Page 39 of Against All Odds

Her throat bobbed. She nodded, the color draining from her face.

I bit my lip, thinking about how to do this sensitively. “I’m… flattered, I guess, but all this—this can’t happen.” I gestured to the portraits again before focusing my attention back on her. “First of all, the age difference. You’re twenty-one. I was twenty-nine when I died.”

Raya blinked – clearly, this was the last thing she expected. “Does it matter? We’re both adults.”

“I’m sure you feel that way now – I did, too, when I was your age. But believe me, you will come back to that when you’re twenty-five and your frontal lobe has fully formed.”

Her eyes narrowed. I had expected this reaction; people in their early twenties never liked being told they had not yet matured. “Secondly, and I’m sure I’m stating the obvious here, but I’m your guardian. I’m supposed to guide you toward the light, not become emotionally entangled with you. Engaging with you beyond that is ethically blurry. In fact, showing up in your dreams is already pushing it.”

“Please.” She gasped, shocked by her own words. “Don’t stop visiting me.” Her eyes pierced into mine, wide, pleading. I had to swallow the sudden lump in my throat.

I crossed my arms. “I thought you despised me for what I’d done.”

She blushed again, lowering her head. “I did—but—”

“But if it helps you, I’ll keep visiting you,” I quickly added, unsure if I could take what she would say next.

“It helps me.” She nodded, relieved.

“Thirdly…” I straightened my posture, unable to shake the creeping feeling that I was contradicting myself here, “…I’m not your next Rebekah, okay? This…” I gestured around to the paintings, trying to avoid looking myself in the eye, “…is not a healthy form of connection; it’s an anxious attachment pattern.” I was quite proud of myself for remembering this from the book about feedback loops. Seren Harper reading up on psychology, who would’ve thought?

Raya bit her lip, refusing to meet my eyes.

Maybe I’d been too quick to dismiss Raya’s feelings as limerence before I experienced being on the receiving end of it. Rebekah may have liked the adoration, but couldn’t hold the devotion that came with it. When someone like Raya fixates on you, you literally become the center of their world. When you’re mad at them, their center shifts, and to make you proud, they’ll do whatever you want them to. And I wanted Raya to make healthier choices for herself.

Was weaponizing her attraction to me manipulative? Maybe a bit, but it was for a good cause. Because I wanted the best for us both.

I stepped closer. Her entire body tensed up.

“You did good this week,” I murmured, slowly lifting my hand. Her breath caught, chestnut eyes following the movement with fascination. “I’m proud of you. You’re staying sober, you went to all your exams, and you’re focusing on healthy connections instead of the destructive ones.” A pause. “Do you want to make me proud?”

Her eyes widened. She nodded so eagerly, it stirred something conflicting low in my belly.

“Good,” I whispered, finally resting my hand on her cheek. Electricity sparked briefly at the contact, and I knew she felt it, too – I felt it in her racing pulse, the way her eyes turned glassy, eyelids fluttering closed. Her hands twitched as she tilted her head to lean into my touch. “Then continue doing so.” I paused. “And… I would advise you to spend some time devoting yourself to spiritual practice. Be it prayer, meditation, journalling – doesn’t matter, as long as you focus on being present and connecting to something higher than yourself. Research has proven various psychological benefits. For example, it can help with addiction and anxiety. It helps to know you don’t have to do it all alone,” I added, quieter. Not that I knew much about it, but Raya didn’t need to know that nearly all my newly gained spiritual knowledge came from the celestial library rather than experience. Not if she needed to see me as a credible guide, someone to take advice from.

“Yes,” she whispered, lightly rubbing her cheek against my hand. I clenched my teeth at her obedience, flooded with the sudden urge to test its limits, wondering what else she would do for me, how easily she would surrender to my touch if I—

On impulse, she reached out to touch my face, too. I instinctively stepped back, breaking the magnetizing contact.

Her hands dropped at her sides. “Shit. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” I said quickly. “I just, ehm. I need to go. I—”

The room flickered again, the walls and canvas distorting so violently, I knew her emotions had become unstable again. I locked eyes with her in the seconds that followed as the world collapsed around us, until finally, she did, too.

I woke up alone in an awfully cold bed.

Chapter 17.

Raya

Seren had told me to devote some time to spiritual practice, so I was doing exactly that.

To be fair, it had been a while since I connected with this part of myself. In my teens, cleansing rituals had been part of my daily routine. I didn’t go to bed without lighting candles beside the door and the window, displaying my charged crystals on my nightstands, sometimes laying salt lines by the windows when spiritual activity around me got particularly bad – much to the annoyance of my mom, who thought I was doing it for attention and complained about the salt scattered across my room. In college, I quickly learned alcohol and drugs proved much more effective at keeping spirits at bay – even though they led to other problems.

But now, I was sober… and desperate to please my guardian angel.

Softly murmuring my affirmations, I paced through my room, cleansing the air with white sage as the marijuana spread through my system in a pleasant haze. I hardly considered weed to be drugs, since it was all natural and helped me connect to my higher self. I hadn’t seen much of her lately – overshadowed by Anxious Raya and Drunk Raya, who both wanted nothing but to ruin my life.