Won't Let Go (14 page)

It’s late afternoon, as I lie on my bed, Embry at my side. I push my head in against his shoulder, cuddling up as close as I can manage. My thick duvet is the only material between us. For warmth.

He’s twirling strands of my hair around his fingers as we lie in silence. There isn’t much to say when one person can’t remember a damn thing. We’re together, so I guess that’s all that matters.

But Embry’s the one who breaks the silence by saying, “Today was so...weird. I mean first my brother, then myself.”

“I know, right?” I haven’t told him what the nurse said to me. I know I shouldn’t keep secrets. That the last time I did, it didn’t go over well. But this, it’s more than he needs to handle right now. We have so much going on, and adding a deadline to that—it could make it seem impossible.

“I just can’t make sense of it all,” Embry says into my hair, inhaling a deep breath.

Neither can I.
“But, can you make sense of Blue Bell?” I dig into my pocket, produce the paint chip and stick it under Embry’s eyes.

“Is this the color?”

I smile. “It better be. I think it must have been the tenth, no, eleventh I picked out. I think it will look nice.” I extend my arm, holding the chip out. I close one eye and imagine the walls splashed with light blue. “It feels like we should be doing something,” I sigh, resting my arm back down at my side, returning my thoughts to the problem at hand.

“We are doing something,” Embry replies, with a brush of fingertips down my cheek and a warm smile.

My heart contracts. “We are, but it’s not enough.” I keep thinking about what more I could be doing. I want to canvas the streets, hold interrogations, dig deeper into the black-hole that is that night and truly figure out what happened. I’ve tried hard to understand that maybe helping Embry isn’t going to allow me to keep him, but now, with the weight of an innocent man’s life on my shoulders, I don’t think I’m trying nearly as hard as I should be.

“It’s enough, trust me. We can only do what’s in our power, and with the little leads we’ve been given, I don’t think tearing this town upside down is going to help. Someone knows the secrets. We just have to wait for them to crack.”

I snuggle in deeper, pressing my head against Embry’s hard chest, wishing I could feel the beat of the heart that should be there. Only it’s not. It’s stuck in the body of the other Embry, and soon, even that might become just as still, just as silent. What if we don’t have the luxury of time, of waiting for the answers we need? I could lose them both. 

“What were things like before you came here, I know you said your friends no longer matter but—” Embry pauses. “But what were
you
like before?”

I wish I could get to know Embry better, so maybe that’s what allows me to reply, “Different. I got mixed up in the wrong crowd. I cared more about the status of having tons of friends and forgot how to be myself. “That makes sense. But you aren’t like that now?” Embry asks.

I lean up to look at him. “No. But then, I think, I went from one extreme to the next.”

“Really. So what’s the real Alexia Stone like?”

I’m real with Embry. He’s getting that part of me undoubtedly, but I’m also trying to mold myself into something better. I had gone from being a follower, doing what others said to fit in, to suddenly taking matters into my own hands. I know the graffiti incident wasn’t the start, and had we not moved it might not have been the end. But picking up garbage certainly changed my perspective. It allowed me to see myself from the outside, looking in, and I was shocked at what I saw. Now I’m just trying to concentrate on repairing the damaged relationship with my mom. Immersing myself into my much needed personality switch. And trying to help Embry, of course. I’ve also realized that perhaps what I had with Bryce wasn’t anything more than a desperate girl’s attempt to fit in and be accepted. Now that I have Embry, the feelings are so intense, so real they’ve grabbed hold of me. I know it’s something much more important than anything I’ve ever felt before.

But really, there’s more to me than just those things. “I’m a bit of a pessimist, seeing the worst in everyone and picking them apart.” I sigh. “I’m also a borderline germ-a-phobe.”

“Germ-a-phobe?”

“Yeah, I tend to scare myself with the germs of the world. Did you know a third of the weight of your pillow could be bugs, dead skin and dust-mites?” I shiver at the thought and suppress the urge to gag. Thankfully I replace my pillow religiously once every two months.

“That’s disgusting.” Embry laughs. “How do you even know that?”

“I have a lot of useless germy information.”

Embry presses his lips to my forehead. A quick spurt of electricity courses through my body. “I wonder what I’m made up of.”

