Pretty Dark Nothing (18 page)

“Let her.” Quinn turned so she was nose-to-nose with him. “There’s no place I’d rather be.” She draped her arm over his and fingered the soft flannel of his sleeve. “Why do you always wear long sleeves?” She tugged at the cuff.

Her curiosity assaulted him. Her attempt to probe his barrier felt clumsy and unfocused. He sensed a current of latent power that he guessed she didn’t even know was there.
She
probed
him
, not the other way around. The realization hit him like a mac truck;
that’s
why they didn’t always have to be skin-to-skin for him to sense her. Millions of questions rushed him, and he struggled to slow down his quivering brain. How do you tell someone they might have latent psychic ability? Would mentioning it freak her out?

Quinn played with the small, pearl button of his shirt, and a tiny piece of his wall cracked.

Her power brushed against his mind, questing for an answer. “Even when it’s hot, even when everyone’s in t-shirts, you’re covered up. Why?”

Because reading minds and emotions wasn’t his only secret, or his darkest. “I … ” Aaron’s mouth went dry as he tried to compose himself, tried to patch the chink in his barrier before the whole thing collapsed. Then, she was gone, retreating behind the barrier as if she’d never been there at all.

She had no idea what she was asking him to do, the wounds that would bleed if he showed her, but something deep inside urged him to do it. And maybe telling her would bring her closer to opening up to him. He had sensed it, she wanted to. Maybe he could tell her one secret, but not the other. Start small, at the beginning. It was up to him to take the first step. Aaron took a deep breath before rolling up the sleeves of his flannel shirt. He turned his palms face up, bared his forearms, and thus, his soul.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Quinn stared at the thick, jagged scars that snaked up Aaron’s arms. From his wrist, six inches of rough, pink, clumpy tissue embossed his pale flesh. She took his left hand in hers and traced the scar with her finger, feeling, memorizing every bump and curve. He flinched and jerked away.

“Sorry.” Aaron massaged the scar and stared off into space. “It’s hard for me to let anyone see them, let alone touch them.”

“No, I’m sorry. I should never have pushed you.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to do.”

A hollow pit opened in her stomach. Staring at his scars, she didn’t want to admit to herself, to anyone, that she’d contemplated the same thing. Quinn pretended to pick grass off her sweater and tried to think of the right words to fill the awkward silence. “Why’d you do it? You must have been pretty messed up to want to die.” She winced for making the dumbest statement she could possibly make. Who was she to call somebody messed up when she was the queen of freakdom? “Sorry, you’re sharing a painful moment, and I’m saying all the wrong things.”

Aaron shrugged. “I was messed up. More than messed up.”

“So, why? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” But she desperately wanted him to. Knowing he’d been so messed up once that he tried to kill himself made her feel less crazy, less alone.

“No. I want to.” Aaron hung his head, and a strand of dark hair fell across his furrowed brow. She wanted to smooth it back, to comfort him the way he’d comforted her so many times before, but she sensed he needed space to think through the story. “It was a combination of things. Guilt. Anger. Grief.” His voice flowed from his full lips, soft, low. “I wanted to stop the pain, to stop feeling. I thought it was the way out. That maybe it would make things right.”

“Make what right?”

He turned onto his back as he spoke, gazing into Neverland. “There was an accident.” He rolled down his sleeves, telling the story as if recounting something he’d heard on the news. “I don’t remember much about that night. I only know what my dad told me.”

He paused, his Adam’s apple lowering as he struggled to swallow. “My mom, little sister, and I were on the way back from dropping my brother off at a friend’s. It was raining and there were reports of flooding, so my mom had taken a different route home. We were on a bridge, and some kid in a pickup was going too fast. He lost control and hit the car smack on the driver’s side.” Aaron paused. “Our car crashed over the barrier and into the water. Ruth, my baby sister, was in the back. She was four.”

He cleared his throat. “The impact broke my window. The water was so cold. I tried to get them out. I tried, but it was dark, and I didn’t know which was up. I watched her … Ruth.” He choked out her name. “I watched her sink beneath the rushing water. She reached for me. I tried … to get to her.”

