“He’s not here. You are. Explain.”
Kat toys with the ends of her hair. “We told you that you’ll save Frosty’s life, and you will, but...you die doing it.”
“Die.” The word echoes in my mind, cutting like a dagger. I’m bleeding shock and betrayal, though I have no right to the latter emotion.
Sow and reap. I’m reaping.
But what of these two girls? They castigated me for something they themselves were doing. It’s hypocrisy, plain and simple.
I want to lash out. How dare they! But feelings are fleeting, I remind myself, and right now, an outburst will be counterproductive.
“I’m sorry,” Ali says. “I didn’t know you when we first approached you, and granted, at the time I was angry with you, even hated you. You helped Anima hurt me. But I never should have—”
“Stop.” I hold up my palm. “What’s done is done. Now we move on and figure out what to do.”
But...but...can we do anything? No one has ever changed one of Ali’s visions.
I need to face facts. I’m going to die. Because, at the end of the day, I’m going to save Frosty. That’s not even a question.
“I’d feel better if you yelled at me,” she grumbles.
“I’m sorry, too,” Kat say. “We had no right. We aren’t your judge, jury or executioner.”
The ragged edge of my anger dulls. “Here are the facts. If I knew in the beginning that I’d die, I might not have agreed to guard Frosty.” I wouldn’t have had a chance to get to know him. Or come to admire and respect him...to crave him more than I crave air to breathe.
As if on cue, the door opens, and he enters the room. He’s wearing a black T-shirt and a pair of ripped jeans that hang low on his waist. His feet are bare, and he looks good enough to eat. Figuratively, I mean.
He notices the girls and pauses, then nods to Ali, to Kat, before staring hard at me. “I heard voices.”
“We were just leaving.” Ali stands, gives me a hug—a hug I return—and slinks from the room.
“Again, I’m sorry,” Kat whispers. “I wish... Well, it doesn’t matter, does it. Wishes mean nothing. Actions mean everything.” Then she, too, is gone.
Frosty scowls. “They told you about the vision.” A statement, not a question.
“Yes,” I reply. “And I get why they kept quiet, I really do.”
“You’re taking it better than I did.” He shuts the door with a firm click, then turns the lock, sealing us both inside.
“You wouldn’t think so if you’d peeked into my mind a few minutes ago.” I scrub a hand down my face. “I should have figured things out on my own. The guilt they so often projected, your treatment of me after Kat confessed all.” As I speak, I’m hit by another realization; shock sends me into another tailspin. “You didn’t want me near you, didn’t want me acting as your shield because...you care about me. My life matters to you.”
He raises his chin, unashamed of his feelings. “I told you that already.”
Yes, but I never really believed it until now. “Frosty,” I say, and take a step toward him, my heart singing. But another realization strikes and I still, the singing fading to quiet. Only one of us has a future. He’s going to watch me die.
“I want you to leave town,” he says. “You don’t owe me. You don’t have to atone for your past. Go to college. I’ll pay—”
“Are you freaking serious? How about this? I’ll leave if you leave.”
He shakes his head, adamant. “I can’t abandon my friends in the middle of a war.”
“Neither can I, snowman.” I will be here for him.
Navy blue eyes beseech me. “I need you alive, Milla.”
And I need to touch him. I move forward; the moment I reach him, I sink my greedy hands under his shirt, directly on his chest—over his heart. His skin is white-hot, velvet over steel.
“No one is guaranteed a future,” I remind him, and his heart hammers so quickly I can’t count the beats. “No one, not with a vision or without. All we have is today, this second.” And I don’t want to waste it. “You promised me a kiss.”
He hooks a lock of hair behind my ear. “I promised you more than one. I’m addicted to the taste of you.”
Hot shivers cascade through me. “Let’s pretend, just for a minute, that you’re a normal guy and I’m a normal girl, that we just got back from a date and we’re standing at my door.”
“Yes.” His pupils flare, a full eclipse of desire. “I lean in to kiss you good-night...”
Breathing is impossible. “And I wait, excited and nervous.”
“I hold out as long as I can, savoring every torturous second, but you smell so good, like roses and pecans, and I’m so worked up already, have wanted you all night...”
“I ache for you, and when I can stand it no longer, I wrap my arms around you. Like this...”
We’re both panting. We’re both trembling. Deep down I know he sees me, sees who I am, what I am, and he likes me anyway.