“You didn’t eat,” Bailen said.
It wasn’t a question.
I shook my head and added more swirling lines to the page, which now appeared cluttered and complex. It was almost complete—almost.
“You have to eat. You can’t ignore food just because you have important stuff on your tracker.”
I shook my head, not taking my attention off the drawing. I was glad my tracker wasn’t barking at me about low blood sugar.
“Kaya! Stop!”
The words rolled off as I drew more lines to the paper.
He grabbed my hand, forcing the charcoal from it. The stick, now a small stub, dropped onto the paper.
“Don’t give me that look. You need a break. You’ve been at this for hours. It’s nearly sunrise.”
“Sunrise?” I’d stayed up all night with no concept of how much time had passed. My fingers weren’t cramped, though, so it couldn’t have been too long.
Bailen placed a hand on my cheek and gently nudged my face sideways so I could meet him. “I’m worried about you.”
“Don’t be. I’m fine.”
“Girl fine, or really fine?”
“I’m fine!”
Pushing up from the floor, I grabbed the plate and moved over to the small table in the corner of the room. I picked up a piece of bread from the plate, tore off a chunk, and shoved it into my mouth.
I swallowed the cold, rock-like bread, wishing I hadn’t let it sit so long. “See, I’m eating. Now can you let me finish?” I asked. “I’m almost done with this one.”
“Sure.”
He wasn’t happy about it but seemed satisfied for now. I wished he had let me finish the drawing without all the nagging about eating.
I found a longer piece of charcoal and returned to the drawing. I added the last few lines, then sat back, admiring the picture. I put the image in the corner of my vision and compared, tracing over each line painstakingly slow to make sure I had gotten it right. Then, just to be certain, I moved the image in my line of sight over the one I’d drawn. Everything matched up perfectly. After checking the final line, I picked up the drawing and leaned it against the wall.
Backing away, I moved next to Bailen and laid my head on his shoulder. He brushed the damp hair from my forehead.
“I hope there’s some good information in there,” I muttered.
Bailen remained quiet for some time before he said, “I’m sure there is, but it’s not entirely clear yet. It’s one piece in a very complex puzzle.”
I yawned and moved to roll out more paper, but Bailen grabbed my arm.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“To start another drawing.”
“Oh, no, you don’t.” He scooped me up and laid me on the bed, dropping next to me. “Take a break.”
I shook my head and opened my mouth to speak, but he put a finger to my lips.
“Less talking, more relaxing.”
“But…”
“Shh.” He leaned in to kiss me.
I didn’t try to stop him. In fact, I welcomed the change of pace. His kisses were slow and soft, relaxing. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close, squeezing me as if he were a bubble protecting me from the world. My hand eased around his waist. I slid my fingers underneath his T-shirt, lightly brushing them across his skin. He shivered at my touch then slipped his hand under the hem of my shirt.
Bailen left a trail of kisses from my cheek downward. His hands made their way across my hips. My heart pounded. Each thud matched one of Bailen’s kisses as they moved across the base of my neck. I tugged at his shirt and drew it over his head. He stretched out on his side next to me. My hand ran over his bare chest, warm and inviting.
I tilted my head so our lips could meet again and pulled him onto me, warming myself further with his body heat. I didn’t want the moment to end.
Bailen slid next to me again and rolled on his back, placing his hands behind his head. I let out a long breath. Despite his warm body at my side, a cold emptiness chilled me from the inside out. “Is something wrong?” I whispered.
“No. Everything is perfect.”
“Then why did you stop?”
He faced me. “Because you need to sleep. We can finish this later.” He wrapped his arm around me and drew me into him, kissing my forehead. I rested my head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat, so unfamiliar.
I didn’t get it. Most guys would have kept going. I wanted him to, but my eyes drooped as the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest soothed me. The gentle thumping of his heartbeat distracted me from the important job I had to do.
Thirty-One
I awoke to someone shuffling around the room. My head throbbed. What day is it? Forget what day, what time is it? The days were all blending together. As much as I loved drawing, it had worn me down. I rolled over, trying to focus on the giant blur.
“Bailen?” I asked in a hoarse whisper.
“No, try again. I know we’re twins, but we don’t look that much alike.”
I groaned and flopped onto my back. Peyton. The last thing I needed was more smart comments from her. “What are you doing here?” I asked, blinking away my blurry vision.
“I brought dinner,” she said in a sickeningly sweet, singsong voice.
“Dinner?” Had I really slept the whole day?
“Yes, dinner.”
“Ugh,” was all I could manage. I sat up and leaned against the wall. “What day is it?”
“Friday.”
“Friday?” The days had all blurred together.
“Do I need to repeat myself?”
I shook my head, but the pain continued to swirl. “Night?”
“What part of dinner did you not get?”
I ignored her and focused on the word dinner. Shabbat. Oh, the irony of it all.
“You look like shit. You should get more sleep.”
“I was sleeping until you marched your ass in here.”
Peyton’s stone face didn’t crack.
“But seeing as I’m awake, I should work.” Shabbat or not, I needed to draw. Surely, there was some kind of forgiveness clause for fighting evil tech overlords, especially ones that had kept Shabbat from so many for so long. Besides, we were running out of time. The upgrade was creeping up on us and the Ghosts still needed time to analyze all the drawings for weaknesses.
