Epoch (The Transcend Duet Book 2) Read online

  Right here. Right now. It hits me.

  Nate named his daughter after his best friend. He thinks he named her after me.

  How will I ever explain all of this to Griffin?

  We give our attention to Morgan for the rest of the day, but I don’t miss Griffin’s restrained smiles, like concern strangling happiness.

  Who am I?

  What’s happening to my life?

  Am I living in a parallel universe?

  CHAPTER TWO

  We say a final goodbye to Erica.

  A mother’s weeps shatter the silence as the earth embraces the lowered casket.

  Yet … Doug Mann lives in his apartment. A free man. A murderer.

  The police questioned me again yesterday because they can’t tie him to Erica’s death—a death they are certain was an accident. An accidental drowning. Are you kidding me? A cardiologist accidentally drowning in a bathtub? I couldn’t give them anything more than vague memories dating back to a time before I was alive. And they won’t arrest him based solely on my gut, which swears with every fiber of my being that he killed her.

  Griffin pulls into an empty parking lot as I stare at the hem of my black dress resting just above my knees. I should have worn tall boots instead of tights and heels. My knees knocked throughout the burial as chills pimpled along my skin. It’s not that cold out. It’s the memories—they’re chilling.

  “Look at me.”

  I lift my head, but I don’t look at him. Behind dark glasses, my eyes focus on the nothingness around us.

  “I won’t be ignored any longer. The police questioned you. The funeral is over. It’s time we talk about this. I’ve been patient, but it’s time to tell me, Swayz.”

  I close my eyes. I open my eyes. It doesn’t matter. The vision holds space in my mind. It doesn’t need light to be seen, and it won’t stop replaying. The real world fades like an echo, leaving this deep suffocating silence.

  His bloodied face.

  One drip.

  Two drips.

  Tears fill her brown eyes, reflecting the image of her killer. With a blink, life drains from her face, dissolving the fear, surrendering one final breath.

  Static. Whoosh.

  Complete silence.

  The darkest darkness.

  Warmth.

  Serenity.

  “Nate’s childhood friend was Morgan Daisy Gallagher. I see her. I see him—Doug Mann. The cut on his face—raw and oozing crimson. They’re just flashes, but they’re real.” I ease my head to the side, meeting Griffin’s gaze, my brows drawn together. “Nate thinks I’m her.”

  “Her?”

  I nod. “Daisy. Morgan Daisy Gallagher. His best friend. His daughter bears her name. And …” I shake my head, maybe because I can’t believe it—accept it—or maybe because I don’t want to. “He thinks I know things about his past because I’m her. She’s me.” Continuing to shake my head, I sigh. “I don’t know, but I supposedly know things about him that only she knew. I can give accounts of moments that happened to him only in her presence. I know things about him that he told her. Only her.”

  Griffin’s lips twist, deepening the lines along his brow. “You can’t mean reincarnation.”

  “Nate thinks so.”

  “And you?” he asks with a hint of sarcasm.

  “No.” Drawing in a deep breath, I avert my gaze. “I … I don’t know. The thing is … I didn’t remember her until I saw Erica’s body in the bathtub. And even then, it was just flashes of Doug’s face, her face … her dying. I remember Nate. Not Daisy. If reincarnation is real, how can a soul retain memories of other people but not the person it was before this new life? It doesn’t make sense.” I laugh. “This is ridiculous. I’m attempting to give rules to a phenomenon that may not even exist. And by doing so, I feel like I’m acknowledging that the rebirth of a soul is a definite possibility.” Closing my eyes, I press my lips together. What do I expect from Griffin? This sounds crazy, even to me, and I’m living it. “I just don’t know if I’m ready to …”

  “Accept that you’re her?”

  My eyes open to a serious Griffin. What does he mean? “You think I’m her?”

  His head shakes side to side a half dozen times. “Fuck, Swayz. No. Why would I? But hell if I know what to make of this. It’s an intriguing book. It’s a nail-biter movie. But acknowledging it as real life—your life … I just … I don’t know if I can do that. I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t worry me.”

