Page 57 of Never Always
“Oh, honey, come with me.” The nurse waggles her finger at me.
I follow her, looking at my surroundings once more and only feeling dread that I let Tennyson walk out yesterday. It’s not regret, because my body can’t take any more emotions, it’s a shadow following me, reminding me when I glance its way, that I made a huge mistake. She hands me a notepad when we get to the nurse’s station.
“Every time she called and you wouldn’t answer, she left a line.”
A poem. The one I wrote for her in the envelope and gave to her on Thanksgiving.
“Seems you will indeed have someone waiting for you. Get the heck outta’ here. You don’t belong here anymore. If not because you love her, do it because she has red hair and it’s your duty to protect.”
Electricity vibrates inside my body, zapping my cold heart. How does she know exactly what I need to hear? I rub the bullet. Protect what you covet most. The Navy SEAL ethos comes to mind next. Placing the welfare and security of others before my own.My Queen,I remind myself. She’s been unguarded for months while I crawled into this depression hole and tried to erase myself completely.
“Thanks for the pep talk. Go ahead and send the forms to my room, I have a plane to catch.”
“Yes, child. That’s the spirit. Tell me though.” She nods to the notepad. “Did she write that?”
I press my lips together. “No. I did.”
Her grin is white and comforting. “Run fast, son. Run fast.”
I do.
_________________
There’s only so much forgiveness you can ask one person for. What I need to ask from Tennyson is beyond forgiveness and enters a whole new dimension. She hasn’t answered my calls before my flight, and I have no idea if her phone works in another country or if she’s just ignoring me completely. My heart pounds against the bullet tucked under my shirt. The first stop after I blew the hospital was to Maeve. To beg her for forgiveness. I missed the funeral. I missed the aftermath, the miserable days she spent adjusting to a new, lonely normal. Maeve was gracious. She hugged me for so long I’m not sure she didn’t picture Rexy. I’m the last connection to him. I’m also responsible for his death. She told me Fire’s schedule in Australia and asked to see the necklace. There was more crying, but we found solace in each other and in our common bond.
After speaking with Rexy’s parents, I discovered they were opening an investigation into the manufacturers of thebulletproofwalls at our training facility. Mercer was right, nothing they do now will bring Rexy back, but if it stops this from happening again, I’m all in. I’d never advise having to endure the level of agony that is associated with killing your best friend accidentally. In fact, I’d avoid all things that could contribute to the situation.
Waiting is the worst part of this, because I know Tennyson has the closure she needs. The kiss. That was it for her. It’s why I fought the urge for so long, knowing it was what she wanted the most. The final parting, even if kissing her sealed my own fate. I will love her forever. Not that I didn’t doubt it before, but now I’m certain that she is the person I was meant to be with. Nothing compares to her—to the emotions she evokes by merely existing in my proximity.
I haven’t negated the fact that maybe I should lurk at the opening event if I can get in, just to hear her speech. Cheer for her from the shadows I’ve sent myself to. Being there for her without disturbing her life might be best for both of us. A million thoughts flit through my mind as I close my eyes. The news headlines and the red-haired women haunt me though, as if to say, you aren’t quick enough. Strong enough. You aren’t brave enough to protect a woman like Fire. My grief is reckless and it forces untrue thoughts to take up space in my mind.
I’ve avoided almost all social media and all of my friends while I was in the hospital, so I pay for the damn overpriced airline Wi-Fi and plug in. The man next to me lets out a boisterous snore. I stuff in my earbuds and begin the ceremonial scroll. I have a private, locked down profile with only a few friends, but I only have it so I can click, anyway. First, I search Maeve and torture myself with photos from Thanksgiving, the happy newly engaged couple, that quickly move into a snow-covered funeral at the lighthouse. It wanted to be a wedding, but it wasn’t—couldn’t be. There’s a video of Maeve’s speech that I chose not to watch because I’m already tearing up, and I don’t need to be at Rexy’s funeral while I’m high in the sky by myself.
I search Tennyson and find she hasn’t updated, or has everything locked down. I curse under my breath. Her profile photo is her red hair glistening in the sun and her bare shoulder. My chest aches. Her face when she left my hospital room is haunting—she thought I didn’t love her enough. There was no way to explain I loved her too much. That I couldn’t lose her, couldn’t protect her from what she loves. Me. The driving force to right things with her now is my fucking moral compass… and my mother.
