Let the Sky Fall (2 page)

Hannah wipes a bead of sweat off her brow and turns to me. “I don’t really like cheesecake, so maybe the other one, eh?”

I bite my lip. They do serve food
besides
cheesecake—but I’m not in the mood to argue. “Yard House it is.”

The AC blasts us as we enter the crowded restaurant, and Hannah releases a sigh at the same time I do.

The tension between us evaporates. Whoever invented air conditioning should win the Nobel Prize. I bet they could bring peace to the Middle East if they gave everyone an AC unit and let them cool the freak down once in a while. I should e-mail the UN the suggestion.

The hostess leads us to a booth big enough to seat six people. Not that any other table would be more romantic. Between the loud music, sports games, and the guys at the bar drinking beer by the half yard and cheering for their teams, it isn’t much of a date spot. Which is exactly why I suggested it. Maybe if I don’t treat tonight like a date, I won’t run into any problems this time.

“Looks like you’ve got some fans,” Hannah says, pointing to three girls sitting a few tables away. All three blush and start whispering when I look at them.

I shrug.

Hannah smiles, flashing straight, white teeth. Her dentist must be proud. “Isaac said you were modest. Now I see what he was going on about.”

“Is that what he went on aboot?” I ask, mimicking her pronunciation.

“Ah, I was wondering when we were going to get to the accent jabs.”

“Hey, I think I’ve shown tremendous restraint. I let at least three or four ‘ehs’ pass without comment.”

She tosses a sugar packet at my head.

I tell Canadian jokes until the waiter takes our order, relieved when Hannah orders a cheeseburger. I hate girls who refuse to eat around guys, like they’re afraid we’ll think they’re fat because we actually see them putting food in their mouths.

Hannah isn’t like that. She’s confident. She isn’t the prettiest girl in the room, but she’s cute. Peachy skin, pink lips, and a mass of wavy blond hair. I’m sure more than a few guys would gladly trade places with me right now.

The problem is, I have a “type.” Isaac says I’m too picky, but he doesn’t get it. Honestly, I don’t understand it either. I just automatically compare every girl I meet to someone else. It’s dumb and crazy, but I can’t help it.

But as we eat our burgers and drink sodas packed with more ice than soda—desert style, I explain to Hannah—I’m stunned to realize I’m enjoying myself. I like Hannah’s laugh as much as her smile, and the way she brushes her hair behind her ears when she blushes.

And then, I see
her
.

Dark hair.

Dark eyes.

Dark jacket.

Leaning against the bar in the center of the restaurant, with only a sliver of her face pointed in my direction. I have to blink to make sure my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me.

They aren’t. Her hair is twisted into a tight, intricate braid, but it’s definitely her.

She turns another inch my way and our eyes meet. My heart pounds so loudly it drowns out everything else. It’s just me, and her. Locked in a stare.

Her eyes narrow and she shakes her head—like she’s trying to tell me something. But I have no idea what it is.

“Vane?” Hannah asks, and I jump so hard I nearly fall out of the booth. “You okay? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

She laughs, but I don’t smile. She isn’t that far off the mark.

Hannah follows my gaze, frowning. “Do you . . . know her?”

So Hannah can see her too.

She’s real
.

“Excuse me,” I say, on my feet before she can say anything else.

The hostess is leading a large party past our table, blocking my path to the bar, and it takes every ounce of my self-control not to shove them out of my way. I rush forward as soon as the aisle clears, but the girl’s gone.

I race for the door, ignoring Hannah as she calls after me, ignoring the way everyone stares at me, ignoring the blast of heat as I burst through the doors. And I find . . . nothing.

No sign of anyone anywhere—and certainly no gorgeous, dark-haired girl in a jacket. Just a face full of scorching desert wind and an empty courtyard.

My hands curl into fists.

She was
there
.

But how is that possible?

And how did she get away so fast?

I squeeze the bridge of my nose, trying to sort through the ten million things racing through my mind. I still haven’t made any sense of them when I hear quiet footsteps approach behind me.

“I had to pay the check so they wouldn’t think we’re skipping out—that’s what took me so long.” Hannah won’t meet my eyes. “I wasn’t even sure if you’d be out here.”

