Before, I would have given an unequivocal no. Now? I wasn’t sure. When he wasn’t gunning people down in a hallway, he was actually kind of sweet. And charming. And witty. And so hot he made my mouth water.
He’d brought me breakfast this morning. He’d pointed out the dresser drawer holding my things, so that I would always feel welcome. He’d said he was planning our “third date,” that he wanted to take a knitting class with me, or something equally tame, because we needed less excitement in our lives.
And he was majorly concerned with my well-being. Like, obsessively so. He and Helen had argued heatedly last night. He’d demanded that she fix me. She’d said that she was trying, and it’d be nice if he would, too. He’d said he was doing everything she’d told him to do, telling me stories about my past.
It was true. He had. For hours. But his stories were so far-fetched.
Or had been. When finally I’d fallen asleep, I’d had such vivid dreams....
I’d seen everything he’d described. Me, standing in a hallway painted black and gold, catching a glimpse of him for the first time. He’d been leaning against a bank of lockers at school, goofing off with his friends. A hat had shaded his eyes, but then he’d looked up and we’d both been trapped, connected by a vision of the two of us kissing.
I shivered.
Then I’d seen us training in a boxing ring. We’d taken jabs at each other and argued good-naturedly, our hands roaming where they shouldn’t, our sweaty bodies rubbing together.
Another shiver.
I’d seen us fighting zombies together, protecting each other. The concern on his face every time I was bitten—
Yeah. Another shiver.
I couldn’t deny there was history between us. Or that my heart recognized him, even if my mind did not. I couldn’t deny that the urge to throw myself into his arms, press my lips against his and cling to him as if my life depended on it—as if he was the only raft in a storm—grew stronger every second. But Rebecca was trapped in an underground bunker behind his house... Was I just supposed to ignore that?
Even if Rebecca was a liar and the enemy, I didn’t condone violence. Did I?
The door swung open, and in stepped the woman I was supposed to call Nana. I liked her, a lot, and wasn’t annoyed that she’d just barged in, like I’d been with Rebecca. She’d been here waiting for me when Cole brought me, and I’d enjoyed her too-tight hug.
“Ali,” she said with a huge grin. “How are you, dear?”
“Well, thank you.”
She embraced me again, and I awkwardly patted her back.
Her expression was a little sad as she straightened, and I hated that I’d upset her. “I’m here to escort you to the dining room.”
Time for dinner, then. He would be there.
She hooked our arms and led me through the house. There were tons of visitors, but I didn’t see any sign of Cole. Sharp disappointment. Tendrils of dread. A houseful of slayers—why? I’d been introduced to each one already, and they seemed to like me, but that didn’t make them any less intimidating. Not that I’d ever let them know I was disconcerted.
“Hello,” I said, nodding in greeting. I frowned when I realized there was no food on the table. Slayers, but no dinner?
Gavin winked at me.
Mackenzie blew me a kiss.
Reeve waved at me.
Bronx nodded at me.
Frosty stared out a window.
Justin and Jaclyn smiled at me.
River patted his lap, a silent request for me to sit.
That would be a big fat no, thanks.
He shrugged, unfazed by my refusal.
Mr. Holland, Cole’s dad, motioned to an unoccupied chair. Nana led me forward and I sat.
Besides Cole, the only two people missing were Veronica and her younger sister, Juliana. Apparently, Juliana had done something to enrage everyone, especially Frosty, so the two had gone back home to Georgia, where they would stay.
At the far end of the room, Emma the Witness appeared. Like Mackenzie, she blew me a kiss. Once upon a time, Cole and I had been the only ones capable of seeing my little sister—was she really my sister? But now, because of some kind of fire-share, everyone could.
Helen materialized beside her, and everyone saw her, too. She had the ability to cloak her image, but wasn’t doing that anymore.
What the heck was going on?
One by one, the slayers told me stories about the time they’d spent with me. There was a bit of disconnect between the first round of stories and me. I heard, but I didn’t see. Then little Emma spoke, and the throb returned to my chest. Two sisters, deeply in love. Separated by a crash, yet able to find each other again.
The throb only grew worse as Helen spoke. A mother who’d given up her only child in an effort to protect her. A mother who’d mourned the loss every day for the rest of her too-short life. A mother determined to have a second chance.