The Space Between (The Book of Phoenix) (16 page)

“And who would want to kill you?”

The word sent a chill up my spine, and at the same time deflated my bravado. “I . . . I don’t know. None of this makes sense.”

“You’re telling me.” Micah walked over to the living room wall, slid down it to his butt, rested his elbows on his knees and dropped his head into his hands. I went over to my bedding by the opposite wall and sat down with a pillow in my lap, suddenly feeling exhausted. But I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink.

“So who would want to kill
you
?” I asked. “Why are you so paranoid? Does it have something to do with the military?”

Micah lifted his head to look at me. “Whoever they are, they didn’t expect me to fight back so hard. They acted surprised by my combat training.”

“So why are you so worried? Why do you think I’d do this to you? Do you have some kind of riches you’re hiding? Did you commit some kind of crime?”

“None of the above.” He rubbed his hand over his head several times. “Look, I’m sorry I blamed you. But all of this started with you.”

I peered at him. “I could say the same, you know. For me, this all started with you.”

He chuckled, though the sound held no humor. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. So what does it all mean? What do
you
think is going on?”

I’d never forget the odd yet awesome feeling of our souls bonding together, but now that it was over, the idea sounded ridiculous. I wanted to know if he’d felt it, too, but was too embarrassed to ask.

“Do you know what dyad means?” I hedged instead.

His head jerked up. His eyes widened, then narrowed tightly. His voice came out in a whisper. “You heard that, too?”

“Duh. I didn’t pull it out of my ass. So do you know?”

“No idea. You’re the college girl. No dictionary around?”

I was about to shake my head when I remembered I kept a pocket dictionary in my school backpack. Pops had given it to me, telling me to keep it in my bag in case I ever needed it while in class or study group. I crawled over to the pile of stuff I’d taken out of my Jeep and pulled out my backpack. After a few seconds of digging around through all of my important papers, I found the little dictionary stuffed into a bottom corner.

“Totally weird,” I muttered once I’d flipped through the pages to the D section, then found
dyad
.

“What?” Micah asked, still sitting on the far side of the room and making no effort to come to my side.

“The official definition says, ‘a group of two people, a pair, such as husband and wife.’ But someone’s scribbled in the margins.” I frowned. “Pops gave this to me new. How did this get here?”

“What does it say?” Impatience colored Micah’s tone.

The lines and swirls appeared to be nothing specific at first, but then I was able to make out the words. I swallowed hard and looked up at Micah.

“It . . . um . . . here.” I tossed the book across the room. Apparently, neither of us felt comfortable getting too close to the other. For me, anyway, I wasn’t sure which I feared more—what was going on or losing control again and jumping his bones.

Micah thumbed through the pages until he found the right one. His eyes squinted as he focused on the handwriting. Then he looked up at me, his straight, dark eyebrows high on his forehead. “Twin Flames?”

Simultaneously, we both looked at the other’s wrist and then at our own. Then Micah threw the book across the room, with more force than necessary. I ducked before it nailed me in the forehead.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

I reached for the dictionary and, by chance it was defined, I looked up Twin Flames. No definition given by Merriam-Webster, but another note scrawled in the margin referred to the Appendix. Flipping to the end of the book, I found no official appendix. Instead, ballpoint ink covered the last page of the book. The handwriting was easier to read as I became used to it. I read it aloud.

“Twin Flames: A deeper connection than soul mates. While soul mates are two souls made for each other, Twin Flames are two halves of a single soul that has been divided. The halves pull to each other until they are finally reunited. When they are once again bound to each other, they are stronger than the sum of their parts.”

By the time I dropped the book to my lap, Micah was on his feet and striding for the door.

“I gotta get out of here,” he said. “I can’t do this.”

And then he was gone, pulling the door shut behind him.

I didn’t have to ask if he’d felt the same truth about our souls bonding during the kiss that was more than just a kiss. His reaction to what I read told me. I couldn’t blame him for walking out—the flame tattoos, the definition of Twin Flames, the incredible connection we’d made during the kiss was all a bit much for me and I wasn’t a guy—but it took everything I had to keep from begging him to stay or lashing out at him and calling him a coward. I wasn’t that type of girl and wasn’t about to become one. If he wanted to go, I wouldn’t force or guilt-trip him into staying, even if it meant never seeing him again.

Based on what I felt as he left, though, I didn’t think he’d go far or stay away for long. I could
sense
him—as in, I could feel his presence as he moved across the yard to the parking lot and climbed into his truck—and I was sure he could sense me. When he pulled away, my heart, or maybe it was my soul, felt like a rubber band being stretched from the other end. The sensation wasn’t exactly painful, but it didn’t feel good either. I could only hope if he did decide to take off, one of us would figure out how to break the bond. Maybe enough distance and time would cause it to disintegrate or even snap on its own . . . but I doubted it.

