Epoch (The Transcend Duet Book 2) Read online

  “Griffin and his dad are smoking a turkey. I’m in charge of the mashed potatoes.”

  He nods once, keeping his gaze on his busy hands. I miss him. Even though I see him five out of seven days, I still miss him. And the worst fucking part … I still carry that picture of him in my pocket. It’s my dirty little secret.

  It’s flat-out crazy because I can’t explain my need to have it near me or my need to stare at it for long minutes when I’m alone or out of the camera’s view.

  “Are your parents coming to your house or are you going to their house?”

  “Not sure.” He brushes past me with no visual acknowledgment as he lowers to the floor and kisses Morgan goodbye. “Love you, baby doll. Have a good day.”

  I stare him down, silently begging for him to look at me, but he doesn’t. This shouldn’t hurt, but it does.

  “Hey …” I jump up and chase after him.

  He stops at the door. “Yeah?”

  That’s all I wanted, just to have him look at me.

  “Hey what?”

  I shake my head, feeling stupid for my desperation. “Um …” I wanted him to look at me and now I can’t keep my gaze locked to his. It’s too matter-of-fact. Neutral. Impersonal.

  It’s exactly what I thought I wanted.

  “I was thinking of going through Morgan’s clothes. She’s outgrown a lot of them. Do you want them put in bags to sell or donate or …” I bite my lips together for a few seconds. “Do you want to save them in case you have …”

  Gulp. Choke. I’m dying. All I wanted was for him to look at me and it’s careened into a train wreck.

  “Have more children?”

  I shrug.

  “I pay you to watch Morgan. I’ll deal with her clothes and their fate.”

  I nod.

  “Anything else?”

  “No,” I murmur.

  “Okay.” He opens the door.

  I grip his arm. I have no idea why. My brain has a two-second delay.

  Nate stares at my hold on him a few seconds before shooting me the look. The why-the-hell-are-you-touching-me look. I crawled onto his lap and cried my eyes out. He promised to never let anything bad happen to me. And now we’re here in this cold existence.

  Yank your arm out of my hold, Nate. Reprimand me for crossing a line. Tell me you’re just obeying my wishes. Do anything. Say anything. But don’t just look at me, frozen in place, submitting to my touch.

  I suck in one breath after another, each time hoping the right words will spill from my mouth, but every inhale dies in a wasted exhale of nothingness. Right now my feelings don’t have words, so I release him.

  After a few more seconds of silence, I turn and go back to Morgan. The thunk of the door sounds behind me.

  *

  The next few days I spend all of Morgan’s nap time staring at the photo of Nate. Sometimes I keep it in my book instead of in my pocket. If he’s monitoring the video feed, all he sees is the book, not the photo I keep shifting from page to page like a bookmark.

  This heightened fucked-up-ness spurs me to make an appointment with Dr. Greyson.

  *

  “It’s been awhile,” I state the obvious before Dr. Greyson gets the chance.

  “I’m here when you need me.” He leans back, hands folded in his lap.

  “Thank you. Can I just throw everything out on the table and let you figure out how to piece it all together?”

  A tiny grin graces his face. “I can’t promise to piece anything together, but I’m here to listen and help in any way I can.”

  I sigh, readying myself for the big spill. “I’m engaged to Griffin.” I hold up my hand so he can see my ring.

  “Congratulations.”

  “Thanks. I love him. I’m happy with him. He’s my dream come true. I love his family. I love that his family loves me and even my mom. Our moms have lunch together. They’re genuine friends. We’re planning a spring wedding. I want a hundred babies with Griffin.”

  Dr. Greyson lifts a single brow.

  “Okay, maybe like four … but you get what I mean. My relationship with my mom has greatly improved. She’s living again, not just grieving my father’s death. And she’s even started taking photos again.”

  I pause to catch my breath.

  “It sounds like things are going well for you.”

  “I know, right? It’s the perfect life. What more could I possibly want or need?”

  He nods. “I sense there’s more. Maybe the true reason for your visit?”

