Heal Me (A Touched Trilogy Book 2) Read online

  “I heard that you brought Andrew’s dog back to life.” Maybe it was the smirk on his face, but his words ripped through me and I snapped.

  “I can’t work miracles, and contrary to Andrew’s wild story, I can’t fix the dying or raise the dead. Do you really think my mom would be dead right now if I had that kind of gift?”

  I left without saying goodbye. Just picked up my bag and left. There wasn’t anything else to discuss. He was curious about my abilities, and I didn’t want him to know the details. Chloe and Phoebe were already treating me strangely, and I was sure Phoebe would be spilling all the details to Tonya and Nathan fairly soon. She’d already held out for longer than I’d expected.

  Five houses down the street, I heard Micah call my name and I stopped. He was barefoot, and with the two-inch heel boots I wore, I didn’t feel so short when he stopped a few feet away.

  “Look, I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said, truly looking sorry. “I didn’t even know your mom was dead.”

  “It’s okay. I probably overreacted a bit.” I sighed.

  “Probably?”

  “All right, I overreacted. It’s just that...” My eyes wandered away from his. They focused on his feet and the toes that were drumming a silent pattern on the sidewalk. “My gift isn’t something I have a lot of control over, and sometimes people have expectations of what I can do that just aren’t possible.”

  “I’m an ass.”

  I looked back up at him, confused.

  “I’m an ass and I don’t have a lot of control over it either. And sometimes people have expectations that I just don’t live up to.” He smiled and gave a careless shrug, but the feelings of guilt and disappointment flowed off him in waves.

  I reach out instinctively, wanting to take away those feelings and my fingers brushed against his. He turned his hand over and my fingers traced along his palm. Suddenly the need for transferring was overpowered by the desire to just feel him. I slid my fingers between his and he tugged me closer. I couldn’t focus on anything except how his lips were so perfectly formed and slightly parted.

  I couldn’t say if it was him or me who moved first. I only knew I wanted to. But whoever did, didn’t matter when our lips met. The contact was hesitant at first. As if neither of us was sure it was really happening. His were cool and soft. He shifted his head to get a better angle and when he returned, the pressure increased. My lips parted and what had started as an awkward ‘what the heck are we doing’ kiss turned into something much more natural. My hands fluttered along his arms and he raised one hand to the side of my face. He tasted sweet like coca-cola, and his warm breath puffed into my mouth. My own shuddered from me and my heart picked up its pace.

  I gripped his biceps and held on as the kiss deepened. Lordy, he knew how to kiss. His teeth caught my lower lips and tugged playfully before he let go and glided his tongue along the seam of my lips. Kissing had never been this good with Dylan.

  Dylan!

  My lips tore themselves away and I shuddered in a breath as they quivered as if they were trying to make sense of the new set of lips they had been pressed to. Micah rested his forehead against mine. I kept my eyes closed, not wanting to think about what had happened.

  “Um, right.”

  A giggle escaped from me at his word. “Is that your favorite catch phrase for awkward situations?”

  “Yeah, pretty much.”

  This time we both laughed and let the space between us grow, until we were separate entities again.

  “We should probably just forget this happened,” I said.

  “Right. I mean, it’s clear your hormones are all out of whack.”

  “My hormones?”

  “Yeah, it’s what happens when you’ve been stuck with a dick-weed boyfriend for so long. You’ll jump at any nice guy.”

  “I thought we’d determined you were an ass?”

  He brushed at some imaginary spot on his shoulder. “Well, I never said you were a good judge of character.”

  I rolled my eyes and pulled my backpack up along my back as I started for home again. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Hey Lily,” he called after me and I glanced over my shoulder. “Don’t be expecting to get this sugar from me all the time. Too much can be a bad thing.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, sugar gives me migraines.” I didn’t stop giggling until I was halfway home. There was something about Micah that made me forget about all the stress with Dylan. I didn’t have the constant pressure of his emotions, and I knew he didn’t want anything from me. The kiss had been amazing. Better than amazing, but going in that direction with Micah wasn’t going to happen.

