For the first time, Patch turned to face Marcie. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said at last.
From her profile, I saw Marcie smile. She leaned across the console and gave Patch a slow, hot kiss. He started to pull back, then stopped. At any moment, he could have broken the kiss off, but he didn’t.
“Tomorrow night,” Marcie murmured, pulling away at last. “Your place.”
“Your dress,” he told her, gesturing at the damp heap on the floor.
“Wash it and give it back to me tomorrow night.” She pushed her way out of the Jeep and ran up to her front door, where she slipped inside.
My arms went slack around Patch’s neck. I felt too slapped by what I’d seen to form a single word. It was as if he’d thrown a bucket of ice water on me. My lips were swollen from the roughness of his kiss, my heart just as inflamed.
Patch was in my dream. We were sharing it together. Somehow it was real. The whole idea was eerily surreal, bordering on impossible, but it had to be true. If he wasn’t here, if he hadn’t injected himself quietly and stealthily into my dream, I couldn’t have touched his scars and been catapulted into his memory.
But I had. The memory was living, valid, and all too real.
Patch could tell by my reaction that whatever I’d seen wasn’t good. His arms bracketed my shoulders, and he tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. “What did you see?” he asked quietly.
The sound of my heart pounded between us.
“You kissed Marcie,” I said, biting my lip hard to stall the tears welling up.
He dragged his hands down his face, then squeezed the bridge of his nose.
“Tell me it’s a mind game. Tell me it’s a trick. Tell me she has some kind of power over you, that you don’t have any choice when it comes to being with her.”
“It’s complicated.”
“No,” I said with a fierce shake of my head. “Don’t tell me it’s complicated. Nothing is complicated anymore—not after everything we’ve been through. What do you even hope to get out of a relationship with her?”
His eyes flicked to mine. “Not love.”
A certain emptiness gnawed its way inside me. All the pieces came together, and I suddenly understood. Being with Marcie was about cheap satisfaction.
“You make me sick,” I said, my voice trembling with accusation.
Patch crouched down, elbows on his knees, face buried in his hands. “I didn’t come here to hurt you.”
“Why did you come? To fool around behind the archangels’ backs? To hurt me more than you already have?” I didn’t wait for an answer. Reaching for my neck, I yanked at the silver chain he’d given me days ago. It snapped free at the back of my neck hard enough that I should have winced, but I was in too much pain to notice a little more. I should have made him take the chain back the day I called it quits between us, but I realized a little late that up until this moment, I hadn’t given up hope. I’d still believed in us. I’d clung to the belief that there was still a way to cut a deal with the stars that would bring Patch back to me. What an utter waste.
I flung the chain at him. “And I want my ring back.”
His dark eyes stayed settled on me a moment longer, then he bent and scooped up his shirt. “No.”
“What do you mean no? I want it back!”
“You gave it to me,” he said quietly, but not gently.
“Well, I changed my mind!” My face was flushed, my whole body hot with rage. He was keeping the ring because he knew how much it meant to me. He was keeping it, because despite his rise in stature to guardian angel, his soul was just as black as it had been the day I met him. And the biggest mistake I’d ever made was fooling myself into believing otherwise. “I gave it to you when I was stupid enough to think I loved you!” I thrust out my hand. “Give it back. Now.” I couldn’t stand the thought of losing my dad’s ring to Patch. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve to keep the one tangible reminder I had of real love.
Ignoring my request, Patch walked out.
I opened my eyes.
I clicked on the lamp, my vision returning to full color. I sat up, a hot flash of adrenaline warming my skin. Reaching for my neck, I felt for Patch’s silver chain, but it wasn’t there. I swept my hand across the wrinkled sheets, thinking it had fallen off while I slept.
But the chain was gone.
The dream was real.
Patch had discovered a way to visit me while I slept.
CHAPTER 11
MONDAY AFTER SCHOOL, VEE DROPPED ME off at the library. I took a moment outside the entrance to call my mom for our daily check-in. As usual, she told me work was keeping her busy, and I told her school was doing the same thing for me.
Inside, I took the elevator to the media lab on the third floor, checked my e-mail, browsed Facebook, and scanned Perez Hilton. Just to torture myself, I Googled the Black Hand again. The same links popped up. I hadn’t really expected anything new, had I? Finally, with nowhere left to procrastinate, I flipped open my chemistry text and resigned myself to studying.
It was late by the time I called it quits to go hunt down a vending machine. Out the library’s west-facing windows, the sun was tucked deep in the horizon, and night was closing in fast. I bypassed the elevator in favor of the stairs, feeling the need for a little exercise. I’d been sitting so long, my legs were beginning to tingle with sleep.
In the lobby, I fed a few dollars to the vending machine and carried pretzels and a can of cranberry juice back to the third floor. When I returned to the media lab, Vee was sitting on my desk, her glossy yellow high heels propped on my chair. Her expression was a mix of smug amusement and annoyance. She held a small black envelope in the air, caught between two of her fingers.
“This is for you,” she said, tossing the envelope on the desk. “And so’s this.” She held out a paper bakery bag, rolled at the neck. “Thought you might be hungry.”
Judging by the disdain in Vee’s expression, I had a bad feeling about the card, and took the opportunity to give my attention to what was inside the bag. “Cupcakes!”
Vee grinned. “The bakery lady told me they’re organic. Not sure how you make an organic cupcake, and not sure why they cost extra, but there you go.”
“You’re my hero.”
“How much longer do you think you’ll be?”
“Thiry minutes, tops.”
She laid the keys to the Neon next to my backpack. “Rixon and I are going to grab something to eat, so you’ll have to be your own chauffeur tonight. I parked the Neon in the underground garage. Row B. I only have a fourth of a tank left, so don’t go crazy.”
I took the keys, trying to ignore the unpleasant sting in my heart that I instantly recognized as jealousy. I was jealous of Vee’s new relationship with Rixon. Jealous of her dinner plans. Jealous that she was now closer to Patch than I was, because even though Vee had never mentioned it, I was sure she bumped into Patch when she was with Rixon. For all I knew, the three of them watched movies together at night. The three of them, lounging on Rixon’s sofa, while I sat in the farmhouse alone. I desperately wanted to ask Vee about Patch, but the truth of the matter was, I couldn’t. I’d broken up with him. I’d made my bed, and it was time to lie in it.
Then again, how was one little inquiry going to hurt?
“Hey, Vee?”
