Don't Let Go (Third Book to the Other Side)

Chapter Seventeen

My desk, to put it lightly, was an absolute clutter of random things, at best. At worst, it was a dumpster fire of books and papers and old documents I had dredged from the corners of the library. In each thing that lay scattered, I invested all of my time in, praying it would yield me the answers I needed. But as the mess dwindled and dwindled by the day, so did any hope of saving Thomas. But I kept working, pushing aside my self-pity and just working for the sake of working. It was a puzzle, a riddle, but it was solvable. I knew deep down that it was, and I wasn't going to give up until I had every last single piece in place.

The scattered papers and books on my desk would bug me before, but now I didn't care so much. If they were my key to finding and saving Thomas, then such a simple thing didn't matter.

A knock on my door shook me out of my trance of flipping through pages. Stifling a sigh, I called out, "Who is it?"

"It's James," he said from the other side of the door. "I wanted to apologize."

"For what?" I returned, grabbing a document and comparing it with the book.

"The things I said and the way I didn't believe you."

I looked up from the book and at the door, taking my time in responding. "If I were you, I would've thought the same thing. You don't have to apologize, James."

"Yes. But I want to." He paused, waiting for my response. "I won't come in unless you let me, but Philip's really worried about you and I thought that you should know that."

I sighed, rose, and went to the door. "Tell Philip I'm fine," I said, though it was still closed. "And I appreciate his concern. I've got work I need to be taking care of."

"You're shutting us out, Alexander."

"Yeah?"

"Thomas did the same thing."

"Well, I'm not Thomas."

"Yeah, but look at what happened to him. He was hurting, and we didn't know. You remember how awful you felt when you found out he was a Tenebrie."

Something inside of me caved. I reached for the doorknob. "Fine. You want to apologize? Is that all?"

"I want to help."

"I don't need help."

"I know," James said, blinking up at me. "But it would be nice, wouldn't it?" I opened my mouth to speak, but he continued before I had the chance. "I can help you take everything downstairs."

"Now everyone's helping?"

James nodded. He snapped his fingers, and one by one, the books flew into the air and began to chase after him as he started down the hallway. One of the books flew in front of him so he could read the cover.

"The True Meaning of Death?" he read with a frown. "Damn. I remember reading that."

"Oh?" I asked, glad that this didn't have to be as awkward as I thought it was going to be. "Was it any good?"

"No. It was quite possibly the worst thing I've ever read. The only reason I did in the first place was because Thomas practically forced me to."

He didn't have to mention his name, but he did, and I didn't understand why. How can he be so relaxed? How can he still see Thomas as a friend, after what he's done?

Or maybe I'm the one who's being irrational.

"Great. Can't wait to read it," I said dryly, eager to prevent myself from lingering on the thought of him for too long.