Let the Sky Fall (27 page)

“No one is punishing me. I chose this life for myself because it’s what I wanted.”

It is
, I remind myself.
And it’s what my father asked me to do
.

“Then why do you want to punish yourself?”

Silence sits between us. An ugly, awkward thing I can practically feel staring at me. But I have no way to break it.

Vane grabs my hand again. His touch is soft, gentle—but firm, too. He isn’t going to let me pull away.

“Why do you live like your life doesn’t matter? You do matter. You matter to me—and not because you’re this fierce warrior thing who’s going to sacrifice yourself to save me. You matter because you’re you.”

He mumbles the last words, like he’s embarrassed to say them.

I’ve been trying not to look at him, trying to keep this moment under control. But my head seems to turn on its own, and my eyes pull to his.

“You’re the one constant thing I’ve had in my life. I lost my entire past—except you. You stayed with me. And kept coming back, every time I closed my eyes.” His cheeks look flushed and he shifts in his seat. “I looked forward to seeing that girl with the long, dark hair whipping around her face. I looked forward to you. The
real
you. Not this buttoned-up soldier girl you pretend to be.”

“I’m not pretending.”

“Maybe not. But it’s not who you are, either.”

I flinch as he reaches for my braid, running his fingers along the intricate weaving.

“Doesn’t this give you a headache?” he asks.

Yes.
“No.”

He doesn’t look convinced as he drops my braid, trailing his hand across the sleeve of my jacket. “Doesn’t this get suffocating in the desert heat?”

Yes.
“No.”

We both stare out the window as a group of teenagers walk by, laughing and joking while they jump into the car next to us. They crank up the volume on some pulsing dance song and zip off for a normal day of fun with friends.

I hate myself for being jealous. “Why does it matter if I wear a uniform or braid my hair?”

“I’m just trying to figure you out.”

“It’s easy. I’m a guardian. Everything I do is to fulfill the oath I’ve sworn. It’s the life I chose. The life I’d choose again.”

My voice sounds louder than I want. Defensive.

Vane stays calm and quiet as he replies. “Is it? Or is that what you’re telling yourself, because otherwise you’d have to admit your life sucks? That you swore some oath a long time ago because you believed you deserved to be punished for something, and you’ve been torturing yourself ever since?”

Even if he’s right, even if I am punishing myself, I deserve the punishment. And he’ll know why soon. I should just tell him now. Get it over with.

“You deserve to be happy,” he whispers. “No matter what you think or what you did. You
deserve
to be happy.”

“I—”

“You
do
. And what better time than now—staring down a fight we might not even make it through—is there to start? Let your hair down. Throw that horrible jacket in the Dumpster. Give yourself a break.”

“I can’t, Vane.”

“Yes, you can. You just have to let go.”

My stomach growls again and he swears.

“Come on, this is insane.”

He looks so earnest. So honest. And he
cares
.

No one cares about me—not even me.

He reaches into his bag and pulls out another fry, holding it out. “You can start small.”

The whole world fades away, leaving just me, Vane, and that French fry. It looks almost as tempting as the boy holding it.

“Your body is hungry, Audra. Give it
one
thing it wants.”

All my years of training scream at me to resist. To shove his hand away and refuse to prolong my days of weakness.

But deep,
deep
down, a tiny voice whispers something else. The same words Vane says next.

“What’s it going to hurt?”

Only me, when I have to endure extra months of weakness.

But I probably won’t live through the week. Why not give myself one tiny thing I want?

Before I can change my mind, I grab the fry and shove it in my mouth. My first bite of real food in ten years.

And it’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.

CHAPTER 43

VANE

I
can’t believe she did it.

I watch her close her eyes and chew, half-expecting her to spit it out any second. But she swallows. Then her hungry eyes meet mine. I’ve never seen her so shy. So timid. So . . . happy.

“Can I have another?” she whispers.

I reach into the bag and grab another fry. It’s one of the soggy ones—the kind that feels more like a worm—and it isn’t even hot.

