As You Wake

By Amy Martin

Book 2 of the In Your Dreams series

Zara "Zip" McKee and Kieran Lanier thought they had put the threats from Kieran's past behind them in the first installment of the In Your Dreams series. But when danger comes for them once again, Zip, Kieran, and their families find themselves on separate summer road trips that none of them had anticipated. When all paths converge in North Carolina, the two families are forced to deal with each other and the secrets they've kept out of love and fear.

But Kieran is keeping the biggest secret of all from everyone but Zip. He hasn’t had a dream—about the future, about anything—for months. And while Zip and Kieran are grappling with what the new twist in Kieran’s sleeping disorder might mean, a mysterious stranger reveals information that could change Kieran's life--or end it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Amy Martin
• Release date: Apr 24, 2013
• ISBN: 9780988205130

Amy Martin

Amy Martin wrote and illustrated her first book at the age of ten and gave it to her fourth grade teacher, who hopefully lost it in her house somewhere and didn't share it with anyone else.The first book she published as a grown-up, In Your Dreams,was a semi-finalist in the Young Adult category of the 2012 Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award Competition. She has published four books in the In Your Dreams series, and she is also the author of The Perfects series.Amy lives with her husband and a ferocious attack tabby named Cleo. When not writing or reading, she can usually be found watching sports, drinking coffee, or indulging her crippling Twitter habit (and, sometimes, doing all three at once).

Book preview

As You Wake

A Novel

Amy Martin

As You Wake

Smashwords edition

Copyright © 2013

Amy Martin

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, with express permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or any events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Cover design by ninjaMel Designs

Other books by Amy Martin:

In Your Dreams (4 book series)

The Perfects (4 book series)

Want to be the first to know about Amy Martin’s new releases? Follow her on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, check out her website at www.theamymartin.com, or sign up for her mailing list.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Chapter 1

Electric is not a word I would ever use to describe my hometown, Titusville, Illinois, a dot on the map with three stoplights and more churches than bars. And I definitely wouldn’t describe Titusville Junior/Senior High, which has fewer than six hundred students even including all the junior high munchkins in the school’s west wing, as anything beyond aggressively boring. But today, the second I lock hands with my boyfriend Kieran Lanier in the school parking lot, I feel a spark that’s more than what usually passes through me when I touch him. There’s a crackle in the air, a hum and a buzz passing from person to person as they stand gossiping on the asphalt, and I get the sense whatever excitement’s floating around has almost nothing to do with today being the last day of school.

"What do you think that’s all about?" Kieran’s sister Kayla asks me, joining Kieran and me as we stand behind her Jeep and watch a crowd gather around Cassie Newbaum and Cody Hull, who are currently making their annual attempt at a romantic relationship. Cody flails his hands around as if he’s telling some particularly wild story, but he soon disappears from my view completely as more and more people join them where they stand by the entrance to the football field.

No clue. I respond.

Still holding Kieran’s hand, I walk us toward the group, Kayla trailing behind. Zip! Cassie calls out once she notices us, using the nickname that’s stuck with me since childhood thanks to my speed on the basketball court. A forward on the team for which I’m the starting point guard, Cassie’s tall enough to see over almost everyone surrounding her. She pushes past a few people and stops in front of me outside the throng still gathered around her boyfriend.

Hey, did you guys hear? she asks, breathless.

Kayla, Kieran, and I shake our heads in unison.

They found Cody’s car yesterday.

I tilt my head at her because I’m obviously supposed to have some idea of what she’s talking about, but I don’t. And since Kieran and Kayla spend most of their time with me and the three of us are pretty gossip-allergic in general, they’re clueless as well.

"Oh, my God. It was stolen, remember?" Cassie huffs, rolling her eyes at me because I’m behind on the latest news around school for approximately the millionth time in the history of our friendship.

With Cassie’s reminder, the story comes back to me. Mr. Hull had loaned Cody his Buick on Prom night so he could drive Cassie to the dance in a halfway decent car. While they were gone, somebody stole Cody’s beater out of the garage next to the barn, and the Hulls never suspected a thing until Cody got home and discovered his car was missing. In a town where crime is basically limited to people cooking meth in run down houses and trailers out by the interstate, somebody’s car getting jacked was big time news. Cody remained Titusville’s Big Freaking Deal only until I returned to school after my own Prom-related automotive misadventures, which resulted in a concussion, some cuts and bruises, and a grounding from my mother that will expire when I leave Sunday to spend June with my dad near Chicago.

