Call Out (29 page)

When we pulled up outside of the house in
Winter Park, London parked and turned off the key, but neither of
us got out of the car. We just sat and stared at the milling agents
and the half-destroyed house, the sight of last night’s
confrontation. I don’t know how long we would have sat there like
that if Ashe hadn’t come out to usher into the house.

A woman I didn’t recognize was sitting on one
of the sofas when we came in. Ashe introduced her as Dr.
Something-or-other-that-I-didn’t-catch and told us she was a
psychologist who worked with the agency. We got shanghaied into a
freaking counseling session, right then and there.

It was the worst two hours of my life, but I
felt more human afterward. And I knew for certain that London
didn’t hate me for doing what I felt I had to do. I wasn’t sure
when I’d stop feeling guilty about not feeling guilty, but Dr.
Whatsit assured me that what I was feeling was normal in a case
like this one. I didn’t think there could ever have been a case
anything like mine, but I appreciated the reassurance anyway.

The good doctor hooked me and London up with
referrals to shrinks in our necks of the woods, specialists who
worked with those of us who were clued in to the metaphysical
world. I knew I would need someone to talk to, someone outside the
situation, so I was grateful for the name and number of the
psychologist in Houston. Thankfully, I wouldn’t be the one paying
the bill, though I wasn’t really sure who would be. Maybe the
agency, maybe London, maybe a mysterious benefactor. I couldn’t
even bring myself to care. I figured I’d earned a little free
therapy.

The next couple of days were a blur of
hospital visits, crying jags, therapy sessions, and cuddling up in
bed with London. I booked a flight home, which London insisted on
paying for, and tried to imagine going back to my former life.
Somehow all the bits and pieces that had made up my world – beers
and local bands with my friends, classrooms and essays, my
live-action role-play group, laundry and dishes and errands – it
all seemed so far away and unreal now. And so very, very
unimportant.

The night before I was to leave, as I lay
curled up with London trying to fall asleep, I felt his lips brush
the shell of my ear. A couple more tentative kisses and touches
asked my permission to explore farther, and I gave it. It was our
first time together since the attack. On a physical level, it might
have been the worst sex I’d had since losing my virginity. We were
both tense and uncertain, and London seemed to think of me as
fragile. On an emotional level, though, it was a time of healing
that we both needed.

Thankfully, the wake-up sex the next morning
was a helluva lot better.

We said our private goodbyes in the bedroom
long before Ashe drove us to the airport and they both hugged me
and told me to call when I got home. I promised to call them, and
then turned and walked away. It was one of the hardest things I’ve
ever done.

Over the next couple of weeks, I forced
myself back into the rhythm of classes and chores, squeezing in
time for a trip to Dallas to pack up some things that Dylan didn’t
want the movers messing with. As the week passed, my routine
started to feel more normal, and with the help of the psychologist,
I began to feel more normal as well.

Dylan kept me updated where Brian’s recovery
was concerned. Every day was better for him than the day before,
and he surprised the doctors with how quickly he improved. He
probably wouldn’t be ready to play the next leg of DPS’s tour, but
he’d be back on the stage, and sooner rather than later.

London plunged headlong into the search for
the girl in Julia’s vision. I wasn’t sure who all he had helping
him, but they managed to find out that Julia had been seen with a
child matching the description of the girl in the vision. Knowing
she was real didn’t put them any closer to finding her, though.

Ashe and I talked once in a while, and he let
me know that Martine and her friends at the agency hadn’t made any
headway at all in figuring out who the mysterious man in league
with Julia might have been. For now, we’d just have to keep looking
over our shoulders.

Much like everything else, my relationship
with London fell into a state of stasis. Between learning more
about his magic, looking for the girl who might be his daughter,
and gearing up for the next segment of the DPS tour – including
practicing with a temporary replacement for Brian – London didn’t
exactly have a lot of time. I was busy catching up on the school
work I’d missed and trying to keep from falling behind on the new
material as well as looking for an internship, which is pretty much
a full-time gig in and of itself. We kept in touch as best we
could, with brief phone calls and emails and social networking
sites. That sort of communication doesn’t foster growth, but at
least we weren’t losing any ground. We decided to take it one day
at a time and just see how things worked out.

But then, what else can you really do? No
matter how much we plan and scheme and set goals and work toward
some end, life can only be lived one day at a time. The trick is
learning to balance making the most of each day you’re given by
living in the moment with planning for the future, cherishing
memories, and learning from the past. I’m not sure I’ll ever find
equilibrium, but I’m practicing the balancing act – one day at a
time.

To learn more about the author or her
favorite bands, visit
http://kishi.netdojo.com

Look for
Whatever It Takes
, Jukebox
Heroes book Two, coming soon.

Also available,
The Hand of Fate
,
prelude to the Jukebox Heroes series:

With her 30th birthday on the horizon and
life handing her lemon after lemon, Dylan Connelly wants nothing
more than to get away from it all for a few days. The last thing
she expected – or wanted – was to become intrigued by a gorgeous
stranger. But sometimes chance – or fate -- has a way of changing
our plans.