Page 86 of I Hope This Email Finds You in Hell

He’s right, so I peel them off and drop the clear lenses in his waiting palm. Somehow, it feels like our most intimate exchange yet.

Using his good arm, he carries me to the bedroom. I’ve never been carried before. Fresh heat blooms in me, though it’s doused as I’m deposited onto the bed.

His blurred form leaves the room. I must nod off cocooned in my towel, because when I open my eyes, he’s sitting on the bed gently rousing me.

“Eat,” he tells me, passing me a thick slice of bread with something smeared on top. I’m not hungry—in fact, I don’t think I’ve ever felt so full—but I take a bite to please him and hum at the taste of jam. He made a slice for himself, too, and together we munch quietly.

Now that we’re out of the intoxicating steam of the bathroom, I find myself turning shy. I don’t know how to deal with anything we just did. All I do know is that I don’t want it to be the last time we do it.

When we finish, he gingerly lies back against the double-stacked pillows behind him. They’re the only two on the bed.

“Come here.” He beckons me to his side. I’m overly aware that only our respective towels cover us, so I tug up the folded knit blanket at the foot of the bed. When I lie down, his right arm is in the space where my pillow would be. With nowhere else to put my head, I rest it on his bicep.

“What do we do now?”

I’m not sure if I’m talking about this very moment, beside each other. If I’m seeking a plan of action for our next stop on this road trip. Or if I mean us, and what we’ll be to each other should we make it back to our world.

“We sleep,” he says, choosing the here and now. “And tonight, we go to Silicon Valley.”

“And when we’re home?” If we get home, I don’t bother adding.

“We go on a date.” The simplicity of his statement makes a sleepy laugh fall out of me. We’re skin-to-skin, his radiating heat lulling me into a false sense of security. The aftermath of our bathroom delirium has left me spent and spineless. I’m fading fast.

“The movies,” I rush out before sleep can take me. “Our first date has to be at the movies so you can finally appreciate how funny I am. Do we have a deal?”

His laugh is soft and reassuring, something I could get used to. That thought alone feels like the most dangerous thing I’ve endured yet.

“Deal,” he agrees. “When we get back, I’ll take you to the movies.”

“Deal,” I echo, unable to keep my eyes open any longer. I fall asleep pressed to his side, my palm over his heart clocking its steady rhythm.

For the first time since the car accident, I don’t dream.

Twenty-eight

I wake up alone. And naked.

I lost my towel at some point, though the blanket is tucked around me and my head rests on a pillow. The sun infiltrates the dark curtain, cluing me in that I slept for a few hours, maybe more.

The realization has me jerking upright and kicking the blanket off in my haste to flee the bed. On the rocking chair are the glasses and clothes Luke stripped off me in the bathroom, now neatly folded. I yank them on, panic flooding my chest that Luke did something stupid like leave me here so he could go to Silicon Valley alone. I would never forgive him.

My feet aren’t fully through the leg holes of my pants as I stumble into the hall. The door to the bathroom is open, the light turned off. Flashes of me sitting on the counter falling apart in Luke’s arms hit my brain like a freight train. I turn away before the memories swallow me whole, my anxiety heightening as I step into the empty living room.

“You’re awake.”

Relief capsizes me. At the small, four-person table in the kitchen, Luke clutches a mug of what I’m guessing is tea if the herbal aroma floating my way is anything to go by. Moira steps into view, holding her own mug.

Moira is here. Which must mean—

“Did they make it?” I ask, the hope in my chest erasing every other thought. “Are they back in the overworld?”

“I got them to the pier.” Moira slips into the seat beside Luke. She sips her tea. “All I know is they are no longer in this world.”

My relief is so overwhelming my knees nearly buckle. Luke pulls out a chair and I drop down into it. “Thank you,” I squeeze out. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Moira’s expression is difficult to decipher, thanks to the scars, but her eyes soften. “I did my best. And so did you. It seems we both held up our ends of the bargain.”

Her gaze flickers to Luke. He glances at her, then at me. “Thank you both. But Brie and I can’t stay. We have a soiree to attend.”