The past two weeks mark the first time in my seventeen years I’ve been grounded because as a student-athlete, I need to avoid being a total screw-up. And I’m not one now, technically. But my mom, who does her best but probably won’t be asked to write articles for parenting magazines anytime soon, felt the urge to exert some control over me after I wrecked her vintage Camaro on Prom night driving down to the river with Kieran to hook up. Or that’s what she believes, anyway. Only Kieran, Kayla, and Kieran’s biological dad, an ex-con named Morgan Levert, know the complicated truth.

After Prom, Kieran and I were trying to get away from Morgan’s former partner-in-crime, Frank Dozier, after he tried to kidnap Kieran at an after-Prom party. We later learned we were also escaping from Morgan, since he was driving the Dodge Charger that was chasing us as part of his plan to convince Frank they were working together to make off with my boyfriend. For a brief moment, Frank Dozier must have realized he’d been screwed over, just before Morgan crawled out of the car and left him, semi-conscious from the punch I leveled to get Kieran out of his clutches, to sink with the Dodge to the bottom of the Wyatt River.

So, letting both my mother and Kieran’s parents believe I’m a sex-crazed teenager who needs to stay away from her boyfriend before she wrecks her reputation in addition to the car is simpler than trying to explain how Kieran’s supposed narcolepsy is really an undefined sleeping disorder causing him to dream bits and pieces of future events. My allegedly raging hormones make more sense than the fact that Kieran’s condition was caused by a drug Morgan’s girlfriend cooked up and ingested during her pregnancy, a drug that provoked such severe blackouts Morgan can’t remember the formula now that she’s dead. And my apparent drive to lose my virginity is definitely easier to understand than Frank Dozier’s wish to make said drug and sell it.

And while I do hope to lose my virginity to Kieran Lanier one day, my ultimate goal is to keep his secrets and protect him so that at some point he’s around to do the deed—and anything else he hopes to accomplish in his life.

Where’d they find it? I ask Cassie about Cody’s car.

In the river by that boat launch near your house. Some guys were out there fishing and they ran up on it with their boat. Her hazel eyes flash as if she’s telling the Greatest Story Ever as I feel my eyes widen in panic.

In the river by that boat launch.

Kieran tightens his grip on my shoulder and, behind me, I hear Kayla draw in a tiny breath. I decide to put the three of us out of our collective misery by just asking the question: Okay, remind me. What kind of car did Cody drive again?

Dodge Charger. Cassie darts her eyes to the heavens as if she’s offended by the make and model. Total ancient piece of crap, so it’s not like he’s going to get any money for it.

Did they find anything in it? I ask, fighting to keep my voice level.

Cassie snorts. What—like a dead body?

Yes, Cass—exactly like a dead body.

"They didn’t find anything, or anyone, in the car, Cassie continues right over my thankfully silent thoughts. The windows were rolled down, so whoever was in there got out before it sank too deep. Cops think some tweakers stole it for a joy ride and then ran it off into the river when they were done."

Wow, Kayla says, her voice full of a shock and surprise only Kieran and I would recognize as fake. That’s messed up.

I know, right? Cassie agrees, rolling her eyes. I’m going car shopping with Cody after he gets his insurance check, which I assume will be the highlight of my summer out here in Boringville.

Kieran’s body slackens against mine, and I sense he’s about to have a sleeping episode brought on by the shock of what Cassie’s just told us. In fact, I’m a little surprised I’m still standing upright at the moment, but I remain calm and turn to put an arm around him to walk us a few feet away to the school building’s outer wall.

You okay? I whisper, reaching out to smooth some strands of his black hair behind his ear after we sit down. He’s so close to sleep his eyes are little more than straight lines on his pale skin.

Yeah. He leans in closer so no one else would be able to hear him. Guess somebody was going to find that car eventually, huh?

I squeeze his hand as I look up at Kayla walking toward us. The group surrounding Cody breaks up, and the sound of the warning bell informing us we have five minutes to get to our first exam reverberates around the parking lot. While Kieran has special permission to take his tests alone in the main office so he can use all the time he needs, Kayla and I have the two hours of hell known as our trigonometry exam awaiting us. We help Kieran inside and half-walk, half-drag him down the hallway past the music rooms and locker rooms, depositing him in the main office where he falls asleep as soon as his butt hits Mrs. Gillette’s chair at her administrative assistant’s desk.

