that simple.”

“No, I don't think it's simple at all. And it's not just a single choice. I think as things happen, you have to keep choosing.”

The weight of that seemed overwhelming and frightening. “You aren't supposed to choose, though. Are you? It's supposed to be . . .” I struggled to find the right words. “Like a lightning bolt. Saul by the side of the road or whatever. Or it's just something you have from the beginning.” Active choice didn't play a role in any of the stories I knew, not like that.

“I mean, if a burning bush shows up and starts giving instructions, claiming to be God, then yeah, okay, maybe,” I went on. “You have to decide if that's actually God or the result of using some serious drugs.”

Thera snorted.

I shook my head. “But that's not the same thing as
deciding
to believe in God.” It was such a foreign concept that I felt weird just saying the words.

“Choice matters,” Thera said. “It defines us, more than what we're told to believe or told to do. If you believe that you'll see Eli again, in heaven or whatever comes after this, then believe that. Choose it.”

I thought about the dream I'd had last night. It had felt so real. I could still hear that muffled murmur of Eli's voice behind those endless doors. He hadn't seemed gone, not then. “But what if I'm wrong?”

She lifted her shoulder in a shrug. “What if you are? You won't know it,” she pointed out. “If you're wrong, then once you're gone, you're gone.”

I shook my head. “I don't know if I can do that, just . . . choose.” It seemed crazy that it was both that easy and complicated. It had been so much easier when I didn't have to think about it.

She edged closer. “Look, to believe in anything—God, other people, yourself—it's an act of defiance.” Her expression was fierce. “We're small and fragile, and control relatively little of our existence.” She waved a hand at the gravel mountains surrounding us. “Asteroids, cancer, sucky economy, someone cutting you off in traffic. The world will obliterate you as soon as look at you.”

“That is . . . remarkably depressing.”

“But we're here. We're alive against all those odds. And believing is a shout in the dark,” Thera said, moving to stand directly in front of me. Her hand was tight on mine in my pocket. When she looked up at me, my breath caught in my throat and I went still.

She offered me a shaky smile, her gaze flicking between my eyes and my mouth. “And sometimes you have to shout.”

I leaned forward to kiss her, letting go of her hand to sink my fingers into the warmth and heaviness of her hair.

When I teased her lower lip with my tongue, her mouth
opened beneath mine. I groaned, pulling her closer and mentally cursing my not-quite-functional left arm.

The heat and weight of her pressed against me, sending a heady rush through me. I hadn't felt this alive in months, and suddenly, I
needed
more. It was like I'd been living beneath a haze, a heavy coating covering me from head to toe, and it had been stripped away without notice.

My thumb traced her jawline and just below, exactly where I'd wanted to touch earlier, and she made a soft sound of pleasure against my mouth, tilting her head away so I'd have more access.

Thera fumbled with my coat, sliding her hands inside and around my waist, but my shirt rode up beneath her palms.

I sucked in a sharp breath. “So cold!”

She lurched back, clapping her hand over her mouth with a laugh. “Sorry!”

“It's okay.” I moved to kiss her again, but instead she caught my hand and led me away, back over the hill and to the car.

Once inside, we were out of the wind, which helped.

The break and the silence in the car might have been awkward, self-consciousness catching up with us, except that Thera didn't let it.

She reached across the center console to trace the line
of the scar on my face with her fingertips, her expression troubled.

“It doesn't hurt,” I said softly. “Not anymore.”

Thera pressed her mouth gently across the end of the scar, near my cheek.

I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting the absurd urge to cry.

She pushed herself up on her knees and laid a series of soft kisses along the length of the scar.

I opened my eyes, moving my hands to her hips to steady her.

But that same
need
pressed down on me, and I slid my palm beneath her coat and the hem of her hoodie to the bare warm skin of her stomach.

The move was awkward and not nearly as smooth as it would have been if I'd been able to use my left hand, but that didn't seem to bother her.

She exhaled a shaky breath, air fluttering against my cheek. Then she grabbed my hand and tugged it past the soft satin of her bra to rest on her chest.

I looked up at her, and she nodded at me.

My fingers were beneath her bra strap, and I could feel the swell of her breast and the rapid thump of her heart against my palm. Like confirmation of life and being alive. The world hadn't gotten us yet.

Her mouth closed over mine again, and I was dizzy with the need to feel more—to feel her skin against mine
in larger quantities, to feel alive in that unique way that came with ignoring the world to move together.

I tried to think, to speak. “Can we move to the back—” I began.

But headlights swept the interior then, and the rumble of a fast-approaching engine broke through our cocoon of isolation.

Thera pulled away, dropping back into her seat, and swiped at the fogged-over glass of the side window. A battered red pickup truck was pulling up alongside us. In the dim blue light of twilight, I could see the logo for H&G Gravel and Sand painted on the side.

“Shit,” I said.

Thera scrambled for the keys in her jacket pocket. “Time to go.”

“They're not closed for the day?” I asked.

“Apparently not today,” she said with a sheepish grin, jabbing the keys in the ignition, starting up the engine, and pulling out onto the road.

I caught sight of an old guy hurriedly climbing out on the driver's side, his weathered and wrinkled face a mask of disapproval.

Twisting in my seat, I watched through the back window. The man took a few running steps toward us, his hand outstretched as if he would rap on the window or try to grab the door handle.

A spray of gravel flew up from Thera's rear tires as they finally caught the pavement, and he turned away to protect his face.

Then his foot seemed to catch on the edge of the road or something and he stumbled, falling down and hitting the ground. Hard.

“THERA.” I TURNED TO
face her.

