The gun jammed.
The freaking gun jammed.
Not yet, the universe snickered. Not yet.
August registered this and lunged toward me before I could attempt a second shot. He wrestled the gun out of my hand and bound me against his chest, though I thrashed and struggled and cried.
“Let me die!” I screamed, voice stricken with defeat. “Just let me die.”
He wouldn’t.
It was a hassle getting me into his car. I resisted, heavily. But eventually the adrenaline dribbled away and pure defeat filled its place. I slumped against the side of the door as August floored it out of the area, and I cried.
Just cried, long and hard, for majority of the car ride, because it just wasn’t fair.
He drove until night fell. Hours and hours of open road and traffic. He drove without making any stops until he mumbled something about being back in Colorado. My body was stiff and achy at this point, eyes run dry, cheeks damp with tears. My head felt all congested, throat tight, chest pained.
We rolled up to a motel, and nothing was said. He locked the car behind him when he got out to check in. When he returned, he retrieved me and led me to the room, making sure the room key was on his person and nowhere within reaching distance of me.
“I’m going to get some food,” he said. “I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
I sat on the edge of the bed. The room only had one, king-sized, with dark green blankets and fluffy pillows thrown on top.
“Stay here, Ellie. Don’t try anything.”
I nodded.
Sensing that was the most he would get out of me, August left, making sure the door was locked and secure behind him.
And I was alone.
The room had a television, but there was nothing I could possibly watch to distract me from my predicament. What I really needed was to clean up. There was a generously-sized bathroom, and upon further inspection a large tub. Old-fashioned, with golden claw foots and everything. I wasn’t sure what to think. My mind was still coming to terms with the fact that my attempts to kill myself had been foiled both times. There was also the problem of that video, and figuring out what it all meant for me. And then there was August, who had read my note and followed me.
How he knew where I was—how he found out—I didn’t want to know. It probably included a lot of killing and torture.
I decided to run myself a bath with lots of soap. Discarding the grimy clothes was nice, but sinking into the cavernous tub was even better. The nerves and muscles in my body relaxed. I rested my head back against the edge, closing my eyes, basking in the warmth.
Oddly, I must have nodded off for a bit on accident, because I was jerked to alertness by a lot of commotion in the main part of the motel room. Seconds later the door crashed open, August bursting through, and I released a startled squeak at his abrupt intrusion.
“Oh,” he breathed, shoulders falling in relief. “Good, I . . . I called you and you didn’t answer. I just thought that . . .”
That you tried to off yourself again.
“Sorry,” I apologized softly. “I drifted off.”
“That’s okay.” He seemed to notice the odd situation in that moment, that even though the deep tub and motherload of bubbles hid everything from sight, I was still naked feet away. “I, uh . . . I brought you something to sleep in. There’s a Laundromat a couple blocks away, and I can wash our clothes tomorrow.”
“I thought you wanted to return to the safe house.”
“Not at the moment,” he muttered, setting the shirt down. “There’s food, when you want it.” He hesitated a moment more, like he might say something else, but then promptly left.
The bath water had become tepid, so I drained it, toweled off, and slipped into the shirt he brought me. It fell to my knees, covering enough. I ran my fingers through my hair, working out the knots and tangles, and mildly satisfied, left.
The TV was on, switched to Comedy Central, and I had to grit my teeth. Tia watched that all the time.
Don’t think about it.
Except I was tired of not thinking about it. Avoiding things was what always got me into trouble.
“Hungry?”
August bought a box of pizza. He sat at the table with it, downing what appeared to be his third slice. “No,” I said, sitting on the bed.
“You should eat something.”
“I’m fine.”
“Don’t even say those words to me.”
So I remained silent, staring at my fingers resting in my lap. He sighed harshly, moving from the chair to perch beside me.
“Ellie.”
I said nothing.
“Ellie Armstrong, you better look at me right now.”
My gaze lifted to his. He had me. Ensnared me. There was no possibility of looking away.
His hand splayed against my neck, fingers wrapping around the back, thumb pressing into my chin.
“I haven’t touched a lick of alcohol,” he spoke suddenly. “Not since . . . then.”
Since you shoved me.
“That letter scared me half to death, Ellie. Why would you think killing yourself would be the appropriate solution?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t see any other options.”
“Of course there are other options.”
