Authors: Wren Emerson
“Macy?”
He stepped lightly from the porch and walked towards us, his handsome face hopeful. My heart started racing as he approached, his blonde hair wet from a shower. He smelled so clean and masculine. I steeled myself with the reminder that I hated him now. He was no longer my perfect, green-eyed Poseidon.
“I’m so glad you came,” he sighed as he reached for me. “I was afraid that you were never going to speak to me again.”
I side-stepped out of his reach and glared at him.
“I’m not planning on it,” I spit, beginning to see red again.
Did he seriously think I was such a pathetic push-over? That he could humiliate me in front of the entire school and I would just forget about it? That his little frownie-face on his ‘please talk to me’ text yesterday had worked? Not hardly. Not even close.
“I had some of your things at my house and needed to return them.” I gestured toward the back of his truck. He circled the fender and peered inside.
“What the…” his astonished gaze flew to my face.
I couldn’t quite blame him for being surprised. I was normally such an easy-going person. I wasn’t accustomed to fits of rage. I had to admit though, it was pretty satisfying. I stared directly into his green eyes.
“See you around,” I murmured coolly, walking past him and dropping into the front seat of Jessa’s car.
She quickly started the engine and backed out of the driveway before Derek could say another word. As we pulled away, he stared after us dejectedly. I desperately pushed down the guilty feelings. He deserved nothing less than this. He had broken my heart by impaling it with one of Tara Wilson’s tacky stiletto heels.
As we pulled back up to the curb in front of my house, Jess turned to me.
“Do you want me to come in?”
Her voice was doubtful because she knew me well. She knew that after the huge rush of revenge, I was going to crash down hard and would want to mope alone. And she was right.
I shook my head.
“No thanks, Jess. I’m just going to suffer in silence tonight.” I looked at my driveway, where my mom’s shiny silver car was now parked. “And I won’t be alone, so you don’t have to worry. Thank you for coming over.”
The smile that I gave her was starting to get a little watery. Uh-oh. I needed to make a run for it before I started bawling. I reached for the door handle.
“Okay,” she reached over to hug me. “But don’t forget, Mace… this is his problem, not yours. You’re perfect and he’s an idiot. Call me if you need me.”
I nodded and got out, rushing without a backward glance toward my brightly lit house.
I’d barely stepped in the back door, though, before my mom waylaid me. So much for suffering in silence. My chattery mother didn’t know the meaning of the word.
“Macy, is that you?” she shouted from the kitchen.
“Yes,” I called as I kicked my shoes off inside the door.
Who else would it be? My dad hasn’t stepped foot in this house since last year, something he complained about regularly since he still had to pay half of the mortgage payment. Mom appeared in the doorway with a piece of half-wilted lettuce in her hand.
“Was that Jessa?”
I nodded.
“She missed her check-up today. She probably hasn’t been flossing and was afraid to see me.”
That was probably exactly right. My mom had been Jess and Jenn’s dentist since they had cut their first teeth- and she regularly slapped them on the backs of their heads when they didn’t floss. Literally smacked them. Italians are colorful people.
“Oh, hey. While I’m thinking about it… this was on the porch for you.”
She ducked back into the kitchen and re-emerged holding a small brown box out to me. It had my first name written on the top in bold black marker and nothing else. I didn’t recognize the writing.
I raised my eyebrows as I stared at her questioningly.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know, honey. It’s yours. I didn’t open it. Maybe Derek left it for you as an apology.”
She shrugged nonchalantly, but the interested expression on her face betrayed her. She was dying to know what it was.
I carefully opened the top and peered inside. For all I knew, Tara had left me a bomb. But it was harmless. A necklace glittered within tissue-papered folds.
“It’s a necklace,” I stated simply.
Mom gave up on subtlety and yanked the box from my hands, pulling the odd necklace out to examine it in the light. It was the most unique stone I had ever seen… a dark red quartzy looking thing, the size of half my fist with veins of black running through it. It was beautiful. I’d never seen anything like it.
“It’s a bloodstone,” mom observed. “You don’t see these much anymore. And they’re usually green, with only a little red. This one is very unique. It has to be from Derek. He knows how much you love old things.”
And I did. I loved retro jewelry, vintage dresses, old movies. But I had just come from Derek’s house and this box had hadn’t been on the step when I left.
I shook my head. “Why wouldn’t he have left a note? Besides, it couldn’t be from him. I just came from there and he didn’t mention it.”
Surprise filtered across her face as she studied mine.
“Really? Do you want to talk about it?”
My rebellious chest started to quake. No, I didn’t want to talk about it. And I didn’t want to break down, either.
He
didn’t deserve my tears. I took a few shaky breaths before I spoke, gripping my own hands tightly so that my mom wouldn’t see them shake.
“No, thanks. I don’t want to waste any more time on him.”
The words sounded wooden, my voice flat. I was surprised at my own ability to get through them without screaming or throwing something through the window. I was also surprised and overwhelmed by the level of emotions I had been consumed with today. For being an easy-going person, I was feeling uncharacteristically violent. It was mildly alarming, even if I did have a very good reason. My mom looked concerned at the look on my face. I rushed to reassure her.