“Aaron, I’m sorry.” Quinn’s face was wet with tears. She tried to imagine what it would be like to watch her mother die right in front of her, powerless to stop it. The demons, her break up with Jeff, everything she’d ever been through paled in comparison. Aaron always seemed so strong and sure. No one would ever have guessed he’d been through something so tragic. Everything about him emanated quiet strength. It’s what drew her to him. Could he help her find her own strength and courage? Drive the darkness from her mind?

“I blamed myself.” Aaron balled his fist and fastened the button around his wrist, covering the last inch of his secret.

“They found me by the side of the river, dead. Nobody knows how long I’d been there. The paramedics managed to resuscitate me, but I couldn’t breathe on my own. When I finally woke from the coma, I didn’t know who I was. I didn’t know anyone or anything. Do you know what it’s like to feel completely alien in a world that should be familiar?” His eyes glistened, and he turned away, blinking.

Quinn shook her head, but she understood more than he could possibly imagine. Aaron’s strength inspired her. If he could survive all that, she could fight these demons, she could get her life back on track. “How long did it take to regain your memory?”

“I’ll never get it all back. I’m not the same Aaron. After the accident, I knew I didn’t belong here. It should be Ruth sitting here today, not me. I should be dead—I was dead. I tried to right the wrong and spent six months in the psych ward at Rio Villa for it.”

Aaron placed a hand on Quinn’s cheek and brushed the moisture away with his thumb. “Hey, don’t cry.” He pulled her to him. Her head rested on his chest, tucked beneath his chin as she swallowed the shame rising inside. She’d treated Aaron like crap, pushed him away because she’d been afraid to trust him. Yet here he was again, this beautiful, damaged soul baring his broken heart and asking for nothing in return. And to think, she once wanted Jeff over Aaron. Jeff wasn’t fit to even stand in Aaron’s shadow. His fingers moved through her hair, consoling her as she soaked his shirt with her tears. She should be the one protecting him from his pain, not the other way around. She let him comfort her anyway and let herself contemplate falling in love with him.

“Is that why you moved here?” she asked.

He nodded. “They told my dad trying to force me into my old life was too stressful. I needed to start a new one. A different life for a different Aaron.”

“Does anyone else know?”

“Marcus, a few others.”

“But, those scars are major. How did you survive?”

Aaron stiffened. She listened to his heartbeat against her cheek.

“I didn’t.” His voice sounded strained.

“What do you mean?” Quinn held her body completely still. She heard her blood whooshing in her ears as her pulse quickened.

“I died. Josh found me in a pool of blood. I died in the hospital. They brought me back just before … ”

“Before what?”

“I’m not sure.” His frown darkened, and he shook his head. Quinn bit her lip. Had she gone too far? Aaron didn’t speak, but he didn’t push her away either. He lay rigid, and she tensed in response. Breath for breath, she matched him, waiting, wondering what she should do.

“I try to remember, but it slips away every time I come close.” He paused and lowered his voice. “I saw something. The same something I saw the first time when I was in the coma. Something in the darkness. Watching me.”

“You’ve seen it twice? What was it? Were you scared?” Quinn held her breath. If Aaron had seen them, could describe them, then she wasn’t crazy, or alone. Could Aaron’s uncanny ability to show up in her time of distress be more than coincidence? Could it have something to do with what he’d seen during his time in the coma?

“No, I don’t remember feeling scared, but it’s a blur.”

Quinn’s heart sunk. For a moment, she had been sure Aaron would be able to answer her questions.

“All I know is that I wasn’t alone. I was sent back for a reason, but I have no idea what that reason is. Why else would I survive two near-death experiences? I know it sounds … well … kind of crazy.”

Aaron’s face glistened in the dim shaft of moonlight. Quinn stroked his hair. “I don’t think you’re crazy.”

He took her head in his hands and pulled her down to him. Their lips touched, and she came alive, every nerve in her body was aware of him. She tasted butter as his mouth opened to hers. Strong hands stroked her back. Her world spun backward, turned upside-down, and all the fear and confusion drained out of her. She wanted Aaron, his lips on hers, his hands caressing her.

Passion fed on passion as the intensity of the kiss grew. As if he could read her mind, he rolled her over, pressing his body against hers. Quinn thought they might melt right through to the core of the earth. The kiss softened. The sweetest, longest, most gentle touch of his lips on hers. Then, he pulled away, leaving them both breathless.

