11. Scarlet
11
SCARLET
TWO MONTHS LATER
“ W hy can’t I rewind the clock?” Mom strokes my hair, my head on her shoulder, as she gives me one of her patented bear hugs before loosening her grip a little so I can breathe. I’m amazed she hasn’t cracked any of my ribs yet. “It hardly seems like we’ve had any time together at all.”
I’m not a cruel person, so I won’t remind her that we’ve been together pretty much nonstop since I got home. When we weren’t shopping for my new school clothes, we hunted every furniture store and every baby section in every shop within driving distance. Aspen is barely six months pregnant now, and already, I can’t imagine them needing a single thing.
I can’t pretend I’m not grateful for the distraction, either. After a while, I was more obsessed than Mom, finally figuring out it was better to turn my attention and energy toward something positive. Anything, so long as there is a reason not to dwell on my misery. My loneliness.
I never understood before, but this past summer has been more than enough to drive the point home: it’s possible to feel insanely lonely even when surrounded by people. Loving people, too.
“You know I’m a short flight away,” I remind her, kissing her cheek. “And if anybody has the okay to come and go at will, it’s you and Dad.”
“Don’t you worry, though,” she assures me with a knowing look. “I’ll make sure to remind your father that you’re a grown woman entitled to a life of her own.”
I can’t help but snort a laugh, and soon she’s doing the same. “Yeah, we’ll see how that goes.”
“Let’s be fair. He gave you space at MIT.” Sure, a space in which bodyguards prowled. I’m not trying to get into an argument, so I shrug it off.
“I’ll miss you.” She kisses my forehead, then steps back, fanning her hands in front of her face. “All right, no more of this. You have a big day ahead of you tomorrow, and you need your rest.” Yes, I’m flying out first thing in the morning. Everything’s packed and ready to go. All that’s left for me to do is try to sleep.
Emphasis on the word try. Deep, restorative sleep has evaded me all summer. Every time I open my eyes, I expect—hope—to find a familiar dark figure standing at my bedside. And every time, I’ve been thoroughly disappointed.
So why can’t I stop hoping?
Once I’m alone in my room, my back to the closed door, I can let myself relax. The tension in my neck and shoulders is a testament to the hard work of keeping myself in one piece and not giving away any hint of the dark cloud that still insists on following me wherever I go.
It’s like nature has decided to reflect my internal darkness—the day was gray and gloomy, but night has brought on the promise of a storm. Beyond my window, the wind picks up speed, the gusts bending the trees. In the distance, lightning flickers, highlighting the big greenish-gray clouds with every flash.
With my luck, it will rain so hard that I won’t be able to take off tomorrow. It isn’t that I’m desperately looking forward to going to school, but I’m not sure I could take another day of pretending for the sake of my family.
With a sigh, I push away from the door, pulling my T-shirt over my head as I cross the room. A nightgown at the foot of the bed and the clothes I’ll wear in the morning are among the only things I haven’t packed away. The only thing Mom didn’t insist I bring along are the fancier outfits in my closet, which I doubt I’ll ever have any need for, anyway.
This time tomorrow, I’ll be unpacking in my new apartment. It still doesn’t feel real, even though I’ve had months to wrap my head around the fact that I’ll be going to Corium. I’m caught in limbo, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting to wake up from a very long nightmare.
There is no waking up.
This is my reality.
Why can’t I get it through my head?
I’ve barely finished getting changed for bed when there’s a soft knock on the door. “I thought you said you wanted me to get some rest?” I sigh, turning as the door opens.
Only it isn’t Mom poking her head into the room this time.
Aspen and Quinton have been staying here all summer while their house on the compound is being built. I can’t really say I’m shocked to see her.
“Hey. I wanted to catch you before you went to sleep,” Aspen murmurs, wearing a tentative smile.
She has been a part of the family for years now, but there are still times when it seems she’s tiptoeing around, wanting to be sure she doesn’t ruffle feathers. I guess all the time she spent as an outsider, the daughter of a rat, had a long-term effect on her.
“Come on in. Sorry—you know I love her, but I don’t know if I can stand being asked one more time if I packed all my underwear.”
She giggles knowingly. “Then I won’t bother asking you myself.”
