Touching Eternity (Touch Series 1.5) Page 21

  He hated when she talked like that, like she wasn’t, so the knife in the gut wrenched a little deeper with his final lie to seal the coffin. “Yes. She’s normal. I love her.”

  The little color remaining in her face washed out until only her eyes blazed bright against the pallor, burning him with accusation, with betrayal and anger. With pain and grief. She didn’t speak, but the waves of emotion rolled off her and slammed into him.

  “But I love you,” her lips formed, but no sound came out.

  He ran.

  ***

  Isaiah jolted, bolting clean to his feet as the demons chased him through his dreams into reality. His breath puffed from his lungs in jagged rasps. Sweat clustered and rolled down his temples, stinging his eyes and mingling with the tears already wet on his cheeks. He choked on a half sob, half moan as he grounded a fist into his eyes, wiping away the sleep and tears.

  Across the room, Amalie stirred in her sleep. The sheets rustled as she turned over.

  He waited until he was sure she was still asleep before crossing to the terrace and staring out at the black blanket draped over the glass. His own ashen, sleep deprived reflection stared back at him.

  Was it worth it? He wondered, trying to think of a single moment in the last year when he’d been happy. For him, school had always been just another step to his goal to become a solider. It had been a step to becoming a man worthy of Amalie, a man she could be proud of. It had been his way of paying Garrison back for rescuing him. It had been his way to return and protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. Had he accomplished any of those things? He’d lost Amalie. Garrison wanted him to work at the lab and he hadn’t been back to his old neighborhood in years. He was a failure.

  “Isaiah?”

  His body jerked as if her voice had the power to stab him straight between the shoulder blades. It carved into him, cutting deep until he had to look down to make sure he wasn’t leaving a pool of blood on the floor. No blood, only the spilt rays of moonlight straining across the room. He pressed his brow to the glass.

  The bedsprings jingled. Sheets whispered. Then her soft footsteps filled his ears.

  “Isaiah?” She was right behind him.

  His breath fogged the glass as he exhaled. “Go back to bed, Amalie.”

  She ignored him. “What’s wrong?”

  He snorted a laugh. “Where would you like me to start?”

  In the glass, he saw her hand rise as if to touch him. She seemed to think better of it and dropped her arm back to her side. He didn’t know whether he was disappointed or relieved.

  “You don’t have to stay,” she said. “You could go.”

  He shook his head, closing his eyes. “Can’t.” He pushed away from the glass and turned to her. “Not without you.”

  Her reaction wasn’t one he was expecting. Her entire body went rigid. Her eyebrows folded in frustration and she scowled.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  He blinked in surprise. “What?”

  “I’m tired, Isaiah.” His heart wrenched when her bottom lip trembled despite her obvious attempts to remain irate. “I’m so tired. I can’t play this game with you again. I won’t survive being broken by you a second time. So whatever this is, please stop. It’s just cruel now.”

  He lunged after her when she started for the bed. His fingers closed around her wrist and he dragged her to a halt. “It was never a game,” he growled into her ear. “You have never been a game to me. My love for you has never been anything but real.”

  She turned her head to peer into his eyes, hers bright with unshed tears, anger and hurt. “You left me for another girl. You left me for someone normal. You didn’t want me.”

  His fingers climbed up her arm to graze the inside curve of her elbow. “When I was eight, I found my best friend. Then, one day, I came home and she’d changed. During my absence, she’d become the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen in my life and I fell in love with her so completely that the very idea of ever being without her became an impossibility I couldn’t stand. That same girl has always been the only one to ever hold my heart in her hands. She’s the only one who can both build me and destroy me if she wishes and I wouldn’t change that for anything. I can’t live without her.”

  She twisted against him so they were face to face. She either didn’t notice how close they were or she ignored it as she peered into his eyes, searching, the uncertainty bright in hers. “What are you saying, Isaiah?”

  He allowed himself the small luxury of touching her cheek with the back of his knuckles, relieved when she didn’t shy away. “That there was never anyone else. How could there be when I’m hopelessly and irreversibly in love with you?”

  Chapter 23

  Amalie

  It took every ounce of will to pull away from him, to take a step back. She told herself it was to think clearly, an impossibility when he was so close. But she knew it was because she could feel her resolve crumbling and she didn’t want to let go of the only control she had.

  “Why are you telling me this?” Her voice didn’t sound nearly as forceful as she wanted it and she mentally kicked herself.

  “Because I should have told you sooner,” he answered solemnly. “Because I never should have said it in the first place.”

  Amalie said nothing as she processed this new scrap of information. A part of her brain prickled with suspicion, with doubts and apprehension. The other part was elated, dancing with glee that it hadn’t been true. That she hadn’t lost Isaiah to someone more beautiful than she. But it was anger that trickled from her words when she spoke.

