“That’s a selfish reason.” She went to her dresser, opened drawers, and slammed them shut. “You made me feel things I shouldn’t feel. And I can’t make them go away just like that. Yesterday I loved you. Now it’s all over. Except it’s not. It’s still in here.” She struck her chest with her fist. Her heart burned. It needed to be torn out.

“A thousand times I opened my mouth to tell you.”

“To tell me what?”

“Everything. Who you were. Who I was. What I’d done. But then I’d look at you. And I knew no matter what I did, I would lose you anyway. To death, or disease, or a f**king car accident. I’ve felt your heartbeat, and it’s so delicate it makes me ache. It paralyzed me, how different we are, and in the end I was a coward. But I’ve loved you a thousand years, and another thousand.”

“You ass**le.” She stopped angrily packing and threw her bag on the bed. A thousand years and another thousand. That’s how long he’d spent loving the girl he’d gotten murdered. “You made me love you more than I did before. Knowing what you did. It’s a violation.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“There’s nothing you can do. You can’t make it like it was before. Neither of us can. No matter how much I want you to.” Everything was hard now, and cold, but it was a million times harder without him. “You should go. Get your stuff. Get out money for us.”

He nodded and turned, then stopped with his hand on the doorknob. “I came here to make sure you had the life you should have had if not for me. But I couldn’t. I wish I could take it all back. Or make this go away.”

Downstairs, the door opened and Lux barked and ran down to the entryway. Cassandra froze, listening to her parents talk to the dog and stomp their feet on the rug. Grocery bags crinkled and clinked down on the countertop, filled with aluminum cans and cardboard and bundles of vegetables.

“Cassandra!” her mother called. “Henry! Come help with the groceries!”

Cassandra threw her duffel into the closet like they might see it from downstairs. They were home. Her mom and dad.

“I thought we’d be gone before they got back. That there wouldn’t be any choice. We just wouldn’t have been able to say good-bye.”

Her knees felt like water. Aidan grasped her arms and held her up.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’ll go. I’ll help them. You stay here.”

“No,” she said. “I want to.” She couldn’t decide if she felt like crying or throwing up. “Aidan. I don’t know if I can do this.”

He pulled her close and held her.

19

THE THINGS YOU CAN’T SEE COMING

Nobody looked back until the lights of Kincade were far behind, an orange glow thrown up into the black sky as the Mustang flew down the highway. It was close to four in the morning. The road was empty except for a few scattered semitrucks. They’d waited until Cassandra’s parents were asleep to leave. Then they’d waited longer, dragging their feet until Aidan finally grabbed their bags and took them silently to the car. Henry was the last to come. He’d knelt on the front steps with his dog, scratching his ears and whispering. Then he’d locked Lux up inside and helped Aidan push the Mustang down the driveway and along the road until they were far enough away to start the engine.

“Is anybody hungry?” Aidan asked from behind the wheel. He’d suggested he drive, since he wouldn’t get tired, but any of them could have done it. Cassandra had never felt more awake in her life. “We could stop at the travel plaza and get something from the gas station. Some chips or soda or something.”

“We’ve got a full tank. Let’s wait.” Cassandra glanced over her shoulder. “Andie, I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry for—you know—being myself.” She shrugged, her face pale and washed out. She was okay for the moment. They all were. But sooner or later it would get bad. Sooner or later they’d realize what they’d left behind, that their lives had been severed and they couldn’t go back.

Let it feel unreal. For as long as it can.

“Aidan, do you even need to eat?” Andie asked. “I mean, you eat all the time, but do you need to? You don’t get tired, so do you need to sleep?”

He swallowed. “Yes. No. I don’t necessarily need to eat. But I want it. And a god needs to do what he wants.” He and Cassandra glanced at each other, waiting for Andie’s smart-ass comment, but it never came.