Good luck, girls! Mrs. Gillette calls after us as we bolt out of the office and down the hall, entering our trig class with just seconds to spare. The bell sounds as we head toward seats in the back of the room, and I spend the next two hours, and the two hours in my French final afterward, in The Zone, treating my exams as if I’m bringing the ball up court in the middle of a game, blocking out the extraneous noise that in this case is all in my mind instead of the gym. An image of Frank Dozier, with his sneer and swollen eyes and stupid bald head, swims in front of my face a few times, but in each instance I’m able to shake him off, refocusing on the trig problem or translation at hand.

After my French final, I stumble upstairs to make sure I’d cleaned everything out of my locker yesterday afternoon and find only a metal cavern remains where books, notebooks, doodles from Kieran, and pictures of my friends used to be. My junior year is officially over, and given what we learned about Frank Dozier this morning, part of me wonders if I’m going to be alive long enough to be a senior.

How’d you do? Kayla’s voice chirps behind me as I shut the locker for the last time and shake off my morbid thoughts.

Trig was trig, but French went okay, I guess. How was Spanish?

Loco-inducing.

I don’t think that’s entirely Spanish.

Whatever. I’m just glad it’s over.

We drag ourselves past our whooping classmates, who stuff notebook pages and handouts into already overflowing recycling bins and yell to each other about afternoon plans. Several people call out invites to the Downtown Diner, to the Burger Barn, or to the mall out on the state highway, but I brush them off with a Can’t…grounded, and continue down the hall and back to the first floor with Kayla. We make our way outside to the parking lot in silence, unable to discuss what we need to be talking about due to the lack of privacy but unable to muster up a conversation on anything else. By the time we’ve arrived at her Jeep, I’m almost ready to explode.

So, Frank wasn’t in the car, I blurt out, flopping down next to Kayla in the patch of grass between the asphalt and the chain link fence surrounding the football field.

Looks that way.

Then maybe he’s not dead, I say with all the emotion of someone ordering fast food, but inside, my stomach’s churning with nausea.

Kayla’s head rolls against the fence and she looks at me, strands of her inky black hair sticking to the chain links. Or he drowned after he got out of the car, she says. Or maybe he drowned trying to swim to the other side of the river. Or maybe he got out of the river and then passed out in the woods and a bear ate him.

We don’t have bears out here, Kay.

"Well, whatever, but there’s no way that guy was conscious enough to get very far. You punched him in the face, Zip. As long as I live, I’ll never forget Kieran telling me what Frank Dozier looked like before you started running."

I’ll never forget it, either. Sometimes, in my nightmares, I see Frank Dozier lying on the ground and moaning in pain as blood streams from his nose, the results of a strength I didn’t realize I had.

"What we think doesn’t matter, I point out. All we know is that we don’t know anything. He could be waiting out there to do something to Kieran."

Or to you, Kayla notes. Punching him in the nose and running off with Kieran didn’t exactly put you on his list of favorite people, if you remember what Morgan told us. If Frank’s alive, you might as well have a bull’s eye on your back, too.

I narrow my eyes, remembering Morgan’s description of how angry Frank was that I’d thwarted his getaway plans. Thanks for the reminder.

No problem, Kayla says with a saccharine smile, just as I glance around the Jeep’s bumper and catch sight of Kieran ambling over to us.

How’d you get out here so fast? Kayla asks him as he leans against the hood. You had your chem final last, right? I thought that would take you until one at least.

Kieran stuffs his hands into his front jeans pockets and hitches his shoulders to his ears. Whatever. It was easy. I finished early.

He’s lying—he won’t look at either of us, plus we’re both well aware chemistry isn’t Kieran’s best subject by a long shot. Kayla shoots me a glance as Kieran asks her Do you mind hanging out while Zip and I go somewhere alone for a few minutes?

