Ever: The Ever Trilogy, Book One (Volume 1) (20 page)

After the first few buttons were undone, I opened up his collar to expose the top of his chest, my breath catching as I did so. Covering the entire left side of his chest was a darkly lined tattoo. I only saw about half of it with how few buttons had been undone, but I saw what looked like some sort of tribal tattoo, but with the tip of an angel’s wing poking out above it. When I went to pull his shirt further aside, he reached for my face and pulled me back down to him, covering my mouth with a kiss. I completely forgot about the tattoo.

Kissing him felt amazing—as it always did—but I had another brief thought that we should stop. That we should slow down. But I told myself to
go on, keep going, you can do this, you
want
to do this.

It occurred to me that I was about to go all the way with Toby. The idea excited and terrified me. I couldn’t believe I was doing this. I’d only known Toby a short time, and he was the first guy I’d ever even kissed.
This is crazy!
What if my mom opened the door? I quickly pushed that thought aside and told myself that it was
so absolutely worth the risk.
I
wanted
to go all the way with Toby.

I love him.

I think.

It didn’t matter. In that moment, the only things that mattered to me were the warmth of Toby’s body against mine, the taste of his tongue in my mouth, and the spark of life I felt inside me for the first time since … since … .

Shit. I’m crying again.
I hadn’t meant to, and I wasn’t crying loudly, but I think Toby must have felt my tears on his face. When we pulled apart, his eyes were dark with concern. He smiled a sad smile and gently wiped my tears with his hand.
What a mess.

I lay my head on his chest, listening to the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat. He pulled the covers up over us, and I instantly felt less self-conscious. He didn’t say a word and didn’t try to continue what I had ended so abruptly, though I could tell by his quickened breathing that it must have been difficult to show such restraint.

We laid like that for a long time, his hands rubbing my hair and my back, not saying anything, just listening to the hushed conversations down the hall and the front door opening and closing each time a guest left the house. By my calculations, there weren’t many remaining.

“Ever. I’m so sorry.”

I groaned at his poor choice of words. “I know, Toby. But please don’t say you’re sorry. I hate that.” I sat up, starting to feel anxious and upset again. I wondered if I’d go from content to upset all the time now, or if the ups and downs of my mood swings would soon fade away. Maybe I’d be numb again soon. I hoped so. Numb was easier.

“I just don’t understand! Why? Why did this happen? My dad is so careful! So responsible! He’s driven that road a million times!” I realized what I’d said. “
Was
. My dad
was
careful.”

“I know. I know. I’m so sorr—” The look I shot him made him stop before he said the dreaded words again. “It wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Wait. What did he just say?
It wasn’t even the words, strange as they were. It was the way he said them.

“What?”

“Nothing. Never mind. It’s just that he was so young.”

A knot started forming in my chest, a tightening of my stomach following suit.

“Toby, I heard what you said. What do you mean
‘wasn’t supposed to happen?’
That’s kind of a weird thing to say, and honestly, I’ve heard all of the weird things people say to someone whose dad died.”

I pushed out of his arms and grabbed my dress, suddenly feeling
very
exposed. I paced the floor. I couldn’t understand what he was saying or why I was so freaked out by it. Of course,
I
thought it wasn’t supposed to be my dad who was never coming back. Of course,
I
had the purely selfish thoughts, the dreams, and the moments of wishing it could be
anyone else’s
dad but mine.

But the way Toby said it … ‘
it wasn’t supposed to happen’
… the words were innocent enough, but his tone, and the meaning behind them … something wasn’t right. I knew it deep down in my gut.

Something else came crashing into my mind. I was back in the car with him the night of the accident. I could clearly see Toby’s face, his concern … and I could hear his words.

‘It’s your dad.’

How had he known?

“Ever, please calm down. Stop pacing.”

I stopped pacing. I stood in front of him, arms crossed. I knew there was a look in my eyes that dared him to tell me again to
calm down.

“Explain, Toby. And I mean explain
everything
. How did you know it was my dad that night?”

His jaw clenched, and his face went hard. It was brief, but I caught it. Then he sighed. There was a pained expression in his eyes. I watched curiously as it slowly changed from pain to confusion … to something else entirely.
Resolve.
Stone cold resolve, free of any other emotions. His sudden determination left his eyes dark and seemingly without feeling. My heart dropped in my chest.

He got up off the bed and put on his boots before turning back to face me.

“This isn’t working.”

Holy shit. What?
That’s the last thing I’d expected him to say. Just minutes ago we’d been making out and … and I had even thought I was about to go all the way with him … and now he was …
is he breaking up with me?

“Toby, what? What do you mean?” I felt myself tense up, an angry heat spreading through my body.

“I mean exactly what I said, Ever. This isn’t working. This.
Us.
You and me. I don’t want to be with you anymore.”

“
Why,
Toby? Tell me
why
.” My words were sharp, direct—the opposite of how my heart felt.
Oh my god. This isn’t happening.

I felt my composure slipping away piece by piece, but my eyes stayed dry. Maybe I’d cried out all of my allotted tears for the day.

“It’s not you, Ever. It’s—”

“Get the hell out, Toby.”

“Wait, Ever, I—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Seriously though? How freaking
typical
can you get? It’s not you; it’s me. Maybe we can still be friends. You’re a really nice girl. I’ve been hurt before. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Save the bullshit, Toby. Just because I haven’t had a lot of boyfriends before doesn’t mean I’m a complete moron. I’ve seen the movies. Read the books. You’re just as textbook as the rest of them. I ask you a question that you don’t want to answer, and you
run
. Well, I’ll save you the trouble of letting me down easily. Get the hell out of my house, Toby.
Run
away.”

