Chapter 34 Jessiah
Neither of us moved. It was like we were frozen in the moment—a moment of utter helplessness.
And it made me so mad that we had no choice.
That there was no such thing as free will in our world, when it was something I’d fought hard for my whole life.
Now, though, I saw I’d achieved nothing.
Helena was standing right in front of me, but she might as well have been on another planet.
She was barely three feet away and still out of reach.
“You should go back,” I said softly. Go, unless you want me to do something we’ll both regret.
“Yes.” She nodded but didn’t move an inch. “I don’t want to go, though.”
I took a silent breath, gripping the edge of the desk I was leaning against with my hands so as not to get any crazy ideas.
I should probably have shut my eyes so I couldn’t see her standing there, more beautiful than ever, with a look on her face that was making it hard for me not to cross the line.
I knew what she wanted: the same thing I did.
But neither of us was going to get it. This wasn’t just a kiss, or a quick hookup. It was much more than that.
And that was clear to both of us.
“What do you want, then?” I asked, anger crowding out all other emotion. “A piece of paper, to write me another note on?”
Helena drew a sharp breath. “That’s not fair, Jess.”
“No, it isn’t.” I looked her in the eye. “This whole fucking life isn’t fair—better get used to it.”
“Oh yeah, sure. Thanks for the lecture.” She shook her head. “But enough with the anger. You’ll feel better, you know.”
“I wish I could!” I snarled. “I wish I could just be pissed at you for the fact that your family’s reputation is more important to you than—” I broke off; I didn’t want to say it. What good would it do, anyway, except cause more pain.
But Helena wasn’t letting me off so easily. “More important than what?”
I pressed my lips together. “Than us,” I said finally, revealing a lot more than I’d intended.
The fact that she meant a lot to me. That I’d had hopes for a future with her, without realizing it.
“I know there’s something between us. Something worth fighting for, to see where it goes.
But we can’t fight, because there’s no enemy. Only people we want to protect.”
I saw tears welling in her eyes. “You have to understand, I—”
“I do,” I interrupted her. “That’s the worst part—I understand completely. After all, I’m only in New York because my family is more important to me than my own happiness too. But that doesn’t make it any easier, okay?”
“I know.” She spoke quietly, more to herself than to me. “It only makes it harder.”
Her voice sounded so fragile, my need to touch her was almost overwhelming.
But I didn’t; I kept some space between us.
Because we both knew there was no solution.
Even if we could have met secretly without anyone finding out about it, even if we could get around my mother’s paranoia and her parents’ overprotectiveness…
what would we have then? A secret relationship, in constant fear of getting caught and being forced apart after all?
No, it was better that it ended here and now, before we invested so much that there was no turning back.
So we could get on with the lives we’d chosen, even if what we wanted was something very different.
“I’m so sorry, Jess,” Helena said falteringly, and I knew she’d reached the same conclusion as I had.
“Yeah. Me too.”
For a moment we looked at each other in grim agreement on all counts. And I couldn’t take it any longer, I had to go now or I’d never be able to. So I let go of the desk and made for the door. But it turned out I couldn’t control myself after all; two steps in her direction and I was at her side.
She held her breath when I got close. And although it took all my strength, I didn’t kiss her on the mouth, but pressed my lips to her forehead. “Happy birthday, Fair Helen,” I whispered. “Perhaps the stars will align for us in another life.”
I didn’t wait for a reply, or any kind of reaction.
I turned away, pulled open the door, and stepped through it.
It swung closed behind me, and I didn’t look back as I walked through the hallway as quickly as possible.
It broke my heart to leave Helena alone, but I had no choice.
We both had to look forward or the whole thing would break us.
I knew it, and she was smart enough to know it as well.
I strode back into the restaurant, trying to get my heart rate and my anguish under control. Without much success—there was a storm raging inside me, below the surface. But I’d learned to hide it. I’d become a pro at that over the last few years.
Sam was still at our table and looked up as I reached her.