  “Worry you how?”

  He eases his head back against the headrest, gaze pointed up. “Hypothetically, you’re her. She’s you. And that’s a big-ass hypothetical. What does that mean for you? For us? For everyone? I mean … does this Morgan Daisy Gallagher have family? If Doug Mann really murdered her, shouldn’t they be told? But by who? Their reincarnated daughter who happens to be the nanny for—”

  His head jerks straight again, brow pulled tight. “Nate and her were friends? Or were they more than friends? Who does he really see when he looks at you?”

  The girl he loved as much as the woman who died giving birth to his child.

  “A ghost.”

  And they were more than friends. Nate left me hanging with their story. I don’t know what happened after they broke up. Did she die? Is that how things ended with them? A ridiculous clashing of egos? A modern day Pride and Prejudice?

  “How old was she when she died?” he asks.

  When Doug Mann murdered her.

  “Fifteen.”

  “Was he fifteen too?”

  I nod. Why are the words stuck inside? Griffin is the man I love. My friend. My lover. My future husband. Yet, I can’t find the right way to explain the emotional connection I have to Nate and Morgan.

  To a past I can’t fully remember.

  To a present with its claws curled into my heart.

  To a future more terrifying than my worst nightmares.

  To an unknown that could ruin my existence as I know it.

  “Was he in love with her?”

  “Does it matter?”

  Griffin rests his elbow by the window and massages his temples. “Yes, it matters. I want to know if he’s looking at you like a buddy or the girl he lost his virginity to.”

  “They didn’t have sex.”

  He grunts sarcasm. “I fucking love that you know that. He hired you to watch his daughter, not discuss his sex life. What else do the two of you discuss?”

  “Griffin …”

  Rubbing his hand over his mouth, he shakes his head, but he won’t look at me.

  “You’re not this guy. You don’t get jealous. I’ve done nothing wrong. It’s not my fault these memories and images are in my head. My relationship with Nate is complicated, but it’s not intimate.”

  “To you or to him?”

  “I just said—”

  Griffin shoves open the door and tears out of the vehicle like it’s suffocating him. I jump out and chase after him as he paces the empty lot, head down, hands laced behind his neck.

  “I’m marrying you. You. You. You.” As soon as I get in front of him, he pivots and stalks the other way.

  “Well, who the hell am I marrying?” He whips around, bending forward to get in my face. “Swayze? Morgan Daisy Gallagher?”

  “Me.” My voice cracks as I blink back the tears.

  “And who are you?”

  “Swayze.”

  The tension in his face eases a bit. “Are you sure?”

  I push all the anxiety, all the fear, and all the confusion down into a dark hole I think is my soul. And I breathe in as much courage as I can muster, tipping my chin up. “Yes.”

  He grabs my face and rests his forehead against mine. Without a confession, I feel his guilt. Without a single word, I feel his love. Let this be one more day where I’m granted the miracle of not losing Griffin.

  *

  “You’re quiet.”

  I tickle Morgan’s feet as she kicks and coos on the living room floor while Nate
packs his lunch. I took one day off for the funeral. Maybe I should have taken two.

  “Just waiting for you to leave, Professor. That’s when Morgan and I get the party started—bounce house, ponies, clowns, a DJ, cotton candy.”

  He glances up with a smirk on his face. I fall short of matching it.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  It? This is the first he’s attempted to have a conversation beyond Morgan since Erica died—not that we’ve had that many opportunities.

  “You’ll have to be more specific.”

  “Your friend’s death. Why Griffin asked you about Daisy? Or that diamond ring on your left hand.”

  The ring. I glance at it. “Erica’s dead. The guy who killed her still lives in the apartment across from hers. They’re calling it an accident. She slipped, hit her head, and drowned. I don’t believe it. Seriously, how many people slip in the bathtub, get knocked out, and drown?”

  I frown, looking at my ring. “And Griffin proposed to me. I said yes.”

  Nate returns a cautious nod. “If what you believe about this man is true … I don’t think you should be living in that building.”