“What’s up? Are you feeling okay?” She certainly looks fantastic, better every day. Her skin glows, and her hair is thicker and shinier.
The bump she’s sporting is adorable, and I catch her mindlessly running a hand over it every once in a while. I don’t even know if she notices she’s doing it.
She does it now, gazing out the window at the approaching storm. “Can you feel the electricity in the air?” she asks, and I nod in agreement. Yes, the air has that feeling to it. Like something’s going to explode.
“So what’s up, really?” I finally have to ask, perching on the foot of the bed. She’s not very good at faking casualness. “What’s on your mind?”
Her shoulders rise and fall in a deep breath. “Because I know you’re going to ask, I’ll tell you right now; I haven’t said anything to Q about this.”
I grimace while bracing myself, a pit beginning to form in my stomach. “That’s not a great lead-in, no offense.”
“It’s just I’ve noticed something ever since you first got home. I didn’t want to say anything because I figured it wasn’t my place.”
And here I am, cringing inside, my guts twisting and my blood turning to ice. Didn’t I tell myself it seemed like she knew something was wrong with me? That first dinner after I got home. Months have passed since that night, and she’s never given me any indication since then. No lingering looks or quirked eyebrows. No late-night visits to my room for a heart-to-heart.
My luck has run out, it seems.
“Is there anything you need to get off your chest?”
She perches on the window seat, hands folded between her knees. Nervous but caring. I have to focus on the latter of the two.
She cares, and in this world, I’ve learned not people truly do. I need to appreciate caring when it comes my way.
“Do you think there should be something?”
Because, after all, I’m not sure if she knows anything. This could all be a shot in the dark, instinct compelling her to speak out. I can’t give too much away before I know for sure whether she has the slightest clue.
“Speaking freely?” I nod in encouragement, though that’s the last thing I want. “All summer, it’s like you’ve been here, but you’re not here. There have been times when I’ve looked at you, and you’re far away. I wanted to say something but didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or paranoid.”
I can’t tell her.
I need to tell somebody.
But she’s Q’s wife.
She already said she hasn’t mentioned this to him. I can trust her.
I thought I could trust Ren.
“Can I take a stab at it?” she murmurs, chewing her lip. “Does it have to do with Ren?”
I draw a breath, panic flashing in my head the way lightning flashes outside the window. “I-I mean, that’s—” I stammer, my tongue thick and awkward, my brain unable to string enough words together to tell her she’s wrong.
“I get it,” she whispers, staring at me with obvious concern. “Like I said, this is between you and me. But honestly, I sensed a change in you from the beginning. After he vanished. You seemed far away then, too. I got a sense there was something a little deeper than brother-sister affection. And if I’m off-base,” she’s quick to add, “tell me so. And then I’ll slink off in embarrassment, and we never have to mention this again.”
It’s her honesty, refreshing and clear, that makes it possible for me to chuckle. “I wish I could tell you you’re wrong. But I’ve already lied for so long, and I’m tired of it. I’m tired of pretending. And I’m sorry if it makes me a bad person.”
“What, because you care the way you do? Can we take a second to remember who you’re talking to? Tell me one person who wanted to see Q liking me?”
“I did,” I remind her.
She pauses, and a glossy sheen pulls over her eyes. “That’s true. Quinton told me what you told him. You were the only person who didn’t give him a hard time. You encouraged him to go after me because you saw it made him happy.”
“Do you think Quinton would say the same to me now?”
“Unfortunately, no, but that’s only because of his own relationship with Ren. He wants you to be happy, but right now, his own pain wouldn’t allow him to see that Ren might be the one who makes you happy.”
I nod, knowing exactly what she means.
“Loving someone you shouldn’t doesn’t make you bad. Just the opposite. It means you see the good in people.”
“But look what he did. I should hate him the way Q does.”
Her brows draw together, lips pursed, and her head shakes ever so slightly from side to side. “Don’t assume anything. I mean, would he ever admit it? Not at the threat of being drawn and quartered,” she mutters with a wry grin. “He’s still hurt by what happened. He’s angry, but at the same time, he misses his friend. I see it sometimes. A look he gets on his face, or the way he trails off when he starts telling a story. I know it’s because Ren was a part of that memory. Maybe that’s why I can see it in you, too. You are a lot alike, you and your brother.”
