“Wade.” He blinks slowly, his dark lashes fluttering against his cheeks as they mound from his smile.
“Wade,” I repeat. My pulse quickens as his real name crosses the threshold of my lips. “I would love to check out Windhaven Academy with you.”
“Excellent. I’d love to unravel the mystery of your superpowers with you,” he mimics my gesture from before, trying to suss out my own name.
“Autumn,” I whisper.
Wade grins broadly. “Autumn. I like that. It suits you.”
“Well, I better…” I jab a thumb back toward the way we came. “I actually have to get to work.”
“Ah, no problem,” he says, taking a small step back. “But…since we’re going to check out Windhaven together, maybe we would have dinner or something to get to know each other a little better. Whatcha doing tonight?”
His face is open as he beams back at me.
Nervous energy blossoms through me and my words catch at my throat. I flit my gaze to the headstones again, and despite my worries, I say, “Meet me here at seven and find out.”
Wade nods in approval and I turn around to head to the drug store before I can talk myself out of this.
Relationships and I have a sketchy history, at best. As I walk away, part of me wants to jump for joy, but a darker, more sinister part of me wonders if this is really too good to be true.
Chapter 4
Barely existedness
After my parents’ separation and watching my mom struggle through the years, I always swore I’d learn to be more self-reliant than she was. There were plenty of times where my father’s had to bail us out—not that she’d ever admit that to me. I’m not even supposed to know about it. But each time, I’d heard her crying afterward. It was like speaking to him was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do. It was clear to me she still loved him, but for whatever reason, they decided they couldn’t be together. I grew up knowing that loving someone, really loving them, means suffering for it.
Now, I feel as though I’m running headlong into a train, and happily anticipating its wreckage.
As I walk up, Wade is standing in the same spot I’d left him earlier in the day, waiting for me. The grin that graces his face could light up the setting sun.
“Hi,” he says as I approach.
“Hey,” I respond, ignoring the sound of my runaway pulse. “I have something I wanted to show you. Are you game?”
“Of course,” Wade says, a hint of surprise and confusion lighting his face.
“You’re new in town, right?” I shoot him a mischievous grin and wait for him to nod. “So, obviously, there is no way you could be in charge of this date, silly fool. I’ve taken it upon myself to show you the sights before you’re fully assimilated into the overwhelming monotony that is Mistwood.”
“Assimilated? Wow, that’s very Borg,” Wade grins.
Butterflies erupt from my solar plexus and I can’t help but laugh. It’s nice to have someone else around who gets the stupid, random stuff I end up referencing. Especially when it’s not about Fortnite, Call of Duty, or some other video game guys can’t seem to get enough of.
“So, Wade, not Angel…where did you live before coming to Mistwood Point?” I ask, venturing a sideways glance as we continue down the sidewalk.
Wade turns his gaze straight ahead, suddenly very interested in the concrete in front of us. “Oh, trust me, it’s nowhere noteworthy.”
“Oooh, that bad, huh? This could be fun. Let me guess…” I say, thrusting my hands out in front of me, interlacing my fingers, and giving them a good crack. “Your old town was really a traveling circus tent and you never really set up shop anywhere.”
He chuckles, shaking his head.
“No? Hmmm… I was so sure about that, too. Okay, okay…let me think.” I place my fingertips to the sides of my head in mock concentration. “You’re actually from the future, but you came back in time because you know the Antichrist is about to be born in Mistwood Point and it’s your mission to end him before the Earth falls into total annihilation.”
“Warmer,” he snorts, his lips curving upward, despite his not wanting to meet my gaze.
My eyebrows tug in.
“Really? Warmer… Hmmm. Okay. How about, you were stolen as a baby because your parents were really serial killers and they liked to hang out with dead bodies,” I say, grinning like a goof at my insane prediction.
“Uh…” He glances at me, narrowing his eyes and looking away. “No, not quite.”
“Okay, I’m out. Where’d you come from, man?” I ask again.
Wade finally turns to face me, grabbing hold of my arm. His face is suddenly a hundred percent serious. “I never really had a hometown, if you know what I mean. I’ve sorta been on my own since I was fourteen.”
Chills run up my spine, but definitely not the good kind. “Really? Why? That’s gotta be like, what, six years?”
“Nine, actually,” he says, shooting me a glance. “I’m twenty-three. Er…hope that’s okay.”
I swipe my hand in the air. “Totally fine.”
“Good,” he exhales a puff of air. “Anyway, my dad died when I was fourteen and I couldn’t bear to live with my grandparents. Yes, the same grandpa I’m living with now. Ironic, I know. I mean, I loved them, but I was just not in a good place. Hell, what fourteen-year-old is, even without that sort of thing happening? I didn’t want to drag them into it. You know?”
“Oh,” I sputter, grasping for words that could possibly make any of that better. “I’m—I’m so sorry, Wade. What about your mom? Is she in the picture?”
“No, she died when I was really little. It’s not really a big deal. Not anymore,” he says with a shrug.
I fight the urge to say, ‘Suuuuure it’s not.’ Instead, I face forward again, leading us onward in utter, awkward silence.
After a couple of minutes, I ask, “How did it happen, if you don’t mind me asking.”
“My dad? Or my mom?”
I nod solemnly. “Either?”
“Well, for my dad it was a brain tumor. One day he was fine, the next he was really sleepy and sorta off. His balance wasn’t right, his words were slurred. At first, the doctors thought it could have been a stroke. He went in to get checked out and we found out he had three separate masses growing on his brain. He was gone in less than a month,” he says, his voice trailing off.
“Wow, that totally sucks.”
Wade nods, his eye going distant. “Definitely weren’t the funnest days ever.”
“Do you know what happened to your mom?”
His eyebrows knit together and he shoves his hands into his pocket. “She drowned. I guess she really loved to kayak and one day, she never made it back. They found her body in the river a few days later. At least, that’s what I was told once I was old enough to understand.”
“That must have been terrible. Losing both of your parents. I mean, I don’t always get along with mine, but…”
“Yeah, it was hard at the time, and definitely in my teenage years. Luckily, I’d like to think I’ve grown beyond it. I mean, the past only has control if you let it, right?” he says, shooting me a sideways glance.