If I Die

have a right to feel. And don’t talk to her like she should listen to you. You don’t get to talk to her, and you damn sure don’t get to kiss my girlfriend!”

My cheeks burned. So much for no one knowing what had happened…

“Nash…” I said again, trying to get his attention. “We didn’t plan this.”

“You might not have, but he did,” Nash whispered fiercely through clenched teeth, either because he’d realized people were listening, or because he couldn’t manage any more volume. “He hates me, because I lived and he died.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tod said softly behind me, and I turned to look at him, drawn by the complex threads of emotion woven through his voice. I’d seen Tod mad, and I’d recently started seeing something else when he looked at me. But this was neither of those. Or maybe it was both. It was guilt, and loyalty, and anger, and fierce, protective love, all so tangled up I couldn’t tell them apart, and I doubted he could, either.

Tod was wrestling with more human emotion than I’d ever seen from him or any other reaper, and for one horrifying moment, I was afraid that it was too much for him. That after only two years dead, he’d lost the ability to process so much at once.

I wasn’t sure I could process it all.

“The hell I don’t!” Nash shouted, and my focus volleyed between them. And vaguely I was aware of the spectators inching closer, trying to hear. “You’re trying to take Kaylee so I’ll be as miserable as you are.”

“Oh, hell, let him have her!” Sabine said, and several of the Mathletes laughed, but Nash and Tod didn’t even look up.

“Nash, listen to me,” I said, fighting for his full attention. “I’m so sorry. But your happiness doesn’t depend on me.” It shouldn’t, anyway. It couldn’t, because no matter how this little disaster ended, he’d be without me forever in two days. And I really needed to know that he could handle that.

He frowned down at me from inches away. “What does that mean? Is this what you want?” he demanded, gesturing behind me at Tod. “You want him?”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. What did I want? Did what I wanted even matter, with so little time left in which to want it?

“You call it, Kaylee,” Nash demanded, when I didn’t—when I couldn’t—answer. “Me or him?”

Tears burned in my eyes, and I could barely see past them. Everyone was watching me. Waiting. Listening. And most of them had no idea that no matter what I decided, it would all be over in two days. Which was why I’d tried so hard to make sure Nash would be okay. Because we’d been through a lot together, and I did care about him.

But wasn’t it a little easier than I’d expected, thinking of him and Sabine together after my death? Didn’t it mean something that I kept forgetting about him when I was with Tod? And that I was embarrassed, but not really disappointed every time sex with him failed to happen?

Had Nash and I ever really gotten back what we’d had in the beginning, or had I just held on to him out of habit? Or some misplaced sense of loyalty?

My voice came out thick and half-choked from holding back sobs. “I’m so sorry, Nash,” I said, hyperaware that there were at least a dozen people watching us, which meant there would be at least that many versions of this making the rounds the next day.

Nash blinked, surprised and hurt, and I realized I hadn’t said what he’d expected to hear. Then defensive anger took over, and his irises churned with it as he turned on Tod. “You suck as a brother. Stay away from me, or I’ll kick your ass into the next life myself.”

Tod exhaled slowly. “Nash, wait. I know you don’t believe me, but this isn’t what I wanted. Not like this.”

“Whatever. This was inevitable, right? What difference does two more days make?” Nash said, and Sabine gave me a satisfied, almost respectful nod, like I’d orchestrated the whole thing just to please her. After all, she’d gotten what she wanted—now she’d be competing with the memory of a cheating ex instead of a tragically lost love. Nash glanced angrily at the crowd of spectators, then back at me and Tod. “Have a nice life—what little you have left.” Then he turned and stomped off with Sabine at his side.

“Kaylee, I’m so sorry,” Tod said when they were gone, but his gaze kept flicking from face to face, and I realized he was uncomfortable being visible to this many people at once. He probably hadn’t felt so exposed since the day he’d died.

“It’s my fault.” I blinked back unspent tears and glared at the onlookers, daring them to comment. “Don’t you guys have something to calculate?”

Rebuked, the Mathletes wandered back to their club meeting, already discussing what they’d seen, and most of the solitary onlookers faked disinterest by digging in their lockers or loitering at the water fountain.

“I have to check on Emma,” I whispered, trying to ignore the stragglers. “And you should probably go.”

“Can I come by later? To talk?” Tod asked.

“Yeah. That’d be…good.” I understood that what he’d done to Thane wouldn’t change the bottom line for me—I was still going to die. But I was convinced that this would change at least a few of the smaller details, like who my reaper would be, now that the chosen one was presumably out of the picture. And who knows, Tod might have even changed the location and timeline by a little bit.

“Okay. I’ll see you later.” His arms hovered at his sides, like he wasn’t sure whether we should part with a hug or a hand shake. Or nothing at all.

But if there was a protocol for how to say goodbye to your newly ex-boyfriend’s dead brother, right after you kissed him and probably sent your ex into the arms of his willing ex-girlfriend, I didn’t know what it was.

“This isn’t one of the things they train reapers to handle,” Tod whispered in acknowledgment of the awkward circumstances, and I laughed in spite of eyes still damp from tears. But the last notes of my laughter sounded hollow.

I’d ruined everything.

“Later, then,” Tod said, and I laid one hand on his arm before he could disappear out of habit.

“Walk this time,” I whispered, with a pointed glance at the sophomore watching us around her open locker door. “You’re visible.”

“Oh, yeah.” He winked and took several steps backward, then shoved his hands into his pockets and spun on one heel.

When he turned the corner—without looking back—I took a deep breath and mentally shoved the drama to the back of my mind, where it would no doubt fester until I had time to truly deal with it. Then I picked up the chemistry gear and started down the math hall, pointedly ignoring the stragglers. Mr. Beck’s door was closed, which meant he and Emma either hadn’t heard the spectacle or didn’t care enough to check it out.

Either way, something was wrong.

I dropped the gloves and glasses and grabbed my book bag—still lying by the door, where I’d left it—then backed up several steps and walked past the classroom, glancing through the window at just the right moment. Emma still sat in the teacher’s chair, but now Beck sat on the edge of his own desk, and they weren’t even pretending to do math anymore. He’d gotten bold and careless. Had losing Danica’s baby made him that desperate?

I doubled back to pass the room again, and this time I stopped for a better look, because he had his back to the door. Em would have seen me if she’d looked up, but that clearly wasn’t going to happen. She looked practically enthralled.

Emma laughed at something he said, and he leaned forward to brush a strand of hair over her shoulder. His hand brushed her cheek and lingered while she stared up at him, and anger flared to life inside me, burning just beneath my skin. He shifted slightly on the desktop, his left thigh flexing and relaxing, and it took me a second to understand what I couldn’t see very well from my current position—he was slowly swinging his left leg, running his calf back and forth against her outer thigh.

Those flames of anger roared into a full-blown blaze, roasting me alive.

I pulled the door open, and they both looked up. “Hello, Ms. Cavanaugh.” Beck smiled at me without bothering to stand, and Emma looked first confused to see me, then irritated that I’d interrupted, then surprised when she glanced at the clock over the door.