Page 131 of Ex Somnis

I close my eyes and find the first cord. Nevan, who’s warm like turning toward light. Ridge, right here, solid as anything I’ve ever touched. Paul, new but certain, already pulling me back like he’s been waiting the whole time.

Somewhere underneath, softer but still there, Tessa pulls in the other direction.

I’m coming back for you. I promise.

I let her go.

Just a little.

Just enough.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Paul

The reflex to reach for my glasses the moment I wake up is so ingrained that it operates completely independently of consciousness.

When I do, Ridge’s room comes into focus in stages.

The wheelchair, Ridge folded into it in a position that is going to cost him when he wakes up.

Lennon, still asleep beside me.

Nevan taking off his mittens, unzipping his sleeping bag, and rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.

When he notices me watching, he smiles vaguely.

“I would really appreciate it if you stopped drawing spiders on everything.”

Nevan cringes. “I’m so sorry. Ridge⁠—”

“Made you do it, I know.”

My shoulder protests when I get up and stretch. That I had expected, but my lower back contributes several additional opinions.

“How about you change your warm-up to flowers?” I suggest through a groan.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Nevan’s chuckle follows me to the adjacent bathroom.

Cold water.

Mirror.

Breathing.

Routine.

I brace both hands on the sink and stare at my reflection. Finding clarity is generally one of my more reliable skills. I’ve spent years cultivating the ability to step outside the immediate, locate the underlying rational framework, and make decisions from there.

Lennon and everything related to her is fundamentally incompatible with this process.

I glance down at my watch.

10:22 a.m.

I’m standing in Ridge’s bathroom, connected to his room, in my home. My hands are wet, and my reflection is looking back at me as expected.