  Walking home from Micah’s meant passing by Dylan’s. When I turned the corner down his street, I hesitated and then altered my course. I went around the park that was across from his house. My steps slowed as I finally registered in my mind what I’d just done. The lingering tingle of Micah’s kiss faded fast as Dylan’s face floated through my mind. Logically, I knew I shouldn’t feel guilty. I had broken up with him and I wasn’t a cheater, but the aching pit in my stomach knew how devastated he’d be if he found out what I’d done.

  It took me nearly an hour to get home, which ended up being a good thing since the house was in chaos when I arrived. All the lights were on and cars were piled in the double driveway. It took a second to recall Dad saying Nanna was coming over with Uncle Silas, Aunt Lita, and their twin girls. Before I could open the door, it swung wide and two towheaded little girls thrust themselves through the opening.

  “Wiwy!” The first girl shouted, her baby speech identified her as Ella. Both girls wrapped their arms around me and then let go just as quickly to lean over the porch railing and peer down the street.

  “Is Phoebe here? Is she here?” the other twin, Emma, asked, hopping up and down on the porch.

  “No, she’s not with me. Sorry.” I’d learned not to be offended that they always wanted Phoebe. They were just too excitable to want the calming influence I had on them even if it tended to only last seconds, and Chloe’s blank stares when she was seeing their future still freaked them out.

  “Lily-Pad!” Uncle Silas said from the doorway. “Why, I think you’ve grown a quarter inch.”

  “Ha ha.” I gave him a hug and wished I could hold onto the warm fuzzy feeling he always gave off.

  “Ha ha! Ha ha!” Emma and Ella echoed, running around me in an ever-shrinking circle that ended with them wrapped around my legs.

  “Come on, girls. Let’s let Lily get her boots off and then she’ll be more your size.” Uncle Silas grabbed their hands, pulling them inside, and then held the door wide for me. I might have been offended by his jokes about my height, but he was barely five foot five, so I was fairly certain any joke he used on me had originally been used on him.

  Nanna and Aunt Lita were in the kitchen with Dad who was pretending to listen to all of the cooking advice they attempted to drill into him. In seventeen years, they had yet to figure out that he still had no idea what to do in a kitchen. Before Chloe and I had learned to cook, our family had survived on burnt food and delivery. Tonight they had him basting a turkey and checking the stuffing inside.

  Nanna found me before I escaped downstairs. She wrapped me in her arms, squeezing tightly. When she pulled back, she cupped my face in her hands and forced me to meet her eyes. I knew she had seen my kiss with Micah, my break up with Dylan. She had heard the things I said to Dylan to get him to realize it was really over between us.

  “Sometimes doing the thing that is best for us seems so hard,” she said softly. “Don’t doubt that you made the right choice.”

  “Nanna...” I whispered back, “you didn’t see his face.”

  She cocked a brow. Okay, so she’d seen it in my memories, but she hadn’t experienced his devastation as I had. Her visions were limited to seeing our past, not feeling it.

  “You can’t help everyone, dear. Besides it looks like you’ve got a new hottie.”

  The
re was something seriously wrong with a seventy-year-old woman calling a guy a hottie. Somehow, it was even more wrong that she was saying it about Micah.

  She kissed my forehead then gave me a gentle push toward the stairs. “I’ll give you twenty minutes before I tell your father you’re home.”

  I used my time to stare at my laptop screen. Micah’s email stared back at me, but I couldn’t focus on anything other than remembering the feel of his lips on mine. I definitely needed to get that under control before school on Monday. Micah was not boyfriend material even if I were looking. Which I wasn’t.

  We had just started dinner when Phoebe and Nathan came in the door. All of our heads turned to look at them. It only took a moment before Nanna was up and rushing for Phoebe. She gripped Phoebe’s hand a moment and then her pale expression matched Phoebe’s.

  “Say nothing,” she said in a hushed voice, not realizing that her hearing loss was making her louder than she thought.

