If I Die ss-5

by Rachel Vincent

  “Yeah.” We both had class in four minutes, but school had never mattered less. This might be my only chance to explain what had happened and why. To see for myself how he was handling the breakup. To ask him to forgive Tod, even if he couldn’t forgive me—it was killing me that I’d come between brothers, and I wanted to clean up at least that part of the mess we’d made before I lost the chance.

  “I’ll see you later, Em,” I said, and I couldn’t help noting the fury on Sabine’s face as she and Emma watched us walk off together toward the parking lot. But there was something more there, beneath her anger. She was…worried. About what? That I’d try to take him back?

  Nash took an immediate left when the glass doors closed behind us and wound up leaning against the wall, just out of sight from the hallway. For nearly a minute, we both stared at the ground, and I assumed that, like me, he wasn’t sure how to start this conversation. So I jumped in.

  “I’m so sorry about yesterday,” I said, through the lump that had formed in my throat. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. Any of it.” Though my lame apology couldn’t possibly make things okay between us, any more than his apology was able to fix things when he’d messed up.

  “I was kind of hoping you’d say that.” Nash leaned with one shoulder against the bricks, facing me from a foot away, and I couldn’t quite interpret the intense swirl of greens and browns in his irises. “I don’t want to fight, Kaylee. Especially now. I don’t want you to die mad at me, or thinking that I’m mad at you. So if you say it meant nothing, I’ll believe you. It’s Tod I’m pissed at anyway, not you.”

  The second period bell rang, and my head rang with it, and it actually took me the length of that clanging to figure out what he was really saying. And when it finally sank in that he wanted to get back together, my guilt was almost too thick to breathe through.

  “Nash, I…” I glanced at the ground, at a complete loss for words. He didn’t know Tod and I had moved beyond that first kiss, and he’d obviously come to school assuming that if he forgave me, we could pick up right where we’d left off. “Things aren’t the same anymore.”

  “I know,” he said, before I could decide how to continue. “Everything must feel so weird for you now, knowing it’s all going to end. I don’t even want to think about you being gone. I just want to spend this last day with you, and we can forget about what happened yesterday. That’s not important now. What’s important is salvaging what time we have left together.”

  Crap. I’d never felt more guilty in my life, and it was worse knowing that he wasn’t mad at me when he had every right to be, and if I weren’t about to die, we both knew he would be.

  “Nash, I really appreciate that—” Lame. “—and I know you’re just trying to make sure that my last day on earth doesn’t suck.” True. “But we can’t get back together just because I’m going to die tomorrow. That’s not a real reason.”

  “We shouldn’t have broken up in the first place,” he insisted, and I realized he was only hearing what he wanted to hear. Competing vines of unease and guilt wound slowly up my spine, tightening as he continued. “When I messed up, you forgave me. Now I’m forgiving you. You were scared and confused—who wouldn’t be in your position—and he was there, like he’s always there.” Nash shrugged. “I’m still gonna kick his ass the next time he has the balls to face me, but today’s about us. You and me. So let’s get out of here and have some fun. This may be our last chance.”

  He reached for my hand, but I pulled away before he could touch me, and an irritated twist of green shot through his irises, piercing stubborn composure to reveal something stronger and darker than mere determination.

  Uh-oh.

  “Nash, I need you to understand something,” I said. “Tod was the catalyst for our breakup, but he wasn’t the reason. He’s not the source of our problems. Nothing’s been the same between us since the winter carnival.” Since the thing we didn’t talk about. It was always there between us, making him too cautious and putting me on edge. “You know that.”

  “That’s not true.” He shook his head firmly, stubbornly. “We moved on. We were fine. It was working.”

  “No it wasn’t. Not like it used to.” I was always afraid he’d slip up, and it would happen again—even Sabine had told him that. Hell, he had trouble trusting himself half the time. “I’ve tried to put it behind me. I tried so hard, and I didn’t realize it wasn’t really working until I felt something that did work.”

