Fusion (9 page)

She didn’t turn as I approached, she didn’t even look over at me through the corners of her eyes when I stopped next to her. The agony was so intense it felt like a colony of fire ants had taken up residence in my gut.

I gave her this. The silence she needed. I didn’t twitch a muscle, I didn’t blink, I didn’t breathe. We just stood beside one another, staring at the still, black lake. And it felt like two minutes of this would kill me.

Then, when I was more than half certain she’s done with me and my complicated existence, she crushed against me, her arms winding tight around my neck. Mine reciprocated, pulling her harder against me. Every muscle in my body breathed in relief; everything felt right in the world again.

“I love you,” she said, her words muffled against my chest.

And that’s when I knew it. When I knew she has the whole unconditional thing that I have. If a person can know what they know of me and still profess love, that’s unconditional in its rarest form.

“I love you,” I replied, holding her to me for the first time in four months. Four
long
months. “Damn, this feels good,” I said, burying my face in her hair.

She laughed. “My boyfriend is so romantic.”

So she still loved me and still considered me her boyfriend, after whatever little or however much she was told about my mortal handicap. We were going to be all right.

“So,” I began, “you’re good?”

When her eyes flicked up to mine, I knew she’d read in between the lines. “Absolutely not,” she said, looking aghast, or at least trying to. “I just had to do that before we breech the next topic.”

“Yeah,” I exhaled. “I didn’t think this would be that easy.”

Hoped, sure, but what girl in their mostly right brain could hear the word Immortal and her boyfriend’s name in the same sentence and not have some serious questions?

Backing out of my embrace, she looked at me with something in her eyes I’d never seen directed at me before. Uncertainty and even a bit of fear. I hated that she would have any reason to fear me, but I also understood why.

“It’s not like you’re dropping something like,
Hey, would you like to move in together?
or
I used to wet the bed until I was ten,
or
I got suspended when I was in junior high for smoking pot in the boy’s locker room.
” She paused, swallowing, unable to get the word out. “This is‌…‌you’re a‌…‌” She paused again, taking a seat in the sand. The word was so heavy she couldn’t stand and say it. “You’re a‌…‌”

I couldn’t take her struggling to get the word out anymore. “Immortal?”

Looking at me from the corners of her eyes, she nodded.

“You can say it, you know?” I said, taking a seat beside her. “I swear it won’t bite.”

She studied me, like she was trying to ascertain I was still the same guy she met on a sunny day in a grassy courtyard. “Immortal,” she whispered, drawing in a breath. Pulling her sweater tighter around herself, she stared at the partially frozen lake.

“It’s perfectly fine for you to be totally freaked out right now,” I said, trying to convince myself as well.

“Oh, yeah? How do you know?” she asked, arching a brow at me. “Dropped this bomb on more than one‌…‌” she choked on another word, “
Mortal
girl before?”

“No. You’re the first.”

The corners of her mouth curved up ever so slightly. “I guess I should feel privileged, but you’re right. I’m pretty freaked.”

I sighed. The last thing I wanted to do was complicate Emma’s life more than it already was. “Em, I don’t know how to navigate through this, I don’t have a road map, so let’s figure it out together,” I said, clearing my throat. “That is, if you’re up for figuring it out with me.” The thought of losing her crippled me. I’d rather die a hundred deaths a hundred different ways than spend my existence without her.

Love was powerful stuff.

Her hand curved around my cheek, its warmth seeping deep inside. “I’m not going anywhere. No matter what you say, or do, or are,” she said, her words strong, almost petulant. “Got that?”

And then, before I even knew I was going to, I knotted my fingers through her hair and drew her to me. Our mouths came together, and right then, Armageddon could have raged around us and I wouldn’t notice. Emma was my religion, and kissing her was my form of prayer.

Her hand molded to my chest as she scooted closer, her lips unyielding. All I could think about was laying her down and shedding our clothes and inhibitions in one fell swoop, alerting me I needed to back off before I crossed the point of no return. I might be ready for it, but I wasn’t sure Emma was and I wasn’t going to risk what I had with her for anything.

Moving her head back, I pressed one lingering kiss onto her mouth.

Her eyes were wide and her breathing heavy. And I was the one responsible for that. I loved knowing that.

