Drift Read online

  A blast of music burst from the bar when the door opened behind me. I didn’t turn to see who’d followed me out, and continued to walk to my car as fast as my heels would allow.

  “You’re driving?”

  James’s voice was incredulous and a little bit angry, and the nerves that had only begun to settle sprang to life as he jogged toward me.

  “Hey,” he said, catching up and falling into step beside me. “Will you slow down?”

  I stopped short and turned toward him. He wasn’t anticipating it and had to walk back a couple of steps to face me.

  “What do you want?” I asked, forcing my chin up in order to meet his eyes. James was tall, much taller even than my five foot eight inch frame, and that was saying something since I was wearing three-inch heels.

  “Did I do something wrong? Back there, on the patio? I mean, you left like—” James looked me up and down. “Like you’d seen a ghost.”

  Something took flight inside my stomach. “No. I’m just tired.” I didn’t sound all that convincing.

  His brows furrowed, and I watched his hands move toward me. They were thick and scarred like they’d known violence, but when he placed them on my shoulders, they were gentle and soft. His touch lit my body aflame, my muscles twitched, and the words I feared only moments before returned.

  “Promise me,” I said. My voice was light and faint, and when our gazes locked, my vision blurred and the air shifted. James’s face blinked in and out of focus before the world around me turned dark, and a vision of another time—another place—shadowed my sight and stole my breath.

  I gasped with every step, running at a pace I couldn’t sustain. James pulled me behind him, his strides so long I could hardly keep up. I stumbled, and the tiny button holding the ankle strap on my shoe broke in our haste. I kicked it off and left it behind so I could move faster, but now my footfalls were lopsided and awkward.

  “In here,” he said as he pulled me into a dark alley between two buildings. There were no streetlights, nothing to light the blackened shadows, and the fright trembling inside of me was a living, breathing thing.

  “What do we do?” My voice quivered between panic and exhaustion. “Where do we go?”

  He pushed me farther into the shadows until my back pressed against the cool brick wall. My black and white satin dress stuck uncomfortably to my sweat-slicked skin, and my purse slipped from my fingers, dropping to the ground with a clink.

  James placed a hand over my mouth and whispered in my ear. “Whatever happens, stay quiet. Don’t move. Don’t make a sound.”

  His hands moved to my cheeks before linking behind my neck.

  I shook my head, and tears filled my eyes. “I don’t know what you mean. I don’t understand.”

  “Promise me.” His eyes were wide and urgent. His voice was soft but pleading.

  “James, I’m scared.” His body pressed against mine, and he kissed me hard and fast.

  “Promise me,” he said against my lips.

  I didn’t want to and shook my head in disagreement. His thumbs grazed my cheeks, and he kissed me again. “Please.”

  I heard the desperation in his voice—the despair—and there was nothing I wouldn’t do to erase that sound. My lips moved before my mind registered what I’d done. “I promise.”

  He grabbed my hands. “Do you trust me?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  He pulled me from the wall and turned me to my left. “Now jump.”

  In front of me was a freshly dug hole about three feet wide, and just as I was about to protest, he pushed. There was a brief sensation of weightlessness before I landed with a thud, and the shallow puddle of water at the bottom did nothing to break my fall. I moved to my right and into the shadows, expecting James to follow me.

  When he didn’t, I peered up to find him standing above me.

  “James?” I asked. He tossed something down, and I stared at my purse lying at my feet. “James,” I said again. Hysteria rose inside my throat, but it was nothing compared to the crippling panic that seized my voice when he pulled a grate over the opening.

  The sky was black above him, and his face was impossible to see. “Remember your promise,” he said. He stepped away, and my knees buckled under the weight of his decision. Choking on a sob, I was left alone with nothing more than the silence of my broken heart.

  The air around me cooled, and I could hear muffled music pulsing from inside the bar. Pushing a breath through my lips, I reoriented myself and squeezed my eyes shut against the confusion crowding my thoughts.

