Thirty-four

Thirty-four

JACE

It's been nine hours, fifty-two minutes, and seventeen seconds since Desi climbed into the backseat of that car and drove away from me for the last time.

Since then I've eaten five bowls of peanut butter puff cereal, felt like I was going to vomit, watched two Star Wars movies, and I swear I teared up when R2-D2 slid on screen because she wasn't there to do her "beep-beep-boops." I tried to work on a project for a client but gave up when I realized it was terrible, and took a shower so long that the water ran cold. Nothing I do relieves the ache in my chest or makes me feel a semblance of happiness.

I am absolutely 300 percent miserable without her. The house is so quiet, so boring without her laughter bouncing off the walls. All I want is her right here next to me so I can reach over and touch her, brush my fingertips over her skin, surprise her with kisses . . . but she's so far away from me now and I'll never see her again.

It's so fucking depressing.

The only consolation I have is that Cannon will be with her, but even that is a stab to my gut. I'm so jealous of him I could punch something. But at the same time, I know it's for the best. I rub my temples and my attention turns to the door as I hear the knob rattle and Cannon walk through the foyer, kicking off his shoes.

I don't even bother to care that they're in the middle of the floor. I don't have the energy.

"Jace? You here?"

"Yeah, man, I'm in the living room," I call.

Cannon walks toward the couch and stops short when his eyes land on me. "You look like shit."

"That's exactly the look I was going for today—hammered shit with a side of what the fuck. I'm glad I pulled it off." I can't even bother to add inflection to my sarcastic tone because that takes too much energy.

He drops down on the opposite side of the couch and turns to me, leaning against the arm. "Desi left already, huh?" he says.

"Yeah, about nine this morning," I say, leaning my head back against the couch and staring at the ceiling.

Cannon sighs and props his elbows on his knees. "Are you okay, Jace? I know how much she means to you."

"It was just hard to say goodbye, but in my gut I know it's for the best. I mean look at you." I eye his tailored gray suit and thin black tie. He looks like he just stepped off a GQ cover ready to meet his future queen and spend the rest of his life with her. Everything about him is perfect. Hell, if I were into guys, he'd be perfect for me too. "You're the type of guy who was made for the kind of life Desi lives."

Cannon loosens his tie and sits back against the arm of the couch. "She doesn't feel the same way about me as she does about you, though. I know you know that."

"It doesn't matter what she feels for me. I can't give her what she needs; you can. She shouldn't have to wait patiently as I overcome my issues. It could take all eternity for that to happen."

It doesn't matter what I feel for her either. Because we both knew from the beginning that this was never going to last longer than ninety days.

Cannon shakes his head and gets to his feet. "Your issues must be pretty major, dude. For you to give up a woman like Desi—" He blows out a breath that rattles his lips. He paces the room, removing his tie and unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt. His skin is flushed and his movements twitchy; he's clearly anxious about this conversation. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. That was rude; I just consider you a friend, Jace, and I hate to see you miserable like this, and to know I'm leaving you in this state to take what I know should be yours. It makes me feel bad."

"It shouldn't. I made my choices, and I chose the route with the least risk."

Cannon flops back down on the couch, the frame groaning from the impact. "I need you to understand that what I feel for Desi is nothing but friendship. She's in a hard place and I hate to think she'll spend the rest of her life miserable with someone she didn't choose. I care about her, but I care about you too, man."

I tilt my head up to the ceiling and run my palm down my face. What do I say to that? Thanks for settling for the woman I wish I could get my shit together for? I won't take my feelings out on him. Cannon's been a good friend to me and Desi. He's giving up everything for her simply because she's his friend. Desi offered me the same chance in a thousand ways without saying it, and I declined because I'm a coward.

I take a deep breath and face Cannon again. "Promise me you'll take care of her. Draw her a bath on days when she's stressed and watch sappy rom-coms with her once in a while. Remember her favorite dinner is fettuccine alfredo and she likes red wine over white. Oh, and never put her jeans in the dryer. She likes to hang them."

Cannon laughs and says, "Why?"

"Something about they always shrink and then they're too short and too small in the ass and blah, blah, blah. You'll get a lecture about it if you do it, trust me." My stomach does some kind of painful turn and I add, "Oh yeah, and don't forget to put her cups face down. She'll just waste time turning them back over and explaining why you're wrong if you don't."

Cannon groans and leans his head back on the arm of the couch. "For fuck's sake, y'all and your cups. See, you know all these things about her. All I know is she loves fried pickles and likes to read smutty romance novels."

My heart squeezes like it's in a vise, but I press on. I need Cannon to have the confidence that he can take care of her. I have to know that he's ready. "You know things about her. You're her best friend. I bet you two have had all sorts of conversations I haven't been privy to."

"No, man. Most of my conversations with her were about you. She was an open book and never held back what she was thinking. You heard it all. In fact, I think she dived a little deeper with you than she did with me."