I had no idea what to think of all this. I wanted to call Bex and tell her everything, but she would think me totally whacked. The whole scenario was completely nutso. Besides, exhaustion kept me from making the trek to the bar’s pay phone, and, admittedly, a little fear did, too, with those two guys somewhere out there. Micah wouldn’t be here to rescue me this time. Hell, as far as I knew, he could be headed out of town for good. The pull on my soul remained.

So I stretched out on my makeshift bed and tried to think things through. Sammy snuggled beside me as I picked up the dictionary and investigated it. Although the cover was scratched and marked and bent at the corners, you could tell it hadn’t really ever been used. I had always used the full-size dictionary in my dorm room, one of the things Bex had packed and kept in storage for me. The spine on this one was pretty smooth, having been cracked open only twice before—the day Pops gave it to me and tonight. So how did those notes get in there?

I surely would have noticed them when I first received the gift and fanned through the pages. The “appendix” couldn’t have been missed, written on a blank page facing the inside cover. But the book had been at the bottom of my backpack for nearly two years. At least . . . I thought it had. The notion of someone taking it out to add these little notes then somehow stuffing it all the way back to the bottom was silly. Who would do such a thing? Why?

“I don’t get it, Sammy,” I mumbled. He nuzzled his head against my arm, making me drop the book.

I tried to think harder on the dictionary and the mysterious definitions, but my body shut down, overwhelmed by the day’s insanity. When I woke up in the middle of the night, my first thought was the pull had disappeared. I crawled over to the French doors and peeked out the window. Micah’s truck sat outside in the parking lot, no lights or engine on, and from what I could see through the windshield, his body was splayed out uncomfortably in the seat.

I fought the urge to go down and tell him to go home, that I didn’t need a babysitter, but based on the little flip my heart made when I saw him down there, I didn’t trust myself. I’d probably ask him to come upstairs instead, which could be disastrous, regardless of his answer. I didn’t want him to leave again, but I also didn’t want to do anything I’d regret in the morning. So I pretended I didn’t know he’d come back and returned to my crappy bed on the floor. Knowing he was nearby allowed me to relax completely, and I slept soundly until the noises of construction were right outside my door.

This morning was one of those times I was glad Sammy couldn’t talk. Nobody needed to know about the celebratory dance I may or may not have done while still in bed when I knew Micah hadn’t bailed on me. I was ridiculously stoked to feel him right outside, and if Bex were here, I’d never hear the end of it. She’d never seen me even slightly interested in a guy—boy-crazy was her thing, not mine—and what I felt had to be beyond anything she’d ever experienced in her life. After all, I don’t think it’s every day someone goes through what we had.

The weight of this thought slowly settled within me, and my excitement turned dark. What
had
we gone through? What did it all mean? Was it even real? The flame on my wrist and the feeling in my gut, in my very core—the feeling of Micah—meant something had definitely happened. I was tied to him in some inexplicable way, which terrified me. Would I always have these weird feelings now? My chest heaved and tightened, and the air clawed at my lungs and throat as the thought of losing control over myself sent me into a panic attack.

A persistent pounding on the door jerked my thoughts out of the downward spiral. “Jacey! Let me in!”

Oh, my god. I can’t let him see me like this
. I drew in deep breaths and exhaled slowly—
in, out, in, out
—trying to quell the pounding in my chest that echoed the one on the door.

“Now, Jacey!”

In, out, in, out
. My lungs and heart finally settled into a more natural rhythm when the wood jamb cracked and the door flew open. Micah was on his knees in front of me in a heartbeat.

“Are you okay?” he panted, his hands hovering over my shoulders as if he wanted to embrace me but feared the touch. His overwhelming concern flooded over me, nearly suffocating me again. Why did he care so much? Too much. Way too much. And I knew why, but I didn’t want to admit it. Rather than panicking again, I became angry.

“I’m fine,” I snapped, tugging the blankets to my chest. “My stairs yesterday and my door today? How do you plan on waking me up tomorrow?”

His hands fell to his thighs, and the worry left his eyes, leaving them hard as stones. “Of course you’re fine. I’ll fix the door.”

He rose to his feet and walked out the door, trying to close it behind him but he’d broken the latch, so it sort of just hung there. I growled to myself, then rose to begin my day. Sammy bounced around, and I swore under my breath. After that brief altercation, I didn’t want to bother Micah, but Sammy had needs. As soon as I opened the door—well, opened it further—Micah was already there, taking Sammy without a word to me, but talking to my dog all the way down the ladder and even as Sammy ran to the bushes and peed. I watched them play for a few minutes until my own needs became urgent.

“He loves my dog,” I muttered on the way to the bathroom. “And Sammy loves him. He can’t be the worst person to be bonded to.”

But still . . . the idea of being tied so closely to another person was too much. Surely that’s not what Twin Flames meant. Maybe all of the gibberish in the dictionary was just that—bullshit. After all, it had been handwritten, not officially defined by the experts. I needed to find a library.

After a scalding hot shower that didn’t wash away the freaky vibes running through me no matter how hard I scrubbed, I gathered my things to head out for some research. I was pleased at the progress outside my door, although I still had to use the ladder. Without a word to Micah, I headed for my Jeep, Sammy on my heels.

