Unravel (2 page)

I answer Lachlan honestly. “For now I am.”

There’s a two-second pause as he looks me in the eye. A pause that makes my stomach twist and my blood roar through my veins. His mouth opens, but nothing comes out. He looks like he’s battling his feelings, but I watch as he loses. His eyes lock with mine and then he kisses me hard on the mouth.

Instantly, I come alive. And that’s what a good kiss should do. It should speak to you the minute your lips connect.

You don’t think.

You react.

You feel.

For Lachlan and me, it’s always been this way. All I can hear from this kiss is, “
Remember me. I’m real.”

I respond the only way I know how, the way Lachlan showed me in the past. His hands hold my face in place. The pressure of his lips declines when I move my mouth against his. He makes a noise and grips my face tighter. It triggers memories of who I used to be. Behind my eyes, memories start to play on a projector. Each one has Lachlan. The two of us in a field, lighting rockets. Staring at the stars and talking until the sun comes up. I see myself smiling and carefree and so happy.

For a brief moment, I feel at peace. Lachlan’s tongue slips between my lips. A shudder moves through me as I open my mouth wider. My fingers move up his arms, toward his neck. Just when hope starts to flicker in me, Mary clears her throat.

Lachlan pulls away first. His pupils are dilated; his lips are swollen from our kiss. I lick my lips, trying to get a piece of that kiss back. Mary clears her throat louder this time. I glance up.

“Mr. Halstead,” she says, “I think it’s time for you to leave.”

He removes his hand from the back of my neck. My skin instantly feels cold. My arms drop heavily onto the table as I watch Lachlan stand up.

He looks at Mary. “Give me just a minute,” he says.

Mary’s eyes move between the two of us. She sighs. “
One
minute,” she warns and walks away.

Lachlan leans close to me. I keep my eyes on the table, but the smooth surface starts to blur as tears pool in my eyes. Something terrible is brewing. I can feel it.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he says.

I look at him. I see the pain in his eyes. “I need you to visit me,” my voice cracks. “It’s the only thing keeping me going.”

Lachlan looks out the window. My fingers reach out and I grip the collar of his shirt, forcing him to look directly at me.

“You can’t leave me.”

A tense silence wraps around us. He looks at me through his eyelashes, his expression grim. One by one, his fingers wrap around my wrists. Firmly, he pulls my fingers off his shirt.

“I’m not leaving you. That’s the last thing I want. But I don’t think I’m helping you. I think I just make everything worse,” he says slowly.

“You help me,” I insist. “Whenever you visit things are better.”

Lachlan says nothing.

“You’re just having a bad day. I’m having a bad day. Tomorrow things will be better and—”

His head turns. I see the look in his eyes. It doesn’t matter what I say. He isn’t going to change his mind.

Everything around me has been a chaotic mess, yet he has stood firm. And now he’s shredding my world.

This must be what hell feels like. It has to be. My lungs are constricting. I can’t breathe. I rub my eyes with my palms, moving my head back and forth in denial. If Lachlan stops coming I’m afraid of what will happen. My sanity is being held together by a threadbare string. I’ll break before that frozen water drop does.

Feeling his hand on my shoulder makes me shake. He squeezes once. I force my hands to stay on the table.

His hand drifts away. There Lachlan goes, walking out of my life.

I turn in my chair. “Wait!”

Lachlan turns around.

At this point, I’m desperate. I know I’m losing him. “Do you remember what you said to me a year ago?” I ask.

His jaw tightens. He looks away and I know he’s trying not to respond to my question, but he can’t help himself. Even when you’re angry, love tugs at your soul in the most painful way. It makes you care—makes you feel—when that’s the last thing you want.

He nods stiffly.

“Then, please, don’t do this,” I say.

He steps forward.

“Lachlan,” Mary calls out behind him.

He stops.

I plead with my eyes. Seconds pass and I think he’s going to tell Mary to fuck off. I think he’s going to say he didn’t mean what he said. But he slowly backs away.

The world rips out from under my feet. I’m in a free fall, frantically trying to grab onto anything that will save me.

Lachlan’s figure starts to become hazy. My skull feels like it’s been cracked in half. I grip the table and slump forward. Tables and chairs disappear into thin air. The walls crack and shatter to the floor. New walls, the rich shade of brown, burst from the ground. The tan linoleum floors fade into plush, white carpet.

The windows shatter around me. A cold gust of air bursts into the room. I curl my fingers around my head and moan. Shards of glass rotate through the air. They miss my body by inches before they disintegrate. A large window fits into the wall with a loud suction noise. Sunlight fades away, replaced by the soft glow of moonlight.

Then everything stops.

My eyes open. I blink once and slowly stand up.

The rec room is gone.

I’m facing a mirror, staring at my reflection. I don’t look the same. I look refreshed, happy, and even beautiful. My blonde hair is styled in finger waves, one side pulled up with a golden barrette. My cheeks have color and my eyes have life in them. I’m back to being Naomi.

My body is covered in a dress that clings to my body. Turning to the side, I see my entire back is exposed. Quickly, my attention goes from the dress, to the male sitting in the corner of the room.

Max.

My lips curve up and my heart races, as I watch him. He rests his ankle against his opposite knee. His expression is relaxed and the dimple on his right cheek makes him appear boyish. But his full lips curve up into a masculine smile that is anything but.

He stands to his full height and I watch as he slides his black blazer over his wide shoulders, covering up his white shirt and black suspenders. His black bow tie is undone, hanging around his neck like a black ribbon.

His hair is unruly. But he doesn’t care. That’s the thing with Max. He breaks past every single rule and takes his own road.

He adjusts the collar of his jacket as he walks up behind me. His body swallows me up. The top of my head grazes his chin.

