TIED (A Fire Born Novel) (8 page)

He turned back to me. “I told you. I came because I wanted to make sure you were okay. I was worried, all right?”

“So, I’m not crazy. Did you check on Devon and Benny?”

“No. And no.”

“Why not? We were all in the parking lot. I mean, whatever that was …”

He didn’t say anything for a few beats. “Layla—because the others weren’t in any danger. They weren’t affected like you were.” He stopped abruptly and put his hands up. “I can’t say anymore.”

“Something came after me. Us. Me.”
Again.

“Yes.” He wouldn’t meet my gaze.

“Yes? That’s it? All I get is,
yes
?”

“I can’t—I’m not supposed—you’ve forgotten who you are!”

My shoulders tensed. “What are you talking about?” I shouted a little too loudly. If we woke my mom, that would have been the end of our conversation. “Who I am?”

“Just trust me. That’s all I’m asking.”

“I do trust you, Max, but this isn’t normal. It’s been almost six years! I’ve been slowly losing my mind in a very real way since you left.” The reality of what it meant to have him arguing with me was hard to let sink in. I forced myself to take a deep breath. “Tell me the truth.”

“I’m trying to protect you. That’s it. It would be great if you’d let me.”

“From what?” Chills ran up my spine.

He exhaled, gazed into my eyes, and said, “I’m here for you,” in a low whisper. He leaned back against the front door as if all his energy had drained out and stared up toward the ceiling. “I’m back for you. That’s all I can tell you. Isn’t it enough?”

I tried to comprehend what he said—the way he behaved.

His gaze fell back to mine. “I care about you, Layla. I’m trying to do the right thing. Let me.”

That’s why he came back.
The reason he blew up my phone at three in the morning, and stood in my living room, gazing at me, trying to explain was because he was afraid.

My anger evaporated.

“Please, let me,” he said, voice pleading.

I reached for his hand, unable to stop myself, the full impact of my memories staring back at me as his warmth radiated through my arm. “I care about you, too. You know that. I always have.”

He squeezed my hand. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” He leaned down, kissed my cheek, and walked out the front door. Away from me, again.

7

I woke to my mom shaking me by the shoulder. “It’s nine o’clock. Don’t you have rehearsal right now?”

“Oh, my gosh!” I jumped off the couch.
Why am I on the couch? Ow … head rush.

After pausing for a second to let it pass, I ran to my room, and yanked on my dance clothes, grabbed my Gatorade, before bolting out the front door and ripping off the tarp I had draped over my disaster of a car, praying my mom hadn’t noticed.

• • •

Ms. Trudy is going to kill me.
The dance studio was packed with dancers as I hurried in, probably resembling a windblown rat.

“Miss Layla. I’m glad you could join us this morning,” Ms. Trudy said.

“Sorry I’m late. I overslept.” I jerked on my ballet slippers.

“If you are unwell, I understand, but please give me the courtesy of a phone call in the future.”

“Yes, Ma’am. I’m well.” I heaved a breath that wouldn’t convince anyone.

“Then let us move to the Grand Hall. We have already missed half an hour of practice.”

Stage lights of all colors flooded the theatre, reflecting off the gleaming wooden floor and blinding me to most of the theatre seats. Ms. Trudy sat in the first row, enabling everyone to see her, with her chin raised.

“Lay, you look awful.” Benny whispered from behind me while we warmed up, slowly dancing through our combination. “Didn’t you go straight home last night?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

Ms. Trudy gave me her signature glare.

Moving straight into first position, so as not to get scolded again, I ignored Benny and proceeded through the routine in silence.

With my mind so far away from rehearsal it wasn’t even funny, I couldn’t get the previous night out of my head. My thoughts kept drifting back to Max’s words, ‘…
I’m back for you’,
and shivers rippled through my shoulders.

I shouldn’t have thought that way. Max was my best friend. Having any kind of other feelings for him—well, it was ridiculous.

“Layla! Are you with us today? Please be aware of where you are on the floor. You practically ran Miss Dena off the stage.” Ms. Trudy was usually sweet, but messing with her, even a little bit, this close to opening night and I was done for.

“Sorry, Ms. Trudy. My head’s a little off this morning.” I refused to veer my eyes toward Dena. Maybe it would do her some good to get run off the stage.

