Timepiece (Hourglass #2)

Timepiece (Hourglass #2) Page 34

“There wasn’t enough of the exotic matter in pill form for me to accomplish all the things I needed to do without Emerson. It simply wasn’t strong or stable enough.” He shrugged. “The further I went back, the faster it burned up, the faster I aged, the longer it took for me to recover.”

“So Em was your alternative.”

“I thought once I found Emerson, and once she was mentally healthy, I’d just need to help her understand what I’d done for her. I was sure once we connected, she’d be willing to make any number of trips for me. But she chose the Hourglass instead. And then she tricked me by keeping the exotic matter formula disk.”

“Why are you telling me this? You always have a motive. What is it this time?”

He smiled slightly. “Because we’re the same, Kaleb. The things we want from life. We’re always the last to be considered. The second choice. And we both want that to change.”

Fury. So much I shook the bench. “We. Are not. The same.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” He shrugged. “I have answers for you when you want them. Wake up. I can see you. Now you need to try to see me.”

A throat cleared. I looked up sharply at the police officer from earlier.

“You’re free to go.”

“Thanks.” I gave him a nod. “I’ll be on my way shortly. I just want to finish this conversation.”

The officer frowned. “Are you sure you’re all right? No headache or … lingering … anything?”

“I’m fine,” I said, smiling. I even threw in a thumbs-up. “And dandy.”

He nodded doubtfully and walked away, and I turned back around to face Jack.

He was gone.

But he’d left the pocket watch in his place.

Chapter 30

The minibar stood open.

I could see Em and Michael in the dim light through a crack in their door, curled up in bed. I assumed the door wasn’t closed because Michael planned to stay with Em all night. Either he didn’t want her honor to fall into question, or he didn’t want to break Thomas’s rules. Boy Scout.

Lily was nowhere in sight.

Picking up a tiny bottle of Crown Royal, I ran my finger over the ridges of the glass, a perfect replica of the bigger bottle. I was a perfect replica of no one. I wanted out of my head—out of my body. Out of my life.

“Put it down.”

Lily.

“Go away, little girl. I don’t want to play right now.”

I didn’t want to hurt her, either, but I didn’t need any witnesses. Still, I was surprised when I didn’t feel any hurt. I turned around.

The sight of her made my chest ache with an unexpected want.

“I’m not playing.” She crossed the room and took the bottle out of my hand, her determined fingers unwrapping each of my tense ones. “You aren’t going to do this.”

Holding on to my wrist with one hand, she took away the liquor with the other.

“You aren’t my keeper, Lily.”

“No one is. You’re responsible for you. I’m simply reminding you that you’re worth more than what you’ll find at the bottom of a bottle.” She leaned over to put the liquor away and shut the mini-bar. Her hair fell in waves over her bare shoulder, hiding the black strap of her tank top. “Days like today could make you forget.”

“How about years like today?”

“I was worried when you took off. So were Em and Michael. I made them go to bed—promised I’d wake them up if you weren’t back by midnight.”

Gesturing toward their open door, I said, “I don’t think they really cared whether I came back at all.”

“That’s not true, Kaleb. Em insisted on staying up to apologize. That was before she cried so hard she wore herself out. She knows she was wrong and that you were trying to help her because you love her.”

I searched Lily’s face.

“You do love her?”

“Not like that.” I paused, surprised. It was true. “More like a sister. A best friend.”

“That role is already taken, but you can audition for understudy. Michael cares, too, you know.” When I shook my head, she sighed. “You need a Lily intervention. Come with me.”

When she gestured to the other empty bedroom, I almost swallowed my tongue.

“Down, boy. I meant so we could talk at a normal volume. But only if you want to talk. If you don’t, I’ll flip you for the foldout.”

“I’m not flipping you for … ugh.” I sighed. “My mama raised a gentleman, remember?”

She took my hand. “I also believe you tacked ‘in most circumstances’ onto the end of that explanation.”

In the bedroom, a book lay open facedown on a side table. Its well-worn spine was cracked, and Lily’s tiny glasses rested on top. She sat down on the double bed, and since the only chair was serving as a luggage rack, I sat down on the floor. Her back was against the headboard, and her legs were crossed at the ankles. Tiny embroidered cupcakes seemed to dance on her pajama pants. They even had sprinkles.

Due to previous experience, I should’ve been comfortable in a bedroom with a girl, but Lily looked at me as if she expected me to say something instead of do something.

“I’m sorry.” I blew out a breath. “About earlier. That you had to hear all that. I acted like a jerk.”

“All three of you acted like jerks,” she confirmed in a dry voice. “But there’s an extenuating circumstance to take into consideration. That kind of trauma can bring buried things to the surface.”

“Is that your way of telling me I’m off the hook for my behavior?” Lily didn’t deserve my sarcasm, but I dished it out, anyway.

She shrugged. “I didn’t have you on a hook. But I do have a question. Do you really feel like everything that’s happened is your fault?”

“You always get right to the point,” I said, half annoyed, half in awe. “There’s no messing around.”

“Why waste time?” She leveled her eyes at me. “And don’t turn the conversation back to me. This is about you.”

I tried to calm my own emotions enough to feel hers. Curiosity. Real, true empathy. She was trying to see things through my eyes. Nobody outside my immediate family ever did that. “I know it’s not rational, but yes. I do feel like most of what’s happened is my fault.”

Lily nodded, and then she was quiet for a few seconds, processing. “That’s the reason you offered to take the pain away for Emerson. You felt responsible. Taking emotion is part of your ability, too?”

She already knew the answer. “Em told you.”

“Technically, you did. But she clued me in, only because of what I overheard and because I asked specifically.”

“It isn’t something I do that often,” I said tightly.

“Em said that the only emotions you take from people are the painful ones.” She looked at the book on her bedside table. Grimm’s fairy tales. “I’m guessing there are consequences when you do. Magic always has a price.”

“Taking emotions isn’t magic.”

“What is it, then?” She scooted forward to sit on the edge of the bed.