The Enemy of Time, page 20
There was a rustling noise coming from around the trailer. Thank God, somebody saved me from this embarrassment. The person poked their head around and quickly dashed to us when they saw the scene.
It was Jamie. This really can't get any worse.
“Alex, what are you doing here?” He looked down at my stomach, which must have been oozing more blood than I thought. “My God, you're bleeding!” He threw his hands to my stomach, which I immediately pushed away.
“Why is Kayla in your bed?” I shot back at him.
“What?” He shook his head and squinted his eyes.
“Why is Kayla naked in your bed?!” My sentence came out as an accusation more than a question.
Jamie’s expression turned from shock to fear and then from fear to guilt. He opened his mouth to speak, but said nothing. He closed his mouth and stepped back, as if examining the situation before him. Then, like a computer screen switching off, his face went blank.
“I think you should go,” he said, his voice void of emotion.
I clenched my fist so hard I could feel my nails sinking into my palms. “You want me to go?” I stepped forward, closing the space that he had created. “You want me to go after I find my brother's girlfriend rolling around in your bed sheets?” I tried to calm my breathing, but nothing worked; I was hyperventilating with fury. “If I go right now and you don't tell me what the hell is going on, I'm not coming back.”
No, don't say that!
You don't mean that!
“I mean it.”
Jamie took three breaths. I distinctly remember those three slow breaths. “Go home, Alex.”
When I was stabbed, I thought I knew what it felt like to die, to have your body betray you, to have your breath abandon you. I thought I knew what agony was, but I was wrong. At that moment, I officially understood what death truly meant. It wasn't about physical pain; it was about feeling speechless, motionless, and hopeless.
Chapter twenty-three
Redemption isn’t just about repenting
It's about carrying the weight of your failures
And learning to move forward
1:00 p.m.
The throbbing in my head made it hard to focus. The world around me felt unsteady, like I was caught between reality and a dream. The harsh sunlight made my vision blur, turning the figures around me into shifting silhouettes. My body felt sluggish, weighed down, and it took me a second to process the firm surface beneath the gurney.
I didn’t remember getting on here. Didn’t remember much of anything. But the steady murmur of voices grounded me.
Lucas stood closest, his mouth moving, but the words were nothing more than a muffled noise in my ringing ears. I shifted my gaze, and Julian came into focus beside him, his expression tense, his hand braced lightly on my shoulder.
Then I saw him—Jamie’s dad.
Crouched in front of me, silent. Watching.
A strange kind of dizziness swept over me—not from accident, not from exhaustion, but from something more profound. Something I wasn’t ready to name.
I tried to sit up straight, but I was wobbly. Julian's voice broke through the fog. “Easy there, kiddo,” he murmured, his palm steady against my back. He only let go once he was sure I wasn’t about to fall apart.
Jamie's dad's face revealed a mix of emotions—concern, shock, and uncertainty. He stammered an apology, his eyes darting from person to person as he searched for the right words. “I'm sorry I startled you,” he finally said. “I had no idea it would be you when I got the call.”
“No, it's my fault.” I shrugged him off, trying not to show how embarrassed I felt. “I'm the one who ran into a light post.” I couldn't help but stare at him. Seeing Jamie's dad was like encountering a ghost from my past—like a literal ghost standing at the foot of my bed and yelling “Boo!” at 2:00 a.m.
My mother approached from my right, the loud popping and smacking of her yellow flip-flops drumming as she walked. “It's nice to see you, Tim. I wish it were under better circumstances.” It always felt strange to hear him referred to by his first name. I had rarely called him anything other than Jamie's dad.
As I looked at him now, he didn't seem like his usual self. He was well-groomed, with clean-shaven cheeks, gelled hair, and ironed clothes. It felt as if I had been thrown into a parallel universe where everything was upside down and backward.
“Nice to see you as well, Monica,” he answered my mom before looking down at me. “I have something for you. I was going to drop it off at your house before tonight, but since you're here …” Not waiting for my response, he turned the corner and vanished around the side of the ambulance.
