Headspace (13 page)

“Vienna? What’s going on? You call me every week.”

“I’ve been sort of ill. Exhausted. Working too much. I took a break and isolated.”

“Oh, dear. The same way you did as a child?”

“I don’t know. Did I sleep a lot and hide and mope around as a child?”

“You sure did. When your sensitivities got the best of you, you did.”

“Then the answer is yes.”

“Oh, mercy me. When you had one of your episodes, they always left you haggard. Is that what happened?”

“One of my episodes—ha!” My retort leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. My mother and father thought my energy experiences were blights on their social standing. They thought I was a freak. Mom took me to specialists. Dad left me alone as much as he could. Mom and Dad both took turns trying to beat me into submission. I refused to comply. Instead, I walled them out and spent as much time as I could with Grammy. Life with them was hell. I always felt safe around Grammy even though she didn’t know what was going on for me at home. I grew up keeping secrets, even from her. Still, she was and is my oasis.

When the illnesses that swept the world took over, I tried to care for my family as best I could. According to them, I couldn’t or wouldn’t do enough. They even berated me for the care I gave them. I finally gave up, hired a nurse on my meager income, and stopped seeing them. I know I should have felt at least a little sad when they died but I didn’t—not really. No more belittling and criticism. At least not on the outside. I’d learned too well to do it to myself.

“I was hoping you could come over and help me go through my virtual storage zone.”

“I guess. Why do you need to do that today?”

“Oh, they keep sending messages that I’m over my limit in what I can store in the universe.”

A small giggle erupts from my lips.

“What?”

“Over your limit as to what you can store in the universe. That sounds funny.”

“Well, that’s what the messages say. Here’s the last one I got: “Evelyn Peabody. You are advised that your universe storage device has gone over the limit of allowed space. To avoid loss of service, please upgrade or remove storage matter from the system. This is your final warning.”

“That sounds intimidating.”

“Oh, you know, the robots just kick those things out. Anyway, would you please come over and help me? You know how much I despise technology.”

“I don’t know, Grammy. I’m not feeling sociable.”

“Neither am I. We’ll be perfect company.”

I manage to shower, dress in the last clean pair of clothes I have, and head over to Grammy’s dwelling.

She greets me at the door and gives me a long hug. “So, what got into you that you isolated like that? I was getting worried. I even called Jonas to find out if you were okay.”

My heart lurches. “You did? What did he say?”

“That he hoped so but didn’t know.”

“He said he hoped I was okay?”

“Yes, dear, he did. I told him you were pretty devastated at being booted from his friendship.”

“Oh, no, you didn’t, did you?” I groan.

“I did indeed. He needed a talking-to, that boy.”

“What did he say? Now he’ll never talk to me. Not that he would anyway.”

“He said that he really blew it and needs to find a way to make it up to you.”

My legs give out and I crumple onto the sofa. “Did he really say that? You wouldn’t be fooling me, would you?”

“No, Vienna, when have I ever fooled you?”

“You haven’t but…”

“But nothing. He said he’s been miserable ever since he did that and he was going to find a way to make it up to you if it’s the last thing he ever does.”

“It might just be that. I saw him a few weeks back and it’s been a whole lot of nothing ever since. I find it hard to believe he feels remorse. He’s never been shy about asking for what he wants. Except with Jenner, that is,” I add glumly.

“We spoke about that, too.”

I cast my eyes in her direction. “What did you talk about?”

“About the problems he has had with her.”

“Seriously? You and Jonas talked about his relationship problems?”

Grammy scoffs. “What, you think I don’t know a thing or two about relationships? I dated before I met your grandfather.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. It’s just that…well, what did he say to you?”

“He just needed to talk, I think. He seemed pretty down. He’s trying to do the right thing and give Jenner a chance to get herself together. And then he mentioned something about timing and assets.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know. I just listened. Sometimes that the best thing you can do for a person. Anyway, he says it’s important to him to do the honorable thing.”

“With Jenner? That again. That’s bullshit. It’s like she owns him.” I shake my head. “Let’s change the subject. Where’s your Universe located?”

