Rachel Vincent - Before I Wake

Nash blinked at me, surprise shining in his eyes. But that wasn’t all. In the low light, I thought I saw something else swirling in his irises. Something serious, and…relieved. “I’m so sorry for what I did to you, Kaylee. In the parking lot. I should have said it before. When I’m thinking straight, I can’t blame you for turning to him.” Tod, of course. Nash still wouldn’t say his name.

“You know it had nothing to do with that.”

“But it did,” he insisted. “If I’d been the answer to your problems instead of the source of them, you would never have even looked at him. So, I blame myself as much as I blame him.”

“Don’t.” My eyes were watering for the second time in an hour. Three hours earlier, I’d felt so empty I didn’t even want to get out of bed, and now I was so full of pain and regret I could hardly make myself breathe. “Don’t blame either of you. I did this. I kissed him.” I glanced at my feet, then made myself meet his gaze again. “I love him, Nash. I’m sorry, but it’s true.”

He exhaled slowly. “I know.”

The bell for third period rang then, and we both glanced up, startled, even though we’d known it was coming. “I have to go back for my backpack.” Which I’d just realized I’d left in his living room. “I can grab some shoes for you, if you want.”

“Thanks.”

We parted ways in the hall, and I wondered if anyone had seen us coming out of the closet together, him with no shoes. Then I realized I didn’t care what anyone else saw, or thought, or said about us. Nash and I had been through more together than any of them could ever imagine, and if they couldn’t understand the wounds we’d inflicted, they couldn’t understand how long and bumpy the road to forgiveness really was.

I PICKED UP my backpack and Nash’s shoes, then practiced selective corporeality by letting only him see me slide them into his bag during his third-period class. Then I texted Sabine.

Nash is here, and he’s fine. And he loves you.

I’d just sat down at my normal table in the quad—invisible, even though there was no one there to see me—and was feeling pretty good about being nice to Sabine for no particular reason when Tod appeared on the grass in front of me. “Hey!” I slid my phone into my pocket, then stood to kiss him, and instead of letting me go, he lifted me onto the end of the picnic table I ate at every day. At least, every day before I’d died.

Since no one could see us, I pulled him closer, and he settled into the space between my thighs, then leaned down for another kiss.

“Mmm… What’s the occasion?” I murmured.

“Wednesday.”

“My new favorite day.”

“No one’s scheduled to kick the proverbial bucket in the next hour, so I thought I’d come say hi before I head back for my double shift.”

Frowning, I let my hand trail down his chest, wishing there wasn’t a layer of cotton between his skin and mine. “Why the double?”

“Mareth didn’t pick up the list for the noon-to-midnight shift, and Levi can’t find her, so I have to fill in until she shows up.” Mareth was the reaper who shared the hospital reaping zone with Tod. She had nearly two decades’ seniority over him, but was still considered a rookie, by reaper standards.

“Has she ever flaked before?”

“No, and she’s always been cool about trading shifts with me when I need to.”

Unease started twisting in my stomach. “It’s Thane,” I said, and Tod started to shake his head, but I spoke over him. “What if it wasn’t you specifically that he needed? What if he just needed a reaper, and he knew he could find one at the hospital? When he couldn’t get you, he could easily have gone after Mareth. That way he wouldn’t have to go back to Avari empty-handed.”

“Why would Avari need a reaper? He already has Thane.”

“Yes, but Thane wants out of…whatever he’s into. Isn’t that what Sabine said?” Or had Thane said that? “Either way, I’m gonna see if Luca can find Mareth. If she’s in the local area, on the human plane, he’ll know it.”

“I still say that’s creepy. There’s no one out there mentally stalking humans.”

“Isn’t that what Sabine does?” I said, and Tod laughed. “So, does this mean you’re actually working three shifts in a row?” Because there were only two twelve-hour shifts a day.

“Yes, unless Mareth shows up. But I’ll have several long breaks. You’ll be seeing a lot of me.”

“How much of you is a lot?” I asked, sliding my fingers beneath his shirt. The material rose with my hands, exposing smooth, hard abs.

“You can see as much as you want, whenever you want.”

“Unless you’re working, right?” I teased, but the heat in his eyes when he shook his head was unmistakable.

“Whenever you want. Death itself would wait for you, Kaylee… .”

Lunch sucked without Tod, but on the bright side, Nash was acting almost normal again, and Sabine seemed to have forgiven him. Luca sat at Sophie’s table, and I couldn’t get him away from her long enough to ask him about Mareth, and I didn’t really want to get into it with my cousin, even if she did know the truth about the things that went bump in the night.

Jayson seemed hyperaware that he didn’t really fit in, so he overcompensated by talking almost nonstop. I tried to participate in the conversation—I really did—but I had very little interest in the baseball team’s season standings, especially since Nash had quit the team, and I couldn’t care less about senior skip day, because I wasn’t a senior, and I wasn’t sure I ever would be.

I’d stopped making assumptions about my future more than a month earlier, when I realized that while there are few guarantees in life, there are even fewer in the afterlife.

I was stirring green peas into my mashed potatoes, poking the lumpy concoction aimlessly, when Emma kicked me beneath the table. Or rather, she tried, but her foot when right through my leg and hit the bottom of the bench instead. And that’s when I realized I was fading out again.

I blinked in surprise and pulled myself back into focus to find everyone at our table staring at me. Including Jayson. “You okay?” he said, frowning at me from across the table. “You look kinda pale.”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” One more second, and I would have looked transparent. “What were we talking about?”

“Prom,” Emma said.

“And how thoroughly absent some of us will be,” Sabine added.

“You have to go,” Em insisted. “It’s your senior prom. Why don’t you want to go?”

“I don’t do dresses.”

“Nash.” Em leaned forward to see him around Sabine. “Tell her she has to go. Senior prom only happens once.”

“Actually, I’m failing three classes right now, so there’s a good chance it’ll happen twice for me. And it’ll probably take me that whole year to talk her into wearing a dress.” He grinned, like that was a joke, but only Jayson laughed.

“You’re failing three classes?” I couldn’t believe it. Nash was an honor student. He’d been ranked twelfth in the senior class at midterms.

He glanced at the table, then met my gaze, his own swirling with some complicated blend of regret and melancholy. “It’s been a rough semester.”

“He’s just behind on a few assignments, but his teachers are all working with him,” Sabine said, and I couldn’t quite wrap my mind around the fact that she was passing both junior and senior English in one year to graduate on time, but Nash was suddenly failing.

“I can still turn in my history term paper for ninety percent credit, and if I ace that and my final, I’ll pull a B for the year,” Nash said. He’d lose his ranking, but he’d graduate. Assuming his other teachers were that generous.