“Yes, I would say so. Take a break, and get some water.” She ruffled the notes in her lap.

Slumping back into the dance studio, I leaned against the wall under the barres with my legs straight out in front of me. I should have been scared out of my mind over the freaky cold at the hospital. I should have respected my dance instructor and paid attention. I shouldn’t have been thinking of Max.

Although I expected Ms. Trudy to come tearing in at any moment, yelling to get back on stage, she didn’t. Benny did.

“Lay?” She squatted down next to me, lying on the floor like a sprawled out cat.

“I was awake until four in the morning.” My throat scratched like sandpaper.

“Why?” She repositioned her legs underneath her.

I wasn’t sure whether to lie or not. I loved Benny, but whatever I felt for Max seemed secret or something. Not sure what to say, I said, “Just couldn’t sleep. Too quiet. You know how I hate that.” It was partially true anyway.

She turned to me for a minute. “Go home,” she said, standing up. “I’ll tell Ms. T. you were throwing up or something—side effect of the concussion. She won’t freak too bad. You practically live here.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“You need some sleep.” Her glare challenged me to argue.

I dragged myself up to a sitting position, and Benny hauled me to my feet.

“Should I call Devon? You shouldn’t be driving.”

“Don’t go calling Devon.” I lugged my dance bag over my shoulder. “He’ll just drill me with a hundred questions. I owe you one.”

She stood at the door until I got in my car.

I rummaged around in my dance bag searching for the Gatorade I’d thrown in earlier. Benny was right, I probably shouldn’t have been driving. Thankfully, the roads were practically deserted.

“Teine? Is that you?” Mom asked as I walked back in the house.

“Yeah, too tired to practice. Up late. Going back to bed.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”
Everyone’s telling me to rest, so let me rest already.
I sank down on my bed, breathing in the scent of clean laundry, and kicked my Converse on the floor.

“Are you going to tell me what happened to your car?”

I shot back up.
Crap! I forgot to cover it with the tarp.

“Um … yeah. Just a minute.” I wracked my brain, trying to come up with a myriad of possible excuses. The doorbell rang, and the front door creaked open.

“Hi, Ms. LaBelle.” Benny’s voice chimed in from the living room.

I crept down the hall, wondering what I was going to say, and ambled into the living room just as Benny threw a pair of shoes at me from the front door. I caught them, eyebrows raised in confusion; Benny’s shoes hung from my hand.

“Layla forgot her shoes.” Benny smiled at my mom.

“I … huh?” I glanced at Benny and down at her shoes.

“Oh, well, thank you, but you didn’t need to do that. She would have been fine until later.”

“It’s no problem. See you guys.” Benny waved, winked and left.

My mom made her way back to the kitchen. “I thought you were taking a nap?” she asked in an unusual voice.

“I … uh … yeah. I was.” I turned away and stopped. “Didn’t you want to talk to me?”

“No.” She seemed disoriented. “Have a good nap.”

What is going on?
I hurriedly made my way back to my room and crawled in bed.

••

“Teine! Come and play.” The little girl runs through the forest laughing hysterically, her blonde locks bouncing down her back. “Mother is waiting for you. Where have you been?” She laughs again and runs out of sight.

“Wait, I’m coming!” I chase after her, trying to keep up. The light shifts, shining directly into my eyes. “Cara, wait.”

She skips along far ahead of me.

“I can’t see. It’s too bright.”

“You’re so silly, Teine. You know the way. Come on, Mother has been waiting.”

• • •

The heat of the shower stung my face, creating red welts on my cheeks. I splashed them with cold water before strolling out of the bathroom toward the French doors with a towel wrapped around my head.

Long lines formed along the ocean’s horizon, one after the other in fluid succession, as I walked out on the back porch. Sitting in my favorite rocking chair, legs curled underneath me, I looked out over the skyline, blue water and off white clouds merging into one fluid color in the distance.

The last twenty-four hours seemed like nothing more than a blur. Maybe I’d simply dreamed it all. I fished my cell phone out of my robe pocket and checked for missed calls. Ten. Benny had called twice. Three calls and voice messages from Devon, who I assumed spoke to Benny.

