The Guardian (5 page)

Mom raises an eyebrow in question.
Carter goes on. “I mean, we can drop off the prescription. And I can take Gee home so she can rest. I know my track record doesn’t look great right now, but I’ll be careful, I promise. I’ll pick up the prescription, too.” He turns to me. “And I’ll let my d
ad know you were here again.”

Mom’s expression softens. “This isn’t your fault, Carter.”

He lets out a tiny laugh. “It would be nice if I could actually believe that,” he says, shoulders slumped, unable to meet my gaze.

She sighs. “Well, I’m
in a bind, so if the two of you want to drop this off at the pharmacy and head home
it’s
fine with me.” She hands Carter the prescription.
“Genesis?”

“It’s fine,” I confirm.

“Be careful,” she warns Carter. “And I’ll see you at home later.” She touches my
shoulder. “If you need anything call me at Ernie’s.”

As we move toward the exit, I search the room, looking for Seth. Straining my neck, peering around corners. . . .

“Are you looking for someone?” Carter asks. He pushes the door open and holds it, allowin
g me to walk through.  

“No,” I reply, keeping a watchful eye.

“Because Mr. Collins was leaving when I came in,” he goes on.

Mr. Collins? “Oh.
Right.”

We cross the parking lot. I follow Carter, who doesn’t stop until we reach a black SUV similar to the on
e he totaled.
A newer model.
He clicks the keyless entry remote to unlock the doors,
then
opens the passenger side for me. I climb in and fasten my seatbelt.

I run my fingers along the tan, leather seat. “Wow.”

Carter cranks the engine.
“Yeah.
This baby i
s hooked up: CD changer, sunroof, navigational system. . . .”

“It’s nice. I like it.”

It takes Carter forever before he finally pulls out into the road, and, once he’s driving, his hands never leave ten/two position, like the perfect driver’s
ed
student.
I glance at the speedometer. He’s just barely at the speed limit. And when a stoplight changes to yellow as we approach, instead of gunning it and tearing through the intersection, he slows, comes to a complete stop. The car behind us honks.

“It’s okay,” I
say, glancing over at him. “I’m not nervous riding with you.”

“I would be,” he replies.

“It wasn’t your fault,” I remind him. “It was an accident.”

“I know.”

The light changes to green and we’re moving again. “Good. Maybe you’ll stop beating yourself up o
ver it.”

An intense quiet settles between us. “It’s just that, everything changed that night,” he finally says.

I stare out the window, watching the stores pass by. “It’s fine.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see him glance in my direction. “I don’t th
ink it is.”

When we reach the pharmacy parking lot, he unbuckles his seatbelt and reaches for the door handle. “I’ll just be a minute. Do you need anything?”

“No,” I reply, shaking my head.

I watch as he disappears inside the building.

“I’m going to be h
onest with you. I don’t like this guy.”

I jump, feeling a spike of terror.
“Holy shit!”

“Since when is shit holy?”
Seth asks, smirking.

I whirl around, and there he is.
Stretched out in the back seat.
Comfortable.

“It’s you,” I say, breathless.

“It’s me,
” he replies, eyeing me carefully. “You’re looking much better.”

“Who are you?” I ask.

He raises an eyebrow, his lips turned upward in a devious smirk.

“You have to tell me,” I continue, keeping my voice low.

“I told you already.”

“You told me your name
was Seth,” I counter. “I need to know more than that.”

“No. You don’t,” he replies, shaking his head.

I ignore this. “No one else can see you. Why can’t anyone see you?” I ask.

He sighs. “It’s complicated.”

“So they can’t see you.”

“They can’t see me,” he
confirms.

“But I can.”

“Apparently.”

“Why?”

He looks away, shrugging his shoulders.

“I’m going crazy. I know it.”

Seth glances back at me, smiling this time. “You’re not going crazy. I’m really here. You really see me.”

“Then why can’t anyone else see you
?”

Another sigh.
“You aren’t the only one. Other people can see me.
Sometimes.”

“Mr. Collins saw you.” My mind flashes back to the gym, to Seth’s voice, his strong arms. . . .
“Who else?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Will you stop saying that?” I hiss.

He leans in
closer. “Look,” he
says,
voice low. “I’m not supposed to be here. This is twice, in what?
A month?
You’re not supposed to be able to see me. You’re not supposed to know who I am, or why I’m here. We are not supposed to be having this conversation.”

“In ca
se you haven’t noticed, we’re already
having
this conversation,” I point out.

At that moment, Carter emerges from the store, bag in hand. He raps on the window, signaling for me to open the door. I play with the buttons on the passenger’s side panel, tryi
ng each one until the car unlocks.

“They said it would only take thirty minutes.” He opens the plastic bag and passes me
a chocolate
milk.
My favorite.

“Thanks,” I say, taking it from him. 

I steal a quick, subtle glance to the back seat. Seth is gone.

“Are you hungry?” he asks.
“Because if you are we can grab a quick bite to eat and then come back.”

“Not really,” I confess. “But if you are, I don’t mind if you pick something up.”

