Brightest Kind of Darkness (12 page)

Ethan held my gaze. “I know that you made a necklace at your aunt’s on Friday night, that you skipped burnt bacon for Starbucks on Saturday, and that you wanted the denim couch but your mom nixed your opinion and chose a tan color instead.”

I was shocked and oddly excited by his pinpoint accuracy. “You can tell me what I did in the past?” I shook my head. “But I thought you saw things
before
they happened, like what happened with my locker today.”

Ethan’s expression turned serious. “I can only see what
you’ve
seen or will see.”

My pulse was racing so fast, I barely got the words out, “How is that possible?”

“Because I have your dreams, Nara.”

I couldn’t blink, couldn’t move. I should’ve known. Ethan had seemed incredibly intuitive whenever we were together, but now all the things that he’d seemed to “know” about me made total sense. Rage accompanied shock and embarrassment that he knew my secret. The accusation,
You’re the reason my dreams have gone wonky!
scratched at the back of my throat, demanding release. “Why are you taking my dreams from me?” I finally managed in a low voice. It hurt to think he’d purposefully done it. “And how is that even possible?”

My emotions must’ve been written all over my face, because he leaned forward, his expression pleading for understanding. “It’s not like that. You have to believe me, Nara. I’d never do anything to intentionally upset you.”

Ethan’s face didn’t reflect triumph. It held intrigued interest; a desire for my understanding. My initial anger settled, even though I still felt a part of me was missing. “How did this happen?”

“Do you want to know what happens the rest of your day?” he asked in a calm voice.

I lifted an eyebrow. In my dream, the rest of my day went along normally. Of course, none of this stuff with Ethan had been in it. “You mean there’s something
more
mind-blowing than learning you’re seeing my dreams?”

He smirked and shook his head. “Nothing more eventful than that.” Covering my hand, he slid his thumb rhythmically over mine. “Unless you count the end of the day—when you kiss me.”

Chapter Twelve

We kiss?
Why can he see himself in my dreams, yet I can’t?

We kiss!

Ethan’s surprising comment played over and over in my head, beating away my doubts. My insides heated and curled inward like paper slowly burning along the edges. I was a steamy ball of nervous excitement. My gaze locked on his lips, which apparently was more obvious than I realized, because his gorgeous smile was back. It was almost predatory, the way his lips snared my rapt attention and kept me from acknowledging the hundreds of questions pinging in my head.

Cupping my chin, Ethan’s smile faded. “Are you okay?”

When he traced his thumb along my jawline, swirls of steam shot everywhere at once. Clearing my throat, I pulled back to shake the fog out of my mind. “I—I’m fine.” I glanced around nervously and saw several people watching us. “Tell me how this happened,” I said in a hushed voice.

Ethan finally noticed the attention we’d drawn. His mouth set in a hard line. “Not here. Can you come to my house after practice?”

His house? My stomach fluttered. His brother was out of town. We’d be alone. “It’ll probably be after six. I’ve got to go home and take a shower first. Where do you live?”

“Turtle Creek. First street on the left. Fifth house on the right.”

A couple acres of farmland separated our neighborhoods. I could walk to his house
. “Why didn’t you tell me you lived so close?”

“You didn’t ask.”

My mind spun on an excuse to stay longer if I needed one. “You’ve got internet at home, right?”

When he nodded, I said, “Good. While I’m there, maybe we could research resources for our project. Like, I don’t know, maybe the role superstition has played in wars? Does that sound okay to you?”

“That’s fine,” he said absently, his eyebrows drawing together. “You seem strangely calm.”

Which was pretty amazing considering a full-blown freak-out episode was raging inside my head.
Why did this happen? What does Ethan think of me? He doesn’t seem to be wigged out, but would he have even told me he was seeing my dreams if I hadn’t confronted him? Why wouldn’t he tell me?
I made a funny face, trying not to let my concerns show. “I’m fine.”

“You’re talking about homework for God’s sake—” his gaze narrowed. “You
are
coming, right?”

I stared at him, unblinking. I didn’t see any of this in my dream about today, but he’d seen us kiss, so obviously he saw more than me. “If you really see my dreams, you already know the answer to that.”

“I’m not—” he paused, frustration reflecting in eyes. “You’ve taken detours before.”

My heart jerked. How would he know that? How long had he been seeing my dreams?

The bell rang, ending study hall and our conversation. I glared at the speaker. I was going to pound that bell with a sledgehammer.

* * *

Tucking my hands in my jacket pockets, I lowered my head against the cool wind and set out for the woods down the street from my house. I could’ve driven, but I was curious to know just how close Ethan’s house was to mine. Not to mention, I needed the exercise to calm my nerves before I got there.

There was still light outside when I’d entered the forest, but I hadn’t considered the trees were mostly evergreens, their thick needles filtering out the last bit of daylight.