“I’m fine, mom. I’m just really tired of dealing with it right now. We can talk about it later, if you want. But I need a break from thinking about it. And if he comes here, please don’t let him in. I don’t want to see him. And the next time he comes in for a cavity, if he has the nerve to face you, that is… don’t give him any Novocain.”
She nodded quietly and stepped forward to hug me. Her dark hair, just like mine, swung forward and brushed against my shoulder, bringing with it the scent of apples and strawberries.
“I’m sorry, sweetie. You didn’t deserve this. But it will be okay, I promise. If you need anything…” her voice trailed off uncertainly and I nodded.
“I know. If I need anything, I’ll let you know.”
How about a baseball bat for his car? Or a tire iron for his femurs?
But obviously I didn’t say those things. If I did, my mother would stick to me like Velcro for the rest of the night. Instead, I just walked calmly past her and trudged toward my room.
“Honey?”
I turned back around.
“You forgot this.” She put the necklace back into the box and handed it to me. “It must be from your dad or something. It looks expensive.”
I nodded as I turned around again and trudged away. I needed to get far, far away from her pitying looks.
Tossing the box onto my bed, I dropped next to it like a sack of bricks, my breath whooshing out of me. Regardless of the fact that it was only 6:00, I was bone-weary. I didn’t even take the time to take my clothes off or stop to pee. I knew that if I thought about this mess for one more second, I might start screaming. Ramming a pillow over my head to block out the dying sunlight, I closed my eyes and slipped mercifully into the silent oblivion of sleep.
But sleep betrayed me. Dreams of Derek cheating on me plagued me off and on as I tossed and turned, slept and woke. Pissed off and frustrated at my subconscious psyche, I crammed the pillow over my head again, inhaling the cool, cottony smell of my sheets as I tried to ease myself back into slumber.
Before long, a pair of dark eyes stared at me. Blinking, I walked toward them, and they morphed into a man. A breathtakingly beautiful man. I literally couldn’t breathe as I stepped up to him, the sunlight bouncing off of his angular handsome face. His dark eyes, almost black, sparkled in the sun as he pulled me close, his strong arms wrapping around my back. His scent was intoxicating and familiar and I buried my face in his chest.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured into my ear, his voice husky against my cheek. “Don’t leave me again…”
My eyes snapped open and I stared at the green numbers on my alarm clock. 2:00 a.m. Who the heck was that? I had never met that man…but I knew him. The familiarity was unmistakable. It was so strong that it was overwhelming. And I was annoyed that I had woken up.
But something had woken me. Something had pulled me from my delicious dream. And I knew it wasn’t a noise or a light that had disturbed me. It was a feeling. A
strange
feeling.
It took me until 2:01 to wake up enough to realize that I was clutching the bloodstone necklace in my hand. Apparently, I had grabbed it in my sleep. The cool stone was polished and smooth in my palm and as I turned it over, vivid images assailed me like a lightning bolt. Sloe-eyed, dark skinned people, the heavy scent of jasmine and blue eye paint. I gasped just as soon as I could breathe again and dropped the stone onto the floor.
What the hell was
that?
I could swear that I still smelled jasmine.
I pulled my knees up to my chest and stared at the necklace in the corner. If I didn’t know better, I would think that the red splotches were glowing, rising above the surface of the stone and pulsing. But that would be impossible. Or I was crazy. And that was entirely possible.
I waited until my raspy breathing returned to normal and then curled up in bed. Every two seconds, I glanced back toward the necklace. It was laying motionlessly on the floor, as innocuous as ever. And it was not glowing. Either I was crazy or I had imagined it. I finally drifted back off to sleep as I desperately tried to convince myself that I had dreamed the whole thing… because I didn’t like the alternative.
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Acknowledgements
I’d like to take a minute to thank the people who have helped me through the process of seeing this book from an idea kicking around in the back of my mind to the reality of a published book that can be read and enjoyed by everyone.
My writing partner and partner in crime, Courtney Cole. She’s taught me so much about the publishing process and has been generous with her time and knowledge every step of the way. She’s been both my cheerleader and my critic and for that, I’m forever grateful.
My friends at Twitter’s #pubwrite chat. They have answered so many of my questions and challenged the things about writing I thought I knew. Although not every conversation is full of insightful observations, each one is full of amazing company.
My knight in shining armor, Keira Lea. She was willing to take a phone call from a stressed out stranger with formatting questions. It was a random act of kindness that I won’t forget.
My formatting guru, Guido Henkel. The blog post he wrote about formatting was invaluable, a true resource for any indie author.
My lovely beta readers, Alison Fowler, Mackenzie Christiansen, and Linda Elliott. Their feedback provided me validation when I needed it and helped me to fix the places that weren’t as great as they could be. Thanks ladies, I love you all.
My minions. Their constant reminders of the promise I made of a pancake breakfast to celebrate my first sale have ensured that I couldn’t quit this project until it was done. There has never been any doubt in their minds that mom was going to write this book and publish it. So that’s what I did.
My love. For the endless hours that he listened to me talk about the characters and plot while I was outlining. For upgrading my software when I asked even though we both know I wouldn’t have actually died without the newest version of Onenote (but it might have been a close thing). For being my muse. For formatting this book. For all those things a million others, thank you.