  “What are you saying?” He looked like I’d just smacked him in the head with a two-by-four—like he didn’t know whether to cry or strike back.

  Why was there no greeting card for letting a guy down easy the day before you’re scheduled to tumble into the dark hereafter? “I’m sorry for what I did. I’m sorry for how this happened. And I’m so, so sorry that I didn’t see the problem sooner. I didn’t want to see it, because I wanted us to work.” My vision blurred with tears and I had to swallow the lump forming in my throat. I didn’t want to say what needed to be said, but it wasn’t fair to either of us to leave this hanging. “But we don’t work. Not as a couple. Not anymore.”

  Nash shook his head, frowning, more frustrated than surprised now. “Yes we do.”

  “Nash, you need someone with more than I have to give you. More than I’d have, even if I were going to live.” Someone who didn’t have to talk herself into trusting him. “You need someone who understands the way you think and sees into your soul.”

  “That’s you.”

  “No, it’s not. I don’t understand what’s going on in there most of the time.” I glanced at his chest, where his heart beat beneath his shirt, then back up to his face. “I don’t know what you want from life. I don’t know where you want to go to college. I don’t know where your father’s buried. I don’t even know how you feel about losing Scott and Doug. You don’t tell me any of that.”

  “Because I don’t want to scare you!”

  “That’s my point. You need someone you aren’t worried about scaring.”

  “He’s not getting it,” Sabine said, and I whirled around to find her walking toward us, from the direction of the quad, her sneakers silent on the spring grass. How long had she been there? “Maybe because you’re leaving out one important detail.” She stepped onto the sidewalk and aimed an angry, challenging look my way. “Why don’t you tell him what this is really about?”

  “Go away, Sabine.” My pulse spiked, and I realized with one glance at her that she knew what he didn’t want to hear and I didn’t want to tell him—that Tod and I weren’t a once-kiss mistake. That we’d gotten together for real after Nash and I broke up—either because she’d read my fears, or she was just plain perceptive. Or both. “This is none of your business.”

  “What is this really about?” Nash glanced from her to me with dread twisting tight coils of brown and green around his pupils.

  “She’s talking about Tod, but this isn’t about him. He’s not what went wrong between us.”

  “What about Tod?” Nash demanded through clenched teeth.

  I exhaled slowly. “He and I…kind of…got together last night.”

  Nash’s irises went still, and the only interpretation I had for that was that he didn’t know what to feel. Then the colors in his eyes burst into furious motion—a true storm of color. “What the hell does that mean? You slept with my brother?”

  “No! You know, there are entire moments in some people’s lives that aren’t about sex!”

  “You were the one pushing the issue this week, Kaylee,” he snapped, jaw tight, forehead deeply furrowed.

  “I know. And that was a mistake.”

  Too late, I realized what I’d said, and how he would misinterpret it. “Sex with me would have been a mistake?” He bristled with anger, but the wound went deeper than that, and we all three knew it. “Why? Because you’re so pure and spotless, and I might have tarnished your shine?”

  “That’s not what I—”

  “Tha
t is what you meant.” He was getting louder, and I was afraid someone would hear him, but there were no windows on this side of the building, and the doors stayed closed. “You’re purity personified, and I’m one big moral question mark. So I guess you’re really doing me a favor. Maybe I won’t look so bad when you’re not standing next to me,” Nash snapped, and my face stung, like he’d slapped me. Tears formed in my eyes, but I blinked them away, clinging to anger as I faced the death of any hope I’d had for us parting on good terms.

  “What is wrong with you?” He’d never spoken to me like that before. He wouldn’t.

  “I caught my girlfriend making out with my brother in front of half the school!” He was shouting now, his hands curled into fists at his sides. “I think that entitles me to a little anger.”

  “Yeah, it does.” I wasn’t going to deny that. And I’d been pissed when I’d caught him kissing Sabine, even though he hadn’t initiated that. “But I don’t know what else you want me to say. I’ve never been sorrier about anything in my life. Tod feels so bad he’s prepared to spend the rest of your life trying to make it up to you.”

