I nodded. “More whole than I’ve felt since…ever.” At least since my mother died and my father left.

Nash’s forehead furrowed and his jaw clenched, like he was holding back words he knew better than to say. Then he met my gaze, and I could see the raw pain in his, unshielded, thanks to the whiskey. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be that for you, Kaylee. I really wanted to. I wanted to be good enough for you. I wanted to deserve you, and in a way, it was easier after you and he…” His jaw clenched again, then the words tumbled out in an emotionally charged, drunk free fall, and his gaze begged me to understand. “After I saw you with him in the hall. Because you’d messed up, and I thought that if you weren’t perfect, you could understand why I wasn’t, either, and we could fix things. But that was when I thought it was just one kiss, and—”

Nash stopped and glanced at the floor, and when he looked up at me, there were tears standing in his eyes. “If I hadn’t been high that day in the parking lot—if I hadn’t started using again—would this have turned out differently? Would you have given us another chance?”

My own tears answered his, and I rolled my chair closer to the bed. “No, Nash. Please don’t ever think that. As bad as that afternoon was, you and I had already broken up, and Tod and I were already together.” I sucked in a deep breath, then said the only thing I could think of that might help him understand. “He died for me, Nash. He refused to reap my soul, so Levi had to take his.” An unemployed reaper was a dead reaper. “That’s the way it goes.”

Nash’s eyes widened, and he frowned. “Then how is he—”

“I had to bargain for his afterlife.”

“And for my release…?”

“Yeah.” I leaned back in my chair and relaxed a little. “I owed you at least that much, and I’m sorry that Madeline has no pull in the court of public opinion.”

Nash huffed, and I could smell the whiskey on his breath. “Yeah, me, too.”

“You know, if you didn’t openly hate me—if we hung out like we used to—the rumors that you stabbed me would die pretty damn quickly. I’d never hang out with my attempted murderer.”

He thought about that for a moment, and when his eyes closed, I thought he’d fallen asleep sitting up, until they opened again. “I could do that. We could try the friendship thing, if that’s the best I’m gonna get. But I can’t hang out with him.”

“Nash—”

“Kaylee, he’s my brother, and he stabbed me in the back. I know you’re an only child, so you can’t really understand, but I can’t… I can’t see the two of you together. Not yet.”

“Okay.” I nodded. “I guess that’s fair. But I think you should talk to him, even if I’m not there. You don’t understand how much heloves you.”

“And stealing my girlfriend was supposed to show me that?”

“He didn’t steal me, Nash.” And frankly, I was getting tired of being talked about like a car or a piece of jewelry with no free will of its own. Like I’d had no choice in the matter. “I made a decision. I’m sorry about the way it happened, but I’m not going to change my mind.”

His eyes closed again. His next words were slurred with both alcohol and sleep, and I wondered if he’d even heard what I’d said. “Can I stay? It’s raining… .” He laid down on his side without waiting for my answer, and Styx scooted closer to him for warmth.

I sighed. Then I unfolded the blanket at the foot of the bed and pulled it up to Nash’s shoulders, and his eyes popped open. He grabbed my arm and his gaze gained coherent focus, just for a second. “I saw Scott tonight,” he said, and shock raced through every nerve ending remaining in my undead body.

“What? When did you see him?” But Nash’s eyes were closed. “Where did you see Scott?” I shook his shoulder, but he was out cold. “Nash!” I shook him again, and his eyes opened, but didn’t truly focus on me. “Where did you see Scott?”

“Out…side…” Then he closed his eyes and started snoring.

* * *

“Outside?” Tod said, before I’d even realized he’d arrived. “Outside where?”

“I don’t know. Here? His house? Somewhere between?” I pulled two sodas from the fridge and kicked the door shut. “He walked all the way here, so he could have seen Scott anywhere. Assuming he really saw him at all.” I shrugged and handed him one of the cans. “I mean, he’s drunk. Who knows what he really saw?”

“It was Scott.” Tod accepted the can I gave him and popped the top. “I stopped by the hospital on my way here to check, and his room’s empty. I guess that’s why his stuff was half packed when we were there earlier.”

“So, what, they let him out? Can they do that?”

“I don’t know.” Tod gave me an apologetic shrug. “You’re kind of the resident expert.”

“Don’t remind me.” But I couldn’t argue. “I got out when Uncle Brendon Influenced my doctor into signing the papers. But I wasn’t hearing voices and cowering from every shadow. I can’t imagine any doctor worth the paper his degree’s printed on letting someone like Scott out of the hospital.”

Before Tod could reply, something tapped the front door three times, and I crossed the room to peer through the peephole. “What the hell is he doing here?” Sabine demanded as soon as I pulled the door open. She pushed past me into the living room in a pair of jeans and a snug black tank top, without bothering to wipe her bare feet on the mat.