I laugh. “No need for sorry.” I kind of want to ask him how it felt, but I’m too self-conscious.

He sits up and reaches out to smooth my hair. His fingers linger on my jawbone, and he says, “I love you, Jules, and not just because you make my thing happy. I love you because you make me happy.”

I grin.

He goes on. “I don’t want to push you into having sex, and I don’t want to push myself into it either. And I don’t want to do it until we are both ready for that, and I don’t know when that is, but I’m pretty sure it’s not today. So I hope you can forgive me for letting things get a little out of hand.”

He chuckles at his pun, and then grows serious again. “I mean it about the love thing, Jules. And I know it’s true, because every time I think about you getting hurt trying to stop one of these visions . . .” He drops his gaze. “Well, I can’t stand it. I can’t lose you. I can’t.”

My eyes well up. And the thing that is so big inside my chest spreads through my body. I have never felt like this before. I lean over and kiss him softly, gently, on the lips.

And then I smile and sit up and pat him on the chest. “Dude,” I say, “I just have to tell you that you buttoned your shirt wrong.”

Which, in JuleSawyer language, means “I love you, too. Maybe even forever.”

Seventeen

When Sawyer drops me off, I go inside and find Rowan sitting at the table playing Clue Junior with the three younger cousins. She gives me the stink-eye. I wipe my chapped lips with the back of my hand to hide my grin and hope I don’t look like I’ve just been tumbling around a steamed-up vehicle with my bra undone for the past forty-five minutes.

“Where’s Trey?” I ask.

“On a date.” Rowan clips the words.

“Oh, cool. What about Mom and Dad?” I ask.

Rowan replies through clenched teeth, “On a date.”

I laugh.

“I’m serious,” Rowan says. “It’s like Trey inspired them. After you left, Mom said they haven’t been on a date in twenty years, and she made Dad go. Then Aunt Mary decided she and Uncle Vito haven’t had a date in eighteen years, so they left too.” She smiles evilly at the kids. “Nick was supposed to babysit.”

“Where’d Nick go?”

Rowan glares, one eyebrow arched. “On. A. Date.”

“Oh my.” I snort.

“Yeah.” She looks at her cards and writes something down. “So why are you home so early?”

“Um . . .” I try to think of something other than Sawyer spooged his pants so we called it a night. “I don’t know. Probably because I could feel your agony.”

Rowan laughs.

The cousins look at me like I’m a jerk. “She’s not in agony,” the oldest of the three announces. “She’s having fun, aren’t you, Ro?”

“Pssh. Yeah, of course. Tons. Gosh, Jules.”

“Sorry.” I retreat to the living room, stare at my phone, where I have no messages from Tori, and pick up one of the library books and try to read it. I have a little trouble concentrating on the story, though, since I keep thinking about Sawyer and getting this goofy smile on my face. I’m kind of pathetic right now. Even the cousins’ yelling doesn’t bother me.

A half hour later Rowan makes everybody go to bed. She comes into the living room and sits on the piano bench next to my chair. And she’s all business. “Any word from Tori?”

“No.” In fact, I kind of forgot all about her for a while.

“You should call her.”

“But her mom might see it’s me.”

“Call the room phone. I’ll call, in case her mom answers. She doesn’t know my voice.”

I tilt my head. “Well, that’s a brilliant idea.”

“See?” she says, stretching into a yawn. “This is why you need me.”

“Isn’t it too late to call?”

“It’s, like, nine fifteen on a Saturday night. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“But she’s not exactly able to be out having fun.”

“Stop stalling.”

“Fine.” I look up the number for the hospital and give Tori’s room number to Rowan.

She calls, and after a listening for a second, punches in the room number. She looks at me. “Ringing,” she whispers. Then her eyes light up. “Hi there, Tori?” She waits. “Oh, sorry. Is Tori able to come to the phone? This is her friend Rowan from UC.” Rowan pauses, then gives me a thumbs-up. She lowers her voice. “Hi, Tori, this is Jules’s sister. We know you can’t talk because of your mom. Maybe now would be a good time to smile or laugh like I said something funny.”

Rowan pauses. “Yes, your head hurts because of the visions and we can help you stop them if you just tell us what’s happening. Is there a good time for me to come by to see you when your mom isn’t there?”

Rowan listens for a minute. Her face grows puzzled. “Oh. I see. Maybe you could e-mail—what’s that?” Rowan frowns. “You’re welcome. Wait. Hello?” She looks at me. “She said she had to go and hung up.”

“Nice going, Demarco.”

“Shut it,” Rowan warns. She hops off the piano bench and lies down on the living room floor, splaying her limbs in all directions. “She must really be under some kind of freaky surveillance over there.”