The thick June air sticks in my throat, closing off my voice. The sun has set, but that only makes the temperature drop a few degrees. I stand there, listening to the cicadas in the trees and searching for some way to explain—or apologize for—my behavior. “I’ll pay you back,” is the best I can do.

She turns toward the parking lot. “I guess we should probably go, eh?”

The silence buzzes with the things neither of us says.

Seriously, why does something
always
screw up my dates?

I still haven’t come up with a way to salvage the evening when we reach my faded white car. It isn’t much to look at, but it has a working AC, which was pretty much my only requirement. I open the door for Hannah, hoping it will prove I’m not a total psycho. She doesn’t seem impressed. Not that I blame her.

The drive back is torture. I’ve never noticed how many noises my car makes—but I’ve never had such a quiet passenger. I’ve also never noticed how many lights Highway 111 has. It’s the main road that
connects all the desert cities together, so there’s a signal. At every. Freaking. Block. And, of course, tonight they’re all red.

Thanks a lot, universe.

We’re about halfway home, just entering the string of “affordable cities” in the valley, when Hannah finally speaks.

“You gonna tell me what happened?”

I drag out a sigh, stalling for time. “I . . . thought I saw someone I knew.” It sounds lame even to me.

“Did you used to date her?”

Ha—I wish.

Fortunately, I stop myself from saying that out loud. I can hear the hurt in Hannah’s voice.

But it’s nice to know that Hannah really
did
see her—even though I have no idea what that means.

I stare at the dark, empty road. “It’s not what you’re thinking. It’s not like . . .”

“Like what?” she asks when I don’t finish.

I take my eyes off the street long enough to look at her. “I would never chase after some hot girl when I’m with someone else—not that the girl’s hot. I mean, okay, she
is
—but . . . that isn’t why I cared.”

“Why did you care?”

I wish I knew
.

“She’s just . . . someone from my past.”

It isn’t a lie, but it isn’t the truth, either. She isn’t just someone. She’s
the girl
. The one I’ve been dreaming about since the day I woke up in that pile of rubble and found my whole world torn apart. The only clue to my past. The only thing I see when I close my eyes.

She’s aged in my dreams. Grown up along with me. Which is the most confusing part. What kind of dream does that? And what kind of dream girl walks into Yard House?

The dreams are insanely vivid, too. Every night it’s like she’s in my room, leaning over me, watching me with eyes so dark blue, they’re almost black. Her long, dark hair tickling my skin. Her lips whispering sounds I can’t understand as they float through my mind. But when I wake up, I’m alone. Nothing but silence, and a faint breeze swirling through the air even though my window’s locked tight.

It all sounds so crazy.

But I’m
not
crazy.

I don’t know how to explain it—but one of these days I’ll figure it out.

I turn down Shelby’s street, searching the row of single-story houses for the gray pueblo-style one Shelby’s parents own. The rounded architecture might look cool, if normal, flat-roofed houses didn’t surround it. La Quinta’s random like that, like no one could make up their minds what to build here.

Isaac’s beat-up truck is out front, so I switch my phone off. He won’t be happy with me when I drop Hannah off so early.

Hannah gathers her purse as I slow to a stop, but I don’t unlock her door. I can’t let the night end like this.

“I’m really sorry,” I say, realizing I never apologized. “I was actually having a nice time, before I ruined everything.”

“Me too.” She tucks her hair behind her ears.

She looks so shy. So vulnerable. So different from the girl haunting me.

Maybe Hannah will make
her
go away.

I have to get over my obsession before she ruins my life.

A couple of June bugs—dumbest bugs on the planet—knock into the windshield, shattering the silence between us. I come to a decision.

“Can I . . . maybe have a chance to redeem myself?” I ask, ignoring the voice in my head begging me to let it go.

A half smile spreads across her lips. “Maybe—but only if you promise no Canadian jokes.”

“Aw, come on, you have to give me at least one, eh?”

She laughs. Even though it sounds forced, I can tell things are on the mend. I’ll have to be on absolute perfect behavior, but if I can pull that off things might be okay. And it surprises me how much I want them to be okay.

