I frowned and got in my car. “What the hell would I get from going? Nothing’s changed in my life. I’m not ready to make her mine.”
Sam circled my car and got in the passenger side. “I knew you liked her. Look, there’s no right time. You’ve done a lot to make things better and safer. This might be as good as it gets. Enemies are going to always be around, even if you made our business legit. Even if you walked away. Look at Marcus and Daria. They made it through. Don’t underestimate what Camilla can take. As long as you do right by her.”
I started my car. “Marcus was different than me, and it’s a process.”
“I get that it’s a process. I know you think I don’t know anything, but I saw shit. I saw the light die in Marcus’s eyes after he had to kill someone as a kid. I remember Dad’s punishments to toughen us up. Solitary confinement in the dark. Teaching ushow to fight, and if we didn’t do well, we went without food. I remember the emotional abuse. And I know I never saw you cry because he fucking broke you by the time I was old enough to realize it. The last time you had tears in your eyes was at his funeral, but that wasn’t until you saw Camilla. And then you ran-”
I raised a hand to shush him. The memories stabbing in my chest like knives. Flashes of my lost childhood. Of my self-inflicted broken heart. I had to bury the pain. The regrets. “Enough,” I growled.
Sam gave an exaggerated yawn. “Fine, stay angry and lonely then. Let her go to the beach and find someone there. Your girl is hot. She’s been in relationships before. Maybe it’ll stick with the dude she meets at the beach. Hope I get an invite to the wedding.”
The thought of letting her go to another man, again, made me sick. Sam was an annoyance, but for once, he was making sense. I pulled out of the parking lot and made a left.
“Hey, that’s not the way to your place. Are you going to kill me?”
I scoffed at him, hoping he was joking. “No, you idiot. I have to pick up some shit for the beach.”
I didn’t know what I was doing, but maybe, for once, that was okay.
Chapter Two
Camilla
Irolled my small suitcase into the tiny two-bedroom cottage-style house, already feeling my stress drift away. This would be a good week for me. I needed the escape. In some ways, my well-being, life depended on it. I inhaled deeply and looked around the space. It was tidy and bright, with white walls and splashes of color against light wood furniture.
I wheeled my bag to the largest room and unpacked so I could truly relax. I wasn’t tired from work. It had been a joy these past years running my own business on my own terms. Hard work but good work. No, I came here for another reason. I needed to focus and remove all stressors.
I collapsed on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. There was a small crack over the smooth white surface that wasslowly widening. It was several centimeters long, with blackness peeking through, fuzzy around the edges. An inky smoke bellowed through, casting a shadow over me. I could hear the calls of different animals. Ones I did not recognize. They were not of this world, and they terrified me, but I felt compelled to them all the same. It was toxic and intoxicating.
My body vibrated as I reached up my hand as if to plunge it into the growing opening, but I was too far from it. That was good. I didn’t want what was inside that blackness. Inside the crack in the ceiling. There were eyes on me. I could not see them, but I could feel it, and it made my skin crawl. What was inside the darkness? A curiosity burned to know, but fear was my most powerful emotion.
I balled my fist, and the opening closed, the smoke dissipating. And the ceiling was smooth and unmarred again. I was no longer able to prevent the openings from happening, but at least nothing beyond sounds and smoke could be released. At least I hoped. My control was weakening, and that was my fault for not using my crafts for many years. I brought my fist down and cradled my hand to my chest, sighing.
I was a mage. Specifically, I controlled passage between distant spaces and realms. There were many, many more than most knew, beyond the cosmos or imagination, but the most well-known ones were desired for entry or exit. The underworld, the heavens, the ghostly realm, the fae realm. Just to name a few. My kind was paid an exorbitant amount of money for passage. However, I found no interest in that life. I was also half-elf, and I had particularly received my elven mother’s love of beauty and arts. I hated the torment of the realms. The calls from distant lands and worlds that confused me and haunted me in my dreams, where I had less control.
I shuddered thinking of what led me to mute my magic. That day burned in my mind. Woke me up in the middle of thenight. Made me sick from the pain. I wanted stable, normal. Art brought me that. And so, I closed off my mage abilities to live the life I’d always wanted. However, my nature would only allow that for so long. The realms called to me and would not be ignored. Not any longer.