  “Lily.” Chloe’s voice came out shocked and saddened.

  “What?” I tore my eyes from where Nanna and Phoebe were whispering at the door. The look on Chloe’s face was even worse than the one Phoebe wore. The sense of utter shock and horror was all I could pick up from any of them.

  “How did I not see this?” she whispered. Her entire body shuddered at what she saw and the clang of her fork and knife on her plate was startling.

  “What?” I asked her again.

  Emma and Ella suddenly started babbling to each other in a language I couldn’t understand, a complete lack of attention giving them a chance to do what they wanted. Uncle Silas alternately stared at Phoebe and Chloe, probably reading what was wrong from just their emotions. I’d once wished for my gift to be that powerful, to read the reason behind an emotion without a single touch. Now I just wanted the peace of not knowing what others were feeling.

  Chloe was sitting silent now, although she hadn’t stopped shaking, and Uncle Silas leaned into Aunt Lita to tell her something before they both glanced at me.

  Whatever was going on, I was at the center of it, and that was definitely not a good thing.

  Finally, Nanna stepped out of Phoebe’s way, letting her and Dad approach the table. There was something about the way they looked at me that made my stomach roll in dread.

  “What’s going on?” I asked Phoebe. She hesitated until she saw Dad nod.

  “I was over at Nathan’s and his dad got a call from the station. There was some kind of shooting. At the Bishop place.”

  The Bishops. Dylan.

  My mouth gaped, but nothing came out. What do you ask when you weren’t sure you wanted to know the answer?

  “He’s alive,” Chloe said in a hushed tone. “At least he will be for the next few hours. I haven’t seen anything beyond that.”

  She made for the television and flicked it on, flipping channels until she found the local station. The news logo flashed across the screen. The news anchor popped onto the screen, looking serious.

  “According to a police spokesperson, a seventeen year old boy was transported to Beachgrove General Hospital with a gunshot wound to the head. Police do not suspect foul play and say the injury appears to be self-inflicted. A source in the police department has told KGNP news that the victim was found by his mother who called nine-one-one. It has not been confirmed whether or not this was an accidental shooting. At this time, police are not releasing any names in order to protect the identity of the victim.”

  You said sometimes the worst part of dying would be the fear. You were right. The fear is the worst part, but I don’t think I mind anymore.

  Now I understood.

  I barely made it to the bathroom before throwing up what little dinner I’d eaten. My stomach clenched until there was nothing left and I was dry heaving. I flushed the toilet and with trembling fingers, pulled some tissues to blow my nose. I stood, pulling myself up by holding onto the counter for support. Gripping a toothbrush, I scrubbed my teeth, needing to get rid of the acrid taste in my mouth. When I’d finished, I pressed my back to the wall, and sank to the ground, pulling my knees up to my chest.

  Self-inflicted. He shot himself. Dylan shot himself. I felt the nausea rise again and squeezed my eyes shut, taking in long deep breaths. It all felt surreal. How could this have happened? How could it be real?

  My eyes opened and stared at the floor, trying to clear my mind of what was slowly tearing me apart. We had pink tiles. I’d never noticed they were pink before. They’d always seemed more of a taupe. The tiles aligned perfectly, except for one tucked under the vanity. It was so obviously crooked I wondered why Dad had not ripped it out as soon as he’d put it in. Maybe it had been the last one he put in, and he’d been so glad to be finished that he didn’t care how he did it. I’d done the same thing with Dylan, not caring in the end how I broke up with him, just that I finally did it.

  “Lily, sweetheart? Are you okay?” Dad called through the door.

  “Yeah, I’m...I’ll be right out. Just give me a minute.” I rose from the floor and caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. I was a freckled mess on a milky white canvas, but no tears. Tears would make this real. They would make this something that was final.

  When I came out, only Dad was there. Everyone else had cleared out, leaving dinner on the table to cool.

  “Are you okay? Do you want to go down to the hospital?” Dad looked so worried and I knew my pale face wasn’t helping, especially as the thought of going to the hospital made me feel even worse.