I close my eyes and think. I’ll never get used to watching him dissolve into millions of colored grains that fall to the floor like dust or sand, but then disappear, leaving not a single trace. “I have no idea, something not of this world, that’s for sure.” A yawn escapes the confines of my mouth.

“Maybe you should take a nap. There isn’t anything more we can do right now. We can talk later.”

I nod. He’s right. The only thing on our agenda is sneaking out tonight and checking out the Lock n’ Save. It still doesn’t feel like enough, but the toll of the last few days is overwhelming me with exhaustion. I let my eyes fall closed.

Immediately my breathing steadies and my entire body relaxes, slumping even deeper into Embry’s embrace. “Shhh,” he coos, his lips lightly grazing the lobe of my right ear. “Sleep. I’m not going anywhere.” And I’m quite sure, I could have been dreaming, but I swear he adds, “ever,” along with one more breath of cool air and a gentle, yet tingling kiss to my temple.

True to his word, Embry’s the first thing I see when my eyes flutter open. I take a deep breath, wishing he had a smell. It’s something I’ve noticed. And something that shouldn’t bother me but does. Bryce always smelled like Old Spice. Granted, I hated it and tried to convince him it was only for old men, but it’s also something I still associate with him. If I’m standing in line waiting for coffee, and I get a whiff of it, my mind is instantly pulled back to some trivial memory that he was a part of.

I wonder what Embry would smell like. Was he the kind of person who doused himself in cologne, or would he smell like the detergent his mother used on his clothes? Or would it be something completely different. Bryce always told me I smelled like the ocean—briny. I don’t find the idea of smelling like a fish tank sexy at all.

“You sleep like the dead,” Embry says, crossing one leg over the other at the ankles.

I cringe. My nose wrinkles as I look into his eyes.

“Not funny?” He replies.

 I shake my head.

“Okay, then you sleep like a log?”

“Thanks,” I say. I’d rather I slept peacefully or something like that.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” Embry whispers.

I sigh and pull him in tighter. “Me too.”

“But alas, it’s just not possible,” he says. “Your mom’s been banging around pots and pans for the last hour. I expect any minute your dinner should be ready.”

As if on cue, like my mother has a magic wand or a crystal ball, I hear her voice carry up the stairs. “Alex, dinner!”

“Mmm, I don’t want to go,” I whine. Probably unbecoming, but I
could
stay like this forever. Never leave. I’d be happy if this was all life had to offer me. Embry. But I know it’s better for him to move on. As much as I like having him around, solving his case is the most important thing. I’ll be happy when that happens, whether Embry is able to return to me or not.

He brushes his fingers across my cheek, settling them just under my chin, and slowly he lifts it up, towards him. Embry’s eyes gaze into mine. My breath hitches as he brings his face down towards me. At first his lips skim mine, barely touching, and then they fall upon me, quickly, urgently—passionately. All sense of reason escapes through my ragged breaths as he ignites me with coolness, so frosty it’s almost warm. I wrap my arms around his neck, plunge my fingers into the tangle of hair at the nape.

I’m so wrapped up in the
here
and now I forget everything else—until Embry pulls his lips from mine. I whimper. I wish I hadn’t, but it breaks through before I have a chance to take it back.

Slamming back to reality, I force myself to pull away from him, letting the imaginary rubber band snap. “I should—” I motion towards the door.

“I know.” He lifts himself off the bed, takes a few steps towards the closet and turns back. “Tonight,” he nods, and without giving me a chance to respond, he disappears into my closet.

My head flops back down against the pillows, hand rises to my heart, and for a moment I just feel the rapid thumping. No matter how worked up Bryce and I got, it never, ever felt like this.

This is insane, crazy; that one can feel so strongly, fervently, towards someone in such a short time. I smile.

“Is it okay if I see a movie tonight with Allison?” I ask, spearing a tiny orange glazed carrot with my fork.

“Sure honey.” Mom smiles—no—beams with delight. “I’m so happy you’ve made friends already, and school hasn’t even started.”

“Yeah, it’s great.” I quickly chomp down on the carrot and swallow before it has a chance to taint my taste buds.