“You know what? If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it right,” I say, dropping the bag in my lap and throwing the car in reverse. I can’t believe I didn’t think of this in the first place.

“Where are we going?” she asks, reaching for the bag. I pull it away from her.

“No way. I will
not
let your first meal be cold McDonald’s fries. I’m taking you to In-N-Out.”

I push the gas pedal to the floor, hoping she won’t change her mind in the fifteen minutes it takes us to get there. But she doesn’t. She doesn’t even hesitate to take my hand as she climbs out of the car in the crowded parking lot.

The heat hits us like a wall, and she pushes up the sleeves of her jacket.

I stop walking. “Just take it off.”

Resistance flares in her eyes, but I squeeze her hand. “Come on. What’s it going to hurt?”

She sighs. Then pulls her hand away and starts undoing buttons.

My heart beats double-time. I know she has a skimpy black tank on under there—but that isn’t what makes the action so sexy. Well, okay, it
helps
. But it’s way hotter watching her do something she wants to do for a change.

I’m tempted to make her undo the braid, too, but I don’t want to press my luck. So I toss her jacket in the car and take her hand again, leading her into In-N-Out.

“What’s so great about this place?” Audra asks, looking a little intimidated by the crowd.

Her dark clothes stand out in the bright white, red, and yellow restaurant, and I catch several people staring at her. Though half of them are guys checking her out.

I squeeze her hand tighter. “You’ll see.”

I order two combo number twos. “Animal style,” I specify.

Audra’s brows shoot up.

“Just trust me,” I tell her, taking our cups and filling them with soda.

Miraculously, we score a small table in the corner, and I have Audra take a seat while I grab ketchup and napkins. Five minutes later they call our number and I set two perfect cheeseburgers with fries on the table and sink into the seat across from her.

Audra eyes the food with a mix of hunger and intimidation.

“Eat as little as you want.” I hand her a cheeseburger and sprinkle salt on her fries. “But you won’t be able to stop once you taste it.”

She holds the burger like it’s a foreign object, like she’s afraid to touch the bun beyond the paper wrapping.

I can’t help laughing. “You’re overthinking it. Just dive in.”

She watches me take a huge bite—which is beyond amazing, by the way. In-N-Out has perfected the cheeseburger—but still she hesitates.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“You already ate the fry, remember? Might as well go for it now.”

She looks like she might put the whole thing down and walk away. Then her eyes narrow and her back straightens and she dives in, her lips stretching thin so she can take the biggest bite possible.

“Oh. My. Goodness,” she mumbles through her mouthful.

Sauce runs down one side of her chin and a tiny piece of grilled onion sticks to her lip, but she’s never looked sexier. I want to jump across the table and kiss her face clean.

“Life-changing, right?”

She can only nod—her mouth already full with her next bite.

Within ten minutes she’s devoured the entire burger and most of her fries. She leans back in her chair, clutching her stomach.

“You okay?” I hope I haven’t just given her the mother of all stomachaches.

Audra nods. “I forgot what it feels like to be full.” She shifts her weight, stretching out her legs. “I feel so warm.”

“I still can’t believe how long you deprived yourself.”

“Ten years.” Her smile fades. “I’ll probably regret this later.”

“Only if you let yourself.”

She stares at the table, playing with part of a French fry left behind. “My father died because he ate—did I ever tell you that?”

“No.” She’s never told me anything about what happened to her father. Other than the fact that he sacrificed himself to save me.

Her fingers rip the fry into tiny crumbs. “My parents gave up eating when they started guarding your family, needing to be as strong as possible. They still fed me—I was too young to deprive myself that way—but they never touched the food themselves. My mother complained constantly about the hunger pains. The Gales had never required that kind of sacrifice from her before. They never required anything from her. She had the golden gift, and they were so grateful to have her on their side, they treated her like a queen.”

Her eyes glaze over, lost in the memories.

