Guardian (The Guardian Trilogy) (30 page)

James shakes
his head as he sadly responds.  “No.”

Tears
spill over, and I hold my head in my trembling hands.  James moves to wrap his
arms around me.  I feel his cool touch move up and down my back, comforting
me.  What did he say before?  That protecting and guiding me without loving me
would be torture.  Garrett has committed him – us – to an existence of pain.

“Please
don’t cry,” James pleads.  He sounds like he is near tears himself.

“I
can’t do this,” I say into his chest.

He whispers
into my hair, holding me tighter.  “I never wanted to hurt you.”

I move
and wrap my arms around him.  “And I never want to hurt you.”

James
kisses my hair and continues to stroke my back.  “I don’t know how I’m going to
stop loving you,” he confesses.

We
stand motionless, holding one another as time passes.  It could be minutes; it
could be hours.  I’m not sure.  My tears eventually slow and my throat feels
thick.  I think about how hard this is going to be for the both of us and
realize how much harder it will be for him.  There are powers at work here that
I can’t even begin to comprehend.

“What
happens now?” I ask, breaking the silence.

“I go
back,” he says quietly.  “I’ll look in on you and know when I’m needed and when
I’m not.  I’ll be capable of spending time with you, but…that will probably
make things difficult.”

I know
what he means.  “What happens if you can’t stop loving me?”

James
pulls away slightly, so he can look into my eyes.  “I was told I would be given
some time to learn to control my feelings toward you.  But if I can’t…I will be
forced to forget.  Those who rule the Intermediate, The Allegiant, will take my
memories of you.  They will make me forget everything we ever had.”

Tears
spring back into my eyes.  My memories of James are my most treasured; the
thought of someone forcing them from me breaks my heart.  I can tell from his
expression that he feels the same.  I would never want that for him.

I have
to push myself to speak.  There’s not one part of me that wants this, but I
have to do it for him.  “I want you to stay away from me,” I say quietly.  “Don’t
visit.”

He
looks at me bewildered.  “How could you say that?”

“I
would rather you stay away than jeopardize your memory.  Take all the time you
need to comply with their wishes.  Do you even know what else they are capable
of doing to you?  No,” I shake my head, “I want you safe.  I would never want
you to forget us.”

James
looks heartbroken just as I’m sure I do.  “I don’t know if I can do that.”

“Please,”
I ask him, tears falling again.  “Please do it for me.  I would die if you
couldn’t remember how much I love you.”

He nods
slowly and then leans in to kiss me softly.  “I love you more than life itself. 
Never forget that.”

I’m
just about to tell him the same when his head snaps up.  I know that’s his cue
to leave; something, someone must be calling him.  I look at him frantic.  When
will I see him again?

“Remember
that I love you,” I say quickly, tears pouring down my face now.

He nods
and holds me tighter, as if he can stop the pull that draws him back.  He fades
from my vision, still wrapped around me.  I can feel him grow warmer and warmer,
until he disappears completely.

I don’t
think I’ve ever felt so hollow and alone.  My body can’t compensate for all
that it’s feeling and I stand there, numb, staring into oblivion.

James
has left me.

I told
him to stay away.

I
love him with everything in me.  And he can never love me again.

Minutes
pass.  My phone vibrates and I pick it up mechanically. 
You never answered
my question.  Why can’t you come over?

I blink
then reply without thinking. 
My heart hurts.

Let me
help
.

As time
passes, the need to get out of my house is overwhelming.  The silence of my
room deafens me.  Everywhere I look I’m reminded of James.  There is an ache in
my chest from a seemingly bottomless well of tears and when I close my eyes,
all I can see is his haunted last expression.  I feel myself slipping back into
my protective shell, the one that makes my parents and friends worry.  I don’t
want that.  James wouldn’t want that.  I’m in desperate need of a distraction.

I try
Shel first, but if I’m going to be at all honest with myself, I know where I’m
going to end up.  Still, delusional as I may be, I call Shel four times.  And
leave four messages.  Evidently she is unavailable.