Carter stops at a drive-thru, asks me at least a half a dozen times if I’
m sure I don’t want anything to eat, and then orders himself a double cheeseburger combo. He drives a few blocks down the street and parks in a beach access lot half covered in sand. Behind the dunes and sea grass the ocean is dark and angry, reflecting th
e dismal, gray sky.

“You can have some fries if you want.”

I shake my head. “Thanks, but I’m okay.” I stare out the window, occasionally taking a swig of my chocolate milk.

“Your hair looks good,” Carter
says,
mouth full.

I look over at him, leaning into
the seat. “You finally noticed.” I turn my attention back to the sand dune in front of us, the grass blowing in the salty air.

That was such a snarky thing to say.

I sigh. “Thanks.”

He crams half a dozen French fries into his mouth. “Does it hurt?” he as
ks, nodding toward the side of my head.

Instinctively, I reach up and touch my hair. “Oh. No. Not really. Can you see it?” I pull open the mirror and tilt my head, studying my reflection.

“No,” he replies. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t know it’s there.”

“It itches sometimes, but I’m trying to leave it alone. The stitches are supposed to dissolve in a few weeks,” I go on, examining them. “As soon as it’s better . . . I’m coloring these roots.”

“And your eyebrow ring is gone,” he points out.

“It closed.”

“
That bites. Are you
gonna
get it re-done?”

“I don’t know. Maybe one day.
Maybe not.”
I trace the length of my eyebrow. It all seems so insignificant now.

He polishes off the rest of his cheeseburger, then balls up the wrapper and tosses it to the floorboar
d. “You’re like a completely different person now,” he says.

“Yeah,” I reply softly.

“I miss you.”

I drag my teeth across my lips, not wanting to speak.

Carter exhales loudly.
“Right.
Taking it slow.”

Possibly not taking it at all
.

I don’t quite know.

H
e checks the digits on the dashboard. “Your prescription should be filled by now. Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” I answer automatically, but he’s already shifting the gear to reverse.

S
IX

Despite his numerous protests, I talk Carter into letting me
off in the driveway. “Are you coming to school tomorrow?” he asks as I climb down from the SUV.

“Planning on it.”

He hesitates, and I’m certain he’s going to start all over again about how he should at least walk me inside; how I shouldn’t be alone . . .
except he doesn’t.

I clutch the pharmacy bag in my incapacitated hand as I head up the sidewalk leading to the front door. The grass, still brown with winter, creeps over the sides and digs through the cracks, quietly overtaking the cement.

Seth materializ
es from nowhere, appearing beside me as I jam the key into the lock.

I jump. “Jesus! Can you stop doing that?”
I whisper-yell, turning slightly, checking to see if Carter is still waiting.
He is. I close my eyes and inhale.

Seth leans against the vinyl si
ding of the house, hands in his pockets, patiently waiting for me to unlock the door.

I twist the knob and push the door open. I offer a quick wave to Carter, and then enter, shutting the door behind me.
Or us, rather.

It’s not until we’re inside, Seth sta
nding in the middle of my living room, staring back at me, that I realize letting Carter drop me off might not have been the best idea. I step backward, moving closer to the door.

“Relax. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I don’t know that,” I point out.

“Yes
you do,” he says, voice steady.

I eye him cautiously, taking in his jeans and casual, white dress shirt.
His flawless skin and brown hair, falling just above his eyebrow.
I swallow hard as my heart thuds erratically beneath my skin. 

“You begged me not to
leave,” he reminds me.

He’s right.

I inhale deeply, moving around him as I toss my purse and pharmacy bag onto the couch. “Okay. For the sake of being honest, I’m just going to come out and say that this is by far the weirdest thing that has ever happened
to me. I mean, there is a strange guy in my living room, who appears out of . . . nowhere. And then disappears. And. . . .” I turn to face him. “Who are you? And please don’t say it’s complicated,” I warn. “I need real answers.”

“Who do you think I am?”

“If you’re making me guess, we’re going to have to begin with a ‘what’,” I tell him.

A smile perches itself at the edge of his lips.
“Okay.
What
do you think I am?”

“Truthfully?”

His eyebrows peak.
“I can handle it.”

I
fold
my arms across my chest, hugging
myself tightly.
“A ghost?”

He furrows his brow and wrinkles his nose in disgust.
“Really?
Out of all the possibilities—vampire,
shapeshifter
, Greek god, immortal—you have to pick
ghost
?”

“It makes perfect sense.”

Seth gives a short laugh.

“What’
s so funny?” I ask him.

“Nothing.
It’s just that I am really offended right now.”

“You’re laughing,” I point out.

“I’m so offended that I’m laughing. That can’t be good.”

I remain firmly in place, arms still crossed.

He stops laughing and clears his throat
.

“You’re a ghost,” I confirm. “You have to be.”

“You watch entirely too much TV.”

“There’s no other possible explanation for you.”

“There is,” he replies, moving toward me, narrowing his eyes.
“Because I’m not a ghost.”

I step back.

Seth stops directly in
front of me, so close we’re almost touching. He’s several inches taller than me. My nose just reaches his chin. I
suck
in a breath. It doesn’t satisfy, and for a moment I’m sure my lungs are going to spasm again.