He returned a few seconds later, holding a medium-sized brown package. “It’s from Jamie,” he said, maintaining eye contact for so long that it felt like we were in a staring contest. He extended the package toward me, waiting for me to take it from him. “It arrived yesterday. I had planned to drop it off at your house before this afternoon, but I guess now is as good a time as any. I know things didn’t end well with Jamie, but you deserve to have this.”
My hand didn’t reach for the brown package; my arm felt as if it were glued to my side. Lucas noticed my paralyzed gaze and quickly took the package from Jamie's dad. “Thank you, that was very thoughtful,” Lucas replied.
Jamie’s dad nodded at Lucas and gently lifted me off the gurney, guiding me back to my feet. As he pushed the gurney into the ambulance and closed the double doors, an unsettling silence hung in the air.
He began to walk back to the passenger seat, but when he opened the door, he locked sorrow-filled eyes with my parents. “I’ve never thanked you both,” he said, gripping the door handle as if the words about to leave his mouth might push him over the edge. “I was never able to give Jamie the home he deserved. But you did.” He glanced at Lucas, then at me, and finally at Kayla. “You all did. I’ll never be able to fully express my gratitude for the impact you’ve had on his life.”
As he started to get into the car, Lucas stepped forward, a deep sincerity in his eyes. “Jamie told me you’re sober now, and he couldn’t stop raving about how proud he is of you.” He reached out, extending his hand to Tim. “Thank you for finally being the dad Jamie always deserved.” His voice trembled slightly.
Jamie's dad stood there, his brow furrowed and his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. He opened his mouth, but the words seemed to falter in his throat, lost in a tide of unexpressed feelings. After a moment, he gave a slight nod, reaching out to shake Lucas’s hand. His grip was firm yet trembling, and his face was a canvas painted with gratitude, relief, and an ache of sadness.
He cast one last lingering look at us, a flicker of a smile breaking through the heaviness before he quietly closed the car door. The soft click bellowed in the stillness, and then he drove away, the taillights fading into the distance.
After giving me a hefty ticket for reckless driving, the cops and firefighters left. The air was so quiet that I could hear butterflies flapping their wings. It was just the five of us standing in an empty parking lot next to a banged-up car and a scuffed light post. Everyone's eyes were glued to me, waiting for my next move, as if I were a fragile porcelain doll about to fall and break.
“Why is everyone looking at me?”
My mom intertwined her hand around Julian’s arm for comfort. “Do you want to go home so you can open the package in private?” she spoke softly to me as if I were a child who had just broken an arm.
I shoved my hands into my pockets and shifted my weight to my back leg, closing my body off to everyone as if my defensive posture would protect me from their questions. “I’m not opening it,” I said firmly.
Lucas pushed the package toward me as if he were passing off a football. “Yes, you are,” he demanded.
Kayla tiptoed forward next to him. “Alex, you have to see what's inside.” She made that statement as if she had a say in what I did.
My cheeks were suddenly burning, and my insides were shaking. I took two steps toward her. “Why?” I shoved my question at Kayla, egging her to say something I could throw back. “Why would I want to see what's inside? It's not going to change anything unless it's a time machine that can teleport me back to last month when Jamie knocked on my door. Or maybe a genie that could grant me the wish of erasing the day you slept with my boyfriend.”
I was desperate for her rebuttal, ready to pounce. I yearned for her to defend her actions that night, so I could unleash the full force of my anger and tell her just how terrible I believed she was. I wanted to blame her for everything that had happened, so I didn’t have to acknowledge the truth: I was responsible for setting my world on fire.
I moved closer to her face. “You screwed my life when you screwed Jamie.”
“I didn't,” Kayla whispered through stinging tears.
I pulled my body back slightly. “What?” My question was barely audible.
“I didn't sleep with Jamie.” She spoke as if giving a eulogy to the past.
