50.
After my appointments, I head toward the beach, making sure to pull my sleeves down to my wrists before stepping into the street. Zenn’ll be waiting at the dock, ready to take my hand and walk south. We’ll spend the rest of the day watching the waves and talking about anything and everything.
Suddenly someone hisses my name.
I freeze. Something like this has happened before. Not here, not in Freedom, but in the Badlands. I strain to grasp the memory, but it flees.
Zenn laughs. He pulls me into a shadowy doorway and removes his hat. “Surprise, beautiful. I thought we’d eat somewhere in today.” He’s handsome with his bleached hair and even whiter teeth.
“In?” I ask, feeling the coolness of the smooth stone disappear as Zenn pulls me so close our bodies touch along every point.
“Yeah, it’s almost my birthday. I want to celebrate with you.”
“Zenn, your birthday isn’t until March. That’s six months away.”
“I know,” he says, taking off my hat too. “But I want to be with you. I want us to be together.” I imagine his next words before they come. “I love you, my lovely Violet.” Zenn leans down, pausing just before kissing me. His mouth is warm and familiar, but that’s all. It doesn’t fill my soul with a choking desire or anything. I think it used to, but now his kiss feels, well, empty.
Then the blank-space-guy replaces Zenn. The doorway in the dream is similar to this one. Is that guy . . . Zenn?
It seems to fit, but at the same time, it totally doesn’t. I remove the locator from my pocket. Vaguely, I hear Zenn say my name.
I run my fingertip over the screen. I need a name. Desperately.
“Let me have that,” Zenn says, his long fingers closing over mine.
I grip it harder before letting him take it. A vital piece of my soul goes with it. I need that locator to find the guy. The one I’m in love with.
And it’s not Zenn.
But I can’t remember who it is.
“So . . . lunch?” Zenn asks, his voice false and bright. “Are you okay?”
I finally tear my gaze off my now-empty palm. Zenn’s face is a picture of adoration. For me.
“Yeah, sure, lunch.” My skin is the only thing holding everything inside. Still clutching our hats in his hand, Zenn steers me into the sunlight. The gentle rays feel like lasers, threatening to slice through my filament-thin defenses.
Because I have a hole inside that needs to be filled.
“Whatever is bothering you, you should forget it,” Zenn says in his most soothing voice. “Today is about you and me.”
I forget about the nameless, faceless guy and snuggle into Zenn’s side. “You’re right. Happy birthday, babe.”
He tucks his hand in my back pocket and leads me to the nicest restaurant in the city.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
For DVR-ing my favorite shows, eating cold cereal for (breakfast, lunch, and) dinner, and waiting patiently in the queue: Adam, Isaac, and Eliza, my truest champions and greatest treasures.
For reading so many drafts of Possession and not gouging your eyes out: Christine Fonseca, Windy Aphayrath, and Amanda Bonilla.
For the friendship, beta reads, and late-night sob fests: Suzette Saxton, Bethany Wiggins, H. L. Dyer, Carolyn Kaufman, Mary Lindsey, and Patrick McDonald.
For providing a shining light through the maze of grammar and setting: Lisa Roecker, Laura Roecker, Beth Revis, Katie Anderson, Lisa Amowitz, Shannon Messenger, Jamie Harrington, Shelli Johannes-Wells, Danyelle Leafty, Cole Gibsen, Michelle McLean, Ali Cross, Jenn Wilks, Stacy Henrie, and Sara Olds.
For helping me stay hinged: Michelle Andelman, Anica Rissi, and the entire Simon Pulse team.
For bringing the awesome and making me spew beverages during chats: the ladies of WriteOnCon: Casey McCormick, Jamie Harrington, Shannon Messenger, Jen Stayrook, and Lisa and Laura Roecker.
For holding back laughter at the idea, sending me amazing books, and cheering me on: the Bookanistas.
For raising me with the belief that I can do anything: Jeff and Donna Watkins.
For making me more beautiful than I actually am: Carol Johnson, Mary McBride, Amy Harris, Penny Welch, Jessica Cottle, and Brigitte Ballard.
For keeping me sane: all my blog readers, especially those whose comments buoyed me up during the floods, made me smile, or helped me take one more step. You know who you are.
And to my first teen readers, Haley Gallegos and Fabiana Fonesca; may there be many more like you.