“Perish the thought,” I quip, and we share a smile.
“It might also be because I understand how it feels when you’re drawn to someone in your heart even though you know they’re the last person in the world you should feel that way about. I know that feeling very well. And it seems like you can’t get any control over your heart or your thoughts or anything. It’s confusing and frustrating and painful.”
“Yes.” God, the relief. I can breathe again. It’s like I’ve been wandering in the dark all this time, and Aspen brought light back to me. “I’ve loved Ren for so long, and no matter what anyone says, my heart still loves him.”
Like I’ve been surrounded by people speaking a language I can’t understand, and finally, someone speaks words I recognize. I’ve been disconnected for so long. Too long.
“You can’t choose who you love. And if you ever want to talk about it, I’m a phone call away. Day or night, any time. I’m serious,” she adds when I’m about to give her a polite smile. “I know what you’re going through—the situation might be different, but the feelings are the same. And I would’ve given anything to talk to somebody who cared. Please, don’t make me worry about you suffering alone, okay?”
When her chin trembles, I have no choice but to jump up and go to her. “Thank you,” I whisper before wrapping her in a hug. I don’t know who this is supposed to comfort more—me or the teary, hormonal girl I’m squeezing as tightly as I dare. “I wish we had this conversation sooner.”
“I didn’t want to upset you,” she reminds me as we untangle our arms. “But it seems like you’re in a dark place. I couldn’t let you leave without making sure you know there’s an ally here who gets it.”
Thunder rolls outside, sounding like it’s directly overhead. We both turn, eyes wide, when the windows rattle.
“Yikes. I’m going to duck under the covers and pretend storms don’t make me nervous,” Aspen murmurs, wincing. “Though I’m so stinking sleepy, I’ll probably pass out and miss the whole thing.”
Before she leaves the room, I touch a hand to her belly. “Take care of your mama,” I whisper. “Don’t tire her out too much.”
“Please.” She laughs as she crosses the room. “If I can handle your brother, I can handle anything.” For the sake of kindness, I bite back a snarky remark about him being the biggest baby I know, waving before she closes the door with a soft click.
I trust her. She won’t say a word. For the first time in forever, it feels like somebody “up there” is on my side, throwing me a bone in the form of my sister-in-law. Knowing I can call her if things get too dark makes me slightly less apprehensive about being alone and without a friend.
Wind howls outside the window, and the room lights up when lightning streaks across the sky. We hardly ever get thunderstorms here, but it’s almost majestic when we do. I sink into the window seat, enjoying the perfect view of the backyard and the garden my father planted for my mother. Small lanterns line the edge of the garden, giving off barely enough light to see.
Every time the lightning flashes, my eyes scan the garden. No matter how many times I tell myself not to do it, not to even attempt to look for him because he’s never really there, I do. I look everywhere, hoping that one day he’ll appear out of thin air and explain to me what the hell happened. Even now, when it’s clear the heavens are about to open, and we might need an ark to make it through what’s about to fall, I can’t help but look for him.
Because this is my last night at home. His last chance to find me here.
Another bolt of lightning flashes across the sky, and that’s when my eyes catch something. With the flashing light, it’s hard to tell if it’s real or a figment of my imagination. Either way, my heart jumps in my chest.
It could be him.
That’s the only thought that pops into my head. Another flash, and I see the same tall, dark figure hiding in the garden. He hasn’t moved. He stares at me, watching me as I watch him. Every hair on my body stands on end.
He’s covered from head to toe in black, making it impossible to be seen, that is unless he wants to be. Something inside me snaps, either my sanity or something else entirely, and I feel drawn to the mysterious person. My instincts tell me to stay put, but if it’s Ren, and I didn’t take the chance, I’d never forgive myself.
Plus, my father has guards posted all over the property. This isn’t some random person trying to break in. Ren knows this place like the back of his hand. He’s the only one who could sneak past the guards undetected.
Against my better judgment, I rush away from the window and slip my feet into a pair of slippers sitting beside the bed. I try to move quickly but quietly so as not to wake anyone. Fear zings through me once I reach the back patio doors and exit onto the lawn. Everything about this is a bad idea, but I won’t be able to let it go until I check for myself.