The lump growing in my throat makes it hard to breathe. My chest hurts like a motherfucker and my heart is racing. I can't get a firm grip on my emotions and that gut-sinking feeling is pulling me down. It's been weeks since I felt like this, but I never forgot what it signals.

I leap to my feet and stomp into the kitchen. My hands shake as I rip open the cupboard with my daily vitamins and push them to the side. I snag the orange prescription bottle from the back and rip off the cap. My nerves are so on edge that my hands shake as I cram the medication under my tongue. I glance at the stove, knowing I have at least twenty minutes of managing my anxiety on my own.

Cannon stands on the other side of the kitchen island with concern written all over his face. "Can I get you anything or would you like to talk? I can stay quiet and listen if you just need to ramble."

I shake my head and grab two bowls from the cabinet on the other side of the kitchen. With the box of cereal and milk in hand, I set to work. My mind is a mess, but the simple task gives me a slight peace of mind. It's familiar, predictable, and keeps me busy until my meds can kick in.

I hand Cannon a bowl of peanut butter puffs and slide onto the stool beside him. We don't say a word as we shovel spoonfuls of cereal into our mouths. Since the accident, no one other than Desi has witnessed one of my panic attacks. I wait for the judgmental stare and awkwardness to kick in, followed by the inevitable sense of shame. But those things don't come. Cannon remains a quiet presence, and I have to admit it's nice not to spiral alone.

Placing my spoon in my empty bowl, I say, "I'm not all right."

"That's okay. You don't always have to be all right. I just don't want you to always be not all right."

"I'm not, but I think I'm in a place where that could happen," I admit.

Cannon's eyes cut to me and he pushes his bowl aside. "What can you do to head those feelings off? Stop them before it's too late?"

I sigh and slide my fingers into my hair, gripping it at the roots. "I need to call my therapist."

"I didn't even know you—"

"Yeah. I don't talk about it a lot, but Desi knew." I stop and shake my head, looking down at the table. "Desi knew everything."

Cannon swivels his stool so he can look me in the face. "I'm sorry that you aren't in a place to take what you want. I promise I'll take care of her. You won't have to worry if she's okay."

I lift my head and meet his concerned gaze. "Thank you, Cannon."

"You're welcome." He nods and stands. "I've got to finish packing. Are you okay for right now?"

"Yeah, I'll be all right." I get to my feet and hold my hand out to him. He grips my fingers and pulls me into a hug. It is then that I realize that I not only lost Desi, but I'm losing someone who has been a great friend to me. I swallow down my emotion and release him. As I grab the dirty bowls, he straightens his shirt, covering the sharp points of a tattoo on his chest.

"If I don't see you before I go tomorrow morning, take care, Jace."

"You too, Cannon."

Cannon rushes up the stairs, taking them two at a time. As soon as he's out of sight I drag my hand over my face. The decision I made was with Desi's best interest at heart. It should give me some peace knowing I did right by her, but it feels so wrong. I haven't felt like this since I came home from the hospital and found Hannah's ring sitting on the counter with a letter saying Sorry, Jace. I just can't do this.

I pick up my phone and scroll through my contacts. My thumb hovers over Holloman's name. We cut down my visits to once a month shortly after I started my own business. I had decided I was fine with living my life just for me, with no romantic relationship. I was doing better, and I needed the extra time for work. We aren't scheduled to meet again for ten days, but I don't think I can wait that long. I meant what I said to Cannon; I'm scared that my mental state could take a turn for the worse if I don't talk to someone. I need a voice of reason as soon as possible. I press Dr. Holloman's contact, and within minutes I'm scheduled to meet with him tomorrow.

I already feel a little better. If anyone can help me through this, he can.

"Jace?"

I sit up in my chair and drop the Psychology Today magazine I'd been thumbing through onto the table next to me. A sigh of relief escapes me knowing I'm one step closer to working through this disaster.

Dr. Holloman stands in his office doorway, welcoming me inside with a sweep of his tattooed arm. "Jace, good to see you. Come on in, have a seat." He gestures to the fluffy, red armchairs and takes the seat across from them. I plop down in one with a heavy sigh. "Hey, Doc. Thank you for fitting me in."

"Of course. It was clear you needed to talk." He leans back in his chair and steeples his fingers in front of his mouth. "What's going on?"

I shrug, unsure where to start, so I just let my feelings flow. "I feel like I've made the biggest mistake of my life, and at the same time, I know I did the right thing. I'm not in a position to take on more responsibility. I'm focused on my career, and I don't want to give that up. But another part of me feels like that is so stupid when I really like someone. I haven't connected with someone like this in forever."

He raises a dark eyebrow. "You met someone?"