As I quick-walked, carefully picking my way over sticks, dry leaves and thick forest underbrush, shadows loomed and night animals began to croak, bleep and chatter. My pulse jumped at the flood of noises and my pace followed suit.

When dozens of wings flapped in unison, preceding a mass exodus of black birds taking to the night sky, I gasped. Thoughts of my scary dash through the woods and the near miss with Kurt and Jay rushed through my mind. Maybe I should’ve driven to Ethan’s after all.

Heart racing, I began to run, pumping my arms and taking lungfuls of air to push me along. Once I was clear of the forest and halfway through the farmland’s open pasture, I heard cows lowing in the distance. Their sounds were so unconcerned and normal, I slowed to a walk, feeling silly for panicking.

The scent of cow dung wafted my way, and I wrinkled my nose, paying closer attention where I stepped in the growing darkness.
Why didn’t I think to bring a flashlight?
A drop of cold rain hit my scalp and then another pinged my cheek right before a third one landed in the part in my hair. By the time I’d pulled up my hood, hundreds of drops had quickly turned into a light rain shower.
Awww, come on!
I waved my fist at the dark clouds above and I dashed across the rest of the pasture, looking for Turtle Creek’s main road.

The brief rain shower had stopped by the time I reached Ethan’s house; a modest colonial blue two-story house with a single car garage and a matching shed in the back. When I passed Ethan’s car parked in the driveway, my hands were clenched at my sides. The idea of discussing my dreams with him made me tense. I wasn’t sure if I was scared or excited. Maybe somewhere in between.

I raised my hand to knock on the door and paused, my mind racing. Moist wind battered the porch, pressing my wet zip-up jacket against me. I had no idea what was coming, yet Ethan did. I wasn’t sure how I felt about him knowing stuff about us that I didn’t. As I stood there shivering, I couldn’t help but think about all the kooky things I did in the privacy of my home, things Ethan had to have seen. Despite the cold, my face flushed with embarrassment.

Before I had a chance to knock, Ethan opened the door. The tension around his mouth instantly eased and he wrapped his fingers around my upheld hand. “I’m glad you came.”

As soon as he touched me, all my balled-up worry vanished like morning mist burned off by the rising sun’s sweeping warmth. “Um…hi.”

“You walked?” he asked, pulling me inside.

I pushed the wet hood down to my shoulders and shivered. “This trip to your house wasn’t in my dream, so I had no idea I’d get caught in the rain.”

“You’ve gotta be freezing.” Ethan stepped close and pulled at the zipper. As the zipper unwound, I held my breath, my mind wondering many miles down the road. Would I want more than a kiss from him?

Pulling off the wet material, he said, “I’ll go put this in the dryer.”

His sparsely decorated living room made me smile as I rubbed my sweater’s sleeves to get warm. A dark leather couch and matching chair sat in front of a huge flat screen TV. Old wine barrels doubled as end tables on either side of the couch. Sports and music magazines littered the glass tabletop balanced on a gnarled tree-trunk base. Airplane photos and university campus sketches were the only decorations on the walls. It was
all
guy.

The mantle above the fireplace had two black-and-white photos. The first one was of two boys, around ten and five, holding fishing poles. One tiny fish dangled between their held up hands. Their feet were filthy, their clothes caked in mud, but huge victory grins were plastered on their faces.

I picked up the second picture frame. Ethan was older in this one, around eleven or twelve. He laughed as an older guy with short blond hair stood behind him, his arm wrapped around Ethan’s neck. The guy was clearly enjoying the knuckle-noogie he was inflicting on Ethan’s head—as only an older brother would.

I saw some of Ethan’s features in Samson’s face, but their dark and light looks made them appear very different from each other.

“That’s Samson’s favorite.”

Ethan’s deep voice startled me. “Hey,” I said, putting the photo back. “I wanted to see if you and your brother looked alike.”

Ethan studied the picture. “We’re pretty different. Samson’s the responsible one.”

He was standing so close, I had to lift my chin to meet his gaze. “I think you’re responsible. You’ve saved me more than once.”

A wry smile flashed. “It’s much easier when I know what’s going to happen, Nara.”

“How long
have
you been seeing my dreams?”

“Since a couple weeks before you dreamed the school was going to be bombed.”

Which meant, he had to know I was the one who’d called in the bombing tip.

I gripped his arm. “I’m sorry. I had no idea the police would think I meant you when I told them the bomber was an expelled student.”

He shrugged, his biceps flexing underneath my fingers. “You were trying to do the right thing.”

Heaving a sigh of relief, I dropped my hand. “How did all this happen?”

Ethan pulled me over to the couch. “Tell me about your gift first. It might help explain why.”

Kicking off my shoes, I sat down and leaned against the couch’s arm, facing Ethan. My hands shook as I set them on my knees, so I wrapped my arms around my bent legs, lacing my fingers tight. “It’s kind of hard. I don’t talk about…my dreams.”

