Page 115 of Lightning Angel
Alexa drew her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them. “It wasn’t supposed to be lightning that day. We made sure the weather was clear. I even remember seeing the stars when we were on the rooftop.” She shookher head in disbelief. “I don’t understand. If we can’t trust the weather reports anymore, what will we do then?”
Her heart wrenched at the thought of him in isolation. He didn’t deserve this, any of this.
“Do you remember what happened that night? Tristan told us you were hurled backwards. He thought… he thought you were…”Dead,Alexa thought to herself. Daphne swallowed before continuing, “He said it was too late by the time he registered the warning tingle on his skin—he was distracted, and the lightning ripped you away from him. Were you two kissing?”
“Yeah.” She blushed, but composed herself and put together the pieces in her mind. “Wait—so, kissing me distracted him, that’s why he wasn’t able to teleport us away when his skin tingled. Otherwise, none of this would’ve happened.” Her eyes widened in realization. “All we have to take care is never to kiss outdoors,” —then they narrowed, at no one in particular— “notstay away from each other.”
But, if the lightning had truly hurled her away, wasn’t it the same as what happened with his mother? She was supposed to be dead now. How was she alive? How had she survived?
Alexa had a lot to ask, but who had answers? From what Daphne said, even Tristan was surprised she’d survived. She pondered on it, recalling everything she remembered from that night at the rooftop.
She remembered their kiss, the passion and love, every detail of it, and her heart hammered inside her at the recollection. Then she remembered Tristan stiffening against her, and the next moment she was ripped from his arms. Tristan had yelled her name but he stood hisground, horrified, just before he was struck down by the lightning.
It was the last thing she saw until her waking moment. He wasn’t struck while they were togetheroras she was ripped from his arms; otherwise, he couldn’t have yelled her name. The curse bound him to silence whenever he got the direct strikes.
If the lightning didn’t hurl her backwards, then what—or who—did?
* * *
I’m glad to hear you’re well.
Alexa read Tristan’s text over and over again in the next morning, her disbelief growing with each time.
He wasgladto hear that she waswell?
She huffed in disbelief. That’s it? That’s all?
She had waited last night, hope against hope as the storm ceased, that he would come and see her when everyone was asleep. Alexa stayed up most part of the night, but he didn’t show up. So she texted him, telling him that she missed him, asking him how he was doing and telling him how she was.
And all that waited for her in the morning was,I’m glad to hear you’re well.
It was almost like a stranger had responded to her rather than her Tristan. He didn’t say he missed her too, told her he was alright or asked her more about her health or how she felt. No.
That wasn’t like her Tristan.
Alexa clutched her phone in her hands. What if… what if he didn’t want to be with her anymore?
But the moment the thought crossed her mind, Alexa realized how absurd it was.
Hewanted her to think like that. He wanted her to think he didn’t care. There was no other explanation as to why he had responded like a stranger. He wanted her to think of him as ignorant.
But why?
Alexa’s fingers hovered over the keyboard furiously as she typed out a reply to him.
Alexa: Drop the act, Tristan. I’m not stupid to fall for your absurd trick. I know it has taken you all of your willpower to type out this ridiculous text to me whereas you wanted to express yourself.
Satisfied, she hit the send button and set the phone aside, leaning back on the propped up pillows.
Cassie stayed with her the whole time, leaving only to get them food or drinks, or to get the results of Alexa’s checkups. Except for the swelling on the side of her head, she was fine. And hopefully, she could leave the hospital in a day or two, according to Albert.
Daphne promised to visit after school, and John—whom Tristan let in on his secret as well—said he’d come by that afternoon. No one else was aware of what happened. Cassie even refused to let their mother know, and Daphne had told the school that Alexa was having a very bad stomach flu.
That noon, when Cassie went to get them lunch, a knock at her door grabbed Alexa’s attention. She turnedfrom staring out the window and saw a good-looking man standing in the doorway, wearing a gray button-down paired with jeans. He looked older than her sister, about late twenties.
The man smiled when their eyes met.
“Hi,” Alexa greeted him uncertainly, stepping from the window to her bed’s side. “May I help you?”