"Remember my roommates I told you about?" Dr. Holloman nods and I continue, "Desi. It's her. I know I said when they moved in that I was setting firm boundaries and there would be no drama, but things happened, and she and I ended up in this . . ." I tilt my head back and forth. "Fake dating scenario that sort of turned into a real dating scenario."

"Fake dating? People actually do that?" He holds up his hand and shakes his head. "On second thought, let's not go there right now. I don't need details. So, the fake dating turned into something more."

I swallow and lean back against the chair, staring at the ceiling before meeting his gaze. "That's an understatement. Doc, she's perfect. Smart, kind, funny as hell, beautiful. But even if I was open to a relationship, she has these over-the-top family responsibilities, and I just signed this talented designer to my firm. She had no choice but to move back home to take her place in her," I pause and choose my words carefully, "family business. So to even date casually, I'd have to move, and I just can't."

"Why can't you? You work at a computer screen and own your own business. I'm having a hard time seeing what's tying you down."

I went through a couple of doctors before choosing Dr. Holloman. At first I was wary. He only has a decade on me at best, and he looks more like a rock god with his black hair and stubble than a psychiatrist. Then I saw the colorful tattoos of movie and video game characters on his arms. I knew then I was in the presence of a fellow nerd and my first connection with him was made. But the thing that hooked me with Dr. Holloman was the first discussion we had. I hated feeling coddled and treated like everything I was doing was a normal part of my healing process. He told me he didn't serve up shit sandwiches, that I wouldn't always leave feeling warm and fuzzy, but I would always know he'd told me the truth and given me the opportunity to tell mine. His straightforward approach spoke to me, and he's kept his word to this day.

"I just can't do it. I'm focused on the business, and you know I've come to the conclusion relationships aren't for me. It wouldn't be fair to either of us," I say, because I can't explain to him that I can't run a business in the human realm from Infernis.

"Even if it's with a ‘perfect' woman? The business would still be your focus? You wouldn't reconsider your decision about relationships?"

"Yeah?" I say, cringing at how unsure I sound.

"That's your decision to make, Jace. But I wonder if you've considered how she feels about all this?"

Emotion builds inside of me and gets lodged in my throat. "She left yesterday morning."

He nods once, but infuriatingly, he presses, "That's not what I asked. How does she feel about it? Did you talk to her? Ask her what she wanted?"

"It doesn't matter what she wants because I'm not going there again. I can't."

He narrows his eyes. "That's what I thought. You're hiding behind your career and behind the first approach you mastered that kept you safe. What is this really about? Stop hiding."

"I've worked hard to get where I am. I can't give that up!" The anger in my voice is proof of my denial even to me, so I change tactics. "Her life is out of this world. She deserves a guy who's made for that. I'm not fancy parties and black ties."

He cocks his head to the side. "So, you can't give up what exactly? The wall you've built so high that you've given up a person who clearly brought you joy? Because you don't think you'd be a good date at parties or be comfortable wearing a tuxedo? Or because you had come to a decision that is most definitely reversible after you have clearly made progress with this woman? We've always been real with each other, Jace, so I have to say—I call bullshit." He points at his three degrees on the wall. "I know I look like I'm fresh out of undergrad, but you do realize I went to school for a long time to earn those pieces of paper. I know when a patient is in denial. It's Psych 101. And you are in it." He stands and comes to sit next to me in the other armchair. "Be honest with yourself: Are you happier with this woman or without her? And if it's with her, are those things you would have to ‘give up' worth losing the chance to be with her?"

"I'm so happy with her, and that's what scares me. I'd be good for her, and she's so good for me. We connected because we complemented each other so well. But it's a risk. An emotional risk that didn't work out for me and Hannah, and it didn't work out for my dad."

"And whose fault was that?"

I drag my palms over my face. The excuse has me taking ten steps back in the progress I've made. The good doctor is about to make me put check myself.

"My mother's. It was her decision and her failure. I didn't make her leave and neither did my father. We did nothing wrong. I know that. I've known that for over a year now. The same with Hannah. She was selfish, unable to care about anyone but herself. I was never at fault for her shortcomings. I know all that is true, but sometimes it's hard to believe."

"This woman you care for is not them, Jace." The conviction in Dr. Holloman's voice is the same I found in Desi's when she told me the same thing.

"I know."

"Did Desi want you to go with her when she left?"

I give a curt nod, not trusting my voice to remain steady.

Dr. Holloman leans forward so I have no choice but to meet his eyes. "I need you to honestly answer this one question: Why didn't you go with her, Jace?"

"I'm scared. I've told myself for so long that I don't believe in forever. I'm always waiting for the moment when the true, long-lasting feelings come into play. They'll realize I was a mistake. That we were a mistake." I pause, remembering every moment Desi and I spent together. "But how could something that felt so right be a mistake?"