I stare
at my last message from Dane and take a deep breath.  I type out my reply and
hit send.

Be
there in 15 minutes
.

I sit outside
Dane’s place debating whether or not to get out of the car.  What in the hell
am I doing here?  Now that I am no longer surrounded by physical memories of
James, am I really that desperate for company?  James hasn’t been gone but two
hours and I end up at Dane’s.  I can’t even fathom what that says about me.

I lean
back in my seat and close my eyes.  If I go inside, what would James see?  He’d
see a friend comforting a friend.  Because that’s all we are.  Does Dane want
more?  I think so.  All I’m really looking for is someone to tell me that
everything will be all right.  Is that so terrible?

A rap
on my window startles me and my eyes fly open.  Dane is standing outside my
car.  He opens the door and leans in.  “Did you drive all the way over here to
sit in the parking lot?”

I
shrug, giving him a weak smile.  “I thought about it.”

“Well
stay put,” he says and the closes the door.  He walks around to the other side
of the car and gets in.

 “Are
we going somewhere?”

“Yep.  I
figured you wouldn’t mind driving since you like to do manly things, like pick
up the tab at restaurants,” he smirks.

“Funny. 
Where are we going?”

“It’s a
surprise.”

I cross
my arms.  “I’m not starting the car until you tell me where we’re going.”

He
lifts an eyebrow at me.  “Is that so?”

I nod.

“Well,”
he sighs. “I guess we could just stay here in the car and make out…”

I start
the engine.

Dane
directs me where to go and when to turn, leading us beyond the south side of
town.  I haven’t figured out where he’s taking me until we pull off the highway
and turn right.  My hunch is correct when he directs me to Kirby’s Adventure
Land, a family fun center.

“Mini-golf?”
I ask him doubtfully.

“It’s
been scientifically proven to heal the heart.”

I roll
my eyes.

“Let’s
go,” he says excitedly and hops out of the car.

We walk
into the park where he pays for the both of us, cutting off my protest before
it leaves my lips.  Our first stop is the batting cages.

“I’ve
never done this,” I say as I hold a helmet in my hands.  He gives me a bat and
moves me into position over the plate.  He takes the helmet from me and places
it on my head.  “I’m going to miss,” I warn him.

“Doesn’t
matter.  The idea is to take out your anger.  Pretend whatever it is that’s
bothering you is coming at you in the form of a baseball – and kill it.”

Okay, I
think.  That doesn’t sound so hard.  He shows me how to hold the bat and then
steps out of the way.  The first ball is launched at me, and I automatically
jump back.  Hmmm.  I reposition myself and anticipate the next pitch.  I’m a
little more ready, but I still swing and miss.  I miss the next four balls.

I turn
around and look at Dane.  “This is stupid.  I can’t do this.”

He smiles. 
“Keep going.”

The
next ball whizzes past me.  And the next.  All right, this is getting serious. 
I refuse to look like a fool.  I reposition myself yet again and concentrate
harder.  I imagine Garrett’s face, even though I’ve never seen him, as the next
ball.  It’s launched toward me and I actually hit it – kind of.  At least I
made contact.  I turn around and give Dane a surprised look.  He gives me a
thumbs up.

The
next ball is Mrs. Davis.  I manage to hit her and the ball goes a little
farther.  The next ball is Patrick.  I swing and make full contact with the
ball, sending it all the way back to the pitching machine.

“Not
bad,” I hear from behind me.

I give
myself a satisfied smile.  Yeah, I’m starting to like this.  Garrett is up
again. 
Crack! 
He goes flying.  Mrs. Davis. 
Crack!
  She heads
to the left.  Patrick. 
Miss. 
Whoops.  My adrenaline picks up with each
swing of the bat; stress is released every time I make contact with a ball.  I
alternate between Garrett, Mrs. Davis, and Patrick until my pitches are spent. 
I must say I’m pretty proud of my performance given I hit eleven balls out of
my twenty.