And yet Peyton wasn’t budging.
“Where’s Bailen?”
“He had work to do. He asked me to bring you food.”
“Well, that was awful nice of you. What gives?”
“What? I can’t get to know my brother’s girlfriend?” She sounded innocent, but her grimace gave her away.
“Nope. Not buying it. He sent you to play nice, didn’t he?” I asked. “What do you want, Peyton? I have a lot of stuff to do.” I stumbled across the room and picked up half of a sandwich from the plate on the table, but my vision spun in protest. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment of peace. When I opened them, I was met with Peyton’s mock hurt expression. Why is she acting so weird?
“Come on. Cut me some slack. Clue me in,” I said.
The expression remained, but she said nothing. “Out with it. I don’t have time for your crap.” I paused, hoping I’d pushed one of her buttons. Still nothing, so I let the next phrase spill out of my mouth before I had time to think about it. “Not to mention if you’d stop fighting with Bailen…” I stopped abruptly, not knowing where I was going with that statement. I’d heard them yelling through the halls for days, but the most I’d ever made out was comments about rescuing their dad.
Her lips pulled tight. She marched toward me with her finger pointed at my chest. “That fight with my brother is none of your business.”
“Ah, now we’re getting somewhere.” I eyed her, attempting not to flinch as she closed the gap between us. “You and Bailen—”
“My relationship with my brother doesn’t concern you.” Our faces were inches apart.
; “And my relationship with Bailen doesn’t concern you. But that didn’t stop you from sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong!”
We glared at each other, neither of us wavering. I cocked my head to the side and crossed my arms.
Finally, she took a deep breath, backed away, and said, “I’m sorry.” She shook her head and sat on the edge of the bed. “He’s all I have left.”
With one sentence, her hard edges crumbled. She drew her knees into her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs, her chin resting on top.
Why me? Why now? Peyton hadn’t exactly made things easy on me, and I had drawings to finish. I didn’t have time to deal with her breakdown. But a tiny voice inside told me to help her. Nagged me. She didn’t have anyone. No family other than Bailen and her dad. No girl friends or females our age. Although Peyton wasn’t very girly, I was guessing she needed some girl talk. I must have seemed like the best option.
She buried her head in her hands, her body quaking. Is she crying? For fuck’s sake! If it were Lydia, I’d hug her and tell her everything would be okay. I’d let her cry until the whole problem came spilling out of her like an upturned carton of milk.
But it wasn’t Lydia. Peyton was the opposite of Lydia—two different ends of the spectrum. If only Lydia were here now. She’d know what to do.
I plopped next to Peyton on the bed. I reached out but hesitated before I touched her shoulder. Dropping my hand, I asked, “What’s wrong?”
She took a deep breath then muttered, “Nothing. I’m fine.”
“Girl fine or actual fine?” I asked, hoping the stolen phrase might get a reaction from her.
She lifted her head. Her puffy red eyes met mine. Her normal sarcastic intensity masked the sorrow that previously filled her. “Jeez! You’ve been spending way too much time with my brother. I’m cutting you off.”
“Ha! Then who would you make fun of?”
She snorted but didn’t say anything. The awkward silence smothered us.
“Do you need to talk?” I asked in an attempt to move the conversation along.
“Maybe.” She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Look, I know we aren’t best friends, but you can talk to me. Whatever you say is between us.”
She sucked in a deep breath, as if contemplating my trustworthiness.
“I always wanted a sister. And don’t sisters tell each other everything?” I continued, hoping to push her into talking. The faster I got it out of her, the faster I could get to drawing.
“I don’t know. I’ve always been stuck with Bailen.” She paused. “Okay, stuck isn’t the right word, but I didn’t grow up around many women.”
“Your mom?”
Without missing a beat, she said, “She died. Bailen and I were young. Dad doesn’t talk about her much.”
“I’m sorry.” The words came out as a whisper. Another awkward silence persisted. Her words hung in the air like a thick cloud. I moved to the floor and pulled out my latest drawing. “Mind if I…” I pointed to the paper and Peyton shook her head.
I opened up the second-to-last image in the files. I was nearly there. I started to draw, letting my hand take over absentmindedly. The scratching of the charcoal on the paper filled the quiet.
Soon, I wondered if she was still there sitting behind me. “So what’s really bothering you?”
The silence continued. I dropped the charcoal and spun around, expecting an empty bed. Peyton was still sitting there, staring blankly at my art, her legs drawn up, her chin resting on her knees.
I waved my hand in front of her a few times. She blinked then focused on me.
“It’s Bailen. You’re afraid of losing him.”
“I think I already have. He spends hours inspecting your drawings. And whatever free time he has, he spends with you.”
I didn’t know how to respond. My first instinct was to apologize, but it wasn’t really my fault. I wasn’t sure she thought so, either. In the absence of words, I returned to my drawing. I could easily get lost in it.
“We used to be so close. We did everything together. Then he got into computers and spent all his time chasing this dream of freedom. I followed him, but I don’t think I can anymore. It’s going to get him killed,” she said. “I’ll either end up right next to him or have no one left.”
