Nocturnal (The Noctalis Chronicles 1)

I could probably get Peter to help me. He's definitely more book smart than I am, but that's only because he's had more time to read them than I have, or so I like to tell myself. Thinking about that makes me think of how much older he is than I am, which, in turn, creeps me out.

I can't think about anything without associating it with something unpleasant. That can't be a good sign.

I don't see Jamie until the end of the day. I know I've been wrapped up in my own life, but I know he's been avoiding me. I stopped leaving messages because his voicemail is full, and my texts have gone unanswered. I feel awful for not trying harder and when I see him slouching to his car at the end of the day, I've had it. I run to catch up with him. Normally, he walks so fast with those long legs I can't keep up. But the bounce went out of his step the second Cassie came back into his life.

He doesn't even jump when I sneak up behind him.“Look James, I know you're all sad and your family is falling apart, but I'd like to be there for you, if you'd let me.”

“Leave me alone, Ava.” He starts walking faster and doesn't turn around.

“Nope, doesn't work that way. You don't get to decide when I'm in your business. You're always in mine. Now I'm returning the favor. You need to talk to someone, so it might as well be me.”

He speaks through clenched teeth. “I don't want to talk about it.”

“Too bad.”

“Why do you have to always be like this?” He finally turns. He looks like absolute hell, like he's been on drugs for a while, tried to get off them and then got run over by a truck.

“You drive me to it.”

“Fine! My sister is pregnant. She's keeping it. She doesn't know who the father is, since she slept with a bunch of guys. My dad's been beating the shit out of me because he can't hit her and he's been drunk for two weeks straight. Is that what you wanted to hear?” I try not to look shocked. I'd known about the first part, but not the second.

“No, it isn't, but I'm glad you told me. Did it feel good to get it out?”

“Not really.” My Jamie, always a ray of sunshine has been crushed beneath a dark cloud. The only thing radiating from him is darkness. When I'd told him about my mother being sick, he'd brought me flowers and cards and candy and held my hand and texted me and made me lunch and had been the sweetest. I want to tell him so much that I understand, but I can't.

“Is she sure that's what she wants to do?” I'm not into destroying life, but it might be better if she... took care of it.

“Yeah. She said she feels like it was supposed to happen or something. Destiny.” He spits out the last word.

“Jamie, you need to say something.”

“I can't.”

“Why not?”

“Just drop it, Ava.” He's never talked to me like this. It makes my eyes sting. I change the subject.

“Is she looking for work?”

“I doubt she'll be able to find anything. No one around here is going to hire her.” When you live in a small town, all your transgressions, however minor, are immortal. Everyone remembers everything that everyone else has ever done. Especially if it's something bad, like getting arrested or doing drugs or crashing your car into the side of the supermarket, which she'd already done. Twenty years from now, people will still be talking about it.

“Has she tried Miller's? They have health insurance there.” Briefly, during one of her home stints, Cassie had worked at a restaurant. Granted, she did get in a fistfight with a busboy, getting herself fired, but experience was experience. The busboy had tried to grab her ass, according to Cassie. For all I know it's true.

“I'll mention it.”

“How's your mom doing?” Despite having a mixed-up daughter and an alcoholic husband, Sally Barton isn't a weak woman. She spends her life trying to make everyone think that her whole family is completely together. She does a pretty good job. Only Tex and I know what really goes on in that house. It kills me, and not just for Jamie's sake. It's one of the reasons I never go over to his house and why he does't ask me to. It isn't just his dad's drinking, which has apparently gotten worse.

“She's glad to have Cassie back. She took her to the doctor yesterday. The baby's okay.”

“Good.”

“Still not sure how I feel about being Uncle Jamie.” There it is. A remnant of the boy I know.

“It's going to work out.” I squeeze his arm and he winces. I want to ask, but I don't. Maybe I'm a terrible friend, but I don't think this is what he needs right now. He just needs someone to talk to.

“I wish I could believe you.” I give him a gentle hug. Just for a second. “Thanks, Ave.”

“You're welcome. Anytime.” I make it to my car before the tears start to fall. I've cried more in the past two months than in entire years of my life. I let them fall, wiping them away so I can see to drive. I hope Peter isn't around because I don't want to have another episode like I had before.

***

“No, absolutely not.”

“Come on, Ava, I want to meet him!” Tex is actually on her knees, hands clasped in front of her, begging me to introduce her to Viktor. People going to their cars are staring at her, but she's oblivious. Completely unaware that she looks insane. Anything in pursuit of hot guys, even if they aren't human.

“No! It's not going to happen. Just let it go.”

“How come you get to be so damn special?” Both of our voices are raised, and we glare at each other for a second before I cave. I need her right now. I need her more than I need to fight with her about this. Viktor would probably never go for it anyway.

“I don't want to fight.”

“I don't want to fight with you either, but I feel like that's all we do.”

“Let's make a pact not to fight.” She holds out her hand. I shake it.

“Deal. We won't talk about things that will make the other one mad.”

“So we can talk about frosting. We agree on that.” I hold up one finger.

“Yes. And Patrick Dempsey's hotness.” She holds one up.

“We do agree on that as well.”

“Ickiness of boob sweat.” Three fingers.

“Ridiculousness of Donald Trump's hair.” Four.

We go on like that until we're both laughing, holding onto my car for support. Someone walks by and mutters something about lesbians. I don't bother to shoot whoever it is a dirty look.

“There is something we need to talk about,” I say when we can breathe again.

“Cassie.” We both say it at the same time.