I don’t want to be the crazy guy chasing a mystery girl. I want to be a normal guy who hangs out with his friends and has a summer fling with the cute girl from Canada.

So I get out of the car and walk her to the door, the sticky air smothering us as we stand under the porch light. Moths fly at our heads and crickets chirp in the bushes and our eyes meet. I have no idea what the look on my face says—but her expression seems to say,
Why not?

I can’t agree more. It’s time to take control of my life.

My stomach does back flips as I step toward her, and I try to tell myself the sourness rising in my throat is nerves. I refuse to feel guilty for cheating on a girl I’ve never met. A girl I’m still not sure is real.

My hand cradles Hannah’s cheek, which is slightly cool from the car’s AC. She closes her eyes, and I close mine and lean in, hardly able to believe I’m finally doing this.

But in the split second before our lips touch, I hear a loud hiss, and a blast of arctic wind rushes between us.

Hannah staggers back as the fierce gust whips around her hair, tangling the blond waves. I try to reach for her, but the wind pushes and pulls at me with such force it feels like it’s trying to shove and drag me away. I lean into it, fighting to resist, but it sweeps against my legs, nearly knocking my feet out from under me. It’s like the wind has come alive—and only right here, around Hannah and me. The palms in the yard next door don’t move.

Just when I think it can’t get any weirder, a familiar voice blows straight into my brain.

Go home, Vane.

I look around, trying to see through the darkness and the swirling sand to find where she’s hiding. But the street’s empty. Just me and Hannah—who’s still battling the crazy wind yanking her away from me.

“I’m going inside,” Hannah shouts, swiping sand out of her eyes.

“Okay,” I yell, watching helplessly as she turns away from me. “I’ll call you.”

She doesn’t turn back. Doesn’t acknowledge me at all.

The wind sweeps my words away before they reach her. And then she’s gone.

CHAPTER 4

AUDRA

I
’ve sacrificed ten years of my life for this assignment.

Trained physically. Mentally. Emotionally.

I’ve given up food and sleep. Suffered hour after hour under the relentless weight of the desert sun. Lived in total isolation. Relegated myself to demeaning tasks like playing chaperone while the stubborn, ignorant boy rebels against everything that matters.

And now he may have gotten us both killed.

But it’s my fault as much as his.

Once again, I’ve called the wind too loudly. And once again I’ve given us away.

The Northerly wind was too far beyond my reach to command with a whisper. I had to shout. Which means my call is branded to the draft now—and it carries Vane’s trace as well. There’s no way the
Stormers won’t check the cold wind coming from the warm valley. And when they investigate, they’ll finally have their prize.

The world starts to spin and I suck in a breath.

I won’t let it happen again
.

I can stall them. Confuse their search.

Then I’ll deal with Vane.

He drives away in his white smog machine, and my legs shake as I step from the shadows, scanning the street for the dark shape I know will be roosting on a roof nearby. I hold my left arm out and he swoops down, gripping the sleeve of my jacket with his talons. Gavin knows not to screech. Our role is to be invisible.

It’s Vane’s fault we’re exposed. He’s lucky I went gentle on him. He has no idea who he’s messing with. But he’ll soon find out.

I stroke the soft gray feathers around Gavin’s neck, trying to calm the panic seizing my chest, making it hurt to breathe. “Go home, boy,” I whisper. “I’ll join you as soon as I can.”

Gavin’s sharp, red-orange eyes lock with mine and I know he understands the command. Then he spreads his wings and, with a powerful flap, takes to the skies. I envy his easy flight. Mine requires significantly more effort.

I retreat to the shadows, my fingers searching the air for an existing breeze to hide my trail.

Nothing. I have to wait.

The sporadic stillness of this place is like a drain, drying up my energy, my options, and my sanity. If the air hadn’t turned stagnant earlier, I could’ve put a damper on Vane’s “date” sooner. I wouldn’t have been forced to walk among the groundlings to try to scare him
off. I wouldn’t have had to let him see me. And I wouldn’t have had to call the Northerly to stop him from bonding to that girl.

We’d still be safe.

Of course, if he didn’t insist on breaking rules, we wouldn’t be in this mess either.