I scrolled down to a number I didn’t recognize. Five missed calls from the number Max had called from the night before. Five voice mails.

My pulse quickened. I keyed his name in alongside the number, hit save and waited to hear the messages.

Instead, a knock at the door took my attention. Pulling the towel off my head, I shook my hair out and crossed the house, retying my robe before swinging the door open. Max stood leaning against the side of the house, arms folded across his chest, eyebrows raised and a grin spread over his face.

“Catch you at bad time?” His gaze roamed low and down my bare legs.

I glanced down at myself.
Humiliating.
Why didn’t I use the peephole? Look out the front window? Anything? “Oh … yeah, well, no, I mean, I thought you were probably Devon.”

His lips pressed together, erasing his smile.

“That’s not what I meant. I wasn’t expecting anyone. I got out of the shower and …”
Why am I so nervous?

“It’s okay. I mean, he’s the boyfriend, right?” His gaze veered away from mine.

“Right …” I said to my feet.

“So anyway, I’ve been calling you all day. Didn’t you get my messages?” He sounded a little put out, like I’d been avoiding him on purpose.

“Yeah.” I raised my hand to show him my phone. “You knocked as I was about to listen to them.”

“You left rehearsals early?” He peered into the living room, leaning against the doorjamb.

“You do remember keeping me awake until four in the morning?”

“Sure, that’s what I figured.” He stared past me.

“You can trust me you know.” I leaned into his line of sight, bringing his attention back on me.

He dropped his chin and sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I know I can. It’s just … I worry. Answer the phone next time.”

“Okay.” Without thought, I moved forward and tilted his head back up, cupping his jaw in my hand, allowing his warmth to permeate me. “Don’t be upset. Whatever this is, it’ll be all right.” I brushed my thumb along the hollow under his eye—dark with worry. “I think you’re the one who needs sleep now.”

He bit his bottom lip, his grey eyes holding my gaze.

“I remember every curve of your face,” I whispered and leaned into him, kissing the edge of his jaw lightly. “Don’t worry so much about me.”

“Layla …” His voice trembled and caught. “That’s not possible.” He cleared his throat. “You’re all I worry about.”

I tried to wrench my gaze away, to back up, to move my hand or gain some rational thought, but my brain had turned to Jell-O.

“I think I should go,” he said, slowly taking one step back.

I nodded, looking up at him, unable to catch my breath as it raced like I’d sprinted down the beach.

A garage door opened somewhere in the distance; a door opened, too. “Teine, can you help me unload the groceries, please?”

“Coming,” I said in daze, a strange current of energy running between Max and me, holding us where we stood.

He leaned down, eyes framed with a fringe of brown lashes, and gently kissed the corner of my mouth.

I caught myself as my knees buckled.

“Your mom still calls you that?” He smirked, inches from my face.

I nodded, without breath to speak.

“I have to go.” He grinned. “Your mom and I … well, not so much.” He jerked the front door open and scrambled out. “See you soon.” He winked and left.

What just happened?

8

“I’ve been thinking.” My mother handed me another bag from the Farmer’s Market, the warmth of Max’s kiss still lingering on my mouth. I brushed my fingertips over it. “You might want to consider taking a break after the show. I think some time off might be good. Maybe we could get out of town for a while when school gets out?”

“Sure, Mom,” I said, barely listening.

“Maybe we could … Devon … it could … fun.”

“Right.” I nodded, putting the milk in the refrigerator, unsure what she said.

My dancing schedule was the least of my concerns, but the mental strain I was under was affecting my performing and my concentration.

• • •

“Layla!” Ms. Trudy roared at me again during practice. “If you cannot get it together by opening night … so help me, I will put in your understudy.”

“Sorry, Ms. Trudy.” It was all I could manage.

She restarted my music, and I attempted to focus and block out Dena‘s snickering, and the temptation to run across the stage and smack her in the face.

At the end of rehearsal, I walked out through the Grand Hall. “Ms. Trudy?” She sat slightly hidden in the dark theatre, reading over her notes. “Ms. Trudy, I’ve had a lot on my mind. I’ll get it together.”

“Yes, I know you will.” She gave me a brief, distracted smile. “You are the brightest here. I suppose that is why I am so hard on you.” She patted my hand and continued rifling through her notes.