Shattered Secrets (Book of Red #1) (21 page)

ake up,” Derick whispered, drawing me closer—if that was even possible.

I smiled and enjoyed the secure comfort being held brought me, glad that our closeness in a bed wasn’t as scary as I’d originally thought.
My dad would die
.
Just die
! “I’m awake.”

Gray light filtered into our room, and the wicker fan whooshing overhead created a sound I would always relate to love and warmth and my feet tangled with Derick’s. I flipped over and faced him, a nervous churning in my belly, my heart fluttering ever so slightly.

“What’s your favorite thing?” he asked, twirling a strand of my hair around his index finger.

Uhh
. “Coffee?”

Thinking past my morning ritual proved impossible.

Derick huffed, a sort of half-laugh, half-gasp thing. “I mean your favorite thing, something your parents collected for you longer than you can remember, something you adore, something you have about a thousand of on your nightstand.”

I really needed coffee. “Turtles?”

“You have a thousand turtles in all shapes and forms on your nightstand, and you just phrased that as a question. I never knew you were such a caffeine-addict, Abby.”

I did
. “Where are you going with all this?”

“It’s 5:30 a.m. How about we go meet some turtles?”

5:30
? “We slept nearly twenty-four hours? That’s crazy. And look at your face; it’s not red any more. Wait—did you say turtles?”

He laughed at me, like
laughed
at me, and pushed some of my surely messy brown hair behind my ear. “I said turtles. It’s the wrong season to see them nest, but we can go to this aquarium called Mote Marine.”

All the Google searches I did while Derick vacationed here with his family led me to articles about turtles and how the locals documented new nests every morning. Jealousy ravaged me when I thought of how close he was to the aquatic reptiles my parents had somehow convinced me to love, and I wanted nothing more than to go on Turtle Walks with him… and no one else. Seeing the creatures in the wild would be amazing, but the Mote Marine would have to do.

I bolted out of bed and then ran to my dresser. Pulling out crumpled khaki shorts and a bright-blue ribbed tank, I pretended not to hear Derick’s laughter echoing through our room, then lifted my pajama shirt over my head.

He sucked in a quick breath, and I about fell over from embarrassment. Cheeks burning, I covered my chest with my tank, thankful I faced away from him. Being half-naked in front of a guy was
not
normal for me, and given his response, seeing that much skin wasn’t normal for Derick either. And if it was, well, we’d have issues.

“I… I’ll go make coffee.”

There was no time to say another word; Derick’s track star legs carried him out of the room too fast. At some point, we’d have to get used to seeing each other change clothes—
we lived together
—but clearly not today.

Longboat Key’s beaches stretched on for about twelve miles. I should know; after spending hours in the aquarium, Derick and I went home, changed, then walked all over the soft, white sand. We met up with a group of activists we’d talked to at Mote Marine, and they trained us how to find loggerhead nests, document, and protect the turtles’ fragile homes.

If we weren’t back in Virginia by June, we’d be prepared for Turtle Walks.

We headed back to the condo now, holding hands, breathing in the refreshing smell of salt and humidity, allowing the ocean breeze to whisk around us. The sun beat at our side, closer to setting than rising, and the surf washed between our toes. This morning’s momentary indecency existed as only a distant memory, forgotten by spending the day doing normal things, in a normal world, with normal people.

But no matter how hard I tried to focus only on the good, I couldn’t help but worry about tomorrow, and the day after that, and how we would ever get back to school so we could fret about exams, the daily gossip, who to eat lunch with, and what to wear to graduation.

Those problems sounded awesome.

Those problems were normal.

We were
not
staying in Florida forever. But getting out required learning about ourselves, about—“How did you discover your other abilities?”

His hand tensed. “I thought we were on vacation.”

“We are”—I jogged ahead and turned to face him, continuing backward—“It’s just a question.”

“Well, invisibility kind of surprised me.”

And his kiss surprised
me
. I picked up my pace, sucking in sharp breaths of the warm air. “What else do you have?”

“Speed?” Derick kept up with me, his muscles flexing under his fair skin in ways that made me wish we weren’t in public.

I tossed that thought. “You don’t know?”

“I’ve always been fast, Abby. Who knows why.”

I whipped around and ran as fast as I could, which probably rivaled the speed of a geriatric in a 100-meter dash. My feet sunk in the sand or crashed on an occasional shell, slowing me down even more, but not Derick. He breezed right by like someone on a leisurely stroll.

“So you’re suggesting… what exactly?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“You’ve got invisibility and maybe speed. Thank God neither of us knows what emotion we’re connected to.”

“Why?”

“Because aside from being a Guardian—something I don’t even control—all I’ve got is an ability to see through your weird Romancing—”

“Weird?”

Wiggling my ring finger at him, I said, “Yes, weird. Very weird at that. But that sight is probably a part of me being a Guardian.”