He flinched at my words, or maybe it was my tone of voice that cut him. I didn’t really know, and I didn’t really care. I was
not
about to be nice about it. He’d completely blindsided me, and I’d be damned if I begged him to stay or tried to change his mind. I’d rather be alone forever than become
that
girl.

My thoughts raced through my head. My heart screamed. I remembered the night he said he’d never been this happy before. I recalled the way he’d always been so interested in learning about me. I thought back to just a few minutes earlier—kissing him, touching him. I had almost given him the most important thing I could ever give a man.
Myself.

That thought angered me beyond repair. What if I had gone through with it? What if I hadn’t started crying? Would we still be standing here? Would he still be breaking up with me? Ugh! How much worse would I feel then? I was so angry; I was beginning to sweat.

And he’s just standing here!
Why is he still here?
He was just staring at me, his eyes pleading. The hurt look on his face completely at odds with his devastating words. I swear I could feel each little fissure forming in my heart. Each little crack spreading, consuming. The pain tightened in my chest, the anger making it hard to breathe. His presence was infuriating!

Toby had just broken up with me. Yet he stood there, staring at me, looking as if I was the one causing all the pain. He was not saying a word, the look on his face reminiscent of a lost puppy. How could
he
be looking at
me
that way?
He’s the one who did this. What the heck is going on?

Our gazes locked. With one look into that beautiful blue abyss, I felt the last bits of strength seep out of me. I opened my mouth, but words wouldn’t come. My survival instinct kicked in, telling me I had to get away from him.
Fight or flight. It’s now or never.

I punched him.

I don’t know what overcame me, but one minute I was standing there staring into his eyes, feeling myself get sucked into them again, and the next minute Toby was stumbling backward out the door of my bedroom, rubbing his jaw.

When I spoke next, my voice sounded strong and firm, and so unlike how broken and small I felt inside.

“I said
get out,
Toby.”

I shut the door to his shocked expression, put on my headphones, and crawled under my covers, pulling them up over my face so I was completely engulfed in darkness. I didn’t cry. There really just weren’t any tears left.

I woke up a few hours later, a sweaty mess of sheets and matted hair welcoming me back to the world of the living. The black satin slip was plastered to my body, and the underwire on the right side of my bra had busted through the lace and was digging into the skin of my chest.

Frankie was standing in front of me, and I could vaguely remember searching for him in my dream. But, like all the others, that was the extent of the memory.

“I’m here, Doll. Go back to sleep now. It was just another dream.”

But I didn’t want to go back to sleep. I didn’t want to fall back into the realm of nightmares I couldn’t remember. Nightmares in which my panic and dread would follow me into wakefulness along with images of blood, but nothing else. Just that cold, relentless fear gripping me, and telling me that Frankie was in danger.

Nightmares about Toby’s bloody hands, most likely.

“I punched Toby.”

Frankie’s eyebrows flew up, and a small smile crept over his face. I watched him trying to hide it, trying to look serious without much luck, and I busted out laughing. He joined me, and after we’d had a good laughing fit, he sat on the bed and tried again to look serious.

“Is your hand okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks. It hurts really bad, but … .”

“Are
you
okay?”

I looked at him. His eyes were dark abysses like Toby’s, but for totally different reasons. They used to be dark brown, with golden flakes of caramel in a sea of chocolate. I’d stared into them so many times, wishing for him to
see
me. Now, they were just a hollow, translucent abyss. Death stripped him of the vibrancy in his eyes, his skin, his life. Everything was just shades of gray now where Frankie was concerned.

Yet it was suddenly obvious to me that there were no shades of gray between
us
. There was just love. I felt it hanging in the air, saw it in his concern for me. I knew I wasn’t imagining it. The way he looked at me now …
he finally sees me. Finally.

But it was too late.

“Yeah, I’m okay, Frankie. We broke up, but … I don’t know. Something tells me I’ll be okay. And it felt really good to punch him.”

“You’ve definitely got spunk, Dollface.”

“Yeah, well, you just better watch yourself around me. I’m not above punching a ghost. I’d just have to work out the logistics of it.”

“Right, right. Noted.”

We laughed again, and something occurred to me. Something I was confused about. Maybe Frankie had some answers.

“Frankie? Did you see my dad when he died?”

He bowed his head.

“No, Doll.”

“Oh.”

“I heard what Toby told you—that it was a
crisis apparition
. I don’t know much about that, and I don’t know why I’m still here and your dad isn’t. I wish I had answers for you. But I don’t.”

We talked about my dad then, long into the night. It felt good to talk to someone who knew him so well. Someone who missed him as much as I did. Well,
almost
as much as I did.

Spending time with Frankie was the perfect remedy for what I’d just been through.

My heart would heal in time.

F
our weeks had slowly crept by since I’d seen or heard from Toby.

Four
miserable
weeks.

I kept waiting for him to knock on my door and apologize or say
something
to fix what happened, but … nothing. He hadn’t even fought for me. Hadn’t tried to make it right. My boyfriend dumped me on the day of my dad’s funeral. I was angry and hurt and so mad at myself for allowing him into my life in the first place. I felt like a bit of a loser at times, but mostly I was just pissed off.

And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss him terribly.