“Then one day, my dad and I came home from training in the meadow and my mother was eating a dark purple plum she’d picked off the tree in our new front yard—our third house in as many months. My dad panicked, but she just took another bite, letting the juices stream down her chin. Then she offered it to him. He started to shake his head, but she told him the Stormers would never find us. That her gift would
always
allow her to feel them coming and
we’d run. Then she told him, ‘We have to live for ourselves, too.’ He looked at me—almost like he wanted to say something, but I still don’t know what it was—and then he took a giant, juicy bite. We spent the rest of the night feasting on plums.”

A tear slides down her cheek and she wipes it away. When she speaks again, her voice is barely a whisper.

“A couple weeks later the Stormer found us. I don’t know if my dad could’ve beaten the Stormer just by shifting to his wind form during the fight. But he didn’t have the option. He was tied to the earth. All he could do was sacrifice himself. So that’s what he did.”

I take her hands and for a minute we just cling to each other in the crowded restaurant.

But there’s something I need to say. I clear my throat. “I’m the one who gave you the water and weakened you. And I’m not going to teach Raiden what he wants—I can’t, even if I wanted to. I haven’t had the breakthrough. So just . . . let the Stormers take me, if it comes to that, and get the rest of the Gale Force and come rescue me.”

The warm color that’s filled her cheeks since her burger binge fades. “Do you have any idea what he’ll do to you if he gets his hands on you?”

“No, and I’m trying not to think about it.”

“He’ll torture you, Vane.” Her voice is too loud, and a couple heads turn our way.

I grab our trash and head toward the door. Neither of us speaks until we’re safely in my car. I turn the key and crank up the AC. But we stay parked.

“He’ll torture you,” she repeats.

“I’m sure he will.”

“I don’t think you have any idea what that means.” She shudders. “The things he’s done are unspeakable. Pain and torment you can’t even begin to imagine.”

I have to remind myself to keep breathing. “I’d still rather live through that than watch you die. I—I can’t imagine trying to live without you, Audra.”

Oh God—here we go. Cards on the table time again.

I promised myself I’d go slow, try not to scare her off. But she’s come so far in the last hour, and I can’t help feeling like I might never get a chance to say this again. I just . . . have to.

I take her hands and stare into the face of the only girl I’ve ever really wanted.

“I love you.” My voice cracks from nerves and I curse myself for sounding like I’m twelve. I clear my throat, trying to recover. “I know that’s inconvenient for you. But it’s true.”

“I can’t, Vane—”

“Yes, you can. If you can eat a cheeseburger—and enjoy it—you can let yourself love me. You can do anything you want. You just have to want to.”

I hold my breath, waiting for her response.

She won’t look at me. Not a good sign.

“I care for you, Vane,” she whispers. “But you’re not a cheeseburger—a single meal that will be out of my system in a few months, like it never happened. You’re a permanent mistake.”

Permanent. Mistake.

Talk about ouch.

She pulls her hands away, taking her sparks with her. “I’m sorry.”

A couple tears streak down her cheeks.

Seeing them makes it hurt more. Makes it feel final.

I’ve done everything I can—said everything there is to say. And it isn’t enough.

I shift into reverse without looking at her. She buckles her seat belt—getting it right in one try—and turns away.

She doesn’t speak again until I pull into my driveway and park. “I have something I should’ve given to you a long time ago.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out some sort of copper-colored cord with something round and silver in the center. “Hold out your right hand.”

I don’t have the energy to argue, so I do as she asks and she wraps the braided strap around my wrist and latches it with the worn copper clasp.

I turn my wrist over, surprised to find that the silver piece in the center is actually a small compass. The arrow spins for a second, then comes to a stop on
West
.

Audra sucks in a breath. “It’s never done that for me. But I’m not a Westerly.” She sighs. “It was your father’s, I believe—though both your parents had them. I found it in the rubble after the storm and kept it for you. I figured you’d want to have something that was theirs.”

The copper band looks worn and weathered, and the glass on the compass is scratched and dulled. But it’s perfect.

Audra buttons her jacket, becoming guardian Audra again. “We’re going to need to come up with a battle plan tonight. The more prepared we are, the better our chances.”