“Yes, you do.”
“No way.” Do I? I remember my face in the airport bathroom mirror. “Nah.”
“You’re doing it right now. It’s your eyes. They speak the truth.”
“I’m just tired. It’s been a bad day.”
“Ardent.”
I look back at the notebook before my eyes tell her she looks perfect right now, with her sleepy eyes and sexy smile. “There are sixteen items here. How many Reasons are there going to be?”
“I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about it. Maybe a hundred?”
“Nice. Can I add one?”
Her eyebrows rise. “Of course.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. I want you to. Add as many as you want. It kind of feels like it’s our list now.”
“Well, I am all over it.”
“Write, before I change my mind.”
I take the pen she offers. Then I remember I’ve been left-handed my entire life until last year. “Daryn, my handwriting’s not—”
“It’ll be perfect. Go for it.”
So I do.
17. Daryn’s actual butt—not a photo of it, the real thing Daryn laughs. “Seriously?”
“Very seriously. Have you seen it?”
“My butt? Not really. It’s kind of behind me.”
“Well, it’s a damn good Reason, and fair’s fair.” I move to the next line and write the entry I really wanted to add. It’s shorter than the one I just wrote but it takes me longer because my eyes keep trying to wash out again. I get it done, though.
18. Low
I sit back and take a tight breath and then another and another until I’m breathing normally again.
Daryn rests her head on my shoulder. We stay like this. Staring at Low’s name.
The memories come. I keep thinking of all the things I’ll miss about him.
I’ve done a lot of this.
I do this almost daily, with Dad.
Around the time he died, he was still laying into me regularly about leaving my dirty clothes on the floor of my bedroom. He wanted me to make my bed every day and screw the toothpaste cap back on and always stop to hug Mom or Anna anytime I walked through the door. Even if I just went out to pick up a pizza. It seemed insane to me, doing all that. Huge waste of time. I do it all now. He’ll never see it, though.
That’s the thing about death. You miss everything before and everything after, too. You miss everything that should’ve been.
Daryn yawns and glances at the microwave clock. “It’s almost three a.m. Are you going to try to sleep?”
“Probably.” It’d be better than thinking depressing thoughts all night.
“Do you want to sleep here?”
Whoa.
“Yes.”
She stands and I follow her, thinking we’re going to the bedroom in the back, but she stops at the twin cubby into the hallway that’s probably made for little kids or garden gnomes.
“The bedroom is Maia’s. She’s with Suarez right now, but she might come back tonight.”
“This is great.”
“I don’t know.” Daryn looks at me like she’s measuring my height. “Are you sure you’ll fit in here?”
“Yep. I’ll just sleep in a cannonball position.”
She laughs, hits the lights, and climbs in.
I knock my forehead as I climb in after her. Easy, Blake. Settle down.
Right away I realize the only way to accomplish this is as a team. “You should turn sideways. It’ll give us more room.”
“Like this?”
“Yes. How’s your back? Can I put my arm around you?”
“Better—yes. Can I put my leg over yours?”
“Sure.” Pour yourself all over me. Really, I won’t mind. “And come closer. Bring it in, Martin. All the way in.” We end up pressed together, me on my back, her resting her head on my shoulder. I can’t straighten my legs so I hang my feet out into the hallway.
Since there are cabinets above and below us, the roof is really low. Wood paneling surrounds us on all sides, except along the hallway. I’ve never felt claustrophobic before but I do right now. I’m incredibly uncomfortable—and incredibly turned on.
Her hair smells amazing. Her body feels amazing. I feel her heart beating fast, like mine, and I’m drowsy but awake. Wired. Wishing we weren’t both fully dressed. And that this situation was more bedlike instead of like we’ve been thrown into solitary confinement together.
“Gideon…” Her voice is so close to my ear it almost makes me shiver. “Are you comfortable?”
“No. Are you?”
“No. Want to move?”
“No.”
“Good. Me either.” She shifts around against my chest, and any chance of me sleeping tonight vanishes. Game over. It’s just not going to happen. “I keep thinking I should’ve stopped them from going into the Rift. I had a bad feeling about it from the start.”
Maybe I will sleep tonight. “Yeah. I know you did. I should’ve listened to you.” I peer down at her. “I should’ve trusted your judgment. You were right.”
“I wish I wasn’t.” She blinks. “And I wish I weren’t so wrong about other things.” I wait for her to keep going. There’s obviously more coming. “Gideon, what you said to me last night after we, um … in the RV?” She sighs, and then comes right out with it. “After I mauled you?”
“It was mutual mauling. Actually, I think I had the edge.”
She smiles. “Debatable. Anyway—the things you said afterward. Do you remember?”
“Yes.” I told her I wanted her. That, from my side of the equation at least, we’re a go. “I was just trying to understand, Daryn. I just wanted to understand what’s in our way. You don’t have to tell me.”
“I want to tell you. But not tonight. Some other time. Soon.”
“Okay. To be continued.”
“To be continued,” she agrees. “We should probably get some sleep.”
“Sure.” But nothing changes. We lie there, our faces only a few inches apart. It’s awesome. Just watching her blink. Feeling her breath. But after a little while my eyes won’t stay open any longer. I let them close.
“Good night,” she says.
“Night.”
“I hope I dream about this … this exact moment.”
Amazing thing to hear. Amazing. “I hope I dream about reason number fourteen. Pretty sure I will.”
“Showing you that list was such a mistake.”
“Martin, you have no idea.”
CHAPTER 17
DARYN
The sound of Velcro unstrapping wakes me.
In the darkness, it takes a second for the disorientation to wear off. I’m on my bed in the RV. Creases of amber light frame the drawn shades in the kitchen area, warm with the desert’s morning glow.
Gideon is up. Sitting over the side of the bed with his back to me. His shirt is off and he’s pulling on the black harness of his prosthetic. He tucks it under his elbow, pinning it to his side as he tries to untangle the straps.
Maia’s soft snoring filters through the cracked door of the bedroom.