I cherish this moment like a lifeline and I hold on for as long as I can. It never lasts long. But each time I see him, I become convinced that it will be different, that he won’t disappear on me.

I take in the strong jaw below his sharp cheekbones. His skin is free of stubble and tan from the sun. He steps closer and his fingertips brush against the bare skin of my back. I shiver.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs.

I stare at us in the mirror. He lifts a brow. His lips curl up in a lazy smile.

Pulling my hair to the side, he wraps both of his hands around my arms, encouraging me to lean against him. I go willingly and when my shoulder blades touch his chest, I practically sigh. He stares at me through the mirror and slowly leans down to kiss me on the shoulder. His teeth graze my skin. I make a noise and tilt my head further to the side.

He asks the same question Lachlan asked minutes ago. “Do you love me, Naomi?”

My body still reacts at the way he says my name. I can barely swallow, so I nod as he moves in closer and breathes me in.

I do love him. In the most twisted, impossible way.

Max tilts his head and smirks, like he knows what I’m thinking. His hand moves from my neck and drifts lower. I watch as his large, tanned hand stops where my heart beats. His palm lays flat against my skin and his fingers spread.

His eyes droop to half-mast as he watches my reaction in the mirror. The tip of his nose brushes against my cheek. My hands fist up, and I watch in fascination as he kisses the curve of my cheekbone.

“If you love me then don’t give up,” he says, his voice a low whisper.

“I promise I won’t.”

I know what’s next. And I’m desperate for this time to be different. So I lean even further into him and smell his scent. For me, stuck in this place with sterile walls and musty scent, it’s refreshing. It wraps around me before it disappears.

Just like that, he’s already fading. My voice is stuck in my throat and I reach out for him, but my hand just slashes through the air.

He’s gone and I’m falling.

My back hits the back of my chair. I jump in pain and shock. My heart pounds in my ribcage, and I take deep, shallow breaths, trying to calm my heart.

“Naomi. Are you okay?”

I flinch and look up to find Mary staring at me.

Her face is etched with concern as she waits for me to answer. I swallow loudly and shake my head. Painfully, my fingers dig into my thighs while my body shakes with pent-up frustration.

“I’m fine.”

“It’s time for your medication,” she says.

I stand up and nod before I follow her back to my room.

I’m running on adrenaline, and a sweat breaks out across my forehead.

Even though he’s gone, I can still hear Max. I can still smell him. I can still feel his hands on my skin.

I know I’m not making Max up. I know I’m not imagining anything. And what scares the hell out of me is that all those facts change nothing.

The only fact that matters is that everyone thinks I’m a total headcase. And now, the one person that has consistently been there for me is losing hope.

Tonight, I would rather take the drugs than think about what is stacked against me.

Tomorrow, I’ll accept that in order to unravel my story, I’ll be destroyed first. Like the frozen water drop, it’s inevitable that I break.

Going, going… gone.

“What feels good to you?”

I roll onto my side and rest my head on my hand. Max lies on his stomach. Across from us, the window is open, letting in the summer heat. Bright sunlight pours into the bedroom. It trails across the floor, up onto the bed and slants across Max’s back. I trail my fingers across his tan skin before I lean close.

What feels good to me? I answer by kissing him hard on the mouth. Good. Max responds, his hands curving around my face, holding me in place as he sits up.

He moves above me, his lips never leaving mine. His body lowers and we’re skin to skin. He breathes through his nose and I wrap myself around him.

The hands that I love trace the outline of my body. His breath is warm against my skin, kissing my jaw and moving further down.

And then he’s ripped from my embrace. He reaches back for me. Right before he disappears, I see the look of fear in his eyes. It’s not for himself. That fear is for me.

“Get out of my head,” I moan. “Get out, get out, get out!”

I forcefully press my palms against my eyes forcefully until spots form. I keep pressing, hoping the image of Max will dissolve.

How long can a memory replay before your mind short circuits? I can feel my mind trying to keep up with all my Max memories. It works faster and faster. Starts to overheat. And then boom. It explodes.

Right now, it doesn’t seem like such a bad option. I want a blissful moment where I can just…
be
.

No memories.

No words.

No pain.

Silence.

I stand up from my bed and pace. A frustrated groan escapes me. I’m tired of being stuck in this place. This small room. I stare at the four, cream colored walls that surround me. They’re blank. No pictures of family, no posters. Nothing. Other than the television, the only thing I have for entertainment is the big, square window.

I’m tired of it all.

It’s like being trapped in a box. And every day that I’m trapped, the sides close in just a little bit more.

Most days, I can handle this place. But now that Lachlan is staying away, I’m afraid. He was my only source of support.

Mary knocks on my door. Nine a.m. sharp. I expect to see her usual somber face, but today she looks at me with a light in her eyes. “Good. You’re up.” She hands me morning pills. “You’re seeing a new doctor today,” she says.

I frown as I swallow them all. “Why?”

I think Dr. Woods is full of shit. He thinks I’m a whackjob. We have a silent understanding; he prescribes me medicine, and I pretend to listen to his advice.

“Why? I don’t know why you’re seeing someone new.” She nudges her head toward the hall and I can’t tell if she’s lying to me. “Are you ready?”

No, I’m not ready. I hate change and I don’t want to start all over again with a new doctor.

“Has Woods given up on me?”

“Naomi…” She sighs and looks away. “I’ve already told you I don’t know why you’re seeing someone new.”

“Mary, if you’re going to lie to me make sure your delivery is right. Make me believe it.”

She gives me a blank look, but one corner of her mouth pulls up. Just a little. “Just come on, will you? You’re going to be late,” she says.

“So… this new doctor. Does it have a name?” I ask as we walk down the hall.