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My stomach did weird flip flops as I tried to shove the ragged clues into something that made sense. “How is it okay . . . Ryan?”
He still smiled, but a touch of sadness colored it now. “Because I know,” he said quietly. “I know what I am, and I know that I stabbed you last night and healed you. I don’t know all the whys of it here on the surface,” he tapped his temple with a finger, “because I’m taking it one step at a time. This is pretty stressful.”
“Oh,” I said in a small voice. “So you’re . . .” I nodded and struggled to smile. Was Ryan—my Ryan—gone?
“Szerain?” he finished for me. His brow furrowed. “I guess. It’s a little confusing for me. Shit, a lot confusing. I’m sorry. I don’t want to freak you out.”
I moved hesitantly to him, took his hand and peered into his face. It was Ryan’s yet more than Ryan’s, though I knew I’d never be able to explain it. My head told me it was time to grieve, told me this wasn’t Ryan anymore, but how could I grieve when he was still here?
“It’s really weird that you know about Szerain,” I said tentatively.
“You ought to try it from in here,” he said with what seemed a genuine Ryan smile. “You’re one tough chick, you know that?”
I let out a weak laugh. “Stubborn Bitch. Sheesh. Get the term right.”
“Oh, yeah. I keep forgetting.” He squeezed my hand, then blew out a breath. “So, what’s next?”
I had a feeling he meant in the grand scheme of conflict and crisis, but I didn’t have it in me to go there right now. Instead, I shrugged. “Dinner?”
He regarded me for a moment, relief in those green-gold eyes that reflected both Ryan and Szerain. “Yeah. That’s nice and normal. Let’s fix dinner.”
“Normal. Me cooking. Right,” I said, laughing a little. He craved the illusion of a normal life right now as much as I did.
“More me cooking and you,” he paused, “assisting,” he suggested. “I think that’s a better plan.”
“Safer for everyone.”
“Safety first.” He turned and opened the fridge, scanned the contents. “How about BLTs and french fries?”
“With double bacon, I’m in.”
Bryce and Jill joined us about halfway through the prep, and soon the kitchen echoed with jokes and banter and laughter. Each of us and all of us faced challenges and bore burdens unimaginable to ninety-nine point nine percent of the population, but for this evening we ruthlessly pushed them aside and gorged on food and friendship.
Chapter 44
The ringing of my phone jarred me from an oddly logical dream about encyclopedias and babies and ladders. I peered at the name on the caller ID and instantly shot directly to wide awake.
“Zack?”
“Hey, babe.” He didn’t sound as strained as a day and a half ago but didn’t sound at all animated either. “Caught you sleeping, huh?”
I glanced at the clock. A little after eight a.m. “Yeah, working consultant hours is kind of cool. How are you doing?”
“I’ve been lots better,” he said. “I’m not ready to leave here yet. I . . . can’t.” He went quiet for a moment. “I just wanted to talk.”
I felt the subtle desperation behind the words. “I’m here for you,” I assured him. “Eturnahl.”
“Kara,” he said in a voice so thick with emotion it brought a lump to my throat. “You’re okay? Are you?”
“I am,” I said, smiling softly at his concern. “I promise. I’m really okay.” But then I sighed out a breath. “I’m sorry if giving Vsuhl to Szerain made things harder for you.”
He echoed my sigh. “It’s so convoluted,” he said, as if the implications carried eons of pain. “I can’t process all of the possible complications yet. What I do know is that if you hadn’t given Vsuhl to him, you wouldn’t be here, wouldn’t be Kara. And that’s all that means anything right now.”
A warm glow went through me. It mattered to him that I was still me. “And you’re still Zakaar. Even more than you were before.”
He remained silent for several seconds. “How is Ryan?” he finally asked.
How could I explain it? “He seems all right. We had a pretty normal evening.” Grimacing, I sat up. “Zack, he knows about Szerain, but he looks like Ryan. I don’t understand. Did you partially resubmerge him or something from a distance?”
