His brow creases. “So you think if we spend the night together that will change something? Like having sex will get you out of this . . . time loop?”
“No.” I wave a hand. “Of course not.”
But even as the words trip out of my mouth, they come right back and slap me in the face. I’m lying. It’s exactly what I think, and it wasn’t until he spelled it out that I recognized I’ve been holding on to that hope.
But it’s not true. Sex isn’t going to solve anything, except maybe I won’t be so damn horny for Alex all the time. My gut knows it, instinct telling me a truth I didn’t want to accept.
His brows lift, waiting for me to pull myself together.
“Okay, yes. Maybe. I don’t know. Maybe if you just stay with me until morning? No, you know,” I wave a hand, “penetration involved?”
He laughs. “Have you tried staying up all night? On your own, or with anyone else?”
“I have, by myself. It doesn’t work.” I blow out a breath. “I’ve also tried sleeping in my closet. Nothing works. If I stay awake, I black out and it’s not a fun feeling, and then I wake up on the seventh again. You’re the . . . you’re the first person I’ve told. Except a weird teenager and I didn’t invite her over.”
“In your closet?”
I shrug. “The closet is magic.”
His brow furrows. “Uh . . .”
I’m making this worse.
I shake my head. “It’s too much to explain. Just trust me, staying up doesn’t work.”
But another thought knocks me upside the head. What if Alex does stay the night and then he gets stuck in the loop with me? That’s not fair to him. The truth is, I don’t know what will happen either way, and I can’t put this on someone else.
He can’t save me. I have to save myself. It’s always been about me.
“Hmm.” He rubs his chin. “So it’s likely that even if I do stay the night with you, you’ll just black out and I’ll end up back home like God hit a giant reset button.”
I shrug. “Anything is possible at this point.”
He nods, thoughtful.
I move closer. “The thing is, I like you. You like me. And for me, we’ve been dating and kissing a lot. This isn’t the first night we talked and spent time together.” I step into him. “It’s not the first time I’ve figured out that you like it when I bite you a little, right here.” I lean in. His hands lift to my shoulders, squeezing gently when I move closer and press my lips against the corner where his neck meets his shoulder.
He shivers. “Jane.” My name is a breath hissed between his teeth.
I pull back, our eyes lock, and then we’re kissing. And again, the fireworks erupt and I want nothing more than to crawl inside of him and live there forever.
Eventually he steps back far enough to meet my eyes.
I can predict what’s coming next.
“I like you. I believe you. But Jane, I’m still not going home with you.” He blows out a breath.
“I know.”
I shouldn’t have put that kind of pressure on him anyway. He can’t make time move forward. Sleeping with him won’t “fix” me. Am I using Alex in order to give myself a better sense of control?
Shame spreads through me, heating my cheeks.
Alex isn’t the one who can give me happiness, like it’s a gift to be obtained. I can’t control him, and I shouldn’t want to. If I ever get out of this blasted day and we go on a date or four, and actually sleep together, he could wake up months from now and decide he’s not into me. If I put all responsibility for my happiness onto him, that’s . . . ridiculous.
What did the psychic say? It has to come from inside.
Such an impossibility. But I have to try. Right?
I’m no better than Mark if I’m using Alex as my means of escape.
I need a break.
I take a deep breath and step back. “You mean a lot to me, Alex. Which is why I probably won’t see you for a while.”
He moves toward me. “Jane—”
“It’s okay.” I hold up a hand, letting my eyes trace over his features. “You won’t notice. I’ve got to go.”
So this is what it feels like.
To break my own heart.
Chapter Thirteen
“Sprinkle me.”
I lie in bed, listening to the song that has become an intrinsic part of my existence and waiting for the moment . . . I point a finger in the air right as the neighbor pounds on Hugo’s door.
I have the timing down to the second.
I mouth the words I know are being shouted outside, even though I can’t hear them from here over the skull-splitting music.
I lie in bed, debating if I should go to work today. What’s the point? I still get fired. I’ve tried everything I can think of and nothing works. For the past week or so, I haven’t been leaving the apartment much at all, except to get food and see if the Druid Stone is open.
It’s not.
It’s not even there. The storefront, which I swear was between a dry cleaner and a Thai place two blocks down, has disappeared, like I imagined the whole thing. I’ve walked back and forth twelve times, and . . . nothing.
I need to do something other than lie here and mope and think about work and Alex and the fact that I haven’t seen him in a week. Haven’t made him laugh or felt his lips on mine.
My chest aches. I miss him.
The neighbor in the robe