  “I’m not. I moved in with Griffin.”

  He nods again. “Should I say congratulations?”

  I laugh. “Only if you want to.”

  There’s a pregnant pause.

  “I’m surprised you don’t want to talk about Daisy. You always want to talk about her.”

  I guess he’s not going to congratulate me.

  “I do want to talk about her.” He has no idea how badly I want to talk about Daisy and her death. “But you have five minutes before you need to be out the door. Five minutes won’t be enough time.”

  “Can you stay when I get home? I’ll bring dinner.”

  “I don’t think Griffin wants me having dinner with you.”

  “He doesn’t trust you?”

  “Try again.”

  Nate grins. “Me? Did I do something to lose his trust?”

  “Yes. You suggested I’m Daisy.”

  “Ah, so now I’m crazy in his mind?”

  “That’s not quite it either.”

  “Then what?”

  “Go to work, Professor. I don’t want to talk about Griffin with you.”

  He moves toward me. I hate how he moves toward me, or maybe it’s the way he looks at me when he’s doing it. It’s familiar—too familiar. And comfortable. And … unnerving. Completely unnerving.

  He lowers onto his hands and knees. “Have a good day,” he says, kissing Morgan on the cheek. She kicks and rewards him with a grin. When he lifts his head, he stops just inches from my face.

  Way. Too. Close.

  “Congratulations,” he murmurs. “I’m glad you found a real boyfriend.”

  My lungs collapse.

  Daisy …

  “Fine. I’ll be your girlfriend, but only until I find a real boyfriend.”

  “A real boyfriend?”

  “Yes. A real boyfriend. One who brings me flowers and chocolate and opens doors for me like my dad opens doors for my mom. And one who kisses me right here.” She pointed to a spot on her neck just below her ear. “My dad kisses my mom there, and it always makes her giggle.”

  Nate’s gaze shifts to my neck, right below my ear. I swear to God I will shatter if he kisses me there. But not just because it’s wrong. I’ll shatter because I know I won’t stop him. It’s not about wanting him or loving him. Griffin is the love of my life. There’s just this indescribable need I have to know what Nate’s lips feel like against my neck.

  Will it feel as familiar as the other times we’ve touched?

  Will it bring more memories to life?

  Will I feel what Daisy felt when he kissed her under her ear?

  Will I hate myself for letting him do it? For needing to know? For risking everything?

  “Breathe, Swayze.”

  I attempt to stifle my gasp—my reaction to his proximity. Nate grins like the boy I used to know as he lumbers to standing.

  Like the boy I used to know …

  “Be good, girls.” He winks and walks away before making sure I have a pulse. Not very responsible of him.

  *

  Morgan and I spend the day in Nate’s bedroom, taking complete liberty of his offer to let me snoop. I’m certain I surpassed snooping hours ago, about the same time I shut off all thoughts of the camera watching me. Flashes of Erica and Daisy haunt me. I can’t let this go.

  Something takes over inside, and I tear apart his room and closet, looking for anything to fill in the gaps. When every drawer is pulled from the dresser and dumped out onto the floor, revealing no new clues, I move on to his office. I’m not sure who this woman is inside of me, this possessed demon rummaging through everything, leaving a mess in my wake.

  Nothing.

  When Morgan’s patience ends, I get her a bottle and plant my ass amongst the sea of scattered photos on Nate’s bed. I need answers, but they’re not here.

  “Hey.”

  I snap my head up as Morgan drifts off to sleep with a tiny bit of milk left in her bottle.

  Nate surveys the ransacked room. Wait until he sees his office. “Find what you were looking for?” he says slowly like put the gun down.

  I shake my head, feeling defeated. Numb.

  “Why don’t I lay her down? Then maybe I can help you.”

  I nod, letting the bottle fall from my grip as he takes Morgan from me. A few minutes later he returns, making another inspection of the disaster.

  “I need to know how Daisy died,” I say in an agonizing whisper.

