Sever (The Ever Series Book 3) Page 2

  I smile crookedly.

  “It was just last night,” I murmur.

  Yeah. I say this, but I know exactly how he feels. He smiles and brings up one hand to trace the curve of my neck.

  “As I said: too long.”

  We’ve been treading a fine line for the past year, both of us getting edgier as my birthday approaches. Physically, Ever has been … careful. Careful enough to drive me crazy. When his hand travels to the back of my neck, my eyes close. He pauses, and I savor the unnatural heat of his skin and the perfect, indefinable scent of him before his lips touch my jaw. He pulls back slightly, and my eyes snap open.

  “Your birthday,” he says pointedly. “You’ve been avoiding talking about it, thinking about it—”

  “Yeah, yeah. What’s the big deal? Another year closer to being ancient like you.”

  I still feel like my seventeenth birthday last year was a miracle—so much so that I let it pass without making a big deal about it. My superstitious side had been convinced that making a big deal of it would have been tempting fate. And now that my eighteenth birthday is on top of me, I’ve become ridiculously superstitious. Part of me thinks that if I even dare to think about my birthday, it will bring destruction raining down on us.

  “Wren, for my sake, please believe that this birthday is something to celebrate, not fear.”

  “I’m not afraid of my birthday,” I snap, my tone touchier than I intended. “I’m afraid I won’t make it that far.”

  “Do you remember what I told you?”

  I frown.

  “You’ve told me a lot of things.”

  “Then remember only this: I will not spend forever without you, and I will not allow anything to separate us, save your wish for it.”

  “I would never—”

  He smiles and shakes his head.

  “Just, please—have mercy on me and tell me what you would like to do to celebrate, because I will not grant you a reprieve this year. No quiet dinner at home with your mom and an elderly neighbor to mark your eighteenth birthday.”

  “Hey! Last year was great, and Mr. Hannigan is younger than you are,” I tease.

  And it’s true. In his mid-eighties, our next-door neighbor is several millennia younger than Ever. I sit up straight, grinning.

  “Besides, in case you hadn’t noticed, thanks to the freakish number of make-up days from that snowstorm in February, my birthday now falls on the same day as senior prom, so … Problem solved! No need for a party—it’s already taken care of.”

  “Wren …”

  I lean forward and kiss him.

  “Okay, okay. This. I would like to do this,” I say, imitating his formal articulation.

  Ever looks thoughtful as his fingers begin tracing my collarbone.

  “I have no argument with that, but it is your eighteenth birthday we’ll be celebrating …”

  “And what does that mean?” I ask breathlessly.

  “It means this past year has been the longest in my existence.”

  His hands whisper across my arms, skimming past my waist before settling on my hips as he leans forward. His lips touch the skin of my neck lightly. Then his mouth is on mine, and it feels like I’m on fire. When his hands tighten and pull me toward him, I gasp. Ever growls my name, and then his lips are on mine again. He pulls me forward as his lips part mine. The surge of fire that rushes through me is instantaneous. As I wind my arms around him, our kiss deepens, his tongue tracing the inside of my upper lip. My head begins spinning from lack of air, and I manage to pull back, feeling dazed and warm.

  “Wow,” I gasp. “That was … Wow.”

  As I open my eyes, it takes a second for the look of shock on Ever’s face to register.

  “What? Why are you looking at me like I have two heads?”

  “Do you feel well?”

  I think about it for a second. My pulse is hammering, I’m still flushed, and it feels like I’m floating, but that’s pretty normal after kissing Ever. On the other hand, he hasn’t let it get that intense before. He’s usually the one to stop before we’ve even reached a PG-13 rating.

  “Yes, I feel well,” I laugh. “Better than well. … Wait. Why?”

  Ever picks me up and sets me on the ground before reaching into my purse on the table behind me. He hands me my compact, but before I can even look at my reflection, I see my hand. It’s shimmering.

  “What the?!”

  It looks like I’ve been sprinkled with pixie dust. I’m glowing.

  “Seriously? Am I going to sprout wings next?”