I check my phone to see it’s not even twelve-thirty yet. We can get away with being at school for another half-hour or so before my mom will start freaking out that the siblings haven’t dropped me off at Doodles, her arts and crafts store, where she’s been forcing me to do manual labor under her watchful eye every afternoon since the accident. Kayla, knowing how little time Kieran and I have left together, doesn’t argue, but she can’t resist getting a dig in: I think I can probably find something to do while you two grope each other.

Thanks, Kay. Kieran rolls his eyes as he takes his hands from his pockets and reaches down to help me up. Really big of you.

Don’t mention it.

We leave Kayla sitting in the grass and round the car, Kieran slipping a protective arm around me. I was thinking the press box, he says, steering us toward the far side of the football field. I lean into him, my anxieties over Frank Dozier still present, but they’re drowning at the moment under a surge of warmth in my stomach at Kieran’s touch.

You read my mind, I tell him.

Chapter 2

When your boyfriend dreams snippets of things before they actually take place, you struggle every day with the temptation to ask him about what he sees. Kayla and Kieran made a pact years ago not to talk about anything he thinks could happen in the future, especially when he dreams about something that might impact her life. Kieran and I didn’t make any sort of a pact, but while I don’t ask about what’s going to happen in the future, he never comes right out and tells me, either. Given what we’ve learned about Frank Dozier, however, and given that Kieran’s walking me off behind the football field so we can make out as if we didn’t know any better, I decide now is one of those occasions when I should break our unspoken rule and ask.

"So…this thing with Frank…did you see that coming?

You’re sure you want to know? He’s grinning and his voice has a teasing tone to it, but I’m not in the mood to play around.

Kieran, come on. This is kind of a big deal.

What? That the guy whose face you bashed in might still be walking around out there like something out of a bad zombie movie? The corners of his mouth are still slightly upturned.

"That the guy who tried to kidnap you might still be walking around out there like something out of a bad zombie movie," I add, less amused.

Kieran pulls me so close I almost can’t walk without tripping over his right foot. No. Total surprise.

He’s way too whatever about this. Somehow you don’t seem surprised at all, I point out.

Kieran answers without really answering me. I have no idea if he’s still alive, either, before you ask.

We’ve arrived at the section of the fence just outside the metal pillars holding the press box aloft at the back of the visitors’ bleachers, and I let all talk of Frank Dozier drop for now. Looking through the chain links, we find the popular make out area in the shade underneath unoccupied. Since today’s the last day of school and everyone’s free to drive out to the parking lot at the abandoned Buckley Refrigeration plant or to go home, considering most people’s parents are at work right now, nobody but the two of us needs this space for romantic adventures at the moment.

I grab the section of chain link fence that’s rusted away from the pole and hold it aside just enough for Kieran to crawl through to the grassy area under the press box. As I follow him, the fence snaps back into place, scraping my skin through my shirt.

You okay? Kieran asks after he turns just in time to see the fence smack against me. He helps me to my feet, and I lean back against one of the metal pillars hidden away in the shadows.

Yeah. I’m good, I assure him before changing the subject. You probably shouldn’t have rushed through your chem final.

His arms circle my waist, strands of hair falling into his face as he looks down at me. It was worth it, he whispers, the smile I give him quickly swallowed by a wave of kisses. My hands wander up underneath his plain white t-shirt, my thumbs grazing the base of his rib cage on either side. Once we finally come up for air, my head foggy and my fingers nearly stuck to his skin with sweat, Kieran takes my face in his hands and looks at me dead on. I love you, he says, my ears ringing on hearing him say those words to me for the first time. I couldn’t let you leave for Chicago without telling you that.

I don’t hesitate. I love you, too.

And I’m not just saying it because we’re going to be apart for a while, he goes on, and I hold myself back from saying Or forever in my head or out loud. I’m saying it because I’ve known all along. He must see the question in my eyes, because he continues with But not because I dreamed something beforehand. I’m talking about after we met…I just…I’ve always known somehow. And I kept telling myself, ‘Kieran, you need to stop being such a wimp and tell her. If she doesn’t say it back, then she doesn’t say it back, but at least you’ve told her—‘

You’re babbling, I point out, and he gives me the goofy grin that endeared him to me the day we met.

Yeah. Little nervous, I guess.

I put my hand to his cheek. Don’t be. I love you, Kieran. My mouth enjoys saying the words, words I’ve never said to anyone outside my family. I love you. I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it, because it’s the truth.

