Saving Yesterday (TimeShifters Book 1) (21 page)

His words make me flinch. “No. But it sure helps explain a lot of things about myself.”

“Like what? What could your mother’s mistakes have to do with you?”

I tap the blemish on my shifting bracelet. Forever tarnished, just like me. “I don’t fit anywhere.”

He growls. “Don’t talk like that. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“There is! Don’t you get it? This explains why I never feel like I belong. Because I don’t. Not at home. Not in Keleusma. And not on these missions.” I toss my hands in the air. No wonder I can’t hear Nicholas. He probably doesn’t want a brain connection with someone who has a high chance of turn-coating on him.

But would I?

“Do you think you fit with them?” Michael voices the question I am too afraid to form in my mind.

“No. Absolutely not.” Blood rushes warm through my chest, and I’m able to relax my shoulders.

Michael doesn’t say anything for a minute. Just lets me digest everything. Bless him for that, at least.

I don’t really know what to say next. I mean, my mom’s a traitor. She didn’t even love me enough to wait until after I was born. To give our family a chance to change her opinion. She just abandoned us. She didn’t want me. Not only that, she tainted my future. Then again, if she changed, it means there’s a chance she’s alive.

“Is my mom still with them?”

“As far as I know, she’s a Shade. But listen—”

I hold up my palm. Whatever more he is going to say, I don’t want to hear. “Please. No more.”

“Whatever you want.” Dropping to his hands and knees, he searches for the empty water bottle. “We should probably find somewhere to sleep. And get some water for morning.”

Usually his voice sounds like a favorite melody to me, but right now, every time he opens his mouth, it’s like nails on a chalkboard. I can’t deal with him, with anyone. I need to get away. Swinging around, I’m planning to stride off all purposeful-like, but my legs feel like they’re made of whipped cream. I stagger and almost fall. Why does my head feel so fuzzy?

“Maybe you should sit down.” Michael moves to help me, but I brush him away.

“I’m fine. Just moved too fast.”

“Okay.”

“I’m going to take off for a few minutes.”

He reaches for his bag. “How about I come with you?”

“No. I want to be alone.” I rub again at the ache in my chest. “Leave me alone.”

Michael sighs. There’s no way he’s okay with me wandering off alone, but perhaps our bickering over the past two days wore him down because he says, “All right, Gabby. I’ll stay right here until you’re ready. Don’t go far, though, okay?” His voice drops, like he’s talking to a cowering dog that’s been abused its whole life. I don’t blame him. Just like that animal, if Michael says the wrong thing, I’m sure I’m bound to bite.

Without another word, I shuffle away. I try to follow a straight line so that I can find my way back to him later. Well, if I decide to go back, that is. Maybe we’re both better off alone.

After a few minutes, I’m at the bank of the stream we crashed through earlier. Was that only just tonight? I feel years older than I did this morning.

Sagging to the ground, I crawl to the water and cup some into my hands. It’s cool, fresh, but I know better than to trust drinking it. Organisms that can kill me or make me sick are microscopic. Clear water doesn’t equal clean water.

Instead, I splash some over my face and wash my arms. Unwind my bandage and plunge my hands into the coolness. Next, I toe off my shoes and dip my feet in the trickling stream. I should have brought the water bottle and filled it. How long has it been since Michael had water? At the Confederates’ camp? Before then? He’s always thinking of me first and I fail to do the same. It’s probably the Shade part of me. I grimace.

Don’t think like that.

Yanking my feet from the water, I towel them off with my socks and tug my shoes back on. I forgot they were waterlogged. So much for drying off my feet. After that, I examine both my legs. Dig out the burs and thorns from all the bushes I ran through. Removing my bandage and exposing my wound is probably a stupid move. But I don’t care. I wrap the fabric back around my hand. Without Michael there, I can’t tie it off, so I just tuck the ends in. See. I don’t need him.

Why didn’t he tell me sooner? Did he think I’d go running to the Shades right away? That makes me clench my hands so hard my nails bite at my palms. My fists itch to collide with something, or someone. How could Michael keep that from me?

