Silence.
I hurry from the kitchen to the living room, calling out everyone’s names, but the only noise comes from a grandfather clock in the corner of the room next to the sofa. Where is everyone? Did they go looking for me? Or did it… God, no I hate to think it, but I can’t help it. My father gave me very little details on how this would work which makes me wonder if maybe Alex is still dead or something and that’s where everyone is.
After searching the entire house and not finding any clues to where they could be, I begin looking for a phone. But then I realize I don’t have anyone’s number so it’s pointless. I’m about to endeavor out and start searching the streets when the front door opens and Alex enters, breathless. His dark-brown hair is messy, like he’d been raking his fingers through it repeatedly. His green eyes are wide and his lean muscles look taut through his T-shirt. His lips… God, his lips look so kissable.
The sight of him nearly sends me to the floor, my heart slamming against my chest so forcefully I can’t think. “You’re alive,” I breathe, gripping onto the end table to support my weight.
He gives me a strange look, stopping just short of me. “Of course I am…” His brows furrow as he reaches out and his fingers spreads across my cheek. Sparks ignite. Dance across my skin. Elated. Alive. “Are you okay? You look like you’re going to be sick,” he says.
“I think I am,” I tell him, still stunned. Because my father did it. He reset time. He brought Alex back...
All I want to do is touch him. Feel him. Run my fingers through his hair, along his arms, his muscles, feel the smoothness of his skin. I want to taste his lips. Let his lips taste every inch of me. But Stephan’s words echo in my head, the consequences of us being together.
When Alex moves to touch me with his other hand I step back, even though it nearly kills me.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, confusion swarming across his face.
He has no idea.
How can I tell him? How can I tell the one person I’ve ever felt anything for that our emotions we have toward each other are wrong. That this amazing chemistry we have was never meant to be—that we were never meant to be.
“We can’t…” I shake my head, my stomach burning. I swear to God telling him is what’s going to end me. “We can’t…” I can’t do this.
Tears sting in my eyes, the knot in my stomach winding tighter. Blinding white heat ignites from inside me, so potent and toxic it feels like I’m on fire. The prickle appears, invisible but equally as toxic, piercing at my skin, telling me something I can’t interpret just yet, or maybe just don’t want to.
“I can’t breathe…” I choke. What is wrong with me? Something’s not… right… I collapse to my knees, my fingers digging into my chest. “I… can’t… breathe…” As I struggle for air, my vision spotting in and out, all I can think is, I’m dying.
The next few minutes pass by in a blur. Alex rubs his hand up and down my back, whispering soothing words. It’s going to be okay. You’re alright. Just breathe.
Just breathe.
It’s hard to breathe through the crushing ache in my lungs, my bones, everywhere. But after he gets me to the sofa and sits me down, I lower my head to my lap and take deep inhales and exhales, my heart starts to beat steady again and oxygen returns to my lungs.
I sit up with my arm wrapped around my stomach, blinking as the blood rushes from my head. “What happened?”
Alex is kneeling on the floor in front of me with his hand still on my back, eyeing me over with concern. “I think you were having a panic attack.”
I shake my head and scratch the spot of skin on the back of my neck where the prickle is going wild, the area a little tender. “It felt like I was being smothered.”
He moves his hand from my back to my leg. “Panic attacks can feel like that…” he trails off considering something. “But what I’m wondering is what happened to cause the panic attack? Is it because Laylen’s still missing?” His expression slightly hardens. “Because I promise we’ll find him. You’re mom and Aislin could have found them already too and just haven’t made it back yet.”
Sparks dance recklessly across my skin, reminding me of everything we are and never can be. “Find Laylen? Is he missing…” It dawns on me. I went back into the point in time where Laylen ran off, but I was never captured by Nicholas.
“Gemma, what’s wrong? You look like you’re going to be sick?” Alex skims over my body, assessing every part of me, making the sparks more intense and the consequences of them even heavier. “And why are your clothes wet?” His eyes drift to my hand still clutching the crystal ball, our fingers brushing and sending a surge up my body. He takes it from me and rotates it in his hand. “Where did you get this?”
Without even thinking, I extend my hand out and place it on Alex’s arm. The electricity surges with contact. I stare at the window over his shoulder, the sunlight blinding but refreshing in the best way possible. “I can’t believe it worked.”
Alex gets to his feet then sits down beside me with a concerned look on his face. “Gemma, I don’t know what’s going on but I’d really appreciate it if you’d explain it to me.” He’s trying to be patient with me instead of his normal, bossy self, probably because recent information about his father and what he did to all of us, including Alex himself, is affecting him.
“Something happened to me,” I tell him. “But I’m not sure if you’re going to believe it or not.”
His brow arches. “I’m not really sure there is anything I wouldn’t believe at this point.”
He has a point. So many crazy things have happened over the last week or two that it makes anything seem possible, but still, everyone has been telling us how changing visions is impossible and I just reset time. I need to explain everything to him and I mean everything, not just about resetting time, but what led up to the point that it had to happen, which means telling him about Stephen and my possession and the worst part—how we’re not supposed to be together. How we can kill one another if we fall in love. But before I divulge this to him, before I give him up, I want him one last time. The prickle hasn’t announced my love for him, or anyone else for that matter, yet and I’m not sure if it ever will, but what I do know is that Alex will more than likely put a stop to all the touching, kissing, cutting off the human contact I’ve been deprived off for years and I want it one more time before it’s gone.
So before either of us can say anything I lean forward and press my lips to his. I try to shut down the overwhelming heat, the passionate sparks, the scorching hot desire that tidal waves through me as I slip my tongue into his mouth.
He kisses me back without any hesitation, as if he has no control over the situation or anything else, and honestly, I don’t think either of us does. We’re prisoners to our lust, want, need, a million different things that feel like they own me all the damn time and I’m giving in.
“I surrender,” I say against his lips, not really too him.
But he pulls back, eyes glossy, filled with desire, an addict wanting his next taste, just how I feel at the moment. “Huh?” He cups my cheek. “Gemma, please tell me what’s wrong.”
I want to tell him, but not yet. The greedy addict in me wants just one more moment before I give it all up. “I surrender,” I say again, like it’s supposed to mean something, and the flash of hunger in his eyes makes me think that it might means something to him.
Suddenly he’s colliding his lips against mine and everything that matters doesn’t. Nothing else exists.
Nothing.