Dr. Holloman raises his eyebrows and says, "It's not a mistake, Jace. You and Desi are not a mistake, even if feelings were to change. It's the risk we all take when we open ourselves to that kind of love."

I suck in a breath and hot tears burn the back of my eyes. He's right. I was too scared to take that risk for her. I let another man take my place with the woman I love.

Love.

I love her. I love Desideria more than I could have ever imagined myself loving another person. I'm causing more damage to myself by letting her go than Hannah or my mother did put together. I'm denying myself the chance to be loved and return that love to someone deserving. But it doesn't matter now because she's gone, and there is nothing I can do to get her back. Ever.

I'll never again twirl her soft curls around my fingers or kiss her lips. My home won't be filled with her laughter and I'll never get unreasonably frustrated with the easy way she can do the most menial of tasks. My nights of staring into her dark room while she sleeps and holding her in my arms are over. The sweet lust-filled moans, the tight heat of her body, and her desire to please me in return will become faded memories. She won't wake beside me as I marvel at what a spectacular being she is.

I close my eyes and attempt to sear those memories deep into my mind. Her dayglow-green eyes, fiery hair, freckled skin—each part of her is perfect. Even the crescent moon marking her as a demon was flawless. I pause and picture the translucent symbol, slightly lighter than the rest of her skin. Since I've learned about the identifying marks of angels and demons, it's become second nature. And today, when I saw the same discoloration on Cannon's chest, it didn't register. Until now.

I stand as the sharp edges of his mark form in my mind. But those harsh lines didn't lead to a crescent moon like Desi's.

No, Cannon bears a full circle—a sun.

The mark of an angel.

Desi said an angel stepping into Infernis would set everything off kilter. Everyone—the energies, demons, Desi—is in danger.

I look at Dr. Holloman with wide eyes. "Fuck. I've got to stop him."

He stands and examines me like I might be on the verge of a panic attack. "Stop who?"

"Cannon. I have to stop Cannon before he hurts Desi."

Why would Cannon do this? He was so sincere yesterday evening trying to talk some sense into me, acting like he wouldn't go to Infernis if I chose to go instead. The three of us were friends, but he's putting all of us in danger. Not only will him being in Infernis be disastrous for everyone in the demon realm, but it will harm the woman I've fallen desperately in love with.

I race across town to the abandoned bus station and park my car haphazardly at the back of the lot before sprinting through the lobby. When the hallway to the storage room comes into view, I swear I take my first breath since piecing this all together. I open the steel door and come face to face with the gum-smacking medium. They stop filing their nails and slowly look up at me.

"Access denied. You already spent two days in another realm," they say matter-of-factly.

I lean over and place my palms on my knees to catch my breath and then look back up at them. "You've gotta be kidding me. I have to get to Infernis, and I have to go now. It's vital that I speak with Desideria."

They raise a dark brow and tap a long nail on the desktop. "If I let you go, you'll never be able to come back to this realm. As in, like, ever."

"I understand, but you have to let me through. You let an angel go to Infernis."

"I know. He was given clearance."

I throw my hands in the air and shout, "Why would you do that? You know what happens if he stays there."

The medium doesn't so much as flinch at my outburst. "Who do we look like? Dex? Angel and demon affairs aren't our business. We don't make judgments. We watch the portals to protect humans. So as long as you're safe from physical harm, we've done our job. In fact, if I let you go, I'm putting you in danger. You've already spent your time in Infernis; if you go there again, your body will very likely give out. There are no guarantees that your energy won't leave you, and if that happens . . . well, humans and demons might make great sexual partners, but demons and energies with no bodies do not."

Pure panic and frustration boil within me. They've given me the speech, and I understand the risks. If I don't intervene, my everything, my reason to truly live again dies. I could let Desi go knowing she was safe within her own realm, but I can't stomach the thought of living in a universe where she no longer exists.

Through gritted teeth, I say, "Please, let me pass. I've made my choice, and I choose chaos. I choose the princess of Sloth."

"Wait!" The medium jumps up and slaps their palm over my mouth, stopping me from saying anything else. "Is this a declaration of love?"

I pull their hand away. "Yes! Yes, it is!"

For the first time since I entered their dingy space, they smile. With sure strides, they move to the broom cabinet and open the door. "Why didn't you say so? We have a soft spot for acts of love."

I can't even bring myself to shoot them a dirty look; I'm too worried about Desi. I step into the cabinet and as soon as the medium closes the doors and wishes me safe travels, that whooshing sensation fills my ears. My knees go weak and I reach out to brace myself against the walls, but they've vanished. I drop and drop and drop. Nothing meets my fall. The world tilts—all sense of direction is completely gone.

I hold my breath, remembering that it only takes seconds for the door to open to Infernis. But the fall doesn't stop, the door doesn't open. A heaviness like I've never known crushes me. My bones ache under the weight and a white, hot flash of pain courses through me, then . . . nothing.