  Bolting toward the stairs, I take them two at a time, and when I reach the top, I stare into the mirror. I still look like me, mostly. Just glowing, like I’m about to fly off to Neverland. And suddenly the real panic sets in. We were supposed to leave five minutes ago to meet my mom—and her new boyfriend. When I see Ever in the mirror behind me, I turn to face him in a panic.

  “What am I going to do? I can’t go out like this!”

  “It will be fine. Trust me.”

  “Are you kidding? How can it be fine? I look like someone just dunked me into a vat of body glitter!”

  He looks guilty—like he somehow knew this was going to happen—but he also looks certain of what he just told me.

  “No one human will notice,” he says pointedly.

  “Are you sure?”

  “There’s one way to find out.”

  I snort.

  “That is not comforting.”

  Ever takes my hand and leads me downstairs where I rush to put on my shoes and grab a jacket. As soon as we’re outside, I see Mr. Hannigan sitting on his front porch. I wave self-consciously.

  “Never see you without that beau of yours these days,” he calls. “Young man, you’d better be treating my girl like a princess.”

  “Always,” Ever smiles as he opens the car door for me.

  I get in and exhale as I buckle my seatbelt. I don’t have to worry about being late; Ever will make up the time. And I’m relieved that Mr. Hannigan didn’t say anything like, “Have you been exposed to radiation lately?”

  Now all I have to worry about is meeting my mom’s new boyfriend.

  I barely notice the turns in the road as I look out the window. We’re already climbing into the West Hills. It’s cloudy today, but not raining. Still, this doesn’t mean that water won’t fall from the sky later. Shaking my head, I take a few seconds to appreciate the winding two-lane road we’re on, the untamed green around us. It makes me wonder how long it will last, or whether this will all be housing tracts and big box stores someday. Will this two-lane country road lined by trees someday be a four-lane thoroughfare with a tame grassy median, like the ones near my dad’s house?

  Wincing, I instantly regret thinking of my time in Southern California. Because I can’t think of Southern California without thinking of him. In my peripheral vision, I see Ever glance in my direction. It’s not because he knows what I’m thinking. It’s because he doesn’t. My boyfriend not knowing what I was thinking used to be a rare occurrence—until I developed some control over what Ever sees in my mind. I can’t shield my thoughts all the time, but during the brief moments when I can’t help thinking of Alex, my mind remains invisible to Ever, which is empowering … and scary.

  While I like having my privacy, being able to sever my connection to Ever at will is strange. And it makes me feel guilty. Mostly because my best guess as to why I can hide my thoughts is Alex himself—that somehow my feelings for him permanently altered my connection to Ever.

  I wonder, though. Do my thoughts seem like bad radio reception to Ever, coming in and out randomly? He said a long time ago that it bothered him not to hear my thoughts, but I don’t think it was purely selfish on his part. It helps him know that I’m safe, and that I’m still me. Rather than something else—more specifically a being from his dimension—in my body.

  “Are you worried about meeting Caroline’s boyfriend?” he asks finally.

  I nod as I re
alize that maybe it’s better that my mom surprised me, rather than giving me too much time to think about brunch with her new boyfriend.

  Since Ever also has more difficulty following my thoughts when I’m scared or insanely freaked out, I’m in luck right now—because I have the perfect reason to be freaking out. Glowing like a fairy isn’t cool. And meeting my mom’s new boyfriend while I’m glowing like a fairy? That’s about an eleven on the stress-o-meter.

  Glancing at the speedometer, I force myself not to flinch as I remind myself for the millionth time that Ever is not going to kill us. Well, he’s not going to kill me, more accurately. He may be impervious to everything on this Earth, but he knows I’m not. Unlike him, I can die. When we leave the winding turns of the back roads, Ever’s speed slows considerably. We enter Portland proper, and minutes later, he slides into a space on 23rd. Taking advantage of his more human speed as he walks around to my side in full view of weekend tourists and window shoppers, I step out of the car before he can open my door, which is impossible most of the time.