Dane
meets me at the cage gate.  “Feel better?”

“Much,”
I smile at him and hand him the helmet.

He gives
it to the attendant.  “Go Karts next?”

We head
over to the karts and stand in line.  I lean against the fence and watch the
other driver’s race around the track.  My family used to come to this place
when Mike and I were kids, although our main activity was mini golf.  We’d
always play against each other; loser was supposed to buy the ice cream.  I
smile as I remember how my dad always lost.

Dane
turns and challenges me.  “What do you say we place a little wager on this
race?”

I
pretend to look suspicious, but grin anyway.  “What do you have in mind?”

“Loser
buys drinks on the way home.”

I think
about it and eye the track.  I must be feeling over confident from the batting
cages.  “Deal.”

We
watch the rest of the race and try to determine which karts are the fastest.  Dane
thinks the blue one is faster and ends up behind its wheel, while I choose yellow
#4.  I catch his eye from across two lanes and give him a competitive nod,
flexing my hands around the steering wheel.

“Bring it!”
he shouts to me.

After
the attendants make sure we’re secure and start our karts, the countdown
begins.  The light turns green, and we all peel away from the starting line.  I
get caught up behind a little boy and his father right off.  I try to maneuver
around them, but don’t manage it until the second turn in the track.  Dane is
already way ahead of me.  I gain a little ground during the second lap as I
push the pedal to the floor.  I’m right behind him by the third lap.  As we
round the final turn to start the fourth, I actually start to edge around him. 
But toward the middle of the lap, my kart starts to sputter and lose speed.

“Noooo!”
I yell in frustration as I realize the thing is probably running out of gas.  I
pump the pedal to make the kart move faster, but it doesn’t work.  It cuts off
and drifts to a stop.

The
rest of the racers finish the lap and pull into the starting gate to end the
race as I am stuck, stalled out toward the end of the track.  I notice Dane
looking around to see where I finished as he gets out of his kart.  When he
spots me, he starts laughing.  I slouch in my seat as an attendant runs out to
push me off to the side.  Stupid yellow #4.

“I told
you the blue one was faster,” Dane teases me as I walk off the track.

“Yeah,
yeah,” I mutter under my breath.

He
laughs.  “I hope you brought money.”

I make
a face at him, but end up smiling.  It would be my luck that my kart would run
out of gas.

“Are
you up for golf?” I ask.

“Sure.”

We get
our clubs and balls and take a few practice putts.  It’s getting dark and the
whole park is lit up like a stadium.  “You sure you want to do 18?”  I bend
down to retrieve my ball.  “It’s getting late.”

“Do you
have a curfew?” he asks me.

“No,” I
shake my head, laughing.  “Just checking.”  Then I have an idea.  I’ve played
this putt-putt course a million times; I can completely rock it.  “So,” I try
to ask casually.  “Care to place a wager on this particular game?”

He
thinks about it and smiles.  “I’ll play.  What were you thinking?”

“If I
win, the last loss is void.  It never happened.”

He
grins.  “Okay.  And if I win, you kiss me.”

What? 
That was not where I was going with this!  But…I look out over the course.  I
remember it well.  I look at him and tilt my head confidently.  “Deal.”

Dane
looks shocked that I’ve actually agreed to this.  He quickly rearranges his
features and gestures to the first hole.  “Ladies first.”

After
the first nine, I’m only leading by two strokes.  I screwed up on six,
selecting the left instead of the right hole to shoot my ball out toward the
cup.  Then on the ninth green, I took a bad bounce off the brick edging,
putting me one over par.

“Shoot!”
I say with frustration as we start on ten.  I try to compensate for the slope
in the green, but my ball runs too far off to the right.

Dane
looks amused.  “You take your mini golf pretty seriously,” he notes.  “Or is it
our little wager that has you so determined?”

I look
at him annoyed.  “Both.”