Ethan put his hand on my knee. “We need to trust each other, Nara.”

He was right. He was seeing my dreams for a reason. Blowing out a breath, I continued, “If you’ve been seeing my dreams, then you know me better than anyone else.”

“You told your aunt you’d had this ability since you were seven.”

I dug my fingers into each other, unsure what to say next.

“Your aunt seems great,” Ethan prompted.

I smiled slightly. “I love Aunt Sage. She overwhelms me sometimes, but it’s not the same as having your parents around and supporting you.”

Ethan’s hand slipped from my knee and he stared at a worn spot on in his jeans. “I get that.”

His issues seemed much deeper and sadder than my own. I plunged on, hoping he wouldn’t start to think about his parents. “You already know that I see my entire day in my dreams. Well, at least until the day I called in the bomb threat. That whole day’s dream was interrupted when I woke up. I’ve only had sporadic dreams since then.”

When I finished speaking, something clicked in my mind. “Wait a minute. Did you ask me to study with you because you realized I hadn’t see my Trig test?”

He cut his gaze my way. “Partly.”

I sat up straighter. “And offering to help me at soccer practice?”

“I watched you play, remember? I realized you were probably depending on your dreams, of
knowing
what would happen at practices and games, versus relying on your skills and instincts.”

Crossing my arms, I sat back against the couch and frowned.

“You needed it,” he insisted.

“I don’t want to be someone’s pity case.”

Ethan looked surprised. “You think I did it because I felt sorry for you?”

My pulse elevated. “You didn’t?”

“Nara, I did it for
you
.” His blue eyes snapped, laser sharp. “Only for you.”

“I’m sorry.” I bit my lip, feeling stupid for not understanding how much he liked me.

“You have no idea how hard it was not to wail on those two jerks who’d offered you a ride that day.” His hands were clenched into tight fists, his gaze burning holes in the wall. Fury and fear flitted across his features. “I had to watch them beat you, pummel your face, your body with their relentless pounding. They were merciless. Blood was everywhere and I felt every blow.”

Unshed tears turned his blue eyes the color of midnight when he looked at me. Even as my stomach churned at the close call, I scooted close to him. “But they didn’t. You stopped them.”

He took a deep breath and his nostrils flared. “I almost didn’t make it when they tried again.”

“You’re talking about the woods?”

“Yes. That’s why I wasn’t at school that day. Once I saw your dream, the next morning I went to my old school to find my friends and ask for their help. I didn’t want to take a chance that I couldn’t handle those jerks on my own.”

Ethan had done everything he could to protect me. Gratitude, awe and affection swirled in my head. I couldn’t decide which emotion was the strongest. Overwhelmed, I laid my head on his shoulder and whispered, “I—I don’t know what to say. ”

Ethan touched my jaw, his fingers warm and gentle. “Let me finish before you decide what you think about me…about us,” he said softly.

About us?
His comment echoed in my mind over and over. Why would he think I’d walk away? The possibility of a future together exhilarated me.

I sat up and tucked my legs underneath me. “Tell me how you’re able to see my dreams.”

Blowing out a breath, he raked his fingers through his hair. I’d never seen him so tense and uneasy. His hand dropped to his thigh, then quickly shoved across his jeans. “When I was thirteen, I started hearing voices and seeing images in my mind.”

He paused and cut his gaze to me. I’d involuntarily raised my eyebrows, but I wouldn’t dare interrupt. Forcing my expression to settle, I waited for him to continue.

He stared at the wall again. “The voices were always angry and dark, the scenes negative and often horrific. I played my music louder, trying to blow them out of my mind. But they followed me in my sleep, too, where they’d morph into monsters doing unspeaking things—a full-on horror film. I’d wake up feeling nauseous from the blood, the gore and sheer destructiveness of my dreams.”

“Didn’t your parents try to help you?”

He glared at the wall. “For the next year and a half I was dragged from one shrink to the next to talk about my ‘internal anger issues’. They pumped me with all kinds of drugs from bipolar to schizophrenic to sleeping pills. Nothing calmed the twisted, dark crap going on inside my head.”

Torture and pain reflected in his eyes while he described his past. Every moment must’ve been terrifying and depressing. “What happened?” I asked evenly as my pulse raced.

His lips curled inward in a snarl of self-disgust. “I thought I was going stark raving mad. But a suggestion one of the psychiatrists recommended stuck with me, so I began to draw what I’d sometimes seen in my mind, but most often occurred in my dreams.”

I was almost afraid to ask. “That drawing I saw of the horned demon-like creature in your notebook?”

“Is one of several hundreds,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Somehow sketching them helps me deal.”

A cold trickle of unease skittered down my spine. “You’re still experiencing all of it, aren’t you?”