No …
She was lying, trying to redeem herself and change the narrative so she wouldn't be the villain in this story. I desperately wanted to know the truth, yet I was reluctant to let go of the lie.
Lucas pulled away from her, and his towering figure seemed to shrink as his broad shoulders sagged. “What do you mean you didn't sleep with him?” His eyes searched hers as if pleading with fate to write a better ending.
Kayla’s breaths were coming in short gasps, almost hiccups, as she tried to suck in her tears. “A couple of weeks after graduation, my mom called to tell me she was getting married and wouldn't be able to help with my tuition.” She looked at Lucas. “I didn't receive a scholarship to Stanford like you did. Without my mom's assistance, there was no way I could make my dad shoulder that responsibility.”
The light that usually sparkled in Lucas’s eyes had dimmed, replaced by a hollow emptiness. He clenched his fists at his sides, the knuckles white, and drew in a shaky breath. “Why didn't you tell me?”
Kayla gave him a soft smile, tears flowing over her cheeks and lips. “Because I knew you wouldn't go without me.”
I gripped the back of my neck, feeling the tension coil like a tightly wound spring. This conversation felt like assembling a puzzle made of sand. “This doesn't make any sense. If you didn't sleep with Jamie, then why were you in his bed?”
Kayla steadied her breath before confessing the truth she couldn’t take back. “That day, I went to Jamie’s house and told him what happened with my mom. I asked for his help in telling Lucas.” She placed her hand on Lucas’s shoulder. “I didn’t want you to give up your dream for me.” Her gaze shifted to me. “While I was there, you texted me saying you were headed to Jamie’s place to confront him. That’s when Jamie came up with the plan. He knew neither of you would leave us behind unless you thought there was nothing left to save. So, we made it look like we had slept together. I undressed in Jamie’s room and climbed into his bed. He was supposed to open the door and let you catch me inside. But at the last second, he changed his mind. He got in his car and tried to find you before you arrived.” Kayla paused as if the story could somehow get worse. “But you didn’t take your usual route to his house that day …”
There was a lump in my throat, pressing against my words as I tried to speak. “No, it … it was flooded …” My chest tightened, and my breathing became shallow. “I went the back way around the school.” One decision, one moment, one wrong turn had changed everything.
Kayla's eyes pleaded for mercy as she placed her arms on my shoulders. “He tried to call it off; he truly did. But you had already seen me. We promised each other we would never speak of it again because the truth was too unbearable to say out loud.”
Lucas’s knees trembled as he leaned heavily against a car tire. The cool rubber provided a grounding sensation as he slid down to the gritty pavement. His breath hitched, and he pressed his palms against his face as if trying to stifle the overwhelming torrent of emotions crushing him.
This wide-open parking lot somehow felt suffocating, the air thick with unspoken words. A fire surged in my veins—was it anger, sorrow, or just a raw need to scream? My hands trembled, itching to claw at anything nearby to release the tension coiling in every cell.
With a shaky sigh, I slid down the car, my shoulder crashing into my brother's. I drew my knees to my chest, resting my head against the cool fabric of my sweats. Silent tears slipped down my cheeks, pooling in the creases of my shirt.
Kayla’s body trembled as waves of sobs, muffled by her hands that were pressed against her face, her breath hitching with every cry. Lucas extended his arms toward her, his expression tender. He gently reached up for her waist and guided her softly to the ground, where we were mournfully huddled together.
There we sat, silent, sorrowful, and somber, trying to figure out how to move on.
With a gentle motion, Lucas picked up the package and placed it in front of me. “We can't go back, but maybe we can go forward.”
Chapter twenty-four
Forever isn't always an option
But right now is
April 4, 2022
I hadn't seen Jamie in five years until a month ago, when a knock on my door obliterated the life I had built and the life I thought I was going to have.