He
laughs.

Going
into eighteen, we’re tied.  Figures.  I should have known not to trust my rusty
skills.  Dane takes his time setting up his ball and perusing the hole, trying
to figure out the best way to attack it.  I wait impatiently; I know exactly
how to play this hole.  He finally takes his putt…and sinks a hole in one.

Damn it.

He
looks at me victoriously and walks over to take the score card from my hand. 
He puts an overly exaggerated “1” in the box.  “Your
turn,” he challenges me as his eyes light up.

Okay. 
I can do this.  I give him a solid stare and walk over to place my ball.  I set
my feet, readjust my grip on the putter, and line up my shot.  I hit the ball.

And
sink another hole in one.

“Yes!”
I raise my arms in victory.  I walk arrogantly over to him and take the score
card, putting an even more obnoxious “1” in my column.  “That,” I say, “was all
for you.”

Dane
gives me a crooked smile and shakes his head in disbelief.  “Excellent putt,
Miss Donohue.”

I take
a little bow.  “Why, thank you.”

We head
back to the beginning of the course to turn in our putters.

“So we
tied,” Dane muses.

“Seems
that way.”

“So you
didn’t win.”

“Um,
no,” I look at him like he’s crazy.

“So you
owe me a drink.”

“What?”

“I
didn’t lose,” he points out and smiles.

I
make a face and concede.  “Fine.  Where do you want to go?”

We end
up at a small bar down the street from Adventure Land.  This is somewhere I
never would have come alone.  The exterior is dark and dingy with a blinking “open”
sign in the window.  To me the Parker Lounge screams horror movie.

“Are
you sure this is where you want to go?” I ask Dane cautiously as we get out of
the car.  I eye the motorcycles parked in the lot.

“It’s
not that bad,” he holds the door for me.

He’s
right.  Kind of.  The inside of the bar is homier.  There’s a scattering of
small round tables with a red jar candle lit in the center of each one.  Most
of the room is filled with the requisite bar, but a colorful jukebox is set at the
far end.  A couple dances in the small space in front of it while Elvis croons
“Can’t Help Falling in Love.”

We take
a seat at the bar.  A gruff looking bartender with a bushy gray beard and kind
eyes leaves a group of men at the end and comes over.  He looks at us like we
must be lost.  “Can I help you?”

Dane looks
at me.  “What’ll it be?”

“You
won the bet,” I make myself comfortable on the stool.  “Order what you want.”

“You’re
not going to get anything?”

I
consider it.  “Do you have Coke?” I ask Long John Silver.

He
nods.

Dane
scoffs.  “A Coke?  Really?”

“What’s
wrong with that?”

Dane
sighs.  “We’ll take a Coke and a draft,” he nods toward the tap in front of
him.

“I.D.?”
Long John Silver asks.

Dane
pulls out his wallet to show him his driver’s license.  Long John is appeased
and sets to getting our drinks.  I look around the room nervously as we wait
for his return.

“Why are
you so on edge?” Dane asks.  “It’s just a bar.”

“I
don’t know,” I answer honestly.  The people look nice enough.

“Out of
your element?” he smiles.  “Trying something new can be hard,” he says with
mock sympathy.

I glare
at him, but then cave in and smile.  “Just drink your default beer,” I say as
Long John returns with our fabulous order.  I glance at my Coke and there’s an
unexpected cherry in it.  I look up and smile at Long John and he smiles back
at me.

“Default
beer?”

“You totally
won that race by default!  I only lost due to equipment failure.”

He
laughs.  “That could be true.”

“It is
true!”

“I
guess we’ll need a rematch to test your true Go Kart skills,” he teases and takes
a drink.  “So,” he pauses,“how’s your heart?”

“Hmm?”
I ask as I swallow.

“Your
heart.  How’s it feeling now?”

Honestly,
I forgot all about it.  But that’s what I wanted, what I came to him looking
for.  “It’s much better,” I admit.  “Thank you.”