Going down Fire’s friend list, I seek out familiar faces and names. Her sister. She shares everything, but nothing important. Same with Clover save for the fact she made their pregnancy social media official. Grey Morgan. I click his photo and scan for anything. He checked into a hotel in Perth Australia with Ariel Santos.What?The post above that is the money shot. It’s a group work photo, those I recognize from Tennyson’s lab, everyone by the hotel pool, holding drinks. Looks like they decided to take more than just the necessary few. Fire is looking like a goddamn vision in a short purple dress, hair tied back away from her face. High cheekbones, big eyes, the smattering of freckles that looks like a perfect paint splatter across the bridge of her nose. Everything I didn’t know I desired until she dropped into my life like ‘Little Boy’ and ‘Fat Man.’
Her effortless beauty takes my breath away. This photo was from mere hours ago. This is what she looks like right now. It sends a wave of longing through me. Grey is standing next to her, holding her closer than is appropriate in mixed company. The worst of it is he’s looking at her, sideways, like she’s God’s gift, an evil glint in his eyes. I can read body language in person, but in photos, it’s harder because I don’t have the full situational awareness—I’m not there, but all damn signs point to him being overtly attracted to my girl.
Slow your roll, fucker. She’s not your girl.Several deep breaths later, I’m as calm as oxygen can make me. I go back to Ariel’s page and see what the hell is going on with that. Grey Morgan and Ariel Santos are ‘in a relationship’ as of four months ago, about the same time as Tennyson and I began dating. I didn’t see that one coming. It doesn’t make sense. At all. Ariel has a type, and I thought I had Grey pegged with his type.The same as mine.I’ve never, not once, been this off. She came to Fire’s apartment and was going on about something about a fight with her boyfriend. With Grey?
I was too pissed Ariel fucked with my plans with Tennyson, and her face brings back horrible memories. I wasn’t concerned with her relationship troubles at the time. Was she scared? Fearful of Grey? To me she seemed cocky and self-assured, only wanting Tennyson’s attention. Multiple photos litter her feed. Smiling selfies with herboyfriend.A photo at Cat’s Diner, a cranberry bog, a photo kissing in the snow on the dock attached to the Aquatic Lab, another on their arrival in Perth. It’s the staged sort of perfect you only find on social media—it doesn’t exist in real life. Perfection is nothing more than an elaborate illusion some use to hide their scars. Ariel posted a photo of herself posing by the pool, the same pool from the photo I saw on Grey’s page. Nothing after that, and nothing with Grey.
It makes my heart pound. What did I miss while I was falling in love and how much more slipped past me while I was trying to deny the first fact? I put my phone in between my legs and lean my head back. I tap my foot and check my watch. Sleep is what I need, but that comes rarely these days. Instead of peaceful relief, I get night terrors. Visions of watching my mother die—a bird’s eye view. Of Rexy’s lifeless body. Of the cold metal pressed against my head a moment before Mercer tackled me and wrestled the weapon away. Thank God he was there, watching me even though I told him to leave, a guardian angel in warrior form. I never wanted to die. I wanted to live but living is near impossible when everything you touch turns to dust and blood.
Four more hours to go. Four more hours until I see her and try to form a coherent apology. Closing my eyes, I dream of kissing Fire underwater—the start is always comforting, but it morphs quickly. I don’t require oxygen, but she does. Instead of pulling away to surface, she keeps her lips locked with mine until she’s lifeless, blue eyes blankly staring into mine. Her tongue turns into the Black Queen and it bubbles out of her mouth and gets tangled in her red hair.
Startling awake, I lay a hand on my chest and turn on the television in the headrest in front of me. Mindless distraction. No sleep.
Never sleep.
Chapter Nineteen
Grange
ICHECKED INTOthe room Mercer booked for me while I drove to the airport back in Boston. He was more than happy to help me even though I’ve acted like a complete asshole to him. He said he’s doing it for Tennyson, that I should shut the fuck up and go, and well, I can get on board with that. My hotel is next to the resort Fire is staying, and where the event is about to take place. I have enough time to take a quick shower and iron a dress shirt. I don a tux and a bow tie and think this is as good as it’s going to get. My face is a little sunken, hollow because I haven’t been on my usual workout and diet regimen, but I have a few days’ scruff thatalmosthides the years I’ve aged in mere months.
Mercer texts me.It’s starting. Photos are hitting social media. Clover is next to me in bed, stalking her like a professional spy. It’s scary how good she is. Are you going now?