“I thought you said you didn’t have a roadmap,” she said as her breathing slowed.

“I don’t,” I said, scooting farther away, hoping space would squash my urge to kiss her again and, this time, not stop until the sun rose. Wasn’t really working.

“Please,” she said, flashing me a look. “That kiss was an attempt to weaken my resolve and put me into a stupor so I’d forget all my questions and apprehensions and go along with this whole‌…‌”‌—‌she bit her cheek, surveying me‌—‌”Immortal thing without doing my due diligence of at least trying to make it difficult on you.”

The kiss had loosened her up. It only took her two seconds to get the “I” word out this time, not five.

“Making things difficult isn’t a requirement,” I pointed out, to which she replied with an unconvinced expression. “Yeah, probably the given, but not the requirement,” I added to appease her. “You can ask William about the time he told the woman he loved‌—‌who happens to be his wife now‌—‌about Immortality when she‌—‌”

“Bryn, you mean,” she interrupted. It should make me more nervous than it did, having the first and second loves of my life on a first name basis with each other.

“That was William’s wife’s name the last time I checked,” I said, hoping she couldn’t see right through me.

“And when was the last time you checked?” she asked, looking at me in a way that confirmed she saw right through me.

However, I wasn’t going to answer that.

“So you gals have met,” I said, keeping my voice unemotional. “Swapped Hayward brother stories yet?”

Why did I sound defensive?

“Not really,” she said, looking at me like my discomfort was amusing. “But she’s the one that was brave enough to give me some answers tonight when everyone else pretended they’d lost their voices.”

“Wait.” Serious case of whiplash. “Bryn was the one that told you about all this?” Would be the last person I suspected.

“I wouldn’t say all, but some,” she answered, drawing a finger in the sand. “A lot. Enough to get me through so I didn’t go insane waiting.”

Now it was my turn to choke up. There was something wrong, and right, and cathartic about having the first woman I’d loved explain all the dark secrets of my world in a way that hadn’t made the woman I was going to spend the rest of my life loving want to run away from me forever.

“What else did you BFFs talk about?” I asked, working the ball out of my throat.

“You.”

“Now there’s a recipe for never ending conversation.” I really needed a bottle of root beer to handle this conversation.

“Never ending, indeed,” she said, tucking her knees under her chin.

“Anything you found particularly interesting?” I asked, guessing from the blank face she was forcing that plenty of it was interesting.

“Not particularly, nosy,” she said, smiling to herself. “However she did mention this one time she got you to wear these daisy dukes and clogs or something when you all were in Germany.” She bit her cheek to keep from laughing.

“Yeah, I don’t talk about that,” I said, cringing. “And there’s no physical evidence, so it’s her word against mine.” I burned that damn outfit in the slash pile out back the minute I got back.

“I’m sure you looked very dashing,” she said, now choking on her laughter.

“Not funny, Em,” I said, hooking my arm around her neck and pulling her to me. “Anything else you girls chatted about?” I asked, clearing my throat.

“Not really,” she said, staring out at the water. “Unless you count her telling me what a good man you are and how you’d do anything for the ones you love, and second to William and her father, you’re the best man she’s ever known.” She grinned over at me, looking so damn beautiful. “Just that kind of stuff.”

Next time I saw Bryn, I was going to give her one hell of a bear hug and buy her some new-fangled espresso machine because whatever she’d said, whatever path she paved for me, had worked. Emma was sitting next to me, smiling at me like she used to, acting mostly unconcerned about the whole Immortal thing.

“I’m glad that girl finally admitted I’m a pretty good guy,” I said lightly. “I’ve only saved her life a few million times.”

I returned her smile, brushing the coppery auburn hair over her shoulder. Her stare stayed on me, those green eyes seeing everything. I felt naked, and not in the way I wanted to be.

“It’s her, isn’t it?”

I tried to act like I hadn’t just been punched in the gut.

“What’s her?” I said, about an octave too high.

“The girl who broke your heart. The girl you loved,” she said softly, her eyes holding no hint of jealousy or insecurity. Just wonder.

Honesty, Patrick.
Honesty.
It didn’t seem right that I had to remind myself to be honest with Emma.

