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But I can’t even begin to shut down. My entire body, from the top of my scalp, down to my toes, is buzzing with heat and electricity. It’s like everything I felt for him before, everything I try to ignore, is coming out in full force, responding to his words, to his body so close to mine. I can feel the warmth at my back, sinking into my spine, just from his presence alone.
I’m starting to have feelings for him. Not just in a he’s a giant hulking beast who’s here to protect me from the underworld way. But real feelings, slowly creeping into my heart, day by day.
The thought is terrifying in the same way that demons are terrifying.
They both might take possession of me.
They both might ruin me.
And I’m not sure how much of me I’ll have left.
Stop being ridiculous, I chide myself.
I listen for a moment then say softly into the darkness, “Jay?”
He grunts in response.
“What happens after I reach my potential? When you’re no longer my guardian?”
I don’t know why I’m asking this. I think I want some kind of blow to the tender parts of myself, I want the truth to hurt, to warn me that my sudden stupid feelings are worthless and can only end in heartache or humiliation.
“I go on to help someone else.” His voice is as soft as a cloud.
“Like, right away? Do I get a chance to say bye? Do I get to see you again after? You know, as a friend?”
He goes silent. I almost ask again, thinking he may have fallen asleep but with a heavy sigh he says, “No. As far as I’m aware, my memory is stripped. I start anew. I won’t remember who you are.”
I know he’s said something like that before but for some reason I figured maybe I was an exception.
“Can you not? I mean, can you ask to have your memory for longer. I mean, why would it hurt you? If you go and help someone else, say some kid somewhere, how would staying friends with me interfere with that?”
“I guess because it’s my job to commit to that person 100%. I don’t think we’re allowed outside attachments, other than other Jacobs.”
Like Jacob himself. Forever the only constant in Jay’s life. Would he have to start over getting to know him every single time too?
“I’d come find you, you know,” I tell him.
“You say that now,” he says. “But by the time this is all over, I’m sure you’ll be more than happy to be rid of me.”
I’ve been dreaming about Jay for a long time and I’ve been with him for a few weeks. In dreams, in the waking world, I feel like he’s become as accepted as an extra limb. Awkward at first, ungainly, but later becoming a part of me that’s indispensable. I can’t imagine Jay not being beside me in some shape or form.
And that’s fucked up, the naggy part of my brain goes. To feel that attached to him already. That’s not normal.
“None of this is normal,” I say out loud.
“You mean sleeping in a decrepit roadside motel with me as a way to escape the portal to Hell in your closet? No, I wouldn’t say it’s normal at all—for anyone else. You’re going to have to adjust your reality. This is the new normal. I’m your new normal.”
I don’t know how long I ponder that. I think I see the moon pass through the curtains. Outside the highway is silent, no cars finding their way in the middle of the night.
“Jay?” I ask again.
“What?” he murmurs.
“Do you think maybe you were Irish in another life? Like your original life? And that’s why you have an Irish accent sometimes?”
“I have no idea,” he says tiredly. “Is that all?”
“Jay? Remember when you said I was beautiful?”
“Go to sleep, princess.”
And so I do.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Jay kissed me in my dream last night.
The details are fuzzy now, the dream draining from my head as soon as I woke up this morning, but the feeling is still there.
What I’m trying to figure out is if it was an ordinary dream where my subconscious conjured Jay up or if it was a dream where Jay inserted himself. I’m guessing that because I can’t quite remember it, it’s a normal one. All the other dreams are lucid to the point of being real.
Not that Jay is acting any different toward me this morning. When I finally woke up (and I’m pretty sure with a smile on my lips) it was because it was 10 a.m. and Jay was standing above me, telling me I needed to get a move on. He’d already showered and packed and was waiting for my sorry ass.
I showered as quickly as possible, shoving my wet hair in a bun since the room’s hair-dryer didn’t work, and decided to do my makeup in the car. I slipped on the same dress as last night—it was either that or wear a bra, and I’m not Carrie Bradshaw enough for that—but knotted it around my hips and added the denim shorts.
