My dad’s eyes narrowed. “Why not?”

“Because he was drunk.”

“Nash came to see you drunk?” My dad exhaled and rubbed his forehead. “Whatever happened to the good old-fashioned drunk dial?”

“I believe that’s now the drunk text, but I think Nash wanted answers in person.”

“Okay, so let me get this straight: the reaper who killed my wife and tried to kill my daughter has come back from the dead and is following orders from the hellion obsessed with owning my daughter’s soul, and now possesses the body of an escaped mental patient who also tried to kill you. Did I get that right?”

“We think Scott was officially released, but other than that, sounds about right.” Why is it that my life can never be summarized in a sentence with fewer than three clauses?

“And you didn’t wake me up because…?”

“Because there’s nothing you could have done.”

My dad scowled. “Kaylee, next time, wake me up.”

“We’re kind of hoping there won’t be a next time.”

Footsteps echoed behind me, and we both turned to see Sabine step out of my room, still wearing my robe. “Hey, Mr. Cavanaugh,” she said on her way to the front of the house.

“You know this can’t be an everyday thing, right, Kaylee?” my dad whispered when she was gone.

“I think it’s safe to say none of us wants that. But on the bright side, I made bacon.”

* * *

Breakfast was a whole new kind of awkward, with me sandwiched at the table by my irritated father and my hungover ex-boyfriend, who still wore my dad’s shorts. Sabine seemed oblivious to the unspoken tension—her attention was occupied by a stack of pancakes and a pile of bacon.

After we ate, as I was digging through the hall closet for spare toothbrushes, I heard my father and Nash talking in the kitchen. Alone. The urge to go incorporeal so I could sneak closer and listen was almost too much to resist. In the end, the only thing that stopped me was the fact that I’d spied on Nash once before, with Tod’s help, then promised never to do it again.

Instead, I went really still and listened closely, and in retrospect, I was glad I couldn’t see either of them.

“Do you have any idea how inappropriate your behavior was last night?” my father demanded in a deep, growly voice.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Cavanaugh. I wasn’t thinking.”

“No, you weren’t. I know you’ve had a rough time these past few months, and I know that not all of it was your fault. But everyone has it rough sometimes, Nash. What defines us isn’t the strikes life throws at us, but how we bear them. I’ve made my share of mistakes, so it may look like I’m throwing stones from inside a glass house, but my job as a parent is to hurl those stones at anyone who puts my daughter in danger. Do you understand that?”

“Yes. Of course.” Nash sounded sick and miserable.

“If I ever catch you drinking or not thinking around Kaylee again, you’re going to wish they’d never let you out of that jail cell. Are we all clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

I couldn’t decide whether I was more embarrassed for me or for Nash, but in the end, I considered us both lucky my dad hadn’t banned him from the house. Or called his mom.

Sabine had a change of clothes in her car—I was starting to wonder how often she was staying at Nash’s and whether or not Harmony knew about the sleepovers—but we had to stop by his house so Nash could change.

In spite of the predawn drama and an awkward start to the day, Tuesday morning was better than the day before. I rode to school with Nash and Sabine to avoid facing the reporters alone, and I was relieved to see that, this time, there were only two, each with a single cameraman. Sabine said they might leave me alone if I gave them a couple of seconds of usable footage to run with the headline Teenage Stab Victim Returns to School! so I let them film me climbing the front steps of the building.

I thought I was prepared for the questions they’d shout at me from the sidewalk—they weren’t actually allowed on school property—but instead of asking how I felt or what it was like to be back, the female reporter from the local-news affiliate threw out a question that stopped me midstep, less than a foot from the front door.

“Kaylee, have you heard the news about Scott Carter? Does this latest development represent a setback for your recovery?”

“Don’t even look at her,” Sabine whispered as Nash said, “Just keep walking.”

“How do they even know he’s out?” I said when the front doors had closed behind us, careful that only Nash and Sabine could hear me. “What, did Avari hold a press conference?”

“I don’t know, but if I see him again, I’m going to expel the hellion by any means necessary,” Nash said. So far, the only means we knew of was to knock the host unconscious. “Maybe Scott can stay with me for a few days, so Baskerville can watch out for us both.”

Sabine didn’t look happy about sharing Nash with another houseguest, but he didn’t even notice. “I’ll see you both at lunch. I’m gonna go see if the nurse will give me some Tylenol.”

“I don’t think she treats hangovers,” I called after him, and when I turned to glance at Sabine, she was already walking off in the other direction.

* * *

At lunch, I went through the line and got a tray, because that’s what you do at lunch, and looking and acting normal had become a part of my job. I’d just sat down at my usual table and cracked the cap on my bottle of water when Luca came jogging up to my table. Instead of sitting, he leaned over with both hands flat on the table.