  “It’s Nathaniel Hunt. I know this feels like a conflict of interest. I’m not sure he even still sees you. I haven’t asked. But here’s the issue: He thinks I’m the reincarnation of his childhood friend. The things I told you I know about him? He thinks it’s because I’m his friend Daisy. I didn’t believe this for the longest time because I didn’t remember her, only him. How could I be her and not remember her? It makes no sense.”

  Dr. Grayson leans forward and steeples his fingers. Things are serious since we’re already at steepled fingers.

  “The problem is … I’ve had these memories or flashbacks of her. And I say her because I still don’t connect her to me. But the only logical explanation for these memories and my knowledge of this time before I—Swayze—was born is that I’m her. So …” I sigh. “I honestly believe I’m her.”

  He narrows his eyes a bit, making a slight shift of his head to the side.

  “Now, before you feel obligated to solve the reincarnation mystery, I have to tell you that’s not exactly why I’m here. I’ve decided to accept that I’m her. But I don’t want to be her because I like my life as Swayze. So I got Nate to agree that we wouldn’t talk of her again. And I don’t talk about her anymore with my fiancé either. But …” I reach back and rub my neck with both hands.

  “You can’t control your thoughts and they keep going back to her and the memories you have.”

  “Yeah.” I cringe. “But it’s not just that. I can ignore memories, push them aside. It’s the feelings. Nate and I grew close over this. I think in some ways we were Nate and Daisy again. Not romantically.”

  I feel like this isn’t entirely true. But it’s not entirely false either. It’s … complicated.

  “Friends,” I say. “Very familiar friends. But that complicated my life with Griffin, so I asked Nate to forget about the past. Daisy. My memories. I asked him to treat me like an employee. Period.”

  “And how is he doing with that?”

  “Great. That’s the problem. He’s giving me exactly what I wanted, and it was good for a while, but now it doesn’t feel so good. The thing is … I miss him. Things feel cold and very robotic between us.”

  “What do you miss?”

  “His smile. When I met him he was this broken man who lost his wife. But over time he smiled and joked. It was nice. Now his smiles seem forced, and he hardly looks at me. It’s a simple good morning and good night.”

  “Are you worried he’s not happy now?”

  “Is he?” I know he can’t answer that, but I’d love to know.

  Dr. Greyson retrieves his famous tin of mints. “Does Swayze miss him or does the part of you that feels like his childhood friend miss him?”

  “I don’t know. I have trouble separating the two when I’m around him.”

  He opens his side drawer. “I’m going to give you the name of a colleague of mine. I’d like you to pay her a visit. I’ll let her know to expect your call. She’s well-trained and quite knowledgeable about the theories of past lives.”

  I take the business card from him.

  Professor Hazel Albright

  I squint at the card for a few seconds, fighting for the connection. I’ve heard her name before.

  “She’s written books on this topic.”

  My gaze shoots up to his. That’s where I’ve seen her name. Nate has her book in his nightstand.

  “She’s at the university?”

  “Yes. She’s a professor there, but she ta
kes on a few cases of particular interest.”

  “And by particular interest, you mean reincarnation.”

  “By particular interest I mean rare cases referred to her by trusted colleagues.”

  I nod, staring at her card. I wonder if Nate knows her? Standing, I slip the business card into my purse. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”

  “My beliefs don’t matter. They’re just that … beliefs.”

  My lips twist. “I didn’t believe in it. I still can’t really wrap my head around it, but if I don’t choose to accept it as the answer, then I’m just a crazy person. I don’t want to be a crazy person.”

  Dr. Greyson stands, escorting me to the door. “Swayze, you’re not crazy.”

  I chuckle. “Will you write that on my chart so I have it in a permanent medical record?”

  He grins because he doesn’t know about Erica and Doug Mann and the Daisy connection. That might make him second-guess my sanity.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Nathaniel

  Every evening I give myself a pep talk before walking into the house. I have a nanny. Her name is Swayze Samuels. She’s just a nanny. Morgan’s attached to her, so while I should look for a new nanny, I feel like Swayze is best for my daughter—not for me.

