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I rub my brows—a little too hard. My fingers curl into fists. I think numbly of Lyon.
Lyon, Ly... please help.
After almost an hour of this madness, I dial Nessa. She answers wordlessly. I breathe into the phone. Swallow. “You know why I’m calling,” I rasp.
“Yes.”
“What are you doing, Nessa?”
“Dancing.” She sounds nervous. “Just drinking a little wine.”
“Oh yeah. What kind?”
“Hmmmm... honestly, I don’t know,” she giggles. “It’s red, and it was the most expensive bottle they had at the store.”
“Be sure to save a glass for me.”
“I will.”
I exhale slowly. I’m surprised by the strength of my desire to tell her about Cleo. Sloth.
But this isn’t about that. Or about me.
“Do anything special tonight?” I ask.
“I saw a shooting star.”
My stomach clenches. “Yeah?”
“Yep.”
“Did you make a wish?”
“I did.”
I swallow hard, willing my throat not to close up on me. “Was it that I’d call,” I tease. My voice is strange—but Nessa understands.
I can hear her gentle smile. “It was about you. You know what.”
“That I would call you?” I ask, even though I know that’s not what she wished for. “Then, wish granted.”
She laughs a little, but says nothing, and soon there’s a silence.
“I should let you go,” I say.
“See you soon.”
“... Goodnight.”
“Goodnight Kellan.”
I wait almost two more hours, to be sure she is asleep. Usually, she has trouble. But the wine and the Ambien will help.
The lights have been off for almost two hours now.
I move from the tree to her porch in half a heartbeat, my shoulders curled in as my key slides silently into her lock. I turn the knob and slip inside.
I’m in the two-story foyer, with an oak staircase I take two steps at a time. I pause on the top stair. Listen.