Well, because he’d do anything to protect me—like shield me from the worst sort of news. Because Michael cares about me. Although I can’t imagine why. I mean, being friends with the half-Shade girl hasn’t really scored him any points in Keleusma. Since he met me, it’s not like I’ve made his life any easier. No, just heaped worlds of grief on top of him. And still he stays.

Running my fingers over the cuts on my arms, I assess the damage caused by our sprint through the trees. Only skin deep. I’ll be fine.

If only I could probe inside. See what damage my mother inflicted with The Elixir. Is there some dark part lurking within me? Am I connected to Erik like the Shifters are connected to Nicholas? Can he talk to me too? That makes me shudder.

I pull my knees to my chest and circle my arms around them. Rock a bit. Allow my mind to go numb. Too bad I can’t shut it off. 

A squirrel launches himself off a branch above me. I jump at the sound, then watch him sail through the night air, landing on the next tree over.

Something else clatters in the jumble of thoughts inside my brain. What if I see my mother? What should I do? Would I even recognize her? Maybe I should save my fists for her. Everything in me wants to find her and shake her, good and hard. Demand to know what was so wrong with Dad and me. Ask why we weren’t enough for her.

I palm at the tears tickling down my cheeks. Wipe my nose on the back side of my bandage. Maybe Michael was right. Ignorance would have been so much better than this turmoil.

As the water dries on my skin, I start to shiver. My teeth chatter. When did it get so cold? I try to massage heat back into my arms, but I’m still trembling. Besides that, I’m drained from being alone. I need an arm around me. I could use a kind word, or a joke to make me forget.

I crave Michael’s company.

Besides, that Shade might still be prowling around.

On wobbly legs I lurch back to where Michael’s waiting. Sitting on the ground, he leans against a wide tree, eyes closed.

But he opens them when I draw near. “You okay?”

I have to look up at the sky to keep more tears at bay.

He stretches his legs. “I do that all the time. Look at the stars when I feel lost. They’re the only things that are the same no matter what time you’re in. Maybe it’s stupid, but for some reason that gives me hope.”

Working my lip between my teeth, I nod.

Michael doesn’t get up. He’s watching my every move, like I might go to pieces at any moment. Which he’s probably right about.

A tremor works its way through my body. I step closer. “I’m so cold. Is it all right if I sit by you for a bit, just until I warm up?”

“Always.” Immediately he lifts his arm and shuffles to the side to make room for me.

I grab the seat beside him, and he lays a protective arm around my shoulders. Leaning my head back against him and the tree, I close my eyes. But I’m still shaking.

Without taking his arm away from me, he pulls the small wool blanket from the bag and drapes it over us. “Are you hungry at all?”

My eyes jolt open. “I should have gotten water. I was down by the river.”

A soft laugh rumbles in his chest. “Didn’t have to tell me that. You’re all wet. Did you fall in or something?”

“No.” I pull away. “Sorry.”

He draws me back to his side. “Don’t be stupid. Believe me, I don’t care.” His fingers find the end of my braid. “Listen, whether you believe me or not right now, I have to say this. You’re going to be okay.”

“I’m sorry about earlier.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about.”

I offer no reply. Instead, I curl up tighter against him, stealing all his warmth. My head finds a perfect pillow on his shoulder, and my eyelids droop. With him beside me, I’m okay. I’m not going to worry about the other stuff. Not tonight, anyway.

All I know is that for the first time in my life, it feels like I fit.

Sleep doesn’t come. Not that I expect it to. There’s too much to think about.

I imagine my mother walking through the woods, laughing at me. The next time I see her, she’s asking me to join her. Beckoning me. I shake my head, but then an army of Shades descend from behind her, telling me I have no choice. They reach for me, and I snap my eyes back open to make the nightmare stop.

Besides these hallucinations, there’s the Shade I witnessed killing the woman earlier. Is he still in the forest? Could he be trying to locate me? Unless he shifted afterwards, but that’s if they work like we do. I have no clue. Maybe I should. I need to be better prepared from here on out.

