Page 99 of Find My Way Down to You

“I know,” Cary agrees. “But you lived. That is a lot. And now it is time.”

Chin lowered, Hasan whispers, “I’m scared.”

Cary tilts his head until Hasan looks him in the eyes. “I know that too.” His thumb rubs over Hasan’s knuckles. “I will walk with you. I will not leave like your friends. Okay?”

A minute ticks by before Hasan’s shoulders relax. Cary helps him to his feet. That’s when I see it. The slight glimmer surrounding Hasan’s body. A thin veil of ivory.

Squeezing his hand, Cary says, “Come on. There are so many things left for you to do.”

Over his shoulder, he meets my eyes. “Wait here. I will not be long.”

I nod, unsure of what else to do.

As Cary leads Hasan into the shadows of another street, I hug myself. It’s a cool night. October in Soho is different from Santa Barbara. There’s a bite to the air. The noises around me grow loud again, but all I hear is Hasan’s voice in my head.

I was gonna do so many things.

He was only eighteen. My age. Two years older than London was when he died.

How is that enough time to do anything with your life? How does Death decide that is all he gets?

A hand touches the back of my shoulder. I jump, then jerk around.

It’s Cary.

“Shit,” I hiss, clutching my chest.

His eyebrows rise. “Are you cold?”

“Yeah, well.” I rub my bare arms. I’m still in a T-shirt and shorts. “I didn’t plan on going overseas when I got dressed this morning. Next time I’ll check the weather.”

“Oh, you assume there will be a next time?”

I shrug.

He hums, inching forward. His palms are warm, soothing along my biceps and forearms. Soon, his hands slide back into mine. “We are not done yet.”

As we leave, I watch the ambulance drive away. “Is Hasan okay?”

Cary smiles. “He will be.”

Our next destination leaves me reeling just as much as Soho.

“Deep breath,” Cary says again, standing over me.

The moment I do, I gag. A sharp chemical odor burns my nose. I know this smell. And the overwhelmingly bright LED lights over my head. The eerie stillness of the hallway.

“We’re in a hospital,” I choke out.

“In Tokyo.”

“Japan?” I don’t know why I’m surprised.

I force myself to trail behind him. Even though my knees are weak, my hands trembling. We pass room after room. I never look inside.

At the end of the hall, a little girl sits on the shiny floor. She can’t be older than ten. Her hospital gown is pastel pink. Spread around her are stuffed animals—a floppy bear, a hugged-soft duck, a one-eyed bunny.

“Stay,” Cary starts, but I quickly cut in with “I know, I know.”