Even though I wanted to look away, my gaze shifted right. A single bullet wound marked my mother’s chest. Black-red stained her peach-colored shift, darkest in the center and brightening as it fanned out. Her eyes were open, sightless and horrified. I wondered who’d suffered the fate of watching the other die first, knowing what was coming next.

Then the scene morphed and I was no longer seventeen. The bedroom was my own. There was only one body, dressed in creamy satin, the small hole in her chest turning the pale fabric red. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t cross the threshold of the doorway to save her.

I woke with a shout. Bolting upright, I glanced around the darkened room. I was in Tenley’s bed. Heart pounding, covered in sweat, I fanned my hand out over the space beside me, hoping to find her warm, whole body. There was nothing but emptiness. Panic set in, until I remembered she had left. Yet the clarity of the nightmare didn’t fade as lucidity returned.

I couldn’t get the image of Tenley’s bleeding out to stop flashing behind my eyes like a horror movie. Bile rose in my throat. I stumbled to the bathroom, blinded myself with the light, and barely made it to the toilet as I threw up. The nightmares weren’t getting better. As the scene replayed in my head, my stomach gave another violent squeeze, and the remnants of dinner splashed into the bowl until there were only dry heaves.

I stayed draped over the seat with my forehead resting on my arm, unable to move, afraid I was in for another round. I finally pulled myself up on shaky arms, supporting my weight on even shakier legs so I could rinse with water and a mouthwash chaser.

My lack of control disgusted me. After so many years, it should have been easier to deal with this shit. I turned away from the sink and glanced across the hall to Tenley’s bedroom. The comforter was bunched up and the pillows were scattered on the floor. No dead Tenley. No blood staining the sheets.

I left the bathroom light on as I made my way back to the bed. The clock on the nightstand flashed 4:47 A.M. I wasn’t about to fall back asleep, where I’d be pulled into that fucked-up nightmare again. I palmed my phone and sat down on the floor, my back against the edge of the bed. The wood frame dug in just below my shoulders; the padding of the mattress cushioned the back of my head. Tenley’s mattress was softer than mine. I liked it better.

I keyed in the password. Went to contacts. Stared at the Tenley and TK thumbnail attached to her information. I hadn’t called in two weeks, afraid she would answer, afraid she wouldn’t. But right now I needed to hear her voice, even if only the recording. I hit call and watched the screen light up, the faint ring coming through. Two rings, three . . . one more and voice mail would kick in.

But the fourth ring was cut short. I stopped breathing. I never actually expected her to answer.

4

TENLEY

The sound of my cell pulled me out of a dream. I resisted, Hayden’s beautiful face fading as I blinked in the darkness. I grabbed the phone before the call went to voice mail. The clock on the nightstand read close to five in the morning.

“Hello?” I said, my voice gravelly with sleep.

There was a soft exhale. “You answered,” he said in disbelief. “I didn’t think you would. I called before and you never did. But this time . . . why didn’t you answer before?”

At his distress, I curled around the phone wishing I could hug him through the device. “I wanted to.”

“Then you should have.”

Over the past three weeks I almost had, a number of times. The ache in my chest, which grew worse every day, had become a stab of agony. If I’d answered his calls, I would have gone back to Chicago, instead of taking care of things in Arden Hills, regardless of whether I deserved Hayden.

“I know. I wish I had. Are you all right? Did something happen?”

“I had a bad dream.” He sounded so small, as though it shamed him to call for such a reason.

“Oh, Hayden. I’m so sorry.” My eyes welled with tears. “What was it about?”

Another soft noise came through the receiver. Some rustling. A low thud repeated twice, a third time, a fourth. A choking noise, followed by a loud slam. The distance made me powerless. I wanted to reach through the phone and take away the pain, as he’d done for me so many times.

“Hayden?”

“Sorry.” He coughed. “I dropped something.”

I wasn’t fooled. “Was it a nightmare?”

“I thought it was real. When I woke up I thought—” There was another low thud.

“Was it about your parents?”

“No.”

“Was it about me?”

“Yes.” His voice cracked. “You were, you were, you were— Fuck!” Hayden stumbled over the words.

“It’s okay, now. I’m right here. I’m right here and I’m fine. Nothing bad happened to me.” I hoped if I kept talking, I could calm him. “It was just a dream.”

“I couldn’t get to you. You were dying and I couldn’t—the bleeding, there was so much blood and you were, and you were—” He started to hyperventilate. “I was so fucking empty without you. I’m so empty.” He broke then. His words bled together, becoming nonsense. “I didn’t know it was going to feel like this. I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have let you—I want, I want—”

I clapped a palm over my mouth to stop my sob, horrified that I’d done this to him. I thought when I left, he would see what a bad choice I was. Instead he was falling apart.

“Shh, it’s okay, Hayden. I’m so sorry. I wish I was there with you,” I said softly.

“Then come home,” he pleaded.

“I will. Leaving you was so hard. I know I should have called and explained. But I only have a few more things to take care of.”

“And then you’ll come home?”

“Yes. As soon as I can.” I wiped away tears with the back of my hand.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

During a long stretch of silence, I listened to him breathe.

“Tenley?”

“I’m still here.”

“I—nothing is the same without you.” His breath left him in a rush. “Come home soon, okay?”

“I’m trying. It’s been really complicated.”

“How much longer are you going to be?” His voice rose with panic.

“I don’t know. I’d leave right now if I could—I swear it, Hayden.”

“But I need you here. I miss you. I can’t—” There was a pause, and when he spoke again, his tone was flat. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called.”

“I’m glad you—” There was a click. “Hayden?”

The line was dead. I looked at the screen, confused as to what had happened. I pulled him up in my list of contacts. The first picture I ever took of him in my apartment appeared on the screen, the one of his feeding icing to TK. I smoothed my thumb over it. I missed her almost as much as I missed him. I hit call. It rang and went to voice mail. I tried again. This time it dumped me straight into voice mail.

“No, no, no!”

I should have told him I missed him when I had the chance. I tried again; got voice mail again. He’d given up on me. The realization made me sick as I hit redial over and over, hoping I could undo some of the harm. But it was more of the same. He didn’t pick up.

“Damnit!”

I hurled my phone across the room in frustration. The second it left my fingertips, I dove after it, but it was too late. It hit the wall and clattered to the floor. I snatched it up, praying I hadn’t damaged it in my moment of stupidity. The screen had spider-webbed on impact.

“Shit! No!” I punched the button violently, keying in my password, but it was no use. I couldn’t get past the first screen. I threw open the door and ran down the hall to the office. I fumbled with the landline, punching in Hayden’s number.

“Please, please, please, please . . . ” I begged, crossing my fingers he would pick up. He didn’t.

Tears blurred my vision as I tried to call my own phone. It let out a weak ring, then died.