Grammy picks up a control from the side table and points it at the holo-screen. It instantly comes to life. A series of images appear in the middle of the room. She highlights one, presses a button, and folders and folders of content appear in front of us. “Here—sort through these. They’re images of you and the family when you were young.”

I extend my fingertips and start skimming through the photos. “How can I determine which of these images you want to keep or not? They’re your family photos, not mine.”

“I just wondered if you want any of them. I could transfer them to your Universe and free up some of mine.”

“I don’t know,” I say, rapidly flipping through the images. “I don’t have much need to reminisce about my past. I’ve spent a lot of time burying the past. What’s done is done.”

“Just take a look. I’ll go through these ads and virtual mags. I can delete most of those.” She points the controller at the ones she doesn’t want and they make a pop before blurring from existence. “It always feels satisfying to delete things, doesn’t it?”

We work for over two hours, sorting, deleting, and organizing. I see pictures of my past, floating before me like distant nightmares. Then I spy an image of me and Liam. We look really happy. I study the image. It never would have worked between us, if I really stop and consider. He was too clean-cut. Too squeaky clean around the edges. Too…I don’t know. But when I look at him without all the angst of the pain I caused him, I can see that it was for the best that we broke up. And I think of the orgasm I nearly had with him. I wonder why I’ve clung so long to the heartbreak of that moment instead of letting go and moving on. I mean, I’ve let go of so much pain over the years. Why not this one? Why deprive myself of pleasure over and over and over? If Himeros ever returns…if I ever start my business up again, that is…and if Himeros ever returns, it’s going to be on my time, with my control in place.

My pulse-com stirs my heart. I’ve ignored so many communications but this time I stroke my lips and answer.

“Hey.”

The male voice on the other end makes me jump. I swallow, blink, and hustle out of Grammy’s earshot. “Is that really you?”

“Yeah.”

We’re both filled with silence.

“Can I come over?”

“I’m at Grammy’s. We’re cleaning up her universe.”

“We’re done, dear,” Grammy calls from the other room. “If you need to go, do it.”

“I can be at your house in fifteen.”

“Where are you?”

“At Fourth and Pine.”

“I don’t know. The house is a mess. I’ve been…” I glance down at my last set of clean clothes, picturing the pile of dirties in my bedroom. “I’ve been…” I tug at my unwashed hair. “I need thirty. Come in thirty.”

“Okay,” he breathes into the com. “Thank you.”

“For…?”

“For agreeing to see me. I’ve been an ass.”

Tears sting my eyes. “Yeah. You have.”

“I’m going to make it up to you. Or, at the very least, apologize to you for days.”

I smile. “Okay. I might let you.” I twirl my hair around my finger. “Might is the operative word.”

“You’re being generous. You should drop-kick me across the planet.”

I sigh. “Yeah. Maybe. It’s been rough. But we have too much history. You at least deserve a chance.”

He breathes a sigh in my ear. It sounds like a huge load of relief just left his shoulders. “Okay. I’ll see you in thirty. Forty if there’s traffic.”

“Okay.” We both linger before disconnecting. I step out into the living room, biting my lip.

“Have plans?” Grammy has turned off the holo-screen and is sitting on her couch, staring out the window.

“It was Jonas.”

“I suspected.” She waves her hands in my direction. “Go! We’re done. You need this. And don’t wait so long to call me.”

I scramble over to give her a hug and hustle from her dwelling. I’m filled with so many conflicting emotions, I barely remember the ride to my house.

When I arrive at home, I race into the house and start tossing soiled take-out containers, dirty clothes, and general mess into its appropriate place.

Nigel studies me and shakes his head.
What put a fire under your ass? I’ve been trying for days to get you on your feet
.

I glare at him. “You don’t understand human emotion.”

He leaps up onto the back of the couch.
What’s to understand? You’re all insane. It’s so much simpler in the jungle
.

“Like you’d know.”
I lean over and scratch his head.

It’s in my genes. I know. You prowl. You stalk. You kill. You eat. Done and done
.
He lifts a tiny paw and proceeds to groom.

“Whatever you say, kitty. Whereas, here it’s eat on demand.”
I roll my eyes at him.

I’m an excellent hunter. I would thrive in the jungle.

