Chapter Forty-Two

We’re scheduled to meet with Markus in two days.

It’s been more than a week since we snagged the music box and vanished. We notified Markus of our success, but he’s been out of the country and has arranged for an immediate meeting upon his return.

Melanie and I have been using the time to ease back into our old life. We used to believe all our escapades and shenanigans were a real rush, but after living with the Unseen over the past few months, we both agree that life with them was far more exciting.

Melanie, for the most part, has been quiet and moody since we got back. If I didn’t know her, I’d think this brooding disposition is because she misses Jo. But I do know her. I know what makes her come alive, what excites her. So, I know it’s not Jo she misses.

She misses the missions with Jaxon. She misses that rush. The fear of getting caught. The exhilaration of not getting caught.

No need for her to say the logical conclusion out loud. I’ve known her long enough to guess. With absolute certainty. She might’ve started out pretending to want the open position in the Unseen, but somewhere along way, that pretense died.

She wants that position, for real.

As we move around each other in the flat, I can actually see her longing. I hear her unspoken thoughts, I smell her possibilities.

But I pretend not to. This is a huge can of worms I’m terrified to open.

I don’t want to hear it spoken in words. I don’t want to think about her leaving me to go be with him. I don’t want to believe that this might be the end of us—Mel and Timber.

So, I pretend not to notice.

Maybe, after our meeting with Markus, when we exchange the box for what he promised us, she’ll remember us and what we wanted.

Withdrawal, that’s what she’s going through. Withdrawal.

I should know. I’m going through withdrawal of my own. Withdrawal from Jaxon. The man who holds my innocence. And, I thought, my heart.

I’ve still not heard from him.

I tried convincing myself that the more days passed, the better I’d feel. But I don’t.

I don’t feel better.

At. All.

Time is not healing me. Time apart from Jaxon is wrecking me. I feel sick. Every day. I feel uninspired and unmotivated. Every day. I’ve not been able to resume any of my projects—as opposed to Melanie, who’s thrown herself into her research and new ideas.

Instead, I’ve gone out and purchased all the issues of Xxendra and gotten even more hooked on their author. The graphic novels are insanely good, and it’s nearly impossible to believe that such art came from Jaxon—the drawings and vivid creation of it all. I wonder why he chooses to hide this part of himself in the closet. Literally.

There’s so much to him. So much he doesn’t give. To anyone. He doles out the bad and hides all the good. And I wonder, is he hiding from the world, or is he hiding from himself?

I want so much not to care, but I do. I want so much not to miss him, but I do.

Try as I might, I can’t stop thinking about him, wanting him, missing him. Truth is, it’s hard to breathe whenever I force myself to accept that I will never, and cannot ever, see him again.

This has to stop.

These thoughts. These feelings. This pain.

I want it all to stop.