Growling in frustration, I flipped over onto my stomach, burying my face in my pillow. Maybe taking my thoughts apart one by one would be as effective as counting sheep. I could try to make them jump over a fence and out of my mind.
Was Kaleb really as indiscriminate when it came to girls as Michael wanted me to think? He’d seemed so sincere when we talked. I couldn’t imagine that he’d share the things with a random stranger that he’d shared with me, especially the things about his parents. He might be flirty, but I thought he was genuine. Until the phone call from the kissy-faced girl. The way he’d answered practically stamped his forehead with the word player.
Add that to the conversation with Michael …
I pulled my pillow over my head and screamed.
“Emerson!”
The word was loud, coming from right beside my ear. I choked off my yell and sat up, clutching my pillow to my chest, whipping my head in the direction of the voice. It took me a second to make out the shape standing beside my bed against the light coming in my window from outside, but once I did, I wanted to scream again.
Jack.
“Not now,” I moaned in frustration, squinching my eyes shut. I opened them again slowly, hoping he’d disappeared.
No such luck.
“Are you all right?”
I sighed.
“Did you find your young man? Get the answers you were looking for?”
“My young man? Oh, I found him,” I grumbled. “And if one stupid boy wasn’t enough trouble, I also found his best friend.”
“Let me guess,” he said, a sympathetic smile on his face. “They’re fighting over you?”
“Yes. No! I don’t know.” I slammed my face into the pillow before answering him in a muffled voice. “It’s some kind of … competition, and it’s totally unnecessary. I just want to trap them in the same room and… and …”
“What?”
“Slam their heads together until they’re unconscious.”
He laughed his rich, buttery laugh. “Come now. You must be used to boys fighting over you.”
“That would be a big no,” I said, but I tucked his words away like a piece of candy into my pocket, to take out later and savor. “Where did you come from? I thought you were gone.”
Jack’s laughter stopped, and the room grew almost unbearably quiet.
“I looked for you yesterday. Where were you? Scratch that.” Scooping my hair out of my face, I sat up. His eyes were still the same strange blue, if slightly lighter, and they were staring right through me. His hair seemed lighter, too. I held the pillow clutched to me, very aware of how little I was wearing. “What are you?”
“That’s an odd question.”
“Not really.” I readjusted, pulling my covers up higher. “Every time I’ve ever touched rips, they’ve disappeared. You didn’t.”
“What’s a rip?” he asked, studying me with an expression of amusement.
“What you are. What I think you are.” I shook my head in irritation. He still wore the same black suit with the vest. Nothing really gave away what time period he belonged in, not even his haircut. His fingers were absent of rings. No visible clues to lock him into any era, except for the silver pocket watch that hinted of a gentler time. “You’re from the past. Right?”
He nodded.
“I don’t know why you’re here, Jack.” I leaned forward slightly, wondering what would happen if I tried to touch him. He had to know what I was thinking, yet he stayed still. “Why do you keep showing up?”
“For you.”
“What?” I shivered as the air conditioner cut on, the ceiling vent blowing cold air down over my bare arms.
“I feel … connected with you. I know all the mysterious turns life can take. I wish I could protect you from them.”
“That’s impossible.” I rubbed my hands over my arms briskly, trying to warm up, wondering how much of the chill had to do with Jack rather than the Freon-cooled air.
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you? You are so unique. So innocent.” The way he was looking at me didn’t make me feel innocent at all. It made me wish Thomas and Dru were home. “Life is … ripe with choices. Some less clear-cut than others.”
I centered the pillow more directly over my chest. “You’re not making sense. What you’re saying doesn’t—”
“One day it all will.” His eyes grew darker for a split second. “And on that day, you’ll know that I’ve done all of this … to protect you. All for you.”
I heard the front door of the loft open, but I didn’t look away from Jack.
He smiled a sad smile and took a step back.
Gone.
I wondered this time if it was for good.
Chapter 36
I don’t know what Dru said to Thomas to keep me out of trouble for going to find Michael. I only know that I was grateful. Thomas didn’t make a sound the next morning when I asked to borrow Dru’s car again, and she handed the keys over willingly.
I got while the getting was good, driving toward campus with the windows down. The air already dripped with humidity, and I was glad I’d put on shorts and a tank instead of jeans and a T-shirt. Blasting the radio, I let the music numb my mind. I didn’t want to think about how to handle the Michael/Kaleb situation. By the time I reached the Renegade House I had to give myself a pep talk even to get out of the car.
I walked in without knocking. The screen door banged to a close behind me, announcing my presence. I followed my nose to the kitchen and found Kaleb standing by the stove. He stirred something that smelled absolutely delicious, a wooden spoon in one hand and a huge chef’s knife in the other.
“Are you sober?” I asked from the doorway.
He turned and leveled a smile that made me a little wobbly. “I am.”
“Good. Because if not, I was going to take the deadly kitchen utensil away from you.” I crossed the room and pulled myself up to sit on the counter beside the stove. A cutting board full of green peppers and two uncut stalks of celery waited for attention from the knife. Melted butter and diced onions bubbled in a sauté pan on the stove. “You cook?”
Kaleb was so pretty I was jealous. Pretty, with ripped muscles and a tattoo of a red dragon covering most of his upper body. “Yes,” he said. “I cook.”
“Do you usually wear a wifebeater and”—I pushed him back a little by his shoulder—“an apron that says ‘Kiss the Cook’ while you’re doing it?”
He leaned so close to me my heart skipped a couple of beats. “I’ll wear it all the time if you’ll consider it.”
“Ha-ha. So,” I said, hastily changing the subject and pointing to the cutting board, “what are you chopping up?”
“The trinity: onions, green peppers, and celery. Étouffée’s going in the pot. Dune and Nate are on the way back from their consult, and they’re bringing crawfish. So,” he said, scraping stray bits of cut vegetables from his knife onto the side of the stainless steel pan, “final judgment’s on the way.”
My stomach twisted at the thought, knowing all of Michael’s plans depended on Cat’s answer. We couldn’t go without her. “Any idea what she’s decided?”