  Looking up at him, I grin and make my eyebrows dance. Then it registers that Ever’s not even looking at me. He’s staring across the street, his expression surprised—again. Fear creeps through me. Seeing Ever surprised twice in one day isn’t a good thing, and for a few seconds, everything slows down. Adrenaline courses through me, and I turn in the direction he’s staring, expecting to find an army of black-eyed zombies marching toward us. But when I look across the street, all I see is my mom talking to a short man with curly red hair and thick-rimmed glasses.

  “Ever?”

  I playfully wave my hand in front of his face, and his attention instantly shifts to me. He smiles, taking my hand in his as we begin walking toward the crosswalk. When it starts misting, I pull on my jacket, and Ever wraps his arm around my shoulder. I lean into him as we step into the crosswalk. We’re halfway across the street when my mom catches sight of us and waves.

  That’s when I hear the distinctive screech of a bus braking—followed by the gut-wrenching sound of tires squealing against asphalt. As Ever spins me to his other side, I watch, wide-eyed, as the bus skids toward us, lurching to a stop just in front of his outstretched hand.

  2: These Things I’ve Done

  I blink and take a quick breath.

  The last time I saw Ever divert a speeding vehicle—to save me—said vehicle landed across the street with its drunken driver left dazed and bleeding. But what happened a second ago was too subtle. My heart still hammering as I stare at the bus, I see someone quickly and effortlessly roll out from its undercarriage at the very back. My mouth drops open when I see Chasen. He stopped the bus. As in he grabbed the bus and pulled it to a stop.

  I shake my head. That still leaves the question of: why is Chasen here? Of course, I see him all the time, but he’s supposed to be at Cornell University in Ithaca, New York. And nobody—well, nobody human—knows that he can shift between New York and Portland in the blink of an eye. Ever puts his hand on my shoulder, and finally I notice the screaming and general chaos around us. A second later, my mom pounces on me, crying hysterically.

  “Oh, honey! I thought I was about to lose you.”

  The bus driver, a round man with greying hair, rushes up to us.

  “Are you two all right? I was sure I was gonna hit you when the brakes went out. Thank the Lord Almighty.”

  Still dazed, all I can think is: Wrong. Thank Chasen. Ever begins pulling me toward the sidewalk with my mom glued to my other side as she swipes at her eyes with her free arm.

  “Caroline, we can take Wren and her friend to the hospital if it would make you feel better.”

  I look up at the red-haired man and feel a shock of unease ripple through me when I look into his slate-gray eyes. There’s nothing there. My breathing speeds up, and before I can start screaming like an insane person, Ever’s arm tightens around my shoulders.

  “We’re fine,” Ever says with an icy smile.

  “You’ll have to forgive me,” the man says. “It comes with the job. Wren, it’s very nice to finally meet you. I’m Richard.”

  He extends his hand, and I reach out, aware that Ever hasn’t loosened his grip on me. Taking the hand of the person in front of me, I instantly know he’s not human. Without thinking, I let every ounce of fury rise up inside me before forcing it outward. My mom’s hand remains on my shoulder—but both Ever and “Richard” release me instantly.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Richard,” I say with a grim smile.

  My mom beams.

  “Rick is a neurosurgeon at the hospital.”

  “You’re very young for a neurosurgeon,” Ever says with a slight edge.

  Whatever it is laughs.

  “I get that a lot. I started practicing two years ago. If you don’t mind me saying, you look a bit old to be in high school.”

  “You’re powers of observation are very keen,” Ever says evenly as he holds out his hand. “Ever Casey.”

  Ever extends his hand toward my mom’s date, and I watch uneasily as they shake.

  “I told you Wren’s boyfriend has a dry sense of humor,” my mom says. “Ever’s finishing his first year at Reed, but he seems to spend most of his time at our house.”

  My mom laughs cheerfully, not seeming to pick up on the tension between them. I’m glad my mom hasn’t been paying as much attention to Ever as I have, because under any other circumstances, I’m sure he’d be entrenched in an epic battle to send Rick back to wherever he came from. I almost wish he’d do it now, considering that this thing has latched on to my mom.

