“How are you feeling?” She put the thing aside and came over.
“Better.” Kinda. Now he was worried about her again. “How are you?”
Had anything changed while he’d been out of it? How long had he—
“No, nothing’s changed. And you’ve been out for about eight hours.”
Ah, so he’d spoken all that.
He took her hand and tried to be subtle about the way he tested how she gripped his palm back, how she sat down on the mattress beside him.
“Is there any particular reason you won’t look me in the eye?” he asked.
“Are you hungry?”
“No, especially not when you’re dodging that question.”
He was being way too direct, but social pleasantries and bullshitting were not his core competencies on a good night.
“I, ah, I went to see Doc Jane.”
Now his blood ran cold as ice. “Why?”
“I just wanted to check in with her.”
“And?”
“She did some tests and . . .”
At that point, his hearing punched its time card and went on break. “I’m sorry, say that again?”
Maybe if she repeated the words, things would somehow sink in through the alarm bells that were DEFCON 1’ing it in his skull.
“. . . when we’re ready to see her.”
Trez sat all the way up. Rubbed his face. Looked over at her—while she stared at the carpet. “Go down to the clinic, you mean?”
“And meet with them both. Manny will be there, too.”
“Okay. Yeah.” He glanced at the bathroom. “I need a shower first.”
“There’s no hurry.”
Right, that was not how he felt at all. Pushing himself around her, he got off the bed and padded into the loo, where he turned on the water, used the toilet, and got under the spray. Fast hands with the shampoo and the soap and he didn’t bother shaving.
Out. Drying off. Heading back into the bedroom with a towel around his waist.
She was still sitting where she had been.
As he passed by at a near run to the walk-in closet, her hand snapped out and grabbed onto his wrist.
When she finally looked up at him, her stare was rock-steady, but intense enough to burn a hole through the back of his head. And for some reason, the combination terrified him.
“I need to talk to you first,” she said.
Closing his eyes briefly, Trez sank down to his knees in front of her, and in the back of his mind, he thought, No, no, I don’t want to hear it. Whatever this is, I don’t want—
Her hands, those beautiful hands, reached up to his face and traced his brows, his cheeks, his jaw. As one of her thumbs brushed over his lower lip, he kissed it.
“Luchas lost it tonight.”
Trez frowned and shook his head. “I’m sorry—what?”
“Down at the clinic. He just . . . lost it. They took part of his leg to save him—I think he’s going to live. But he isn’t happy about it.”
“Oh. Okay. Yeah.”
Even though it was cruel, all he could think was, So what?
“He wanted to die. He was so angry that they didn’t let him.”
What does this have to do with us, he screamed in his head. Who gives a shit—
“I don’t want to go,” she said. “I don’t want to leave you. On some level, I don’t even know how to—I mean, when my time comes, I literally can’t imagine it.”
Trez swallowed through a throat that was tight as a vise.
Before he could respond, she whispered, “I’m terrified.”
“Oh, my queen—”
“About you.” As Trez recoiled—’cuz that was the last thing he expected her to say—she cupped his face. “Seeing that anger in Luchas, that hatred for the world and everybody in it . . . I’m worried that after I go, that’s where you’re going to be.”
Forcing himself to be calm, he said, “Listen, I—”
“Don’t lie to me or yourself. Whatever you say here, it has to be honest.”
Well, didn’t that shut him up good.
“Having you be that angry scares me more than anything that’s going to happen to my body or my soul. Whether there’s life eternal or nothing at all at the end, what I’m really concerned about is you.” Her eyes bored into his. “I want you to promise me—I want you to swear on your heart and mine—that you’ll keep going. That you’ll stay here with iAm and the Brothers and let them take care of you. That you won’t let the grief destroy you. I can’t . . . I won’t be able to help you, so you’re going to have to let them be there for you.”
“Selena, first of all, you’re not going anywhere—”
“My hands are beginning to feel stiff. My feet and ankles, too. I don’t think we have a lot of time left, Trez.”
As Selena spoke, she smoothed Trez’s eyebrows when they threatened to clench up tight. She had practiced the words for hours in her head, trying to find the right combination so he wouldn’t reject the message.
This was very important. She had to say these things and he had to hear them.
“It is going to be so much harder on me to go through this if I’m worried about you.”
She could feel the emotions coursing through him, and wasn’t surprised as his black eyes flashed brilliant green in his dark face—and she wished like hell she could spare him this, but she couldn’t.
“I need you to swear to me,” she said, “here and now, that you won’t close yourself off from the world, that you’ll—”
Trez burst up to his feet and walked around, hands on his hips, head down, like he was trying to get some control over himself.
“Trez, I want you to keep living after I’m gone.” As he started shaking his head, she cut in, “Because that is the only thing that’s going to make any of this okay for me.”
He threw his hands up. “All right, fine. I’ll keep living. Now, can I get dressed so we can go down to the clinic—”
“Trez. Don’t lie to me.”
He stopped and pivoted toward her, his magnificent body full of tension, the muscles in his thighs and his shoulders twitching under his smooth, hairless skin. “What do you want me to say?”
“That you’ll let people help you. You’re going to need it—I would need it if you—”
“And I will! Fine! I’ll even see Mary—I’ll wear a fucking sign around my chest that reads, ‘Processing Grief,’ for fuck’s sake. Happy? Now can we fucking stop talking about this.”
As he barked at her, she closed her eyes in exhaustion. “Trez—”
“You say you can’t imagine leaving me, right? Well, I can’t even think about it. I don’t think about—I refuse to even construct in my mind”—he jabbed his forefinger into his head—“a reality where you’re not here. So not only can I not project what the fuck I’m going to feel like, but I sure as hell can’t swear to a hypothetical.”
“You’d better start thinking about it,” she said roughly. “You’d better begin to prepare. I’m telling you right now that the endgame is coming.”
He seemed to deflate in front of her, even as he stayed his same height and weight. “Don’t talk like that.”
“And I want you to find another female, sometime far off in the future. I want you to . . .” At this, her voice cracked from a pain so great she could have sworn it was going to leave a bloodstain in the center of her shirt. “I don’t want you to spend another nine hundred years sleeping alone.”
As she fell silent, the devastation in him was so great, he stumbled backward and all but fell into the chaise longue.
“I thought you loved me,” he said in a voice that didn’t sound like his.
“I do. With all my—”
He rubbed his sternum. “Then what’s this all about. Why do you want me to go and find some other female—”