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Her hands clenched at her sides. “Is that supposed to make an entire year of hell vanish? What am I supposed to do with that bit of information now when it’s too late?”

  He flinched as if she’d physically struck him. “Is it too late?”

  Yes! Her sensible brain exclaimed, prepared to fight to the bitter end. The betrayal and hurt was as fresh in her mind as it had been that day.

  Her heart, weak, easily swayed, easily manipulated, yearned for what he was offering her as clearly as the hope on his face. It had no problems being broken again. So stupid was it to believe it wouldn’t happen again.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said instead, letting her heart and head fight over it like ravenous dogs over a bone.

  “It matters!” he said, desperation coloring his words. “I need to know if there’s even a slight possibility that you still love me half as much as I love you.”

  Always! Always and always and forever! Her heart cried.

  Amalie squished the heel of her hand between her breasts and rubbed, hoping to smother the longing ache.

  “Amalie—”

  “I don’t know!” She meshed her face into her hands, muffling the words.

  She heard him sigh. He was rubbing the tips of his fingers over his brow when she dared to glance up. His head was bent, his expression thoughtful.

  He nodded slowly. “You’re right,” he said at last. “I have no right to push you. I have no right to ask you for anything. I did this and I deserve it.”

  Amalie opened her mouth to argue, to soothe his pain, but the words refused to leave the sanctuary of her throat. So she said nothing. She clamped her lips shut and turned to the bed, desperate for its security. He didn’t try to stop her. He said nothing as she burrowed under the sheets. She closed her eyes, but sleep never returned that night.

  ***

  The light was gone from her mother’s eyes, but she still managed a smile when Amalie slipped into the room. Her cracked lips bowed, the purple tinge in them contrasting against her chalky complexion. Gone was the blue in her eyes, swallowed by her pupils. She tried to sit up on the narrow cot. The shackles around her wrists cluttered, scraping against the metal pipe making up the bedframe. She stopped when she caught Amalie looking at the bruises circling her thin wrists.

  “Amalie.” She pulled Amalie’s gaze up
to focus on her face. She forced another smile. “What are you doing here, little angel?”

  Her eyes flittered to the cuffs once more before meeting her mother’s again. “It’s my birthday,” she whispered.

  There were tears in her mother’s eyes. “I know, baby. I’m sorry I can’t be there. But you shouldn’t be here. Does your father know?”

  Amalie shook her head.

  Something unfamiliar to Amalie flickered across her mother’s face. Her face lost its color and her eyes went wide. They shot past her to the doorway, searching for something. When they didn’t find what they were looking for, they dropped down to Amalie again. But just as quickly, it was nearly gone and she was smiling again, the gesture tight like she was in pain.

  “Come here.”

  Amalie scurried over and crawled onto the slip of a mattress. She splayed across her mother’s thin frame and rested her head on jutting bones where it had once been her mother’s chest.

  There was rattling and clanking as her mother tried and failed to raise her arms. She resigned after a moment of trying and just nuzzled the top of Amalie’s head with her lips.

  “I love you, little girl,” she whispered. “You haven’t forgotten have you?”

  Amalie shook her head.

  “Good girl. Don’t forget. You must never forget. You are the most precious thing in my world. I will love you until all the stars burn out and the sun no longer brightens the sky. Do you hear me?”

  “Yes, Mommy.”

  Her mother wasn’t listening. “No matter what anyone says, no matter what happens, I will always, always love you. My beautiful girl. My sweet, beautiful girl.”

  Moments passed before her mother spoke again, her soft, crooning voice taking on a hint of urgency.

  “Amalie?” She waited until Amalie had raised her head and met her eyes before continuing. “Did you remember your promise?”

  How could she forget? Every chance her mother got, her mother made her promise it again and again.

  “Yes, Mommy. I haven’t told Daddy.”

  Her mom exhaled, her smile brighter. “Good girl.”

  “Told me what?”

  At the deep, familiar voice, every bone in her mother’s frail body stiffened as if iron rods had replaced them. The shackles cluttered wildly as she fought to shield Amalie from the man hovering in the doorway.

  “Terrell—”

  Her dad stepped into the room, his dark aura seemingly consuming the space around him, wrapping around him like a cloak. Amalie shuddered, pressing closer to her mother, surprised—frightened to feel the violent tremors raking through her mother’s slight frame.

  “Terrell, please…please…” Terror shook through each word.

  “What are you doing here, Amalie?” he said, his voice, his face giving nothing away, yet the waves that washed off him were glacial. They struck Amalie like fists. “You’re not supposed to be down here.”

  With a jerk Amalie never saw coming, she was yanked from her mother’s chest and tucked football-style under her father’s arm. His unyielding grip gouged into the soft tissues of her abdomen, blocking her every breath so she could only choke and gasp her protest. Not that anyone could hear those over her mother’s wails.