  “Dashing through the snow …”

  My head jerks back as I open the door to the greeting of Christmas music. It’s two weeks until Thanksgiving. Why is there Christmas music playing?

  The door chime makes Swayze jump as usual. She spins around, hugging Morgan to her. I hate that her smile fades when she sees me. I hate that I can’t get the fucking nerve to share my own smile.

  “A little early for Christmas music.” I set my bag on the chair, keeping my eyes on Morgan while I wash my hands.

  “Is it ever too early for Christmas music?”

  “Yes.” I steal Morgan from her. “Hey, baby doll. I missed you today.”

  Swayze holds her spot next to me. Usually she’s halfway out the door by now.

  “Thank you, Swayze. Drive safely,” I say as if I’m talking to Morgan because I don’t like looking at Swayze. Or maybe I don’t like the way she looks at me like I’ve done something wrong.

  “Did uh …” Her words lack any sort of confidence. “Did you have a good day?”

  I glance over at her and sit on the sofa, letting Morgan’s strong legs push off mine in her constant desire to bounce. “It was fine. Thank you. Did you have a good day?”

  “We did.” She hugs herself, rubbing her lips together and shifting her weight from one leg to the other.

  “Okay. Well … glad to hear it.”

  “Doing anything exciting this weekend?”

  “Just the usual.” Why is she stalling? “You?”

  “My birthday is Sunday, so we’re having a family dinner at Griffin’s parents’ house.”

  “I didn’t know. Happy early birthday. Twenty-two.” I shake my head. “Enjoy your youth.”

  She nods, working the hell out of her lips. Her mind must be racing. I can see it in her tight brow. I can predict where this is going, but she’s conflicted about breaking her own rules. I’m not going to help her out, and maybe that makes me a dick, but I’m so lost right now I refuse to make any assumptions with her.

  “You’re not that old. I think a lot of people would say anyone in their thirties still retains a lot of youth.”

  I grin at my smiling baby. “Hmm … maybe so.”

  “So …” She rocks back and forth on her heels. “Have a good one.”

  “You too.”

  Halfway to the door she stops and turns. “Jeez, would it kill you to share a little? I know what I said about keeping things professional, but how is it that when I mention my birthday is Sunday you have no natural instinct to say, ‘Oh, really? My birthday is tomorrow.’”

  Morgan’s chubby hands reach for my face. I kiss her fingers. “I didn’t know your birthday is Sunday until you mentioned it, but I assumed you might know that my birthday is tomorrow. Sorry. I get a little confused as to when we’re being honest and when we’re supposed to pretend. I went for the honest assumption, but clearly you wanted me to pretend. So, wow! My birthday is tomorrow. How crazy is it that our birthdays are just a day apart?”

  Her hands land on her hips. “Now you’re mocking me?”

  Easing Morgan to sit on my lap, I bounce my knee a little. “I’d never do that. Thank you for watching Morgan. Drive safely. Have a nice weekend and a happy birthday.” After a few seconds of her not moving, I glance in her direction. The pained expression she has kills me. It’s not my intention to hurt her, just the opposite. My attempt at respecting her wishes by giving her whatever she thinks she needs or wants is to keep from hurting her.

  But right now I get the sense that she doesn’t know what she wants or needs. I lay Morgan onto her new play mat, with padded sides that keep her contained, and make my way to the lost girl standing idle like something frozen in time.

  Swayze stares at my chest, unblinking. I want to pull her into my arms and make promises that aren’t mine to make.

  “What’s your favorite cake flavor?” I murmur, hoping my reverence conveys my sincerity.

  “Chocolate.” She keeps her gaze locked to my chest.

  “What’s the best birthday present anyone has ever given you?”

  She shrugs. “Nothing stands out.”

  “Well, that’s sad.”

  Her head eases up until I have her full attention. “I miss you.”

  I flinch at the pain in her voice because I don’t know how to make it go away.