I sat up. I couldn’t sit in this room and depress myself. I was supposed to take this time to strengthen my magic in a low-stress environment. Manage my energy. Seek strength through peace, not fear through memories.
I clapped my hands together. “Ok, Cammy. What do you want to do?” It was still early that Sunday afternoon. I could go exploring. Get out amongst people and enjoy the daytime. Things were easier in the daylight. When I was awake.
I recalled seeing a bike station at the end of the block. The cottage wasn’t directly on the beach and dining area, but it would be five minutes on a scooter. I put on my tennis shoes and cross-body bag and left for the day. I gave a head nod to my neighbors across the street. An older man and woman, most likely in their retirement years, were heading inside from what appeared to be a morning at the beach.
I sighed before making a right and walking. It would be nice to have someone here with me. A guy I liked. I’d had a few serious relationships in my life, including a failed marriage.
An image of Harris flashed before my eyes. Now, where had that come from? I mean, he did look good. His hair was longer, and he’d gotten thicker since I last saw him, but in a good way. He was still in great shape by the way he was filling out that well-tailored suit. Harris always had great taste in style. Always so put together. He’d been that way even in high school. And so damn pretty but with a hardness just around the edges so that no one tested him.
We were so close back then. Study partners, movie pals. It was platonic. Not that I didn’t have a crush on him when wewere young, but I figured I just wasn’t his type because he never so much as flirted with me, and I never saw him go out with anyone that looked remotely like me. Harris was rarely serious about anyone, but he always had people interested in him. He was a sophisticated kind of handsome with an edge of hardness around the perimeter. The kind of bad boy that had the girlies gossiping. He had all the right parts. The height, over six feet . The large, muscled, broad-shouldered orc physique. The confident swag in his walk. Icy blue eyes that practically bore into your soul. Full lips, strong jaw line, enviable lashes. His hair, which he usually kept long, was thick and silky, and many a girl would find themselves lucky to get to run their fingers through his strands. I was such a girl, but it was in a friendly way, nothing more.
Even after high school, he’d bring a girl home to a family and friends function, but it was never the same person. I thought of him now, never being married, and assumed nothing had changed, despite having a child. Some men liked being playboys.
I got to the bicycles and followed the process to gain access to one before hopping on and heading out to explore. However, thoughts of Harris would not remain far. I wish I hadn’t seen him the other day. Over the past fifteen years, I tried my best to think of him very little. He’d been one of my best friends, and then, with a snap of his fingers, he discarded me as if I never held importance in his life.
Oh, how I replayed in my head over and over again what went wrong. Why did he say I was too weak to be in his life? My family already knew about his criminal family. Hell, my uncle worked for his father. We’d shared family dinners and cookouts. I’d befriended the girls in his life. I thought he’d approved of my ex-husband at the time. Everything seemed great. But he’d hardened even more while I was away in grad school. He was always a bit stoic, but we’d laughed together. The last timeI spoke to him, he had no joy. There was a coldness behind his eyes I didn’t understand. And then he had said I was a distraction in this world, a weakness he didn’t have time for, and to leave him alone. He’d said it so harshly that I actually cried. It was the first time I realized that losing a friend could hurt as much as losing a romantic relationship. I had trust issues with my friendships after his sudden flip. They never felt stable to me after that.
And then I saw him again the other day, and it was as if nothing happened. I was sure it was because Sammy was there. He was always good about ignoring the tension and getting to the good part. It made getting back into our old comforts so much easier. However, I couldn’t forget what Harris said all those years ago. I kept wondering if he still meant it. Through the whole dinner, I searched for signs from him that he was uncomfortable. That he still hated me. I got nothing. There was no way he forgot about what happened. It was way too meaningful to me. I assumed the same for him. Perhaps I was wrong. But fifteen years of wrong didn’t sit well with me.
I might have moved out of town, but my family was still intertwined with his. He had plenty of opportunities to contact me. I’d gone to his parents’ funerals, and he seemed to disappear before I could even give him my condolences. Had he hated me all these years only to act as if nothing happened when I finally got to speak to him? The thought actually pissed me off.