“There weren’t.”
His hand deserted my neck, running over my shoulder and down my arms. He cradled my injured wrists in both his hands, eying the bruised and marred flesh. “I messed everything up.”
“What?”
“I shouldn’t have said what I did,” he continued. “Throwing all that on you . . . there was enough on your plate.”
His feelings, Ellie. He’s talking about having feelings for you.
He turned my hand over and began tracing shapes in my palm. “I don’t really know what anything means anymore,” August said. “To be honest, my friendship with you has been the most consistent thing in my life, ever.”
“Me, too.”
“I jeopardized that, and I’m sorry.”
He was sorry. August was apologizing, when it should have been me on my knees begging for forgiveness.
“Where are the others?” I asked him.
“I didn’t tell them where I was going,” he said. “They don’t even know about the note. I left alone, because I didn’t want any of them to see me like I was.” He paused. “I was a monster.”
Impossible. “You’re not a monster.”
“I tortured people, Ellie. Killed them.”
“But you had to. That doesn’t make you a monster.”
His blue eyes cut into me. “But it does for you?”
Silence.
He had me.
“That’s different.”
He snorted. “How?”
“I’m—”
“Caring and empathetic and innocent,” he answered, angling to better face me. “And I don’t want to hear otherwise.”
Something happened inside of me, in that single moment. Some sort of unfolding, like a flower opening up to the sun for the first time. A flower tossed between hands and battered by boots and the weather. A flower finally planted somewhere it could be nurtured. In an environment where it could grow.
I was wrong.
Being scared for nineteen years of my life wasn’t right. Neither was running and hiding and fearing my own reflection.
This newfound anger wasn’t right, either. It was disgusting and ugly; an emotion I needed to leave for Angel to feel.
So, what did that leave?
Something else. Something for me to embrace.
Hope.
Love.
Desire.
Beautiful things, like that flower opening up to the sun, starting a new life. Better things I hadn’t dared acknowledge before. In a previous world plagued by darkness and nightmares, Ellie Armstrong had dwindled into nothing. Been extinguished like a measly flame.
Surrounded by . . . by August, even, she could grab onto something new.
Something better.
Something different.
“August?”
“Mm.”
I curled my hands in his new shirt, pulling myself toward him. The sensation was familiar, wanting to mold myself into his body and fall into him. There were lines that had been crossed between us, more lines we feared to cross, and others we didn’t dare. There were areas I still didn’t understand, and some I desperately wanted to understand.
“August,” I said again.
Our eyes locked. We held each other against our will. He looked like he wanted to fall into me, too.
“I like being your friend,” I told him. “You were my first real friend.”
He nodded.
“What you said at the farm, up in Nebraska, you meant it?”
He nodded again.
“I’m sorry. I think I was selfish. I’m still figuring everything out, but I promise to do better.”
“You’re perfect,” he breathed. “I was an ass. Don’t listen to me.”
He was close. So close. Horribly and rightfully close. “I need you,” I whispered. “I need you so bad.”
His head fell onto my shoulder, nestling in the crook of my neck. In a nearly inaudible voice he murmured, “You have no idea.”
But I did.
I definitely did.
“Everybody I care about dies,” I said. “Please don’t die.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m sorry I almost lost it. I think the universe is keeping me alive for a reason.”
His fingers combed through my hair, body crowding me in, and I loved it.
Of course you do. And it’s about damn time you realize that.
“As long as I’m here, you will never be alone,” he murmured, breath blowing into my ear. “Do you understand me?”
I shivered. “Yes.”
“Good.”
A moment passed. “Hey, Augie?”
His head lifted from my shoulder. “What?”
I smiled. “You won’t be alone, either.”
~*~
I finally felt it.
What Blake called “sexual tension” was palpable between August and me. We shuffled around each other, swimming through the haze, both purposefully not bringing it up. Eventually he convinced me to eat a couple slices of pizza. I pulled myself slowly, bit by bit, up and out of the abyss I’d been in the last few days. He managed to make me laugh. We turned to the HBO channel and were blessed with a slew of eighties movies.
We were up half the night, laughing, not really saying anything to each other, simmering in the unbearable tension between us.
But we wouldn’t face it. We couldn’t. More or less we had placed our friendship above anything else and that was the consistency we needed.
Still.
