A Desire So Deadly (A Need So Beautiful #2.5)(17)

And Harlin. What the hell was that about? I want to be ashamed, but instead I’m reveling in the smell of him left behind on my skin. His taste. His voice drifting into my ear. Clearly I’ve gone off the rails—but I’m not sorry. Why aren’t I sorry?

Every light in my house is ablaze when I pull into the driveway ten minutes later. I take a moment to gather myself, wiping my cheeks and smoothing back my hair. I touch my lips, flashing back to how it felt when Harlin kissed me. I close my eyes, missing him.

What is wrong with me? I quickly get out of the Jeep and head inside, embarrassed that I let a stranger interrupt what should be a normal grieving process. I just caught my boyfriend and my best friend together. I should be furious. I should be devastated. And I was. When I was at the movies, I’d never felt such hatred, like I was surrounded in a dark cloud of misery. Now . . . I’m just sad.

I walk in the front door, expecting to find my parents watching TV on the sofa, but the room is empty. I hear the water running in the kitchen. When I walk in, I see my mother at the sink, scrubbing forcefully at the bottom of a pan.

“Hey, Mom.”

My mother turns so quickly the pan drops from her hands and clatters in the sink. She stands for a minute, looking me over, and then turns off the faucet. “Thank God,” she says, and then crosses the room to hug me. My mother always smells like vanilla, the scent of comfort, and although I don’t know why she’s hugging me, in her arms the events of the day, of the weekend, come crashing down. I start to cry into my mother’s shoulder.

“Claire, where have you been?” she asks, pulling away to look at me. She brushes back my hair with her still-wet hands. “Your father and brother are out looking for you. I called Soleil, but she said the two of you are fighting. She said you had a breakdown in the movie theater. What’s going on?”

I sniffle back my tears, my fear and hurt bubbling up to the surface. “Ezra and Soleil,” I start, “they were together at the movies. I think they’re seeing each other.”

My mother’s eyes widen, and she pulls me against her once again. She says all the soothing things she should, trying her best to make it better, be understanding. But it’s not just my relationship drama weighing on me. I’m scared.

“Mom,” I say, and my voice cracks. “I think something’s wrong with me.”

She tilts her head sympathetically. “Oh, honey. There’s nothing wrong with you. If Ezra is cheating, that’s because he’s a jerk. Not because you did something wrong.”

“No. That’s not what I mean. I—”

The front door opens, and we turn to see my father and brother walk in. My dad drops the keys on the entry table and crosses the room to hug me. “I was so worried,” he murmurs. “Where’ve you been?”

“I went to the beach,” I reply, my cheek against the front of his shirt. It’s all too much—the worry, the fear. With my parents I feel safe, and I don’t want to dwell on the other stuff. I don’t know if they’d believe it anyway.

My father keeps his arm around me as my mother delicately tells him about Ezra and Soleil, shooting me sympathetic glances. I feel my father stiffen and actually look at the door like he might go out and confront my boyfriend. But by the end of the conversation, it is decided that we all need some rest. A new perspective in the morning to evaluate what to do.

“Next time you go to the beach at night,” my father tells me, “let one of us know. River and I were at the beach, and the only person we saw there was some guy on a Harley. Nearly gave me a heart attack to know there was a stranger riding around while my daughter was unaccounted for.”

River narrows his eyes, trying to gauge my reaction. He might have some suspicions that I was with Harlin after seeing him in the bakery today. I quickly look away. Admitting I was with another guy isn’t going to win me any sympathy points, and right now I need the comfort.

So I let my parents tell me it will be okay. I let myself believe them. And when I go to bed, I vow to fix things in the morning—figure out what exactly is going on. And how exactly I feel about it.

Chapter 7

The sound of rain patters on the windows of the diner. I look around, and the place is empty except for one table in the corner. A blond-headed guy sits with his back to me, and I’m drawn to him. Slowly, my legs heavy as if walking through water, I move toward him. But before I reach him, he pauses, a coffee cup in his hand.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he says in a British accent, and turns slightly. I can see his features, his hair graying at the temples, the scratchy beard growing on his jaw. I recognize him, although I can’t imagine from where. “You’re still so beautiful.” He turns his back to me once again and sips from his cup.

“Who are you?” I ask. My voice sounds low and muffled. It surprises me, but then I look around again. I know this place—it’s a diner in Thistle, Arizona—even though I’ve never been there. It hits me then that this is a dream.

And sitting in front of me is Monroe Swift.

When I look at him, he’s facing me full on. He smiles, warm, loving. But in my head, I know he’s not real. Monroe died. He was my Seer; he helped me through my compulsions to save people—the Need—and led me to the light.

“Why am I here?” I ask, lifting my hands helplessly. “Why am I back?” I know things, but in that dreamlike way. Time lines don’t connect; the way I look doesn’t always match up with who I am. But I do know one thing: I’m a Forgotten. The words, the messages that come from beyond me, change people’s lives. I spread hope, and ultimately, I’ll have to sacrifice myself for the greater good. Again.