“I don’t know.”
“Maybe...” When I yawned a third time, Cole brushed his fingertips over my eyes, forcing them to close.
“Go to sleep,” he repeated, pulling me down on the pillows. “See you in the morning, Ali-gator.”
“But I’ve got texts....” I knew nothing more.
*
Sunlight poured over the bed, waking me. I blinked open my eyes, saw that I was cradled in Cole’s arms and smiled. He hadn’t let me go all night, had kept me close, as if he couldn’t bear the thought of being without me, even for a second.
I kissed him and sat up, my hair tumbling around my shoulders.
“Sleep longer,” he muttered, trying to pull me back down.
Chuckling, I faced him. His eyelids were at half-mast, but it was enough. Our gazes locked, and the bedroom melted away—
—we were in a forest, the moon high, full and golden. The ice was mostly gone, but it must have melted only recently, because the ground was wet and muddy. Cole was on his knees in front of a thick tree trunk. Blood smeared his cheeks and shirt and soaked both of his hands. Hands he was staring at, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
I walked past him, as if I didn’t really see him.
He looked up at me, a lone tear rolling down his cheek. “I tried,” he croaked. “I tried so hard—”
—a hard knock sounded at the door, jolting us out of the vision.
Dang it! Stupid interruption! What had brought Cole so low? Had he been injured? What had caused my glazed look?
Can’t let myself worry.
But a lone tear rolled down my cheek.
“It’ll be okay,” he said, cupping my cheeks.
Another knock.
To whoever was on the other side of the door, he snapped, “We’re up.”
“We’re heading out in twenty minutes. Be ready or be left behind.”
Milla. Not a morning person, I see. “Good luck getting into Mr. Ankh’s house without us,” I called.
Cole kissed my forehead and stood—and I stared at him openmouthed. He was naked, and he didn’t care that I had a perfect view of his perfect butt.
“Shower and take care of business,” he said, pulling on a pair of boxer briefs.
Boo, hiss.
“Do whatever you need to do,” he added. “I’ll do the same when you’re done.”
We weren’t going to talk any more about the vision.
The vision.
Reminded of what I’d seen, I rushed to the bathroom and barricaded myself inside. Not that it would help. If Cole wanted in, he’d get in. Locked doors had never stopped him before. I just... I didn’t want him to see me cry.
Compartmentalize.
I tried. I really did. But the walls were trembling, about to fall again. Tears rained down my cheeks, burning. We’d endured so much lately, and knowing we had even more to endure...
I turned on the shower to conceal the sound of my sobs.
If the saying “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” is really true, I’m going to be the strongest girl in the whole freaking world.
Right now, every decision I made was critical. What I did, what I said, who I trusted, would either help me or hurt me—help Cole or hurt him. Would either guide us out of the storm or take us deeper into it. And I know, sometimes storms were necessary. Even flowers needed to be watered. But...yeah.
As the tears continued to rain, I stepped into the shower and cleaned up. Finally calm, I patted myself dry, dressed in the clothes I’d worn into the bathroom—ugh, the dirty clothes. T-shirt, no bra. Shorts pretending to be panties. I had to be all kinds of hobo hideous.
A steam cloud escaped as I exited. Cole often knew what I needed before I ever said a word, and this was one of those times. He had placed a new pair of sweatpants and a jacket on the bed.
Every girl should have a Cole Holland of her own. Just not mine!
“My dad texted,” he said. “He tracked down a man who used to work for Anima. One of the higher-ups. Guy says Anima is one of many agencies owned by an umbrella company that makes the bulk of its money on medical patents and is run by a woman named Rebecca Smith.”
Smith. “How Matrixy,” I muttered.
“Yeah. Name is probably fake, but it’s something. Dad’s looking into it and will let us know if he learns anything more.” He held a bundle of clothes in one hand and, as he passed me, brushed his fingertips over my jaw with the other; I knew he’d noticed the pink tear tracks. “We’ll be okay,” he said again and closed himself in the bathroom.
I dressed in the new clothes, dried my hair with the towel and entertained Pep-Talk Ali. In the vision, he’s covered in blood, yes, but he isn’t dead. That’s something, right?
Very right.
Knowing Downer Ali was only a few heartbeats away, I sang “la la la” inside my head as I tugged on the socks and boots also waiting for me. La la la la, today’s gonna be a good day. I will protect Cole. I will find a clue about Justin.