  “I love Griffin. I’m marrying him. I love his family. And they love me. But …” Her jaw works side to side a few times. “I miss you. And I don’t know why.”

  My fingers draw into fists, fighting the urge to touch her. She’s not mine to touch.

  “I’m here.” I search for a smile that’s reassuring, probably a million miles from hitting the mark because I miss her too. “As your employer. As your friend. As whomever you need me to be.”

  She nods slowly, confusion still embedded in her forehead. “I need you to be…” eyes closed, she shakes her head “…an answer.”

  Don’t touch her. Don’t. Fucking. Touch. Her.

  “What’s the question?”

  Blinking a few times, her shoulders lift into a subtle shrug. “I’m not sure yet. But maybe I’ll know soon.”

  I can’t decipher that cryptic statement, so I force myself to trust that everything will work out in time. If there’s some divine or cosmic reason for all of this, it will be revealed.

  Nothing hurried.

  Surrendering to patience.

  Ignoring time.

  Living for the unknown.

  Embracing the unexpected.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers, letting her gaze drift to the floor.

  “For what?”

  “For waking the dead.”

  Morgan fusses. I glance back at her, rubbing the back of my neck. “You didn’t wake the dead. You comforted the living.”

  Biting her lips together, she nods. It’s more of an acknowledgment nod instead of one that says she understands. We surpassed logic and any sort of true understanding the day she confronted me in the waiting room of Dr. Greyson’s office. My best friend is a twenty-one-year-old woman. There’s no logic to be had.

  “Have a nice birthday. Make your wish big. Blow out all your candles. You deserve …” My thoughts drift into the past. “You deserve a long, wonderful life.”

  “Long,” she echoes me.

  “Wonderful.” I smile.

  “Goodnight …” Her mouth opens to say more, brow wrinkled.

  Goodnight, Professor? Goodnight, Nate? Who am I to her?

  After a little sigh, she relinquishes a sad smile. “Goodnight. Happy Birthday to you too.”

  I nod, watching her walk to the door. She doesn’t look back. As much as it pains me, maybe she should never look back.

  CHAPTER SIX

&
nbsp; I wish for the police to find the right evidence to toss Doug Mann’s murderous ass in prison for the rest of his life. Then I blow out all my candles at once.

  Wish granted. Right?

  “Happy Birthday.” Griffin kisses my neck and whispers in my ear, “Did you wish for your grocery store guy to let you blow his candle later?” He bites my earlobe while his family looks on in adoration.

  I giggle, elbowing him in the ribs.

  “Whispering sweet nothings to my daughter?” My mom smiles like she really believes it.

  “Absolutely, Krista.” Griffin winks.

  “Are we on for dress shopping Tuesday? They’re open until nine. So as long as your boss doesn’t run late, we should have plenty of time to try things on.”

  I return a tight smile to my mom. “Actually, I have an appointment Tuesday night.”

  “An evening appointment?” She eyes me with suspicion.

  Griffin’s gaze cuts to me from the other side of the kitchen where he’s busy helping Sherri serve the cake and ice cream. “What appointment, Swayz?”

  “Therapist.”

  “You said Dr. Greyson didn’t think he needed to see you anymore,” Griffin says.

  I did say that. “Yeah, didn’t I mention that he also recommended I see this psychiatrist who works at the university? He thought she might connect with me better because …” I mumble the final words, hoping the race to get cake will distract everyone from my story that doesn’t need to be told.

  “Because she’s a woman?” Mom asks.

  Because I’m reincarnated and she’s written books about it. “I guess she’s experienced similar things that I have experienced.”

  “Did she have a friend die suddenly too?” Sherri gives me a sad smile.

  Griffin, however, refuses to stop eyeing me with clear distrust. He knows my therapy is about Daisy. Not my dad. Not dealing with Erica’s death. So I avoid eye contact with him.

  “I’m not entirely sure. Dr. Greyson didn’t go into a lot of detail. He just thought we’d be a better fit for whatever reason. I trust him, so I didn’t ask that many questions. I guess I’ll find out more when I see her Tuesday.”