“Your dad isn’t gone, you know. We’ll get him back. And my parents, too.”
Peyton still seemed dazed, like her body was here, but her mind was in the tracker network. I wasn’t even sure if she heard me, so I kept sketching.
“This goal of his… I’m not sure it’s worth it anymore.”
I slammed my piece of charcoal on the ground and it shattered. “That’s enough! What happened to that strong, crazy rider who rescued me from the authorities? The girl who doesn’t take any crap from anyone?” I whipped around. “What’s wrong with you?”
Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes. “I didn’t do that for you.” She stood from the bed. “You know what? I can’t pretend anymore.” She stormed toward the door, but I beat her there and blocked the way.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You aren’t the only one who lost someone they care about. I can’t pretend it doesn’t bother me anymore.” She tried to shove past me, but I pushed back. “Kaya, let me go or this won’t end well.” The hard edge was back in her voice, but it lacked the usual sense of carefree sarcasm. There was so much pain behind it.
“Tell me what you’re talking about, and I’ll let you go.”
I could have sworn the heat building in my face was coming from the flames about to shoot out of her eye sockets. “You weren’t the only one who loved Jake,” she spat, “I’m done pretending he only cared about you,” then she shouldered past me and was gone, leaving me frozen in place.
Her words ripped open the healing wound in my heart. How could I not have seen it? No wonder Peyton hated me so much. Jake had died protecting me. If it weren’t for me, he’d still be here.
Images of him coughing up blood swarmed through my head. The massive bruise across his stomach. His last words. His pinky brushing against mine. My breaths waivered, and my vision blurred. I was back in the barn, Jake in my arms, glassy eyes fixed on me. My chest clenched, rock solid and unmoving, almost as if someone were standing on it.
My legs buckled, sending my knees hard to the ground. Red and white streaks crisscrossed in my vision. Pain shot through my kneecaps up into my stomach, where it settled, wrapping around my insides.
Thirty-Two
“Kaya?” The voice sounded like it was coming from the opposite end of a tunnel. “Kaya!”
“Jake?” I choked out. My vision cleared. Not Jake. Jake had died in front of me weeks ago. And he hadn’t told me about his feelings for Peyton. My body ached with the knowledge that he’d belonged to her too. Had I ever really known my brother?
Bailen pulled me into him and held me. He squeezed so tightly, as if his arms could remove all the upset energy coursing through my veins. Unfortunately, the pain couldn’t be forced from my body like juice from fruit. Despite my fragile state, I was thankful for the pain. It let me know that everything was still real and not some awful nightmare. People were counting on me. The pain, the loss—it hadn’t all been for nothing.
But Jake should have told me about Peyton. Hell, there were a lot of things Jake should have told me. About the Ghosts, about Dad, about so many other things. He used to tell me everything. Now he’d never tell me anything again. What other secrets had he kept from me?
I didn’t have time to worry about it. I had a job to do. I pushed away from Bailen and snatched the charcoal so I could draw. The lines were so sharp and heavy, as if they carried a portion of the burden, a fraction of everything I’d experienced and lost.
Sometime later, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I shrugged it off, continuing to etch lines into the paper. I slashed at the paper, hoping my abrupt movements would fling the sadness from my body. It didn’t. My
arm was the only part of me that still worked. Everything else had a dull, persistent tingle. The only thing telling me I wasn’t dreaming or dead.
I swung my hand and the charcoal tore through the paper with a soft ripping noise. I cursed under my breath for being so careless. I wished it were my skin tearing instead. I wanted to feel something else besides frozen inside. I sliced at the paper again, imagining the charcoal as a knife. Again and again, I tore the paper until a hand grasped mine. The charcoal slipped between my fingers.
I spun around and buried my head in Bailen’s soft shirt, letting the tears fall freely. Crying in his arms had become a habit. But I didn’t care. I wanted so badly to be strong, but I couldn’t keep that up forever. The stress, the exhaustion—it was all getting to me. I’d come a long way, but there was still so much left to do.
Although the Ghosts had opened me up to the world as it really was, a world that had challenged my normal, that had let me see things differently, nothing had prepared me for the realization that I’d known very little about my own family—my dad and now Jake. Did my mom have secrets too?
I just wanted it all to be over so I could move on, no longer stuck in these constant reminders, reminders of what I had and what was just out of reach. I couldn’t go back. But I wasn’t sure I wanted to. Although the end approached, it didn’t seem close enough.
He pressed his lips softly against my scalp. “It’s okay. Peyton told me.”
“You think this is about Peyton?” I shook my head. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Bailen shook his head. “I never knew for sure, but I suspected. I never pushed her on it, though. She’s always kept that stuff quiet. I just wanted her to be happy.”
“Yeah, happy,” I muttered as I wiped a tear from my cheek.
“Does it really matter if they hid their feelings?”
“I guess not. But I feel like I didn’t know my brother.”
Bailen opened his mouth then closed it again. The muscles straining in his forehead said it all. That he wasn’t sure what words would calm me down. “You knew your brother better than anyone here,” he said.
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