“As long as you want me here,” he said, and something in his voice made me look up. Did that mean what I thought it meant?

“What about your job?”

He shrugged. “There are jobs here. Or, if you want, you could come back to Ireland with me. I’m sure your grandparents would love to see you.”

I hadn’t seen them since the last time I’d seen my father, and I’d never been out of the country. But…

My gaze was drawn to Nash. When he saw me looking, he nodded, but I wasn’t fooled. He didn’t want me to go, and that was enough for me.

“I’d love to visit Ireland, but I live here, Dad.” I sprinkled some pepper into the pot and kept stirring. “I don’t want to leave.” The disappointment on his face nearly killed me. “But you’re welcome to stay here. If you want.”

“I—”

I’d like to think he would have said yes. That he was considering a house for the two of us, hopefully not too far from Nash’s, but plenty far from Sophie and her fluffy pink melodrama. But I’d never know for sure. He didn’t get to finish because the front door opened, and something thumped to the floor, then Sophie groaned. “Who left these stupid bags right in front of the door?” she demanded.

Amused by her ungainly entrance, I craned my neck to see over Nash’s shoulder. My cousin knelt on the floor, one hand propping her up over an old, worn suitcase. I started to laugh, but when my gaze settled on hers, all amusement drained from me instantly, leaving me cold and empty. Her face was shadowed, her features so dark I could barely make them out, even with light drenching her from overhead.

The reaper had come for its next victim.

Sophie was about to die.

20

“SOPHIE?” MY FATHER stood and turned toward her without a single glance my way. “Wow, you look just like your mother, except for your eyes. Those are Brendon’s eyes—I’d lay my life on it.” If he’d looked at me, he’d have seen her fate. I was sure of it. But he didn’t look.

Even Nash was watching my cousin.

Fear and adrenaline sent a painful jolt through my chest, and I gripped the edge of the countertop. “Sophie…” I whispered with as much volume as I could muster, desperate to warn her before the panic kicked in for real. But no one heard me.

Sophie picked herself up with more grace than I’d ever wielded in my life, brushing off the front of the dark, slim dress she’d worn to the memorial. “Uncle Aiden.” She pasted on a weary smile, to match red-rimmed eyes, polite even in the grip of grief. “And Nash. Two of my favorite men in the same room.”

For once, I barely registered the flames of jealousy her claim should have lit within me, because the inside of my throat had begun to burn viciously. Yes, I often wanted toshut her up, but not permanently.

“Dad!” I rasped, still clinging to the countertop for support, but again, no one noticed me.

Except Sophie.

“What’s wrong with her?” My cousin clacked into the dining room in her dress shoes, hands propped on narrow, pointy hips. “Kaylee, you look like you’re gonna throw up in your…What is that?” She eyed the half-used brick of Velveeta. “Mac and cheese?”

Nash turned to me so fast he nearly lost his balance. “Kaylee?” But I could only watch him, my jaws already clenched against the wail for my cousin’s soul. “Again?” I nodded, and he pulled me close, already whispering words I couldn’t concentrate on, his rough cheek scratchy against mine.

“Kay?” My father whirled toward me a second behind Nash, and a look of horror slid over his features when he recognized the look on mine. He followed my gaze to my cousin slowly, as if afraid of what he’d see. “Sophie?” he asked, and I nodded, gritting my teeth so hard pain shot through my temples. “How long?”

I shook my head. I’d had no idea my ability came with a built in time gauge, much less how to use it.

“Brendon!” my father shouted, his focus locked on me.

Sophie flinched, then stepped forward to see me better, leaning over the back of a dining-room chair, her eerily shadowed forehead wrinkled in confusion.

Nash was still whispering to me, holding me tight with his back to the stove. His lips brushed my ear, his words gliding over me with a soothing breath of Influence, helping me hold the panic in check. I breathed deeply, trying to hold back the looming wail as I stared over his shoulder, my focus glued to my oddly darkened cousin.

“What’s going on?” Sophie gripped the high back of the chair in both hands, and her gaze met mine. “She’s freaking out again, isn’t she? Mom keeps that shrink’s number around here somewhere.” She started toward the kitchen, but my father put out one arm to stop her.

“No, Sophie.” He glanced toward the hall and shouted, “Brendon! Get out here!” Then he turned back to his niece. “Kaylee will be fine.”

“No, she won’t.” Sophie shook her head and tugged her arm from his grasp, green eyes wide. Her concern felt genuine. I think she was actually afraid for me. Or maybe afraid of me. “I know you’re worried about her, but she needs serious help, Uncle Aiden. Something’s wrong with her. I told them this would happen again, but no one ever listens to me. They should have let that doctor give her shock therapy.”

“Sophie…” My dad’s shoulders tensed, his expression caught between fear and anger. He was going to set her straight—except that Nash beat him to it.