“Whatever…” I leap into the shower, turn the spray on, and scrub. When I’m clean, I put on my now slightly soiled last set of clean clothes, shove some stray socks under the bed, and tense as the door-pulse chimes.
He’s here
.
A million thoughts race through my head.
I’m still pissed. And hurt. And excited. And apprehensive.
I rub my hands to try to clear the conflicting emotions all battering my insides. I run them through my hair. I will calm into my system. And I reach for the doorknob with a shaky, shaky hand.

Jonas smiles when he sees me. He hesitates, his face falls, and he stares at his boots. Some inner wall must have snapped into place.

My eyes follow his to his feet. His boots are expensive leather, scuffed and worn from his time in the field. My gaze meanders up his jeans, which conceal well-muscled legs. I’ve seen those legs on many a summer occasion. They linger on his slim hips, the slight bulge in the fabric hinting at his…never mind. I’ve never seen that part. I’ve wondered a time or two. My contemplative eyes trace the contours of his tight abdomen, the muscles visible under his signature tech-T.

He lifts his head and gives me one of those open “bare your soul” kinds of looks he started to give to me before he pressed the delete key on the friendship.

I swallow hard and study him. He looks thinner than when I saw him last. Dark circles under his eyes make his cheeks appear bruised. His hair, the color of a glistening, dark bay stallion, is brushed back from his forehead, making his blue eyes look even more intense.

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah, sure. Of course. I’m sorry. Come in.” I step aside to let him enter.

He steps across the landing and heads for the sofa, the same way he’s done throughout the years. He starts to sit, but hesitates and stands there, awkwardly. “May I?”

My face creases into a frown. “May you what? Sit down? Why the hell do you have to ask?” This hesitant version of Jonas annoys me.

“I don’t know…I just…it’s…I don’t know where to begin.” He settles stiffly onto the couch and runs his hand through his dark locks again. He regards me with openness and sincerity again, making me all melty inside.

“You’re making me uncomfortable,” I say, unable to take my eyes from his. My stomach is churning like a stormy sea.

“What am I doing to make you uncomfortable?”

“You’re looking at me…it’s the way you’re looking at me.”

“I told you, I’ve always wanted to look at you this way.”

I scoff. “Yeah. Great parting gesture.” I break away from his inviting gaze. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch him flinching.

“I’m sorry, I…well, it’s just that you…that you said you wouldn’t be with me as anything but a friend unless I got it together and left Jenner.”

“You didn’t look particularly separated from her when I last saw you,” I snap. “Not that I could see you.” My face must have turned sixteen shades of crimson. Heat is pushing up my neck and into my face like someone set a fire inside of me. I stare hard at the textured sofa fabric. My hands reach out to smooth it as if I’m tenderly stroking Jonas’s stubble-lined jaw.

“Kissing you—that was incredible. That was a dream come true.”

“It was only the Devil’s Juice.” I steal a peek in his direction.

He slowly shakes his head side to side, capturing my eyes with his. Our gaze tangles tempestuously, for one long moment, as if we’re at the Craze, connecting intimately, lip to lip. My mouth begins to burn with longing. He must be feeling the same because his tongue slips out to slide along his generous mouth. Then, his face darkens. “I’m sorry, V. I’m sorry to have hurt you.”

I nod as an icy wall erects inside my chest. I don’t want to be vulnerable. Not with anyone. Especially not with him. One betraying teardrop pushes through the freeze and slides down my cheek.

Jonas reaches out and wipes it with his warm thumb. “Just one tear?” he asks, smiling gently.

I glare at him. “I’m all out. I was never able to restore my reserves after the weeks and weeks of crying.”

“Ouch. I deserve that.”

“You do. Couldn’t you have at least commed me? Told me
something?
Was it that easy to pitch all the years of friendship and companionship we’ve shared? I felt like discarded, soiled waste product. Something even an enzyme would reject.”

“No, V, don’t say that. You’re anything but that. You’re…I…I’ve loved you since the day I met you.”

“Then why were you with Jenner all this time?” I blurt.

His face hardens. “Don’t forget, you telling me you only wanted to be friends, well…that wasn’t the first time I heard that. It’s been your mantra for years.”