  A hollow feeling comes over me, and for several seconds, I almost wish that some soul-sucking creature had gone ahead and taken over my body instead of Ever finding me first. Then maybe everyone I love wouldn’t be in danger. Ever gently shakes me.

  “Foley? Party of four?” a woman calls.

  “That’s us!” my mom says. “You wouldn’t believe how long the wait is on the weekends without a reservation!”

  “We’ll be right after you,” Ever smiles.

  I watch with my stomach tied into knots as my worst nightmare puts his hand on my mother’s back and guides her into the restaurant. Ever turns to me, but I can barely concentrate through my desperation.

  “Wren, don’t dare think for one second that Caroline would have been better off without you. She needs you. So do I. I promise you, we will win this.”

  What he means is that creatures from his world have finally come back to claim what they want—me.

  “How do we win?” I whisper.

  “Together.”

  With a shuddering sigh, I take Ever’s hand and follow him inside, walling off my thoughts with each step, given I don’t know what this thing is capable of. Rick could be prowling around in my head right now for all I know. Or he could be waiting to lobotomize me—he is a neurosurgeon, after all. Either way, the last thing I want to do is make small talk with it. With a sinking sensation, I realize that giving him a look at my power, however flimsy it may be, was not the best thing to do.

  When Alex first showed up, I remember thinking that everyone wants something. Alex wanted something—something he knew I couldn’t give him. So he did the only thing that would bind me to him forever by sacrificing himself. Whatever Richard is, he—or whatever is controlling him—wants something, too.

  What I need to do now is to find an advantage. When I ran away to Southern California last year and volunteered for partial amnesia, I thought that everything I loved made me weak. At the time, I had assumed that giving up everything would protect those around me. Now I know that my power lives in how hard I’m willing to fight for what I love.

  If I give up now, I let the other side win.

  Ever pulls out my chair and then takes the seat next to me. Looking at him, I can see the barely contained hostility despite his benign expression. The restaurant is loud, warm, and crowded. Watching my mom lean toward her date, I have to restrain myself from reaching across the
table and zapping him with whatever I’ve got left. Ever grabs my hand and squeezes it gently, and a second later our server comes over with menus. Picking up mine, I glance at my mom, who winks at me. My stomach heaves as I turn and watch her date looking over the menu with impressive concentration. He looks up at me and smiles.

  “Well!” he says merrily. “I know what I’m getting.”

  Trying not to frown, I look down at the menu. Usually I’d be dying for something less than nutritionally sound—French toast or pancakes maybe. Not today. I can’t afford the brain fog. I need protein.

  “So, Wren. Your mom tells me you’re a big runner.”

  I smile grimly.

  “I’m preparing for the zombie apocalypse.”

  Rick—or It, as I prefer to think of him—laughs like I’ve said something really funny.

  “Aren’t you a bit young to be pondering the end of the world?” he chuckles.

  Our server returns, saving me from saying something crazy. With a smile, I order the spinach and mushroom omelet, and Ever orders a black coffee. My mom orders the French toast, and I stare when Rick asks for the restaurant’s “full breakfast,” which includes more than one human being can possibly eat.

  “Rick’s training for a marathon,” my mom says.

  “Neurosurgery, marathon training—you must never sleep,” Ever says.

  “You’re right. It feels like hundreds of years since I’ve slept,” Rick says, his expression jovial.

  A minute of silence passes before I force myself to look over at him.

  “So, how’d you meet my mom?” I ask, bracing myself.

  “Caroline, you’re a better storyteller than I am,” he smiles.

  Great. All my mom needs is an opening.

  “Well, I had seen Dr. Foley—” she laughs, “—several times in the cafeteria during the night shift, but we worked on different floors. So, anyway. There’s this vending machine in the break room, and I can’t count the number of times it’s stolen my money. It is literally possessed.”

  I wince.

  “Then one night, after the damn thing stole my last crisp dollar bill for the millionth time, someone comes up behind me, taps the silly thing once, and out pops my granola bar.”