I blew out a slow breath. “Yeah,” I said. “It was Bryn.”

Emma nodded once. “I thought so.”

“Why?”

Her mouth slid to the side, contemplating. “It’s the way she talked about you, and the way you talk about her, too,” she began, chewing on her lip. “There’s just enough guilt in her eyes when she talks about you, enough sadness to give her away. And you.” She looked over at me, studying me again. “It’s the way you try to understate anything Bryn related, like you’re trying to mask your feelings for her.”

I made a face.

“No, love,” she said, grabbing my arm. “You don’t understate anything, least of all women, so when you do, I take notice.”

“Damn,” I said under my breath, “so much for playing it cool, huh?” This woman saw through all my crap, most especially the crap I really didn’t want her to see through. It made for some awkward moments, but it was also kind of freeing.

“It’s all right,” she said, squeezing my arm. “We all have pasts. Histories.” Her voice trailed off, her eyes following it. “At least the person you chose to love was a good person. Someone who deserved to be loved.”

I didn’t need another reason to hate Ty Steele, but the sadness that clouded Emma’s eyes was reason number infinity and one.

“Em,” I began.

“Save it, Patrick,” she said. “You picked the right person to love when I picked the wrong person. The point is it’s a good thing neither one of the people we loved worked out.”

“That’s the point indeed.” I kissed her forehead. “Now can we not talk about Bryn any more tonight?” I was glad this conversation was off the books, but I was more than ready to shelf it. “In fact, can we not talk any more at all tonight?” I asked, wagging my brows.

She shoved me playfully. “Given what I recently learned about you and that you were in love with a goddess of a woman who is married to your older brother, I’d say you better buckle up and deal with a night of chit chat.”

Yeah, figures.

“Okay, I’m buckled up,” I said. “And Bryn is just a woman. My brother’s woman who never was, would be, or will be my
any
kind of woman, so don’t put her up on some pedestal.”

“No, she’s great,” Emma said. “If you loved someone like her, I must be pretty great too.” She said it quietly, like she wasn’t quite certain about the whole thing.

“Your lack of self-confidence is still astounding, Em,” I said, holding her to me. I wished I didn’t know why her self-esteem was wavering a little above zero, but I did.

“I’m working on it,” she replied, playing with the hem of her dress.

It was one of those moments, one of the many we’d be faced with in the future, where I was a ball of emotions, not sure if I wanted to cry or punch a hole in something. “Well, you are amazing,” I said, taking a breath. “And I know you don’t believe it, but I know it and I’m a superb judge of character.”

She smiled. “You should be,” she said. “You’ve only been around since the 1700s.”

“Man,” I said through a cringe, “you even know my age. Did Blabber Mouth Bryn tell you everything?” In a way, I hoped she had because if Emma was still here, able to profess love to me knowing everything there was to know, we were going to make it.

“Not everything, but the basics, I guess,” she said. “I have some questions I only want answered by you.”

“Well, here I am, all yours for the questioning,” I said, hooking an arm around her, “until rise and shine at cell nine-three-two in seven hours.”

I could see the flood of questions waiting to rush from her, but something blocked them.

“Come on. Any question you have and any answer I give won’t change the way I feel about you and hopefully the way you feel about me, right?”

She nodded and then rolled her shoulders back. “So you can teleport?” The term was like foreign word on her tongue. She couldn’t quite say it right or with confidence.

“Yes,” I answered, wondering if I should give her a personal demonstration, but decided against that. Talking about teleportation in theory was surely easier to swallow than giving a live demonstration.

“And that’s how you were at Stanford that night?”

I nodded once, working a muscle in my jaw. The memory made me tense.

“And someone was following me?”

I didn’t want to confess that something supernatural and evil was stalking Emma that night, but I couldn’t lie to her about it either. “Yes,” I answered, looking her in the eye.

There was one moment where fear flashed into her eyes, and then it was gone. “Who?”

“I’m not exactly sure,” I said, feeling my fists balling, my body tensing, everything ready and needing to destroy something. “But I will find out, Em. I promise you, and when I do‌…‌”‌—‌how could I put this gently?‌—‌”there’s going to be hell to pay.” That might be a simplification of everything I would do to whoever was responsible for that night, but it summed up my general intent.