When he laughed my stomach tightened. When he emerged from the shower, smelling like the citrusy hotel shampoo, my toes curled.
At around three in the morning, the movie Some Kind of Wonderful aired. I curled beneath the blankets, fatigue overwhelming me, while August sat at the table. The lights were all turned off. The only thing breaking the darkness was the dancing glow of the television.
“Ellie?”
“Mm.”
“You’re falling asleep on me.”
“Tired.”
“What? You’re not the one that drove six hours straight all the way into Nebraska, and then another six hours back.”
I winced, eyes popping open. I sought his form, through the darkness, was barely able to make it out. “Sorry.”
August clicked off the TV and stood, stretching his arms over his head. “I know you are. Here, pass me some pillows. I’ll make my bed on the floor.”
“No.”
He turned to me. “Ellie . . .”
“You’re tired, too,” I said. “Sleep in the bed.”
Bad idea. The words seemed to echo between us. Horrible idea, actually, what with all the tension and the confessions, and everything left unsaid.
“Please,” I amended softly. “I still have nightmares.”
That had him perching on the edge, stopping a moment before swinging his legs over and sliding down. We lay on our respective sides, staring up at the ceiling, not daring to move.
“This is better than the floor,” he admitted.
“I figured.”
“How are your aches and pains?”
“Better.”
“Good.”
Silence. The headlights of passing cars flashed through our windows; intermittent wedges of soft, orange light. A couple people spoke loudly outside. Life even continued in the darkness of night. Life would always continue.
How could I think leaving would be the right thing to do?
“Uh-oh, you went quiet,” August teased. “What are you thinking about?”
“I’m thinking about earlier. When I wanted to die.”
“Oh.”
His body was a comforting assurance beside me in the bed. I moved my leg a couple inches to the right so it pressed against his. “I was feeling a lot, I guess.”
“Understandably.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t make such permanent decisions.”
“I’d say not.”
Turning on my side, I faced him in the darkness, to find he was already looking at me. “It’s okay to be scared, right?”
The corner of his mouth twitched up. He brushed hair away from my face, fingers circling gently over my cheek. “Yeah, it is.”
“Then I’m scared, Augie.”
His hands grabbed me, pulling me forward against his body. He kissed my hair and tucked me beneath his chin. “I know, El.”
“Thank you for finding me.”
“You don’t have to thank me.”
I closed my eyes, breathing him in. His breath resounded through my head, heartbeat pounding within my own body. I welcomed my sensitivity to others in that moment. Feeling all of August up against me, inside and out, was an intimacy unlike any I’d ever experienced before.
More, more, more.
I wrapped my leg around his, grabbing his shirt, feeling the hitch of his breath.
There’s only one moment, so live in it.
I kissed his jaw, his neck, and this little spot behind his hear that made him growl. The sound reverberated through me like someone striking a gong. He tasted so good, which was an odd thought, and even stranger was my instinctual need to push him on his back and drape over his body in a sensual way so unlike me.
“Fuck,” August breathed, fingers digging into my waist as I pushed his shirt up and peppered kisses across his muscular chest. “What are you doing?”
I didn’t know.
He reversed our positions, eyes dark, lips parted with heavy exhalations. I stared up at his face. For once, there was only one discernible voice in my head.
And it demanded more.
“Blake always said there was tension between us,” I explained. “My head wouldn’t shut up about you, so I did something about it.”
My answer seemed to make him tenser. “I’ll kill the little fucker.”
“Why? What did he do wrong?”
“Everything, Ellie. And nothing at all. God.” His head bowed. “I am barely holding on right now.”
“To what?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“What if I do?”
The challenge in my voice was clear. His blue eyes clashed with my brown ones, and without looking away his hand settled on my stomach, over the t-shirt. Heat emanated from his palm and caused my stomach muscles to squeeze together. A pounding started deep in my core.
“Don’t play this game, Ellie,” he whispered, dragging kisses over my shoulder. “Not until you know what the rules are.”
My breath trapped in my throat.
“Because you can’t win.” His breath fanned over my face. “You can’t.”
And his heat left me. I opened my eyes to see him shove on his boots and open the door. “Where are you going?”
“Need some air,” he said. “I’ll just be right outside.”
The door shut.
I had a feeling we just crossed another line we shouldn’t have.