My eyes refuse to focus on anything. Not on the trees opposite us, not on my shoes. If a monster or the Confederates come for us now, I probably won’t notice them until it’s too late.

Stop thinking. What good will any of this do me?
Close your eyes.

But I’m still awake. When I try to shut my mind off, another thought takes hold. Like the fact that Michael’s right next to me. My head rests snug on his shoulder. In my dad’s house, no guys are allowed in my bedroom. Ever. Not even Porter. When I’m downstairs watching a movie with Emma and Porter and someone starts nodding off, I can count on Dad to shoo Porter out the door in less than ten seconds flat. It’s like he has radar for that sort of thing. I always considered Dad’s antics a bit overboard.

Now it makes complete sense. Cozying up to Michael feels good too good. I’m cold, and I need to get warm. But we shouldn’t make a habit of this, even though I kind of want to. I’ve missed human contact. How the presence of someone beside me can lift my spirits. Knowing another person is just there. If I’m honest, though, it’s more than that. It’s Michael. He makes me feel safe, like I belong.

Michael’s distracted too. His chin will rest on my head for a few minutes. Then he’ll lift it, scan the forest, lean it back against the tree and take a deep breath. Is he watching for Shades too? Or worse—does he not want to be beside me? For all he said, it is possible that he thinks I’ll go over to the bad side now. That I’m too dangerous to keep around.

I run my hand back and forth over the tip of the blanket. “Are you afraid of me?”

He turns toward me, face scrunching. “What are you talking about?”

My chin trembles. “There’s something
wrong
with me.”

Shoving the blanket down, he removes his arm from where it was wrapped around me. Drawing his legs in, he faces me. “Gabby, you’re ridiculous.”

So much for hashing things out with him. I cross my arms, look away. Blink rapidly.

 When he squeezes my arm, I peek back over my shoulder at him.

He shakes his head slowly. “You’re something else, you know that, right? I tell you I killed someone, and you cuddle up next to me. Then you ask me if I’m scared of you?” One side of his mouth tilts upward, but there is no humor in his voice.

Does he think I’m stupid? I know Michael’s not a murderer. I shoot him a quick glare and turn my back on him again.

But he lays his hand on my neck, underneath my braid. “Sorry. It’s just—no one can determine who you are besides you. Do you get that? What your mother did doesn’t mean anything. At least not to me.” He rubs a warm circle on my shoulder. “You choose what type of person you’re going to become, and what path you go down. That’s set by your actions, no one else’s.”

His words open a deadbolt over my heart I didn’t even know was there. I am not my father’s mistakes. I am not my mother’s wrongdoing. I can be Gabby.

Now if only I could figure out who that is.

I spin around, enclosing Michael’s hand between both of mine. “I’m not afraid of you, either.” He tries to pull away, but I hold tight. “I know you, Michael. You didn’t hurt anyone. You couldn’t. It’s not in you.”

“You don’t know enough about me to say that.” He lets me keep his hand, but he scoots back against the tree. I do the same. There’s about half a foot of space between us. We’re not touching anymore, except for our hands.

Michael’s quiet for a long time. Not quite the reaction I pictured.

Then the muscles in his arm tense, even his fingers as they lace with mine. He sucks in a quick breath. “Her name was Kayla. My Pairing. Scrawny little girl with this hair that couldn’t decide if it wanted to be blonde or brown.”

I rub my thumb over the top of his hand. Letting him know I’m here.

Lost in a memory, he chuckles. “We were just kids. Our favorite thing was to reenact cartoon movies we liked. I’d play the hero. Save her from the troll under the tree house. Stuff like that.”

 “Sounds like a good childhood.”

He brings his free hand to his jaw and grasps it for a second. “We had a snow day from school. During one of those bad winters in Chicago.” He presses his thumb and pointer fingers on the bridge of his nose. “Feet and feet of snow. Next to the roads, where they plowed, it was the highest. I spent all morning digging out a fort for us there.”