“Crap.” She bit her lip. “Yeah, I see,” she said, her gaze flicking between the road ahead and her rearview mirror.

I glanced back. “He's not getting up.” The old man's arms moved weakly by his sides, as if he was trying to push himself up, but that was it.

Thera slowed down and pulled to the side of the road, but she didn't shut off the car and made no move to get out. “If we go back and he calls the police . . .”

“Trespassing, yeah, I know,” I said grimly. We'd probably be arrested. My parents would probably burst blood vessels.

“My mom can't come get me,” Thera said, her voice barely a murmur above the roar of the heater. Not “won't” but “can't.”

Which meant Thera would have to sit in jail until they decided to release her.

Not to mention, we'd both have criminal records, which would probably do fuck-all to help our chances with college admissions and scholarship committees next year.

But Thera didn't pull away. We sat there for a second, the engine idling loudly.

My gaze was glued to the man on the edge of the road behind us. I couldn't help picturing my brother, hanging upside down in the Jeep by the creek on Zach's family's property, waiting for someone to find him. It wasn't the same thing, I knew, and Eli had died almost instantly, or so everyone said. But I couldn't get that image of him out of my mind.

“I'll do it.” The words burst out of me. “My parents are already mad at me anyway.” With a shrug, I forced a laugh and shoved the door open.

“Jace . . . ,” Thera said.

But I kept going. By the time I made my way back to the man and his truck, he was rolling into a sitting position on the asphalt with a dazed look. Blood trickled down from a bump on his forehead, and his chin was all scraped up. But he was conscious and didn't appear to be mortally wounded or anything.

Something that had been clenched tight in me relaxed
slightly. “Take it easy.” I bent down awkwardly next to him, cursing my inability to move the way I used to. “I think maybe we should call an ambulance.”

“Just got the wind knocked out of me,” he said, glaring at me and dabbing at his forehead. Then he glanced at his fingertips and grimaced at the blood.

“I used to be a hell of a lot faster,” he muttered. “I used to be a hell of a lot of things.” He wiped his hand down the front of his worn denim shirt. “It's trespassing. You kids need to stay out of there.” He jabbed a finger at someone or something behind me.

I glanced back to see Thera approaching warily, a first-aid kit in her hand. Of course she had one, probably kept in her perfectly organized and dust-free glove box.

“I've got it,” I said to her. “You don't have to—”

“It's fine,” she said to me.

Thera knelt on the other side of him and dug into the first-aid kit, pulling out bandages and a tube of antibacterial cream.

“Last year, we had a collapse when someone went climbing around in there,” the old guy said. I was beginning to suspect he was either the H or G in H&G Gravel and Sand. “It's dangerous, that's why it's off-limits.”

He pointed at Thera, and she stiffened. “You ought to know better,” he said. Then he squinted at me.

Oh, crap, did he recognize me? It wasn't impossible. Riverwoods drew people from all over the Chicago suburbs and into Wisconsin.

“Both of you should know better,” he added, but he didn't say anything more specific.

He allowed Thera to put a bandage on his chin, and he took the mini chemical cold-pack for his head, but he shrugged off her attempts to hand him the antibacterial cream.

“A few scrapes aren't going to make this mug any uglier.” He pushed himself to his feet with a grunt and gingerly smoothed the stray wispy hairs on the top of his head. “Now, stay out.” He gestured toward the gate and the quarry beyond. “Don't let me find you here again.”

“Yes, sir,” I mumbled automatically as I stood, grateful that calling the police seemed to be off the table.

Thera nodded, her dark hair falling over her face as she got to her feet and zipped up the first-aid kit.

I felt a pang of guilt that she'd lost one of the few places she seemed to enjoy.

“Or come back during business hours when someone else is here and can dig you out,” he added grudgingly, eyeing her.

So he did know her, or at least recognized her.

“Okay,” she said with a flash of that rare full smile.

He waved us off and started for his truck.

Thera nodded at me and we headed toward her car.

“And find someplace else to steam up the windows,” the old guy shouted after us.

Thera made a choked sound, her cheeks flushing.

The absurdity of it all—getting caught fooling around by the side of a road in the middle of nowhere, at the entrance to a fucking quarry, in almost-Wisconsin; along with the now negated fear of getting arrested—suddenly registered with me. It was nothing I could have predicted or expected when I got up this morning. And that was a
good
feeling.

I laughed, almost light-headed with relief and something close to happiness.

MY HOUSE LOOKED DARK
and empty when Thera pulled to a stop about half a block away. The porch lights weren't on, and I couldn't see any sign of life inside.

I frowned.

“You're okay to walk this far?” Thera asked, her worried face illuminated by the yellowish light of the dashboard. “It might be icy now.”

“Yeah, I'll be fine. I'm sorry that you can't pull into the—”

“No, no.” Thera put her hands up in a protesting motion. “I don't want to be there any more than they would want me there, trust me.”

“Thank you for . . . everything,” I said, trying to make it as heartfelt as possible. I didn't have words for what she'd done for me today, this week.

A small smile played across her mouth. “You're welcome.”

I leaned across the console and she turned to meet me halfway, but my mouth had barely touched hers before she pulled away.

“Back to reality,” she said, nodding at the houses around us, her hair falling forward to hide her face.

I wanted to protest, but she had a fair point, unfortunately. “I'll see you tomorrow,” I said, grabbing my backpack from the floor.

“Hey,” Thera said as I pushed the door open, letting a rush of cold air inside.

“Yeah?” I paused.

“If this was just about needing someone to talk to while you figured things out, that's okay.” Her words came out in a rush.

I cocked my head to the side.