“Wow. That’s not usually the reaction I get when I spill my deep, dark secrets.” Aaron curled himself around her, lips against her shoulder. His warm breath awakened her desire for him to kiss her neck, and her heartbeat quickened.

“Aaron?”

“Quinn?” He stroked her hair.

“I’ve got a deep, dark secret too.”

“That you’re a druggie? I heard.” He kissed her neck, her cheek, eyelid, nose, and finally brushed his gentle lips on hers.

“I’m serious.” Quinn’s sentences, words, thoughts unraveled with every touch of his lips, making it impossible to concentrate.

He continued kissing her nose, cheek, eyelids. “You sound it.” He kissed her, deeply.

“Maybe you were sent back for me.”

“So I could ravage you in the moonlight? If so, I’m grateful.”

“I’m serious. I need to tell you before I lose my nerve,” she whispered.

“Sorry. I’m listening.” Aaron’s eyes met hers, and she felt naked, like he already knew what was in her soul. “I told you a secret, now you can tell me one of yours. I won’t judge. I swear. You can tell me anything.”

“I’ve seen … ” An invisible hand wrapped around her neck, squeezing and constricting the air from her lungs. She tried to form the words, but they wouldn’t come. Trapped in one of those dreams where you scream and scream but no sound ever comes out. She fought to speak, but every thought of telling him brought an increase in pressure. She bolted upright and clawed at her throat, fighting the invisible fingers for breath.

“Are you okay?” Aaron’s eyes widened, glowing in the moonlight.

She looked up. A dark mass covered the moon. The darkness forced itself inside her, taking over, like a shadow crawling through her veins. Her whole body shook as she fought against it.
I won’t tell him. Please, please just let me go!
she thought.
I swear!

She grabbed Aaron’s hand, and in response he gathered her in his arms, stroking her hair, her back, her skin until his touch burned through the darkness, dispelling the shadow, and freeing her from its grip. The cords in her neck relaxed, and she gulped at the cool night air.

“Quinn? Are you okay?” Fear spiked his voice.

“Yeah, it’s just … getting kind of cold.” She untangled from his arms, gently pushing him away. “I should get back, anyway. Ride the bus with the others.” She sat up and brushed the leaves from her hair and tried to give him a reassuring smile.

“Yeah, sure.” The hurt look on Aaron’s face was like a slap. Their eyes locked, and Quinn wanted to bolt from the intensity of his stare. “I meant what I said about telling me anything.”

“I know.” She glanced at the moon. The ominous darkness obscured the once bright sky. “It’s nothing, really.” Shadows crept from every inch of the field, flickering in and out of her vision. Watching to make sure she kept her mouth shut. “We should go.” Quinn got up first, heading back to the bike, followed by Aaron, followed by darkness.

***

Aaron sensed Quinn’s tension growing as they approached civilization. She gripped him tightly, almost too tight, as if she were afraid she might be ripped from the back of the bike, a stark contrast to the ride out.

He stopped the bike at the back of the parking lot. The concrete and steel stadium looked grim in the wake of his disappointment and frustration. Westland High supporters streamed from the exits, subdued, while the opposing side whooped and clapped each other on the back.

“Looks like we lost.” He dismounted and offered his hand. Quinn ignored him, her eyes fixed on the sky. He followed her gaze to the bright harvest moon. He cleared his throat. She blinked and turned to him, like waking from a deep sleep. Dark circles ringed her eyes, cheeks sunken, face drawn in worry.

“What’s new?” She looked behind her, shoulders tensing as she examined the long shadows of the cars on the pavement. Aaron furrowed his brow. Something wasn’t right; it was as if Quinn had been replaced by a shell. When he looked at her, emptiness stared back, and he thought he’d never seen someone look so forlorn before.

“I wish I didn’t have to go back.” The longing in Quinn’s voice persuaded him to try the telepathic link one more time. He didn’t care if she didn’t want him reading her thoughts. He was sick of being pushed away; it was time to push back.

“We don’t. I could take you back to the field. We could start the night over.” Swallowing his guilt, he took her hand and sent out another exploratory telepathic thread. An endless void yawned before him. He groped through it, searching for a thought, a feeling, for any sign of their psychic connection, but her mind was lost to him, surrounded by an endless, dark wasteland he couldn’t penetrate. He was blind, his gift useless.