  “But he wasn’t sorry enough to keep his hands to himself last night, was he?” His eyes shined with angry tears, even as his irises churned with pain. “You let him touch you?”

  “Oh, hell…” Sabine mumbled. “Don’t answer that.”

  I glanced at her in surprise, and she seemed to be trying to tell me something without actually saying it. Some kind of warning. But by then I could hardly see through my own anger.

  “That’s none of your business,” I said softly. Yet I could feel myself flush.

  Nash blinked, openly wounded for a second before fresh fury rolled over him, straightening his spine, squaring his shoulders.

  “Fine,” he said through clenched teeth, and the bright green coil of malice twisting in his eyes seemed to suck the air straight from my lungs. “I guess I should have seen this coming. I mean, you two have so much in common, like death, and lies, and spying on people you claim to care about. He’s the cold corpse to your frigid bitch.”

  His words stung so sharp and deep that at first I couldn’t breathe. Even Sabine looked surprised by the venom in his tone, and in the second it took me to recover, I realized something was truly wrong. Nash wouldn’t talk to me like that, no matter how mad I made him, or how badly I hurt him. He wasn’t that kind of guy.

  “Give me your hand.” I reached out for it when he refused, and when he tried to step back, I lunged forward and caught his fingers.

  They were ice-cold.

  No. “Damn it, Nash.” I turned to Sabine without letting go of him. “He’s using again.” And it was all my fault. Again.

  18

  “What do you care?” Nash pulled his freezing fingers from my grasp and leaned against the brick wall. “You’d rather be with the living dead than with me, so why don’t you two just go haunt someone and leave me alone.”

  I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t decide whether to yell at him or wrap one arm around him and take him somewhere safe until he came down from his bitter high. I didn’t know whether to hate him for giving in again, or hate myself for driving him to it.

  Finally I whirled on Sabine with a furious insight. “Did you know about this?”

  She shrugged, but looked distinctly unhappy. “Harmony caught us with a bottle of Jack last night and kicked me out. I left to feed, then went back after she left for work, and he was like this, but I couldn’t find his balloon. He finally fell asleep early this morning, so I left him for half an hour to grab a change of clothes, and he was high again when I got back. But he insisted on coming to school to talk to you.”

  “Shut up, Sabine,” Nash snapped, but she ignored him.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I demanded.

  “Why should I? He’s not your problem anymore.”

  I gaped at her in disbelief. “Breaking up with him doesn’t mean I don’t care about him!” Nash and I had been through too much together for that to ever be possible. Our parents were close. His mom was the only mother figure I had. He was the only other bean sidhe my age I’d ever met. And my feelings for his brother would have kept me and Nash in each other’s lives, even if none of the rest of that were true. At least, they would if I were scheduled to live past Thursday. “And it definitely doesn’t mean I want to watch him die!”

  Sabine rolled her eyes. “He’s not going to die. I’ll take him home with me until he comes down, then I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again. That’s the difference between you and me—I’m not going to run from his problems.”

  That wasn’t fair. But it was true.

  “Both of you shut up!” Nash brushed past us and stomped into the parking lot. “I’m nobody’s problem but my own.”

  I rushed after him with Sabine on my heels, and we caught up with him just past the first row of cars. “Nash, go home with Sabine. She’ll make sure you don’t kill yourself.”

  “Why bother? I have to be dead to get your attention, right?” He took a left in the first aisle, and I had to jog to catch up. “What are you, some kind of necrophiliac? ’Cause that’s really sick.”

  “Damn it, Nash.” As Sabine caught up with us, I grabbed his arm and spun him around to face me before he could take another step, trying to ignore the cold that seeped through his sleeve and into my fingers. “I don’t expect you to understand about me and Tod, and I’m so sorry that we hurt you. I can’t justify what I did and I can’t explain what I feel for him, and I honestly don’t know where it would go, if I were going to be here past tomorrow. All I know is how good I feel when I’m with him, and how I want to be with him when he’s gone, and how, when he looks at me, I get this feeling in the pit of my stomach, like I’m falling, but I can’t remember jumping, and I don’t think I’ll ever hit the ground.”

