Before I Wake

I was far from convinced, but I didn’t have any better explanation. “Either way, if Nash saw Scott tonight, chances are good that what he really saw was Avari, wearing a Scott-suit. And if he went after Nash, he could go after anyone else. We need to stick together when we’re not at home. Pairs, at the very least,” I said.

“I call Nash,” Sabine said, glaring at me, and I rolled my eyes.

“I don’t want your boyfriend. Not like that.” And assuming he remembered anything we’d said before he passed out, Nash and I may have just made major strides toward an actual, healthy friendship.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Sabine said, and the thin thread of pain in her voice drew my focus her way.

“But I thought… He said…”

Sabine turned to Tod. “How long does she have to be dead before the naivety wears off?” Before he could answer, she turned back to me. “Only a virgin thinks sex means that much, Kaylee,” she said, and Tod’s hand tightened around mine before I could argue with her. She was lying. Sex with Nash meant something to her, even if she wouldn’t admit it, but Tod didn’t want me to call her on it.

Sabine had never lied to me before. Not even when she was trying to break up me and Nash.

She heaved a bitter sigh and scrubbed both hands over her face. “He’s sleeping with me, but look where he winds up the minute I fall asleep.” Her open-armed gesture took in my entire house.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” I insisted. “He probably came here on autopilot. Out of habit.”

“No, Kaylee,” she said as I clung to Tod’s hand, feeling awkward and helpless in the face of her obvious angst. “You’re his choice. I’m the habit.”

6

TOD HAD TO head back to work, but Sabine wanted to stay the night with Nash, and I let her, adhering to the whole “strength in numbers” philosophy. Alone, she’d make a much better target for Avari, and I couldn’t risk letting her be either possessed, if Cujo—her Netherworld guard dog—fell down on the job, or was hurt, if he warned her and she fought.

I checked on Em and Sophie both twice during the night, and every time I got back to my room, Sabine was just sitting in my desk chair, watching Nash sleep. Not in the creepy way. In the worried way.

“He’s going to be okay,” I said, perching on the edge of my desk to watch him with her. I tried to say it like I meant it, but the truth was that I held no authority on the subject of Nash.

Or the subject of being okay.

“He wanted to go visit Scott, you know,” Sabine said, like we were in the middle of a conversation I couldn’t remember starting. “I told him I didn’t think that was a good idea.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s what he needed to hear. He wanted to go see Scott because Scott is a piece of his life from back when his life made sense. He wanted to recapture some of that, and he wanted to apologize for being part of what put Scott in the psych ward. But he was scared that the Scott he knew wouldn’t be in there anymore, and if that was true, there’d be nothing left of his life from before. His best friends are either dead or insane, and the rest of them avoid him at school because they don’t know how to talk to him anymore. And half of them think he tried to kill you. But…”

Sabine looked up at me, and her dark eyes only hinted at the raw pain her voice laid bare. “But beyond all that, Nash was terrified that being that close to Avari would be too much for him. That he wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation, so close to the source.” She shrugged. “So I told him he shouldn’t go. Not that it mattered. A couple of weeks later, you made out with his brother, and sent him right over the deep end again.”

“Neither of us meant for any of that to happen,” I said. On the list of conversations I never wanted to have with Sabine, this one was right at the top. “And anyway, you got what you wanted, right?”

Her dark eyes narrowed as she tossed a one-armed gesture at Nash, still passed out on my bed. “Does this look like what I wanted?”

“He’s having a rough month. We all are.”

“A rough month? Kaylee, I spent years trying to find him, and when I finally did, you were standing in my place. So I backed off and let your blatantly ill-fated relationship run its course—”

“You didn’t back off, you tried to kill me!” I interjected.

“Well, I had to try, didn’t I?” she demanded, and I couldn’t decide which fallacy in that sentence to address first, so I saved my breath. “But even with me there, waiting almost patiently, doing all the best-friend stuff because I love him, he’s moping over the friends he’s lost instead of seeing what he’s gained. And now you’re finally out of the picture—or so I thought—and look where he winds up.” She glanced at Nash again, and I flinched, though I’d played no part in his drunken late-night walk. “That’s probably the longest he’s ever even been in your bed.”

“It is.”

“What does that mean, Kaylee? Why would he rather be alone in your bed than with me in his?”

Well, damn. Sad Sabine was no easier to deal with than angry Sabine. The last time she’d been distraught over Nash, she’d hijacked both me and my car and tried to make me fix what she’d messed up.

“Okay, look. He didn’t come here to climb into my bed, Sabine. He came here because he wanted answers, and it’s obviously a lot easier to ask for them when he’s drunk. You’re just going to have to give him some time. He’s lost right now, but he’s strong, and he will bounce back from this. And when he does, he’s going to realize that you were there the whole time.”

“You really believe that?”

I’d never seen her so vulnerable. “Yeah. I do.” She really loved him. That had to mean something, and when Nash was thinking straight, he had to see that.

Sabine glanced at her hands in her lap, like whatever she had to say next required a little bit of a lead-in. Then she met my gaze again. “Thank you.” Sabine blinked, and the vulnerability I’d glimpsed was gone. “Now, could we maybe pretend this whole bonding exercise never happened?”

I laughed. “I’d like nothing better.”

* * *

I started cooking around six-thirty in the morning, my hair still dripping from the shower. I’d never made anything more complicated than microwave pancakes, but with time on my hands, a house full of guests, and a father obsessed with the concept of the “family meal,” I thought I’d give it a go.

I microwaved a pound of bacon six strips at a time—turns out the key is good drainage—and made pancakes from a jug of mix-and-pour batter I found in the cabinet. It was only three days past its use-by date, so I figured the chances of it making anyone sick were slim.

The first three pancakes were amorphous blobs—I swear, one looked just like a storm trooper—but by the fourth, I’d figured out how to flip them without making a huge mess.

Nash shuffled into the kitchen as I was putting down a saucer of raw venison for Styx, and she glanced away from her breakfast just long enough to aim a yippy hello his way. She’d always liked Nash, but she still wasn’t comfortable with Tod, probably because he was dead. At first, I’d worried that she wouldn’t like me after my own death, but apparently our initial bonding transcended the questionable state of my existence.

“Hey,” I said as Nash bent to scratch the back of Styx’s neck. “I made coffee if you want some.”

“Thanks.” He sat in a chair at the table—the same chair that had always been “his” when we were together—and accepted the mug I set in front of him.

“Where’s Sabine?”

“In the shower.” Nash scrubbed his face with both hands. “Kaylee, I’m so sorry for…whatever I said or did last night.”

“You don’t remember?” I poured coffee for myself and scooped sugar into the mug.

“I remember parts of it,” he said, and I wanted to ask which parts those were, but a rehash seemed like a really bad idea.

“You said you saw Scott. Do you remember that?”

Nash’s eyes widened in surprise, then lost focus as he nodded, clearly trying to remember. “I thought I was dreaming at the time, but I wasn’t. I really saw him. Outside, on the street.”