Parallel Hearts (Parallel Hearts Trilogy, #1)

Chapter 18

Chapter 18

I am now capable of predicting the outcome of our future and still, I didn’t stay. I didn’t stay lying next to him, frozen in a state of happiness, safely hidden away in a place where we can belong. If the memory of learning that Aaden loves me is all I will ever have, then I will take it and hold onto it forever. The sound of his voice and the feel of his touch will remain in my heart and follow me wherever I go.  Memories, like stories can only be seen, felt and heard in the mind of the individual in which they live, and for that they may never be taken away. Our memories are the one true thing that live and die within us. If we didn’t remember, then nothing and no one would ever mean a thing. We remember because when it’s all over, we don’t want to be forgotten.

The silent ride home passes by with little regard for the precious time we have remaining. The half-moon floating in the sky follows us home, and I find myself wondering if it realizes the key role it’s playing in our lives. Its enormous amber glow floods the black sky a little more with each passing night, illustrating that our time here is quickly coming to an end­—that Aaden and I are coming to an end. There are merely days left before we have to leave and start over in a new place. We both know we will never be able to finish what we’ve started.

As we turn onto my peacefully lit street, I lean forward, pressing the side of my face against Aaden’s back, and wordlessly count the lamp posts slipping by, each one representing a second gone, a second lost and I think about how time influences our lives. Time tells us when something begins and when something ends. It tells us how long or how short any given moment will last. Even though we can’t see time, we know it’s there because it’s either standing still when we want it to fly or flying when we want it to stand still. Right now, I wish it would stand still.

 I feel the vibrations of the bike engine dwindling beneath me, bringing me back and as my house grows nearer, a puzzled look crosses my face. In a string of dark houses, mine is the only one with lights still blazing brightly in the front window. Narrowing my eyes, I see two shadows moving from behind the blanket of curtains, and my mind immediately buzzes of the Valdorian Scouts. They’ve come back for me, I think, not able to forget the look on their vengeful faces as I narrowly escaped their grasp only hours before. Like a surge of electricity, my nerves send sensations of panic straight through me, making me shiver uncontrollably. The sick feeling stirring in my gut plays with my mind, and when Aaden feels my arms tighten around him, he reaches down and clasps my hands with one of his.

Aaden steers the bike into the driveway but before he has the chance to bring the Triumph to a complete stop, I swing my legs free and without any consideration for my own safety, I sprint towards the front door.

“Anna, stop,” Aaden fiercely whispers, catching my arm and pulling me back to him. “We can’t just barge in.” With his free hand, he removes his helmet, revealing the impending concern on his face. “We don’t know who’s in there.”

“Well, let’s find out,” I reply worriedly, trying to pull myself free with no success. “Gram could be in danger.” I want to tell him this isn’t the time to be weighing odds and making plans. I cannot fall victim to my own relentless guilt again­—not like before. “She’s the only real family I have left, Aaden. If something happens to her because of me then…”

“I know, Anna,” he says, staring down at me, still holding my arm as if he’ll lose me if he lets go. “Just let me go first.”

Not wanting to waste any more time, I reluctantly nod in agreement and let him pass in front of me. I follow Aaden in pursuit down the narrow passageway between our house and the neighbor’s, careful not to step on any of Gram’s beloved flowers. Its dark, the height of the houses block the better part of the moonlight, and I listen to the sound of Aaden’s steps in the grass to guide me. “Why do you always do that?” I ask slightly perturbed.