from the window.
“You know,” I say to Thane as I try to shake off my morbid thoughts, “I’m still waiting for those answers of yours.”
“Answers?” he asks, as if he doesn’t know what I’m talking about.
“Do not play games with me, Thane Whitfield.” I cross the small apartment, careful to not trip over the frayed carpet. “You will not like the results.”
Arms folded over my chest, I am so not going to let him get away with not filling in some of his blanks. The world around me is going to Hades and back, but I can still hold my own in a one-on-one with a cute boy.
All right, perhaps
But I will not be swayed by a hot, handsome, ruggedly sexy boy, either.
His stormy gray eyes darken with longing and shadows . . . and fear.
Thane is so strong and tough; seeing him suffer is like a jolt of electricity. He lifts his hand like he wants to reach out and touch me—my face, perhaps, or my hair. Then he lets his hand fall away.
My approach is all wrong.
I am more than willing to take the gentle initiative. Slowly, I trace my fingertips over his furrowed brow, smoothing out the tense muscles of his forehead. His eyes drift shut.
I resist the urge to lean up and press my lips to his.
“I don’t know what kind of girl you’re used to dealing with,” I whisper as my fingers flutter down over his cheeks, “but the strong and silent thing doesn’t really work for me. I like a guy who can communicate. You don’t need to confess your feelings, but you do have to be able to answer seemingly simple questions.” My touch drifts along his jaw, temptingly close to his mouth. “If you can’t do that, then let’s just agree right now that this thing between us goes no further.”
His eyes blink open and he stares at me for several long moments. I can’t get a read on his thoughts—can’t determine if I’ve used the right tactic. Maybe he likes the pushy, aggressive Greer. Maybe I need to bring the diva attitude back out.
Finally, he says, “None.”
“Excuse me?”
“None,” he repeats.
“What does that mean?” I frown. “None what?”
“Girls,” he answers. “The kind I’m used to dealing with is none.”
I’m stunned, and it takes me a few seconds to comprehend what he means.
“Are you saying . . . ?”
“There have been no other girls, Greer,” he says quietly. “Ever.”
“Thane . . . why?”
I’m not sure what I’m asking—whether I mean why no other girls, or why now, or why me.
On any given day, I’m quite aware of how exceptional I am. Both socially and academically, I am at the top of the food chain at Immaculate Heart. When I graduate next year, I will have my pick of Ivy League universities, and I already have my pick of wealthy, powerful friends and boyfriends.
This, however—right here, right now, with this boy—is almost enough to floor me. I think I’m close to tears, and for once I don’t know if I want to hold them in.
“My life is complicated. My future is . . .” He rubs a hand over his short hair. “Uncertain.”
I take his hand in mine. “Whose isn’t?”
He shakes his head with a sad half smile.
“I’m not good with words, Greer,” he says. “I like you, more than I should, and I want to be at your side for as long as I can.”
“Why?” I repeat.
“Does there have to be a reason?”
“Yes,” I say. “No. I don’t know. But there must be. We’re so different.”
“I can’t explain it.” He tilts his head slightly to one side. “I look in your eyes and I . . . belong.”
I blink.
“I love my family, and they love me,” he says, although he flinches when he says the second part, “but I’ve never
He may not be good with words, and he may not use them a lot, but when he does . . . they work.
I stare into his eyes, enchanted, because when I do, I feel the same way. I belong—in a way I never have with my friends or parents, and in a different way than I belong with my sisters. He supports and understands me. And, for the first time in my experience, he makes
“Thane,” I whisper, leaning forward.
He meets me halfway.
The moment our lips touch, the dizziness slams into me.
I cry out.
Then I’m standing in an alley. My sisters are there, along with Sillus and a boy and a woman I don’t know. The boy, I would guess from the way Grace is grinning at him, is her crush—Thane’s friend Milo. He has the look of a cheerful soccer player. The woman looks like us, with dark blond hair and pale gray eyes—obviously our mother.
Everyone is standing awkwardly, like it’s an uncomfortable reunion. Our mother steps forward and pulls Gretchen into a hug, and my sister tentatively pats her on the back. Grace looks up at Milo, joy and stars in her eyes.
The little monkey kicks a pebble across the alley.
I want to enjoy the moment, but the stench of fear soaks the air around them. My stomach lurches. In a flash I feel like I’m going to throw up, to vomit violently all over the scene.
Something catches my attention—a movement or a sound or a flash of light. I turn to look.
Everything slows down.
Grace gasps, her face frozen in a wide-eyed look of shock.
A knife floats through the air toward her.
Gretchen dives in front of her, but it’s too late.
The knife slips between Gretchen’s open arms, hurtling toward its target—toward Grace’s chest.
“No!” I scream.
The scene speeds up.
From the omniscient perch of my vision, I watch Grace crumple to the ground, clutching at the knife sticking out of her chest. Milo kneels at her side, his hands hovering around the hilt, unsure what to do. Grace looks at him desperately, her face contorted with pain and confusion.
Gretchen takes off after the assailant while Milo shouts at our mother, asking her what he should do. Our mother is frozen, her face drained of all color, like a ghost.
Grace’s eyes look around wildly, desperate. Then they glaze over.
All the tension leaves her body.
Sillus wails.
Our mother finally screams.
“Grace,” I shout. “No!”
“Greer, let me in!” Thane’s voice yanks me out of the vision. “What happened? What did you see?”
I stare at him, in shock. I shake my head. I can’t make the words come.
There’s no time.
I shake off his grip and race out the door to save my sister’s life.
Fear drives me. I don’t know how I know where they are, but from the moment I come out of the vision, I go on autopilot, like how I knew how to find Gretchen’s loft the first time. I race through the streets, heading toward Chinatown, as if I’m following a GPS beacon to my sisters.
When I reach the alley, the group is at the far end. Grace is still standing, talking to Gretchen—introducing her to our mother.