“You got me.” He slowed, allowing me to catch up to him, then slipped his arm around my waist. “And you have
weird
stuff, too. You saw Kalós—which you couldn’t before—and… I’m not sure what else. But I’d say that makes us equal.”

“I saw Boredas at the Capitol Ale House.” Any jealousy over Derick’s various other physical abilities flew out the window and a seemingly more important thought struck me, though I had no idea why it mattered so much. “If he’s not from
our
plane or here, how did he hide in the restaurant? Your dad said they’re our opposites with all the same powers. So that means… he has invisibility, maybe?”

“Maybe.”

“Can’t be, though. I can’t see you when you’re invisible.” Was there a difference between my power to see Kalós and whatever power Boredas used to stay out of sight? If so, maybe I possessed more magical crap than I realized. And if not, how did he do it? How did he disguise himself?

Figuring out our lives gave me a headache.

“Maybe someone’s helping him?”

I shrugged. “The book said there are only two here working for Aedan. I probably just have some other
awesome
unnamed specialty.”

“Now I’m jealous.”

The sound of children giggling startled us out of our conversation. We looked up. Two or three families occupied the stretch of beach in front of our condo, scattered about and rubbing gobs of white sunblock over their skin, building sand castles with bright pink and blue buckets, splashing in the surf, or just being happy.

My heart ached. I wanted to be like them, to be here with Derick without all the other pains in my life. Mom would love this place, the crystal-clear water and small waves and tiny fish scuttling in the shallows, and the solitude of uncrowded beaches. Dad would like the island, too, but he’d follow me around, trying to prevent any guy from even looking at me, wishing I was still his baby girl who wore her hair in pigtails and went to dance class merely to collect the stickers, the girl who Mom wouldn’t allow on the beach in anything less than a one piece bathing suit.

“I’m going to miss performing in the Twelve Twisted Days of Christmas.”

“Wow. That was quite a change in subject.”

I shook my head, trying to snap out of my daydream.

“Feel like hanging out on the beach to watch the sunset?” Derick asked, drawing my attention back to him, where my attention always found itself, where I liked it to be.

“Sure, as long as I can bury you in the sand.”

“I’ve always wanted to know what living like a crab felt like. Stay here. I’ll go grab some towels.”

He took off running toward our place, and I claimed a quiet seat on the sand, removing my cover up. Turning my face toward the bright-blue sky, I drew in a deep breath and leaned back.

Stop thinking like a grownup
.
Stop worrying
.
You’re a teenager
.
You’re with your boyfriend
,
the guy you’ve been shamelessly addicted to for five years
.
Be happy
.

A flock of white pelicans soared over the shore, mere inches above the water, flapping their wings, necks tucked in, forcing me to enjoy the peacefulness of nature. The kids stopped giggling and pointed at the sky, running out toward the surf with their short little legs.

I love this place
.

“Hey there, gorgeous.” A guy who was
not
Derick sat next to me.

Last time a stranger surprised me, I found myself in the trunk of a car, bound, gagged, and scared. I gathered my white and black striped cover up and then tromped toward the condo, toward Derick.

“Can’t a guy say hello these days?”

Suddenly, moving toward my house seemed as dense a plan as staying and saying hello. Panic rose in overflowing bubbles, making my heart rush faster than my retreating steps. My ears rang with the memory of Ruckus’s hand greeting my cheek, and the smell of smoke filled my nose.
I can’t handle this
.
Where’s Derick
?

“Before you go all paranoid and call the cops, you should know I work here and just need to know what unit you’re in. We get a lot of trespassers.” The guy grabbed my arm and spun me around to face him. He looked eerily familiar, close to our age, maybe a bit older, and had bushy blond hair and blue eyes and a tan so many girls were probably jealous of—really, boys should not have skin that golden. “Whoa. Since when does saying hi cause a girl to cry?”

Jerk. “Get your hands off me.”

He let me go, holding up his hands, causing his biceps to flex—athlete of some sort, had to be, all lean muscles with veins roping around them. Not an ounce of body fat to be found.

Actor maybe? Boy band member? No. He said he worked here.
Where do I know him from
?

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? You’re
sorry
? You sit next to a girl on the beach and greet her with ‘hey, gorgeous’ as if you know her? Then when she leaves, you
follow
her? Is it your job to sneak up on people?” My voice was high-pitched, a tad maniacal.

“Sometimes.” He laughed, eyes widening and—did they change colors?

I shook my head. Nope. Still blue.

“Do I know you from somewhere?”

Derick materialized and dropped a lump of towels at my feet. He closed the distance between us and lifted my chin, pinning his angry gaze on Mr. No Manners. “What’s up, Abby? What did he do to you?”

“Where did… how did… this chick is yours?” The guy backed away, reminding me of the time I yelled at Will for hurting Megan’s feelings and he ran away from me as if I hurt his.

Will
.