  “Come on, let me drive you home.” James’s voice was calm and quiet, nothing like the fear-stricken voice from before, and his warm breath tickled my neck. My head was pressed to his chest, and the steady thump of his heart pounded against my ear. “Can you walk?” he asked.

  I pushed away from him, needing space more than my next breath of air. “Of course,” I said, but I couldn’t meet his eyes. I was far from fine. “Thanks, though.” I pulled my jacket tight and started walking.

  “Wait a minute.” His hand reached for mine, and he pulled me to a stop. “You can’t drive.”

  Visions of the darkened alleyway filled my mind, and those words—those words I never wanted to hear again—screamed in my thoughts. What I’d seen when James and I touched wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be. Yet my recall of that moment was as real as any memory I’d ever made. It not only confused me, it terrified me. Pulling my hand from his, I stepped back.

  “Please,” I said. My breath was shallow, and my limbs quivered with fear. “Don’t ever touch me again.”

  With Xander in tow, Gracie approached apprehensively, her eyes wide with concern. “Abby?”

  I wrapped my arms around my middle and faced my friend. “You didn’t have to leave, Grace. I’m fine,” I said trying not to shift my gaze to James.

  “I know,” she said, the look in her eyes at odds with her words.

  “I just…felt funny. Too much to drink, I guess.” The corners of my mouth lifted in a half smile, but I could feel it wobble.

  “Come on.” Gracie looped her arm through mine and pulled me away. “Xander’s driving.”

  I nodded and let her lead me away.

  At home, I paced my tiny bedroom. Up and down the carpet I walked and worried—worried and walked. Since I’d left the bar, the vision hadn’t returned, but I couldn’t stop myself from wondering when it would.

  I held myself tight, needing to keep from falling apart, but nothing I did prevented my emotions from unraveling. Lying down, tears spilled from my eyes, and I filled my lungs with air as I stared at the shadows on the ceiling. Was this how it had begun for my mother? Had everything been normal until one day it wasn’t?

  Tomorrow will be different. Tomorrow will be different.

  I chanted that phrase over and over until my eyes felt heavy and I succumbed to the mind-numbing sleep only alcohol could provide.

  Tomorrow would be different.

  Chapter Two

  I don’t remember going to sleep, and by the time I rolled over, the sun streamed through my window, so bright my closed lids did little to block out the glare. I groaned and sank beneath the covers.

  Last night, I’d spent the entire ride home pretending to sleep in order to avoid Gracie’s questions. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to talk to her. I couldn’t talk to her. What happened with James terrified me, and voicing those fears aloud to someone, even Gracie, would legitimize them in a way I wasn’t ready to accept.

  Just remembering last night had tendrils of fear slithering from my belly and twisting inside my throat. The memory flashed like a strobing light, and my lungs seized with panic. I threw the blankets from my bed and stood, gasping for a breath I couldn’t catch.

  It was happening—everything I’d ever feared. I was becoming my worst nightmare. I was becoming my mother.

  I pictured myself wandering aimlessly through my apartment and speaking nonsense to Gracie. Would my eyes, like
my mother’s, plead with her to understand? Would I try to make her see my version of the truth? I shook my head and tried for a steady breath. That couldn’t be me.

  Or could it?

  My stomach lurched and a crushing headache throbbed between my ears. I swallowed the vomit building in my throat and made my way to the bathroom. Flipping on the light, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. A layer of cold sweat burst across my skin, and my heart stuttered. The haunted reflection I saw was familiar, but it wasn’t mine.

  It was my mother’s.

  I blinked until the face staring back at me morphed into something that more closely resembled my own. But nothing I did removed the dark shadows framing my blue eyes, or smoothed the tangles matted in my hair. I looked feral and disconnected—exactly the way I remembered my mother.