  Nate gathers up as many photos from the bed as he can at once, sets them on the nightstand, and eases onto the bed, resting his head on the pillow. He stares at the ceiling.

  “Daisy’s mom called my house, wondering if she was with me. I hadn’t seen her in over a week.”

  “Sorry, Mrs. Gallagher, she’s not here. I don’t know if she told you but … we kinda broke up. It’s my fault. I need to apologize.”

  “Sweetie, I know. She was very emotional about it.”

  I died inside. I’d hurt Daisy because of my stupid pride.

  “But right now we just need to find her,” her mom said.

  I glanced at the microwave clock. It was almost nine o’clock at night. I listed off every friend she had, but they’d tried everyone.

  “We’re very worried. Do you have any idea where she’d be? A secret hideout? A favorite restaurant? A … new boyfriend?”

  I flinched. A real boyfriend.

  No. No way. Not in a week. We were only fifteen, but she loved me.

  “There is this place we used to go, but I made her promise to not go back.”

  “Where, Nate? I’m going out of my mind. My next call will be the police.”

  “Come get me and I’ll show you how to get there.”

  Mr. and Mrs. Gallagher drove me to the abandoned property that was not really abandoned. I didn’t mention it at first.

  “Who lives here?” her dad asked as we pulled in the driveway.

  “No one. Or so we thought until …”

  “Until?” Her mom turned in her seat, pinning me with a firm look.

  “Last week Morgan told me she met the son of the owners. His parents are both dead, so he came back to take care of some things. I made her promise to never come back here … especially alone.”

  Her dad flew out of the car without even killing the ignition. He knocked on the door and rang the doorbell, but no one answered. He flipped on a flashlight, aiming the beam into the woods behind the house.

  “What’s back there?”

  “A tree house and a lake.”

  We checked out the tree house and the area of the lake around the dock, but by that time it was too dark to see much.

  If I wouldn’t have been such a jerk, we wouldn’t have broken up and Daisy would have been with me that night. The Gallaghers took me home. I didn’t want them to leave me. I wanted to stay w
ith them and help look for Daisy, but they insisted there wasn’t any more I could do.

  I didn’t fall asleep until the early hours of the morning. Concern for Daisy suffocated my conscience and heart. But eventually, I surrendered to my tired eyes.

  “Nate?”

  I jumped awake, startled by my dad’s voice and his hand on my head.

  “Daisy … did the Gallaghers call?” I bolted up straight, rubbing my eyes with the heels of my hands.

  My dad frowned the same frown he gave me when he told me my mom had left us for the first time. Actually, this frown was worse. So much worse.

  “Mr. Gallagher just called.” He rested his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it. “They found her.”

  “Where?” I scooted out of bed, shoving my legs into my jeans and tugging on a dirty shirt. “I need to see her. I was so stupid, Dad. I messed up. I have to apologize. Her mom said she was very emotional after we broke up.” My feet fought with my shoes as I tried to get them on without untying them. “I bet I made her cry. I’m such an idiot.”

  My dad grabbed my arm, squeezing it tighter than he did my shoulder. I eyed his hand with confusion before shifting my gaze to meet his. I don’t remember what he said. I just remember how it felt to have my world end—my heart ripped from my chest. My soul shattered.

  Nothing would ever hurt this bad … nothing.

  Daisy’s body.

  Dead.

  Drowned in the lake.

  An accident.

  Old abandoned property.

  Tangled in the rope under the dock.

  My dad’s expression grew more painfully sympathetic as I shook my head in denial. Fifteen-year-old girls don’t die like that. Daisy would never go to the lake by herself. It was a mistake. Not her body. No … no … NO!

  Nate’s words rip from his chest—strangled and raw.

  I bat the tears away from my eyes while his gaze remains fixed to the ceiling—the past.

  “She was murdered,” I whisper.

  His head rolls side to side on the pillow. “No. She drowned. It was an accident. They said she must have fallen out of the canoe while trying to tie it to the dock. She hit her head on the post and got tangled in the rope. I don’t know why she was there. She knew better.”

  “Nate …” I can’t stop the tears.