“What’s playing?” Dad picks up his wine glass, swirls the burgundy liquid around before taking a sip.

I cut into my chicken. It’s sprinkled with seasoning and seared.
Is that pink?
I hack into it further. “I don’t know. I think they only have two movies.” I turn up my nose, holding a piece of chicken inches away from my face. I can feel a gag working its way up my throat.

“Stop playing with your food. Just eat it,” Mom says, chewing her own chicken.

I set my fork down. I’ve lost my appetite. Part of me wishes I could take a bite, put on a fake smile, and tell my mom she’s a masterful cook. She tried to prepare a great meal, but it’s a lie I can’t seem to pull off. There is definitely pink. “Dad?”

I can distinctly see the narrowness of his eyes as he scrutinizes the chicken on his own plate.
No doubt, undercooked too
. “Yes, honey?” He looks up.

“What happens when a patient has no family?”
Like Embry.

Dad concentrates on his mashed potatoes. We really don’t have the heart to tell Mom ninety percent of what she cooks is inedible. Meatloaf she can do. Anything out of a box, or that requires her fingers to dial a number, is good. But that’s it. That’s where her culinary skills end. In California, before I grew out of my training bras and found Bryce, I did the cooking. Countless hours of the Food Network finally paid off. Maybe I should start again.

“Well...A person hardly ever has
no
family. I mean usually there’s some distant relative, a long lost cousin or something.”

“But what happens if there isn’t anyone. What happens to the patient?”

“Most patients can make decisions themselves. But I suppose there are a few cases where the person is unfit, for whatever reason, and then it goes to a judge. Why the question?”

“Just curious. And what happens if a judge decides on something that isn’t in the patient’s best interest?”

Dad takes another sip of his wine. “Unlikely. They are presented with all the facts, the information they need to make the best possible choice. But, I suppose someone could appeal.”

Appeal.

“Thanks, Daddy. May I be excused now?”

“Are you sure you’re done, you hardly ate,” Mom says.

I stand from the table and walk over to my mom. I lean in and give her a kiss on the cheek. She acts surprised for a second then smiles warmly. I rub my tummy. “Thank you, but I’m saving room for popcorn.” Besides the fact that my chicken was probably a cesspool for bacteria and salmonella, I really can’t eat, not with my first B & E looming over my head. I might puke at the scene of the crime and leave DNA for the police to trace back to me.
No thanks.

I open every drawer in my dresser trying to find something that says, ‘movie night’ but also practical for my real evening adventure. I’d like to clad myself in black, something really cat burglar-esque, but think better of it. I decide on clean jeans, a silky tank, and tucked in my messenger bag, a hoodie.

Within a few minutes, I’m back downstairs kissing Mom and Dad on the cheek and saying goodbye.

When I open my car door, Embry’s already in the passenger seat. I resist the urge to lean over and kiss him. But I do have to laugh. “You stole my idea,” I say, pulling at his long-sleeved black shirt. He’s even wearing black slacks. “You do realize you are a ghost, right? I mean you have the luxury of disappearing whenever you want.”

“But this is more fun.” Embry takes a moment to buckle his seatbelt. “And by definition, I am not a ghost”

“You’re here one second and gone the next. You aren’t exactly human,” I say.

“But not a ghost, either. I prefer the term spirit.”

I shrug. It’s not really important what he is, but I suppose I can see his side. A ghost would make him dead. Embry isn’t six feet under, just three years into a coma.

“Besides, I’ve spent the last two hours watching—fast forward mind you—crime dramas. I’m so ready for this.”

I suppress a chuckle and instead grow serious. “You’d think you could ask to watch your life instead of prime time TV?”

“It’s a good idea, but I’ve tried.”

“Well, I hope you’ve at least learned something.”

I park the car a little ways down the street from the storage facility. It’ll be quite the hike if we have to make a quick exit, but Embry said it would be better. You know, in case anyone comes by. We wouldn’t want my car at the scene of the crime. It might raise suspicion or something.

As we walk, Embry reaches for my hand, and I entwine my fingers with his. The moment is normal, like it's the most natural thing in the world. But before I have too much time to analyze the tender touch, we come face to face with a daunting obstacle.