  Unable to stand the sight of myself, I ripped the clothes from my body and stepped into the shower. Welcoming the sting of water as it pelted my skin, I scrubbed myself with a vengeance. I needed to erase her image and wash away the self-loathing—the hate—that clung to my skin and bubbled in my gut when I thought of her. But it didn’t help. Her image, and my guilt, lingered.

  Pressing my palms flat against the tile wall, I breathed slowly until a semblance of control returned. I wasn’t my mother, and I wouldn’t let whatever this was destroy me like it had destroyed her. Dressing in a pair of oversize sweatpants and a long-sleeved T-shirt, I composed my features and prepared to face Gracie. No doubt she’d have questions.

  On my way to the kitchen, I found her in the entryway, glued to the peephole with a cup of coffee forgotten in her hand. I cleared my throat, and she jumped, spinning toward me with a guilty expression.

  “It’s moving day.” An embarrassed smile crept across her face before she eyed me from head to toe. “You look terrible,” she said as if she’d already forgotten what happened last night.

  Deciding to ignore the later part of the night, I joked, “Well, I blame you. You should’ve never given me those shots.” I moved to the sink and poured a tall glass of water. “What time did Xander leave this morning?”

  “How did you know he slept over?”

  “I didn’t, but now I do.”

  Gracie blushed and shook her head. “I was drunk.”

  “I was, too, but you didn’t see me crawling into bed with my best friend.”

  She dropped her hand against her hip. “That’s because I’m your best friend.”

  “Exactly. My best friend was too busy getting it on to worry about me.”

  “Nothing happened. We’re just friends.” She laughed as she turned back to the peephole.

  I didn’t believe her for a second, but let it go. “Did someone finally rent Darren’s old place?” I asked. The apartment directly across from ours had been vacant for the last two months while management repaired the damage done by one college sophomore and six dogs.

  “Looks like it. I’ve seen him once, kind of. Not his face, but the body looks good, and it seems like he’s living alone. Want to go over and introduce ourselves?” She clucked her tongue and smiled with excitement.

  “Absolutely not. That sounds horrible.” I rifled through the cabinet until I found a bottle of Advil.

  “Well, I’m going over there later. I hope he’s cute.” She walked to the kitchen table and sat in one of the two chairs to sip her coffee. “Lord knows I need someone besides Hairy Larry to look at.”

  I snorted and then laughed. “What about Xander? He seems to be more than willing.”

  “I told you, he’s just a friend.” She leaned over the table, and her smile faded. “Speaking of Xander and friends…” Her words hung in the air, the tension palpable. So much for thinking she’d forgotten.

  “What?” I asked as I tossed two pills into my mouth and swallowed them with a drink of water.

  “Are you going to tell me what happened last night, or am I going to have to pry it out of you?” she asked.

  “There’s nothing to tell,” I said.

  She laughed at the absurdity. “Nothing to tell? You left the bar like a crazy person. Then James came out of nowhere demanding to know where you went—not very nicely, I might add. And when I found you, you were outside with him, and that,” she said with emphasis, “definitely wasn’t nothing.”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “I’d gone to the patio to get some air. We met. It wasn’t a big deal. He wanted to make sure I was okay.”

  “Not a big deal,” she repeated. “You’re not telling me something.”

  “And you’re reading way too much into this.”

  Her lips quirked to the side as she studied me. “I don’t think I am.”

  I wanted to smile and reassure her, but I couldn’t. The memory of James and me running through a darkened alley resurfaced. I tried not to think of it, but the bitter taste of fear stuck to my tongue, impossible to ignore. She was right. This wasn’t nothing, but it also wasn’t something I was ready to explain.

  “Okay, that’s fine, if that’s how you want to do this, but”—she looked down at her cup—“there are things you should know. Xander told me that James—”

  I lifted my hand. “No. No more Xander. No more James.” I shoved my feet into my running shoes and grabbed my keys. “I’m hungry—with a serious craving for Mexican food—and I’m hungover in a way that Advil can’t help. Can we forget last night ever happened? Please?” Gracie stared at me until the pressure to say something, anything, took over. “I’m never going to see him again. Better?”

