Jeff killed people. Distant logic buzzed at the back of her brain. He’s dangerous. If he doesn’t like you, he might just kill you, too.
The sudden onset of doubt made her feel sick. Perhaps she had been wrong. Maybe, rather than loving her the way she had hoped, the way Echo had suggested, the person standing behind her would reach out and grab her by the neck. Perhaps she’d be knifed in the back, garroted with piano wire so fiercely that her head would pop right off her neck.
But, no. No, that was wrong.
You’re just like them, you know, Echo reminded her. Kids like you, that’s who Jeffrey loved the most.
Jeff wanted to meet her. He’d said so himself on the back of that photograph. He’d written it out—Dearest Vivi—before he had died. Why would he hurt her? What reason would he have to lie?
She sucked in a breath, slowly turned, kept her gaze focused on the ground and gritted her teeth against her own unease. She half expected to see a couple of snarled Gollum feet, but it was a pair of scuffed-up combat boots instead—boots that made her mind flip to the ones her father kept at the back of his closet and refused to sell. The faded black denim reminded her of Tim, the boy she had once secretly adored, who she had so badly wanted to impress with her knowledge of the strange and unusual. The kid she’d completely forgotten when she had found Jeffrey Halcomb’s smiling face online. Because Jeffrey was better than Tim could ever be. Vivi didn’t need to prove herself to Jeff, or find a way to make him pay attention. He would love her for who she was, just as he’d loved Chloe and Georgia and everyone else. She was just like them.
Kids like you . . .
Her gaze drifted upward until it settled on a weatherworn logo printed on a black T-shirt. It was a triangle with a rainbow shooting through it, something she couldn’t place but knew she had seen before. That shirt was half-hidden beneath a beat-up leather jacket. Taking a half step back toward the window, she blinked at the man before her, her anxiety obliterated by sheer distraction. If this guy was an ax murderer, Vivi would never suspect it past his pretty face and disarming smile.
“Vivi.” Her new nickname rolled off his tongue like spun sugar, those two syllables palpitating her heart. He smelled like patchouli and red currants. Nearly pinned against the window, she could hardly move when he reached out to touch her hair. The man who had looked at least twenty-five or thirty years old ten seconds before was now toeing the edge of seventeen.
“Vivi. Almost like viva. Do you know what that means?” He canted his head to the side, as if inspecting her, a sly smile clinging to his lips.
She shook her head, too stunned to speak. It’s him. It’s him! Except Jeffrey Halcomb was even more beautiful than any visage captured on grainy old film.
“Viva mi familia,” he said. “Long live my family. Viva mi amor. Long live my love. And that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”
She opened her mouth to speak, but there was no sound.
“Love,” he said. “Your parents.” Those two words hit her like a double-fisted punch. “I know all about them, I know how cruel they can be. It’s not easy being forgotten. I know that.”
“You do?” She managed to form the question in a faint whisper. The boy nodded, his eyelids dipping low, his face solemn.
“I’ve been watching you, rooting for you, but sometimes even our best intentions go unnoticed. Adults are so wrapped up in their own lives . . .” He paused, as if holding himself back. His brown eyes sparked with a quiet rage that Vivi understood all too well. The neglect. Being shrugged off because she was just a kid. The muffled yelling behind closed doors, only for her parents to act like everything was fine the next day. Like she didn’t know that they were fighting. Like she was too stupid to figure out that, because of their hardheadedness, her life was about to fall apart. “I had a father once,” he said. “He pretended to love me until it became an inconvenience. I was his son until he no longer wanted me. I know that pain, Vivi. I know how much it hurts, how much it makes you hate. But we can’t let the hate consume us. We have to take all the goodness we have left in our hearts,” he said, “and direct it somewhere else. Just how you’ve directed your love, your faith, toward me and my friends.” He reached out and gently brushed the pad of his thumb against the swell of her lower lip. “You’re so brave,” he murmured. “And I love you for that, Vivi. For that, I swear you’ll never be lonely again.”
She stared at him, unable to believe what she was hearing. She knew it was insane, but she kept repeating it to herself: he loved her. This beautiful boy, this creature loved her. Her chest felt full, as though her ribs could crack and her heart could burst. Her bottom lip began to quiver.
“Hey. Don’t cry.” He leaned into her, his lips brushing featherlight against her cheek. “None of that matters now, anyway. Forget the past. It’s toxic. Poison.”
She fought to swallow her sorrow, struggled to push down the sadness. The tips of his dark hair tickled her collarbone. His fingers swept across the length of her right arm.
“They don’t deserve you, Vivi. We’ll run away together, just you and me and my friends. You’ll have a new family, and we’ll be happy. Forget the fighting, the anger. Forget they ever existed.”
His fingers slid around her arms. Her pulse quickened by a half-dozen beats.
He was real.
Tactile.