He doesn’t make me say it again. We merge once more, the now-familiar ache of desire in my stomach and the early afternoon heat building up under the press box conspiring to make me weak. I just want to lie down with him in the scrubby grass so we can kiss until all thoughts of Frank Dozier or anything else become a distant memory, but after a few minutes, Kieran pulls away, my lips straining to stay on his.

I got you something, Kieran says when he steps back, leaving me to slump against the pillar. I wipe my palms on my baggy Chicago Bulls shorts and watch as he pulls a plastic bag from his front jeans pocket. This just came in the mail yesterday, so I didn’t get a chance to look for anything nice to wrap it in.

I take the bag from his outstretched hand and spy something tiny and silver lying in the layers of folded-up plastic that turns out to be a heart charm on a silver dangle. Kieran reaches for my left wrist, and I close my hand around the charm as he unfastens the bracelet he gave me on our mutual April first birthday so he can slide the tiny heart onto the loop of beads.

It’s beautiful, I tell him, as he hooks the charm bracelet around my wrist once again. Thank you.

He kisses my cheek, moving his hand down to lace his fingers with mine. I wanted to give you something before you left. I sort of felt like I needed to.

I’ll be gone for a month, I remind him for the millionth time. Not even long enough to miss me.

Doubtful. I’ve missed you every day since our parents launched Operation Keep Zip and Kieran Apart. Talking on the phone and texting never seem like enough.

Yeah. Riding back and forth to school together hasn’t exactly been the height of romance, either. I pause. Your parents are probably hoping you’ll get so lonely you’ll break down and start talking to them again.

I smile, but Kieran just grimaces at my teasing suggestion. His relationship with his parents was already damaged enough by their revelations about his real parents and the fact that they had been keeping important information from him for so many years. The Laniers joining my mother in clamping down on our relationship after Prom night was the last straw, and from what he’s told me, he’s barely said two words to his mom and dad since then.

You can’t freeze them out forever, I tell him. I mean, you’ve pretty much forgiven Kayla for keeping things from you, right? Maybe you can put your relationship with them back together, too.

Thanks to them, Kayla didn’t get a choice about lying to me, he grumbles. "They had every choice in the world, and they decided to lie to me about my life instead. They decided I wasn’t strong enough, or whatever, to handle the truth about my life. And now they’re on this dumb crusade with your mom to keep the two of us apart. It’s too much."

I know, I say, trying to sound as sympathetic as possible. I’m mad at my mom, too, but I can’t imagine just shutting her or anyone else in my family out of my life.

"That’s because your family isn’t a bunch of freakoids like mine is. They’re a pretty easy group to turn your back on."

"Well, you know, I actually like your freakoid family. I smile, putting a hand to his chest. Some members I even love."

My dad? he jokes, and I burst out laughing.

"Um, no. Ewww."

Kieran’s pleasant expression fades and he leans in, pressing his lips against mine. When we part, he says, As much as I hate being away from you, I feel better knowing you’re going to be in Chicago for a while. You’ll be safer at your dad’s than you would be here.

What about you? I ask, considering Kieran’s so much more at risk than I am.

Kieran pulls me to him, his mouth pressing against my hair. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay.

His face is hidden from me at this angle, but his voice has an edge of certainty that hints there’s something he’s not sharing. Kieran— I start, pulling back, but he cups my chin with his right hand and smoothes my dirt-blonde bangs off my forehead with his left, coxing any protest out of me and away.

You’re right, though. He smiles. You’ll be gone for a month. We’ll live.

I expect him to say something like And I’ll call and text you all the time while you’re gone, but he doesn’t. He gathers me to him instead, his breath loud in my ear. Shutting my eyes, I wind my arms around him as tightly as I can, afraid if I let him go, I’ll never hold him again, despite his completely unrealistic confidence that I will.

Or maybe his confidence isn’t completely unrealistic. I’ve asked whether he dreamed something about Frank and he’s answered, but I can’t help feeling he’s a little too relaxed for someone who found out earlier today that the guy who tried to kidnap him could be wandering around somewhere instead of lying at the bottom of the Wyatt River.

We should probably go before your mom sends out a search party, he says after a long minute, backing away but still holding my hand. We leave the privacy of the press box and make our way to the parking lot, where Kayla’s sitting in the grass next to our backpacks, playing a video game on her phone.