Before that day, I was doing great. I had graduated from college with an English degree, although I had no idea what to do with it. I got a job as an assistant at a law firm, where I spent eleven hours a day making coffee for wealthy lawyers who were destroying the world. And I had a sexy-ass boyfriend named Mark … who was also sort of my boss and was sleeping with a girl in HR.
But really, I was doing great.
I was sitting on my uncomfortable bed, trying to take off a pair of red stilettos that matched the red blood dripping from the blister on my toes. My injuries were caused by spending four hours on my feet at a mind-numbing wedding rehearsal for Mark's sister, even though he ditched me at the last minute.
With numb, stinging feet, I hobbled to the kitchen to eat the leftovers I stole from the hors d'oeuvres table. As I stared down at my plate covered with food that may or may not have led to a nasty case of food poisoning, I’d be lying if I said my life was looking promising. But everyone struggles in their twenties, right? Everyone receives a text from their boyfriend saying he has to work late with Karen, the HR manager, on a case over wine and pasta at 9:00 p.m. And everyone lives with no lights, A/C, and a fridge containing two apples and half a sandwich they stole from someone's desk, right?
Please tell me I'm right …
Just as I was about to flip a coin to decide whether to eat a piece of cheese that twenty other people had touched, there was a tap at my door. The knock started with some force, but then it abruptly stopped, as if the person's knuckles hitting the wood had scared them into silence.
I stretched my arms behind me, contemplating whether to answer or to pretend not to be home and hide. The person knocked again, but this time with an even more confident pounding. I huffed at the intrusion and shuffled my bare feet to the door, reaching my hand out to turn the cold brass door handle. “If that’s you, Mark, you better be here to apologize—” It wasn’t Mark.
My words stuck in my throat as my eyes were shocked by the sight of Jamie's face. He looked older. Good. Sexy. He was all grown up. His chiseled features and tanned complexion gave him a more refined and confident look. His hair, now shorter on the sides, was still long and tousled on top. His shoulders had broadened considerably, and the fabric of his shirt stretched taut over his well-defined arms; he certainly wasn't the same wiry teenager he had been in high school. Despite all these changes, he still retained his sweet, captivating smile that always left me mesmerized.
Snap out of it! I yelled at my champaign-soaked brain, regretting the third glass right now.
“Hey, Alex.” I'm sure it was my imagination, but even his voice seemed older, as if it had grown rougher. He just stood there, his hands in his pockets, waiting for my lips to move and for my voice to string out a sentence. The boy who had once been my everything was now a stranger standing before me, a ghost of the past I begged my soul to banish.
“Jamie.” The word slipped out of my mouth in a single breath. I blinked hard and gripped the door frame to steady myself. “What are you doing here?”
He lightly stepped forward as if testing the waters and the tension between us. When I didn't make a move, his gaze fluttered for a moment, a quick flicker of vulnerability betraying the light smirk he wore just a few seconds ago. “I wanted to see you,” he admitted, his words hanging fragile in the air like a string made of glass. “I needed to see you.” His voice was barely above a whisper.
Every cell upon my skin begged me to reach out and touch him, to prove he was real, that this wasn’t some cruel trick of my longing-starved mind. To rejoin the shards of our past, to make myself whole again with the warmth of his arms around me. But the ghost of what we once had kept me frozen. Instead, I wrapped my arms around myself, creating a shield against the flood of emotions that threatened to crumble the cage I had built for Jamie's memory.
“Well, you've seen me,” I replied. “Was there something else you wanted?”
Jamie's jaw tightened, and his gaze flickered with a mix of hurt and acceptance. He took a small step back, his shoulders stiff like he had braced himself for this conversation 100 times in his head. My heart hammered in my chest as I watched him retreat, a slight pang of regret gnawing at my insides like a feral cat.
“Do you want me to leave?” he asked, like a promise. If I wanted him to walk away and never return, he would respect my wishes and vanish again.
“… no.” My whisper was so desperate that it made my chest shudder. “Come in.” I moved back, allowing Jamie to pass through the threshold and into my combined kitchen, living room, and bedroom.