“Is something wrong? You were away a long time.”
“Yes, I know, sorry about that.” I smiled casually. “It’s all sorted now, though, and we can finally talk about your whiskey.”
“Sure?” Her eyes narrowed. She was sussing me out thoroughly, and I hoped she didn’t realize how agitated I was.
I pulled myself together. “Dead sure.” Whatever she wanted to discuss with me, it would be a distraction.
And I really needed a distraction right now.
Especially knowing that Helena was at that moment heading back to her nightmare date a few tables away.
I forced myself not to watch her until she disappeared from view, fixing my gaze on Samara opposite me instead. “Please. Tell me how I can help.”
The apartment was dark, the windows only occasionally illuminating for a moment when a car drove past outside on the street.
That wasn’t what had been keeping me awake, though, ever since I’d gone to bed a couple of hours ago—alone.
I’d considered seeking out a certain kind of distraction with Samara, but only for a second, before the thought made me feel grubby and I’d said good night.
As clear as the boundaries were between us, using her to forget about Helena wasn’t an option.
Aside from the fact I’d never get Helena off my mind that way, anyway.
Exhausted, I sat up and ran a hand through my hair, trying to get rid of the claustrophobia, the helplessness, the loneliness.
They had been my constant companions since I’d gotten back, like the relentless throbbing of a scar that wouldn’t heal.
But on days like this, it all felt so close, so real, it was like I couldn’t breathe.
I’d made my peace with the fact that I wasn’t going to let anyone get close to me for a few years so I could survive New York City and then get out of here again.
But then Helena had happened. She’d found her way into my heart—and now I was expected to just forget her.
And why? Because our siblings had loved each other, and since they died, our families hated each other more than ever.
It was a metaphor for New York; this was New York City to a tee.
The place was a huge black hole where everything good was immediately destroyed.
Where power reigned supreme, money was next in line, and humanity, compassion, and love had no part to play.
That had rarely been clearer to me than it was today.
And I badly needed to get out of there before I suffocated.
I got out of bed, went downstairs, threw on some clothes, grabbed my car keys, and left the apartment as quickly as I could.
My pickup was parked directly outside; I got in and started the engine.
Just five minutes later I was merging onto West Street and heading south toward Brooklyn.
The radio was playing some sad song; I turned it off, preferring silence.
Forty-five minutes of silence, until I reached my destination.
Rockaway was empty, as expected, when I came to a stop in the parking lot and got out of my pickup.
It was too early in the year for the surfers who camped out here for days at a time—anyone who surfed in the colder months tended to head home as quickly as possible afterward.
And no one was ever out here at four a.m. anyway.
The wind was raging and the waves were powerful, just as I’d hoped.
I unfastened my board from the back of the truck, pulled on my wetsuit, then walked to the water’s edge, pausing a moment.
The ocean was a deep black, the band of sky above it barely any less so.
There was a new moon. I stood there, motionless, one hand on my board.
I could hear nothing except the wind and the waves.
I was quiet, though only on the outside.
Inside me, everything howled with anger and despair.
Frustration and loneliness. I could have screamed it all out; there was no one on the beach to hear me.
But I knew it wouldn’t be enough. I’d been in a similar state before, after all, and that was before Helena had entered my life.
The only thing I hadn’t tried to get this feeling in check was hard drugs.
Everything else, yes: yelling, liquor, sex, running to the point of exhaustion, going to town on a punch bag.
Nothing helped. Nothing, that is, except night surfing.
I needed this, needed to feel something—something other than the claustrophobia of New York and my hopelessness over Helena.
Why did we have to meet in the first place?
Was it some kind of twisted cosmic joke?
Like—it ended badly for their siblings, let’s give it another try?
And if we did have to meet, why couldn’t we have hated each other’s guts?
Why did it have to be this girl that had me down so bad I was standing out here on the beach, hoping to forget her even just for a little bit, with a crazy session on the waves?