The Heart's Ashes
Page 70

“Because I’m leaving,” he said, turning to open his drawer. “I’m packing my things, and as soon as I look human again, I’m out of this godforsaken place.”
“Mike, it isn’t that bad.” I closed the door, lowering my voice. “Emily’s still alive.”
“Alive?” He spun around quickly, catching me off guard. “Alive? You call that alive?”
“Yes. It’s not like movies, Mike. Vampires aren’t the undead. They live, breathe, feel. She has a goddamn soul, Mike. And she can hear everything you’re saying.”
“Good.” He unfolded his arms and shoved past me to grab his suitcase.
“Stop that.” I pushed his hand away from it. “Stop packing.”
“Ara, go away. I’m warning you.”
“Or what?” I stood with my hands on my hips, defensive. “You’ll hurt me, push me, leave? What more can you do, Mike? My life is ruined, don’t you get it? You can’t make it any worse, and if you leave, if you go, I won’t recover from that.”
“See if I care, Ara. I’m done. I can’t take any more of you.”
A tight heat choked in the back of my throat. I swallowed hard. “Mike—please. What about Em? She loves…”
“What happened to her was unfair. But she’s as good as dead to me now.” He swiped the air with his hand, then turned back to his drawer.
“No. You don’t mean that. I saw how you cried for her.”
“I cried for you, too!” He lashed out and grabbed my hand, shoving it off his arm. “I cried for you when you died. I shoulda left then. I shoulda gone away and gotten on with my life.”
“Mike? Look at me. Mike?” I stepped toward him again. “You don’t mean that. You’re not yourself, you’re—”
“I’m tired of you!” He spun around so fast, knocking my touch from his skin again, that I stumbled back, finding my footing against the wall in time for him to stomp toward me, grab both arms in his iron grip and pin me there. “I want you to stay away from me, Ara. When I leave, when I finally escape this hell I’ve been stuck in, I never want to see you, or your vampire friends, ever again. Do I make myself clear?”
Stammering breaths huffed from the back of my throat as I stood under his grip, my mouth agape.
“Answer me!” He shook me.
“Mm-hm.” I nodded, unable to lift my hand to wipe the tear from my upper lip. His fingers tightened around my arms, almost twice wrapping, his eyes forcing the message a little deeper. And for a moment, I thought I saw a twinge of regret wash across his face, but it was quickly recovered, lost to the seething anger that transformed my loving friend into a fiend—a seething anger that I put there.
As he turned away, I bolted from the room, dodging the extended hand of David as I passed him in the corridor. There’s no hope now. I have to go. I have to leave. I have to run.
No one followed me, no one saw, or no one cared, that I grabbed my keys and slammed the front door behind me.
The burst of fresh air and warm, golden sun outside circulated my broken heart, making me feel silly for crying when everything out here, everything real, was all right, normal. All those people across the road, swimming and playing by the lake, had friends, family, had nothing to ever fear or lose.
I hated them all. I hated everyone, everything; the birds, the trees, even the cool breeze. He’s leaving. I squatted down and hid my head in my arms. I hurt him so bad he’s leaving. Oh God. What will I do without him? What will Emily do? She loves him. She loves him so much. This will destroy her worse than being made immortal.
Now, she’ll be immortal, alone.
I looked up, feeling closed in, suffocated by all the people around. I needed to be alone. Somewhere no one would think to look.
I jumped in the car and, with the wind blowing my tangled hair around my face, sped down the street, fleeing the confines of my shattered life.
Leaving my shoes, my keys and my purse in the car was probably a bad idea, but the once familiar feeling of home was calling to me, luring me toward the trees so intensely I never even thought to lock the doors. I needed to get there, needed to get there fast.
Flipping my hair off my neck, I let my shoulders breathe the cool, near-autumn air. Out here, under the shade of the oaks and maples, my heartache was always easier to bear.
I couldn’t stop him from packing his suitcase, couldn’t make him stay. And now, I understood how Mum felt when Dad left, how he zipped up his few belongings into a bag, kissed me on the forehead and said I’m sorry, then walked away and never came back. She had no power stop him, just like I have no right to stop Mike; he wouldn’t even stay now if I offered him my heart—offered to be with him after David left. He was done with me—done with all the pain I caused him.
The surface of the lake showed itself; a glimmering entity among plaid browns and greens. I exhaled, closing my eyes; I’m home.
But when a loud splash sounded, I stopped dead, gluing myself to the tree line to watch a man emerge from the water, flipping his jet black hair from his face, beads of water rising into the air, glistening in the sun above him.
No one’s ever been out here before.
I almost felt insulted, like he was trespassing on my land. He had no picnic, that I could see, no friends or boat, only a shirt and a towel resting in the warmth on my rock.
As he swam toward the sand, I noticed a tattoo circling his upper arm; a band in black ink. He was young, from what I could tell, hiding all the way back here in the trees, maybe only as old as David. And quite possibly very good looking. But that didn’t excuse him from being in my secret place.
With my arms folded, I walked with all the intention of throwing his stuff to the ground and demanding he leave at once. Except, all that slipped away when I got closer and saw how beautifully toned his arms and chest were, and how, in the golden daylight, he seemed to look smooth and oily, like an acrylic painting. Why does being totally hot make it easier for you to get away with rude behaviour?
No, that’s even more of a reason why I should ask him to leave.
“Hey!” I said, meeting him at the edge of the lake, but as our eyes met, I froze, an instant of recognition passing through me. “Jason.”
“Ara?” He stepped up the sandy bank, beads of water gleaming across his golden flesh in the afternoon sun. “We keep meeting like this.”