  Nash jerked his arm from my grip. “I do understand—that’s how I feel about you. But that doesn’t matter, does it? It wouldn’t matter even if tomorrow never comes and you get to live forever.”

  “Nash, tomorrow will come, and I will die. And you can’t deal with that like you’re dealing with this. No more frost. Promise me.”

  “You can’t make out with my brother, then ask for promises from me. Not that any of that matters now, considering we’re both going to lose you in a matter of hours,” Nash said. “But you’re an idiot if you can’t see what Tod’s really doing. He’s clinging to you for the same reason he hangs around me and Mom—he thinks if he has something to keep him anchored in the human world, he won’t lose his humanity. That’s all you are to him, Kaylee. You’re just another anchor helping him cling to what he can’t let go of.”

  “That’s not true.” Unshed tears burned in my eyes and behind my nose, and I refused to let them fall. “Why would he bother? What kind of anchor am I going to be for him when I’m dead?”

  Nash huffed in disgust. “Sabine was right—you only see what you want to see. It’s easier for you to cast him as the hero and me as the villain, ’cause then you can justify running away when I needed you. I needed you, Kaylee, and you weren’t there. And now look what’s happened.” He spread his arms to indicate his own frost high, and guilt and anger buzzed inside me like a swarm of wasps in my chest.

  “I never cast you as the villain, Nash. You’re doing that to yourself.” My openhanded gesture took in his entire body, currently full of Netherworld poison, and Sabine bristled.

  “You know this is at least partly your fault,” she snapped.

  “I know.” It bruised something deep inside me to see him on frost again, and it hurt even worse to know I’d driven him to relapse. Frost—Demon’s Breath—was more dangerous to humans than to bean sidhes, but Nash couldn’t dodge permanent damage forever. While he was high, the drug would magnify his emotions—in this case, heartbreak and anger. It would also amplify any aggression—true even in the most even-tempered users—and compromise his judgment. But the long-term effects—insanity and potential
ly death—were much scarier.

  I couldn’t just leave him like that, knowing it might be the last time I ever saw him. “What can I do? You want me to call your mom?” Harmony knew how to help him through this. She’d done it before.

  “No.” Something dark and determined stirred in his irises, and an uneasy pressure settled into my chest. “Can you just…give me a ride home?” he said, and Sabine stiffened on my left.

  “I’ll take you home!” she insisted, but he shook his head.

  “I need to talk to Kaylee. Spend the day with me,” he said, holding my gaze with one so intent I couldn’t look away. “Keep me company.”

  My heart tripped unevenly and I glanced at Sabine to find her jaw clenched, her eyes dark with something stronger than fear, more dangerous than anger.

  “Both of us?” I wouldn’t go without her. I couldn’t do that to either of us.

  Nash shook his head. “Just you and me. One last time.” When I hesitated, he sighed. “Please, Kaylee. I just want to talk.”

  “She doesn’t want you!” Sabine shouted, and we both turned to her in surprise. “Not like that. She can’t trust you, but she was scared to admit it and you were scared to face it. But now it’s out, and you both need to just move on.”

  “Sabine, let it go,” Nash said, and I could feel the seductive warmth of his Influence, which sent chills skittering up and down my spine, even though it wasn’t directed at me. “I just want more time,” he said, and though he was looking at her, Influencing her, he was really talking to me. “A chance to say goodbye.”

  “Stop it!” Sabine spat, visibly shaking free of his words, sunlight glinting off the ring in her upper ear. He couldn’t control her unless she wanted to be controlled. For her, his Influence was a game, and today she wasn’t playing.

  Nash reached for me, and when I stepped back, I bumped into the side of a dusty blue sedan. “Just come talk to me. We don’t have to go to my house. We can go to the lake and feed the geese.”