“Where are you going?” Micah called out. I stopped in my tracks but didn’t turn around.

“To find a library. I don’t assume you know where one is?”

He snorted. “Of course I do. But I’m not telling you.”

I spun on my heel. “Excuse me? Why not?”

He strode across the yard closer to me, spiking my heart rate. His voice came out lower. “There are a couple of guys who are apparently stalking you, remember? I don’t like you running around by yourself.”

My jaw dropped. Part of me thrilled at his protectiveness, but another balked at it, raising my hackles. “I can take care of myself, thank you very much.”

“Probably, but I still don’t like it. I can’t, in good conscience, let you go. I’ll be done by lunch time, and then I’ll be happy to take you myself.”

I opened my Jeep door and threw my bag inside. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“More like a bodyguard.”

“I don’t need that either,” I said petulantly.

He cocked his head. “Are you sure about that? The same Ford Taurus from yesterday has driven by here at least half-a-dozen times this morning. It’s the main drag, so a couple times is expected. Not six, though.”

My gaze drifted over to the road, where several cars drove by. Were those guys waiting for me to be alone? Was I going to let that possibility keep me prisoner?

“Surely they wouldn’t attack in a public place in broad daylight,” I scoffed as I moved to get in the Jeep. “Can you watch Sammy for me?”

“No.”

I turned to look at him. He was serious.

“I can’t let you go,” he added, pushing the Jeep’s door closed in front of me.

That set me off. “How dare you! You can’t order me around like this. Who do you think you are? What do you even care? Last night you bolted, said you couldn’t handle this, and now you’re treating me like a helpless little girl?”

“I feel . . . this need to protect you. I always have, since that night in the alley in Virginia.” His hand lifted toward me, but it stopped in mid-air and went to the back of his head instead. His gaze traveled over my face and when his eyes came to mine, I tried to look away but I wasn’t fast enough. Our eyes locked and that intense rush swirled through my veins. “Look, I want to know more, too. Just wait for me to finish here so I can go with you.”

Did he have any idea what he was doing to me? Did he do it on purpose? I couldn’t deny him when I was like this. I wanted him to come with me, too. I wanted nothing more than for him to be my side. Constantly. Forever. I shook myself out of it and forced my eyes from his.

“Fine,” I muttered. “As long as you don’t bail again when shit gets freaky.”

“Jacey,” Micah murmured, and I couldn’t help but look up at him, into those dark, mysterious eyes. His hand moved toward me again, but he didn’t pull back this time. He cupped my chin and ran his thumb over my bottom lip. My whole body vibrated like a tuning fork. “I don’t think I
can
bail on you.”

He dropped his hand and walked away. He’d probably felt the heat pouring out of my body, licking at his skin. I drew in a deep breath to slow my stuttering heart. When I was calm again, I reached into my Jeep and grabbed my change purse, then headed across the yard.

“Hey,” Micah called out. “Where do you think—”

“I’m just going across the street to the pay phone. Right there.” I pointed at it. “I’ll still be in your eyesight, warden.”

His eyes narrowed for a moment, then he nodded. Whew. I thought he was going to insist on standing right next to me while I made my call, which wouldn’t be cool because I needed to talk to Bex. About him. I no longer cared about the harassment she would give me. I only hoped she’d be home this time or her mother would at least remember me and give me a phone number.

“Hello?” Bex answered on the second ring.

“Bex! You’re there,” I nearly squealed.

“Who’s this?” She sounded genuinely perplexed.

“Duh. It’s me. Jacey.” The words poured out of me. “Dude, I’m so stoked you answered. I’ve been trying to get ahold of you, but your mom was like whacked out, I should have taken you up on your offer to come with me because I could totally use a friend right now, you’ll never believe what’s happening down here—”

“Whoa! Take a breath there, chicky. Now who is this again?”

I rolled my eyes. “Bex, this is long distance. I don’t have a ton of quarters on me, but I do have plenty to tell you. Please don’t play games.”

“Dude, seriously. If you don’t tell me who you are, I’m hanging up.”

“Um . . . Jacey?” Why did it sound like a question?

She chuckled, and I let out a relieved breath. “I guess you have the wrong number. I don’t know a Jacey.”

“Very funny. I know it’s been too long since we talked, but not
that
long.”

“I’m serious. I
don’t
know a Jacey.”

I huffed into the phone, tired of her game. “Your roomie. Your best friend at college. I miss you horribly, and I’m really,
really
sorry I didn’t let you come with me. I would kiss your feet or whatever else you’d like me to kiss if I was there. Now please cut the bullshit.”

“Fuck you, weirdo! Don’t ever call here again!” She hung up with that. I stood there in shock, staring at the pay phone for several moments. Then I waited a little longer for her to call back. Her parents had a fancy service called Call Return or something, which let them dial the last number to call them.

“And that’s how it begins, young Guardian,” said a vaguely familiar voice behind me. The voice of the Billy Idol dude. “It starts with the people you know and love, and before long, your whole existence will be completely forgotten by this world.”