My gaze sweeps the garden. I was sure he would be gone by the time I made it down here, but to my surprise, he isn’t.
My heart beats heavy in my chest, and my breaths come out almost like pants. He doesn’t move as I approach, his black form remaining eerily still.
“Ren?” I say his name, the foreignness of it making it come out like a squeak. I still haven’t seen the man’s face, but somehow, deep inside, I know it’s him. He’s tall and lean like a great pine standing in the forest.
The sky opens up, and the first raindrops fall, landing on my bare arms. A shiver ripples through me. I should’ve grabbed a sweater before I decided to rush outside. Stupid me.
I walk closer now and say his name once more.
“Ren? Is that you?” He doesn’t move and that forces me to invade his space or risk never knowing if it’s him or not.
A niggling at the back of my mind reminds me of all he has done. That he’s technically the enemy, the villain.
He tried to kill my brother and numerous others.
What is stopping him from killing me?
He would never hurt me.
A lot of time has passed. He could be capable of anything now.
I look down at the ground and consider turning back.
It’s the smart thing. The right thing. I should tell someone, but I doubt they’d believe me. No one has seen or heard from Ren; there hasn’t even been a trace of evidence to determine where he is. Sure, I wanted to believe he followed me to MIT, but there was never any proof. Only my heartsick fantasies.
I look back up, prepared to order him to show me his face, when I find that I’m alone. No one is standing in front of me anymore, the mystery person disappearing into the night like a mist.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I growl, anger festering in my gut.
I shake my head and even give myself a pinch to make sure I’m not sleeping. I stare at the spot I’m certain he was standing in a few seconds ago, but there’s nothing there. No one, and no evidence there ever was.
Fuck. I’m losing my mind.
The rain comes down harder, the drops becoming pellets of rain. I turn to walk back to the house, reminding myself he’s never coming back.
As I start back toward the house, a blur of black appears in front of me. A scream builds in my throat but never makes it out. The stranger’s hand presses against my mouth, and I force myself to breathe through my nose. It’s that smell that causes my eyes to open wide and wariness to ignite deep in my gut.
Warm and woodsy, like cinnamon and earth. That’s what he smells like. I want to breathe him in and punch him in the face at the same time.
For a moment, our gazes collide, and I find myself being moved backward, only stopping once my back hits the rough bark of the tree. Lightning flashes across the sky the next moment, and I see him, really see him. Like a Greek god with his perfectly angled features, pronounced jawline, full lips, and high cheekbones, he appears to be chiseled from stone. He stares down at me, and I wonder how a man could possibly be any more gorgeous.
It’s hard to make out in the lightning, but he somehow seems taller and broader, like he’s added muscle since the last time I saw him. But the thing that stands out the most to me is his eyes.
They’re identical pools of blue, but the darkness of them holds me; there isn’t a single spark of light inside them. There used to be a light inside him, even if it was small, but now there is nothing. It’s almost like he’s dead.
Fear sizzles through me like a bolt of lightning. I’ve never been afraid of Ren, but suddenly, I am. The man standing before me isn’t the same man who left me, and I can feel it in the pit of my stomach.
His palm rests heavy over my mouth, and the rough pads of his fingers press against my cheeks. His body presses into mine, and for one brief second, I’m reminded of everything that could’ve been.
His body molds to my softness, and I want to lean into him.
I remember the last time I looked at his face, my sixteenth birthday. He was still him then, but I don’t know the man he is now. This is Ren’s body, Ren’s smell, but he doesn’t possess Ren’s soul.
Like a boulder rushing down a hill, the reality of it all crashes into me, and I start to struggle, realizing he shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t have his hands on me. This wasn’t how our first meeting after all this time was supposed to go.
Wrenching myself free of his unforgiving grasp, I push forward, but my feet slip on the wet grass. I struggle for half a second, and then he’s on me again.
“Shhh, relax. It’s time to make you mine, angel,” he whispers into the shell of my ear, and despite my struggles, I want to melt into him, but I just fucking can’t.
I might’ve been his once. A long time ago before he abandoned me. Before he became this… other person.
One I hardly recognize.
One I can’t trust.
One I need to get away from before it’s too late.