  “Yeah. I guess...do you think I should go? I mean, we broke up.”

  “I think that it’s a good idea, honey. I know you and Dylan have been having a rough time, but if he...if something happens you’ll never forgive yourself.”

  “Okay. Did Uncle Silas leave?”

  “He’s taken the girls home. Dylan will probably be in surgery, and Silas wouldn’t be able to get access to him yet, but he’ll stop by tomorrow if it would help.”

  I nodded and pulled on my shoes, concentrating on tying the laces. The trembling in my fingers was back. I was going to the one place I hated more than any other, to see the one person I’d been hoping to avoid. I didn’t know if I was weak for going to see him, or if I was horrible for wishing I wasn’t going.

  “I’m going to call and check that Nanna got home and then I’ll be ready to go,” he said and headed into the kitchen. I could have told him I’d call from the car, but I didn’t want to talk to her right then and Dad was a stickler about not talking on the cell while driving.

  “Lily, I’m so sorry.” Chloe’s words came from behind me. “I don’t know how I could have not seen this.”

  “It’s not your fault, Chloe. Beside you always say there’s no way to change the future.” I tightened the lace on my shoe, not looking at her. I could sense how bad she felt for not having seen this coming, but holding myself together was more important than her guilt.

  “Maybe, but you could have been prepared,” she said.

  “I don’t think that’s the kind of thing you can prepare for.” I grabbed my jacket from the hall closet, slipped it on, and slowly pulled up the zipper.

  “No, it isn’t,” she agreed. “Are you really going to the hospital?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Lily, are you crazy?” Phoebe asked coming up behind Chloe to gaze at me over her shoulder. “How can you do that to yourself?”

  “I don’t really have a choice. I can’t not go.”

  “He’s not your boyfriend anymore, and he’s not your responsibility, either.”

  “So what, Phoebs?” Chloe stepped away from the entry so she could turn and see both of us. “She shouldn’t care? She should just forget about him?”

  “No,” Phoebe snapped back, “but I don’t want to see my sister go through agony for a person who made the selfish choice to try and kill himself.”

  “Selfish? The guy is obviously messed up or depressed.” Chloe was pissed. I wondered if I should feel that way, t
oo, but I didn’t. I didn’t feel anything. It was almost a relief to know that once I entered the hospital I’d actually feel something again.

  Beachgrove General Hospital wasn’t the busiest place on a Sunday evening, a fact I was grateful for, because it meant not having to constantly evade the slightest accidental brush with strangers. It also meant, though, that we found Dylan’s parents immediately. They were crying and, if I hadn’t already been engulfed with their pain from across the room, my heart would have hurt for them.

  “Lily, oh I’m so glad you’re here. He’s in surgery right now.” Mrs. Bishop pulled me into a hug, squeezing tight as the transfer started. “How did you hear?”

  “Phoebe was over at Nathan’s place when his dad got the call and then we heard it on the news,” Dad answered when I remained silent. It was too hard to talk while trying to keep from screaming in the agony of her embrace.

  “Oh dear, I should have called you. To find out your boyfriend has been shot on television must have been horrible.”

  I didn’t correct her assumption that we were still dating, maybe because she might then have reason to blame me. Dylan had been troubled, but what if my breaking up with him had been the final push into doing this? Everything faded within me and I felt only relief that the transfer was done.

  She let go of me and I knew Mr. Bishop was fighting his instinct to hug me as well. He stood nearby and shifted awkwardly on his feet, eyes glued on me. He was not a touchy-feely man and probably figured it would just be a weird moment.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, reaching out one hand, unable to bare it any longer, and touched his arm. I pulled away as soon as I knew the burning would be at a tolerable level.

  “Have you had any news?” Dad asked.

  “Someone came out a while ago and said that it looks like the bullet didn’t cause as much damage as they’d thought. Thank you for coming.” Mr. Bishop spoke in his typical matter of fact way only because I’d done the transfer. From what I’d taken from him, I knew he’d have been a broken mess. Coming had been the right decision.