  “Don’t take her! Please, don’t take her!”

  Her pleas fell on deaf ears as her father turned on his heels and started back to the door.

  “She’s you’re daughter, Terrell! She’s just a baby!” When that didn’t seem to work, her mother changed tactics. “Don’t tell him anything, Amalie! Don’t tell him! He can never—”

  Amalie didn’t hear the rest as the door slammed between them.

  ***

  “Amalie?”

  With a blink, the world around Amalie trickled back into focus as did Isaiah’s face and the look of concern embedded there. She blinked again, startled to feel her wet lashes were tangled together. Her hand flew up to her cheeks. Her eyebrows scuttled up into her hairline at the tears streaking her flushed skin.

  How could she still cry over that when it happened so long ago? Maybe because it’s what happened next that you can’t forget? The wise voice decided, and it was right. It was that moment when everything changed. Her father had always been so cautious of her, so careful to make sure she didn’t wind up like her mother, but at that moment, he knew she was. That he had failed. He had coaxed the truth from her and in those moments of stupid, childish trust, she had sealed her own fate.

  “What’s wrong?” Isaiah knelt in front of her chair.

  Amalie frowned, erasing the remaining shreds of her humiliation with vicious swipes of her hands. “Nothing.”

  He started reaching for her hands, but stopped himself when she tensed. He spoke softly, despite the tight clench of his fists. “You were always a horrible liar.”

  She looked into his face, lovingly tracing every curve and slash of it with her eyes. She had missed his face. She had missed the thickness of his lashes, the blue of his eyes, the full curve of his lips. She missed the way his bangs always fell over his eyes and the way his nose was just a little crooked.

  In the week that passed, she tried to verbally forgive him. She could see how much he yearned for it, saw it in his eyes every time he looked at her. The pain, frustration and regret blazed like twin coals behind every longing glance. But she could never get the words to touch her lips. Inside, she knew she forgave him. She loved him too much not to. Yet something stopped her every time she tried and she didn’t know what.

  “Are you hungry?”

  When he wasn’t sitting around waiting for her to talk to him, notice him, he was trying to feed her. He was never satisfied. No matter how much she ate to appease him, he always found reasons to stuff something else down her throat.

  “How are you getting all this stuff?” she asked, tossing a pointed glance towards the mountain of dirty dishes piled high on her desk.

  “Ruth,” he said simply, offering her a small, mischievous grin. “I think she thinks I’m pregnant.”

  Amalie couldn’t help it, she laughed. “I don’t blame her. You’ve been down there eight times since this morning.”

  “Well someone needs to feed you.” he muttered, staring grudgingly at the place between his feet. “You’re too damn skinny.”

  “I’ve always been skinny!” she reminded him.

  He didn’t respond, but his eyes had gotten dark, almost angry before he turned them away, turned them over his shoulder to the man sitting across the room by the door.

  “I wonder if he blinks,” Isaiah said from the corner of his mouth, just loud enough for her to hear.

  Amalie scowled at him with no real heat behind it. “Leave him alone. Derek is very nice.”

  “For a statue.” He turned those blue eyes on her, searching her face. “Want to go for a walk? You’ve been in this room for a week.”

  She looked away, dropping her gaze to her hands. “I don’t know. What if—”

  “You can’t just sit here forever hoping your father will forget about you,” he interrupted. “Besides, I want to talk to you about something. Not here!” he said when she opened her mouth.

  Her gaze darted to Derek. Her brows furrowed. “He might not want—”

  Isaiah took her hand, dragging her to her feet and away from the terrace windows. “He can’t stop us.”

  She wasn’t sure how true that was. Both men looked highly capable of taking down any threat that came their way and both were reasonably equally matched in height and weight. But when Isaiah led her to the door, towards where Derek sat watching them, she noticed Derek had several inches on Isaiah which were far more pronounced once Derek rose to his feet and towered over them.

  Unconsciously, Amalie gripped Isaiah’s hand more tightly with both of hers. Even though she knew Derek wouldn’t hurt her, Isaiah was in danger.

  “Got a problem?” Isaiah challenged, squaring off with the other man.

  Derek eyed him coolly. Then, his gaze darted to where Amalie sto
od pressed into Isaiah’s side, watching him with wide eyes. He exhaled through his nose.

  “I have to come with you,” he told her.

  Amalie opened her mouth to tell him that was fine, but Isaiah beat her to it. “Whatever floats your boat, pal.”

  He shoved past Derek, wrenched the door open and stalked out, dragging Amalie with him.

  “You didn’t have to be so rude!” she scolded him, partially running to keep up with his wide strides.

  “He started it.”