  “It’s a start,” she said. “Now, bring me some tacos.”

  I threw a smile in her direction and walked backward out the door. Putting in my earbuds, I flipped through the playlists on my phone. As I pulled the door closed, my heel clipped something that unbalanced me. I took two quick steps, tried to right myself, and slammed my foot into a cardboard box. I flipped around and yelped as I fell into someone’s arms, knocking us both to the floor.

  We landed in a pile of elbows and cuss words, my foot still stuck in the box.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said as I attempted to untangle myself from his lap. I shook my leg, but the box wouldn’t give. Sitting up, I braced my hands against the edges and yanked until I was free.

  Standing with the mangled box in my hands, I faced the person I’d flattened during my fall, and my cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

  “I didn’t see it.” I searched for something more profound to say, but came up empty. “I’m sorry.”

  He pushed himself off the ground and stood. His body towered over mine, and by his expression, I couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or indifferent. That was, until his smile broke, wide and ridiculous.

  “Not a problem at all. I’ve always wanted to be trampled by a gorgeous woman.”

  I snorted with laughter and shook my head. Reaching forward, I held the crumpled box at arm’s length. He took it and shoved it through the open door of his apartment.

  “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that, but I hope I didn’t break anything.”

  His only answer was the impossible widening of his grin. His hair was dark red and his eyes piercing green. He was broad and lean, and he defied every red-headed stereotype I could imagine. Gracie would be happy. This guy was hot.

  He shoved his hand out to me. “I’m Mack.”

  “Abigail.” His fingers engulfed mine, warm and firm, and I marveled at how my hand disappeared inside of his. Pulling away, I crossed my arms over my chest.

  His smile faded, but the sparkle in his eye remained. “It was nice to meet you.” He nodded to my door. “I’m sure I’ll see you around?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, sure. Only next time, I promise not to knock you to the ground and fall on top of you.”

  The corner of his mouth lifted, and he chuckled. “It’s okay if you do.”

  My eyes widened, and heat flooded my cheeks. “No, it’s not,” I said, embarrassed, as I made my way to the stairs. “Good to meet you, though.”

  I began
my descent and glanced back one last time. Mack was leaning against the doorway with his hands shoved in his pockets. The laughter that had chased his lips was gone, and our gazes locked. Nodding once, he disappeared inside his apartment.

  Monday morning was dreary and cold, the kind of freezing wet only Houston could offer. But even with that, I walked into the arts building for my very first class of my very last semester feeling better than I had in twenty-four hours. Well, maybe not better, but strangely optimistic. The connection I’d made between my mother’s condition and the events with James seemed distant and unrelated.

  I hadn’t had another hallucination and Saturday night felt more like a bad dream than a reality. That’s not to say I didn’t think about James, or what may or may not have happened between us, but at least it was far enough removed that I could rationalize it. It was nothing, and it meant nothing. Simply an effect of too much alcohol and too little food.

  I pulled open the door to my classroom, slipped inside, and found a seat near the back. The room wasn’t exceptionally large, but I wouldn’t have expected a course in the history of Renaissance art to garner that big of a crowd. Pulling out my phone, I occupied the remaining time with texts to Gracie. Oblivious to everything around me, I hardly noticed when the seat next to me was taken.

  “Abigail?” A shiver ran the length of my arms and settled in my fingertips. I hadn’t heard his voice since Saturday night, but that didn’t lessen its effect upon me. It was soft and gentle, but it hit me like a sack of stones.

  I turned only when he said my name again, and I froze. James’s eyes were focused on me with an intensity that left me paralyzed. “What’re you doing here?” I asked.

  “I’m here to take a class on Renaissance art.” I don’t know why I expected him to tell me he’d followed me, or purposely found me. I never would’ve thought, at a university as large as this one, that we’d have a class together.