Page 26 of Ordinary Secrets (Secrets Trilogy #1)

26

TREY

The next day, my mind is a clusterfuck. Kissing Bailey made me realize that I never want to kiss anyone but Arella—ever. Now I just have to figure out how to make that happen.

On my way to pick up my girl for dinner, a wave of nausea hits me. My gut feels like someone’s jabbing it with a wrench, so I drink the warm water from a half-empty plastic bottle that’s been stewing in my car for a week. It does nothing to ease the tornado in my stomach.

This better go away soon, because I’ve got special plans to take Arella back to Long Beach, where we had our first date. I’m hoping that since she’s more comfortable with me touching her now, she’ll actually dance with me this time. I’m also hoping that being around her will help me figure out a plan as to how I’m going to keep her.

I’m about ten blocks away from Arella’s apartment when my chest tightens like someone’s got a tight grip on my heart and they’re squeezing the life out of it. I white-knuckle the steering wheel as my lungs lose air. The dry-ass desert in my throat makes me cough, and I swear heavy sandbags have been dropped onto my chest and have made my lungs their home.

As my car pulls up to Arella’s place, I tell myself the pain will pass. I’m still coughing as I knock on her door. A faint sound comes from inside. I press my ear against the door, wishing I was an Eavesdropper with enhanced hearing like Jess. I’m not, so all I hear is... screaming?

I try to turn the doorknob. Locked. With the wave of a hand, I fix that, and the door flies open.

My heart plummets. The sound I heard was definitely screaming. Arella’s screams. And now, I know why.

Spiders.

Hundreds—no, thousands of little black spiders are crawling all over Arella’s apartment. Some are so big, I can see the little hairs on their legs. The flames between my fingers flicker as I resist throwing fireballs at them and dash toward the screaming.

Arella’s on her bed, screeching and flailing her arms. Spiders cover everything: the walls, the floor, the bed, my girl . I dart to her and wave a hand over her body, thinking it’ll make the spiders fly off her. They don’t.

In a panic, I’ve forgotten that my telekinesis doesn’t work on living things. So with my bare hands, I swat the creatures away. Then I lift Arella into my arms and rush her out of the apartment.

She’s still screaming when I set her bare feet down and flick away the last remaining spiders still crawling over her. They fall to the ground and scurry away.

“It’s okay, baby,” I say as calmly as I can, yet loud enough so she can hear me over her screams. It doesn’t quiet her. With my thumb, I wipe away the tears running down her cheeks. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

I’m lying to her again. It’s not okay. I’m freaking out too. It breaks me to see her like this. Roughly, I pull her against me and hold her like she’s going to evaporate into thin air if I don’t. I let her scream into my chest, and I clutch her until the screaming subsides. Eventually, all she does is tremble in my arms, hyperventilating.

I kiss the top of her hair. “It’s all right, baby. I’m here.”

I spot her phone on the ground. She must have been holding it, then dropped it on our way out. The urge to pick it up isn’t as big as my need to comfort her. On the small of her back, I caress my fingertips in little circles, silently telling her that she’s safe now.

“Don’t worry, angel. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

I lean back to look at her. Her whole body is stiff. Her eyes are screwed shut, and she’s still panting. I lift her and cradle her in my arms as I march to my car. She doesn’t wrap her arms around my neck the way she usually does. She’s just rigid and quivering, and it’s scaring me.

Once I get her into the passenger seat, I lean in to examine her. Her eyes are still shut, and her hands are in tight, shaky fists.

“Babe?” I say tenderly.

She doesn’t respond. I shrug my jacket off and drape it around her front. Then I click her seat belt in.

With a kiss on her forehead, I caress her cheek. “You’re safe now.”

She’s still shuddering.

What do I do?

After closing her door, I fetch her phone off the ground. Then I round the front of my car and plop behind the wheel. I don’t start the engine. I just stare at her.

“Angel?” I wait for her to say something.

She doesn’t, and my throat closes up.

What’s wrong? Why isn’t she responding?

“Arella? Please say something.” My voice breaks. I’m barely getting the words out.

She doesn’t even stir. It’s like she didn’t hear me at all.

“Fuck.” I punch the steering wheel. What the fuck is going on?

Breathe, I command myself, because I can’t lose it right now. Arella needs me to be strong. I suck in a deep breath through my nose, then slowly blow it out through my lips.

I know what I have to do. I just don’t want to do it. I hate hospitals. I avoid them at all costs. Sensing the emotions of dying patients, people in pain, and overworked nurses always makes me nauseous. Still, I start the car because I can’t think of another option.

Arella barely moves as I pull up to the nearest hospital.

She’s still unresponsive as I carry her out of the car and rush her into the building.

Her eyes still haven’t opened by the time I burst through the doors of the Emergency Department.

All eyes fall on me. Sick women, irritated grandpas in wheelchairs, families in despair, and a guy holding a wad of red-soaked gauze against his eye. The cloud of depressing emotions forms a migraine in my temples. I just got here, and I already need to leave.

I rush to the front desk, ignoring the long line. “You need to see her right away.”

A plump woman in her fifties glares at me from behind a pair of rectangular glasses. “Sir, you need to get to the back of the line.”

“No. Someone needs to see her now .”

She glares at me—harder this time. “Is anything broken, bleeding profusely, dying, or on the pain scale of nine or higher?”

“What? No?”

She seizes a clipboard with paperwork already on it, thrusting it toward me. “Fill out this form. Someone will see you shortly.”

I glance down at the sweet girl in my arms. Her face is pale. Her breathing is shallow. She’s not shaking anymore, but that doesn’t change how much I’m fucking losing it. I glance back up at the receptionist. “I need that someone now .”

“You need to fill out the forms, sir. And get to the back of the line.”

“Fuck. The. Forms! Don’t you see she’s not responding?”

Dramatically, the lady yanks her glasses off and leans on her elbows. “You need to calm down, sir.”

“I can’t calm down. My heart is on the pain scale of nine or higher. Please! Help her!”

I feel like pulling out all my hair. I probably would if my arms weren’t full of the one and only person who means everything to me. My lungs won’t stop contracting, because I can still hear her screams. I can still feel her crying and trembling against my chest.

“Please,” I beg. “Get someone to take her in.”

The lady sighs, preparing to tell me some scripted rejection when a tan-skinned Indian woman wearing scrubs appears by the double doors. “I’ll take her in.”

Finally!