"I was hoping this time would be different" he whispers.

I turn away, my breath coming in short, shallow gasps as I say, "I don't know if I'm up for all this. I don't know what to do."

He pulls me tight against his chest, his arms wrapped around me, as he says, "There's no rush to decide."

And when I turn, he has this faraway look in his eyes.

"What's the matter?" I ask. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because I suck at good byes," he says, attempting a smile that never gets past his mouth. "See, now there's two things I suck at—love and good byes."

"Maybe they're related." I press my lips together, warning myself not to cry. "So where you going?" I fight to keep my voice calm and neutral, even though my heart doesn't want to beat, and my breath doesn't want to come, and I feel like I'm dying inside.

He shrugs and looks away.

"Are you coming back?"

"Up to you." Then he looks at me and says, "Ever, do you still hate me?"

I shake my head, but hold his gaze.

"Do you love me?"

I turn my head and look away. Knowing I do, knowing I love him with every strand of hair, with every skin cell, with every drop of blood, that I'm bursting with love, boiling over, but I just can't bring myself to say it. But then again, if he can truly read my mind, then I shouldn't have to say it. He should just know.

"It's always nicer when it's spoken," he says, tucking my hair behind my ear, and pressing his lips to my cheek.

"When you do decide, about me, about being immortal, just say the word and I'll be there. I have all of eternity laid out before me, you'll find I'm quite patient." He smiles, then reaches into his pocket, retrieving the silver, crystalencrusted, horse-bit bracelet he bought me at the track. The one I returned when I threw it at him that day in the parking lot. "May I?" he gestures.

I nod, my throat too constricted to speak, as he closes the clasp, then cradles my face between the palms of his hands. Brushing my bangs to the side, and pressing his lips to my scar, infusing me with all of the love and forgiveness I know I don't deserve. But when I try to pull away, he holds me that much tighter and says, "You have to forgive yourself, Ever. You're not responsible for any of it."

"What do you know?" I bite down on my lip.

"I know you blame yourself for something that's not your fault. I know you love your little sister with all of your heart and you ask yourself every day if you're doing the right thing by encouraging her visits. I know you, Ever. I know everything about you."

I turn away, my face wet with tears I don't want him to see."None of that's true. You've got it all wrong. I'm a freak, and bad things happen to everyone I come near, even though I'm the one who deserves it." I shake my head, knowing I don't deserve to be happy, don't deserve this kind of love.

He pulls me into his arms, his touch calm and soothing, but unable to erase the truth."I have to go," he finally whispers.

"But Ever, if you want to love me, if you truly want to be with me, then you'll have to accept what we are. I'll understand if you can't."

And then I kiss him, pressing into him, needing the feel of his lips against mine, basking in the wonderful, warm glow of his love, the moment growing and swelling and expanding until it fills every space, every nook, every cranny.

And when I open my eyes and pull away, I'm back in my room, all alone.

Chapter Thirty-Two

"So what happened? We looked everywhere and never found you. I thought you were on your way?"

I roll over, turning my back to the window and chiding myself for failing to craft an excuse, which puts me in the awkward position of winging it. "I was, but then—well, I kind of got cramps, and—"

"Stop right there!" Miles says. "Seriously, say no more."

"Did I miss anything?" I ask, closing my eyes against the thoughts in his head, the words scrolling before me like a late breaking news ribbon on CNN: Ew! Disgusting! Why do they insist on talking about that stuff?

"Other than the fact that Drina never showed? Nope, not a thing. I spent the first part of the night helping Haven look for her, and the second part, trying to convince her she's better off without her. I swear, you'd think they were dating. Creepiest friendship ever, Ever! Ha! Get it?" He loves making pun of my name.

I clutch my head and crawl out of bed, realizing it's the first morning in over a week that I've woken without a hangover. And even though I know that qualifies as a very good thing, that doesn't change the fact that I feel worse than ever.

"So what's going on? Care to indulge in a little Fashion Island Christmas shopping?"

"Can't. I'm still grounded," I say, pilfering through a pile of sweatshirts and pausing when I get to the one Damen bought me on our Disneyland date, before everything changed, before my life went from very weird to extraordinarily weird.

"How much longer?"

"No say." I drop the phone on my dresser and pull a lime green hoodie over my head, knowing it doesn't really matter how long Sabine grounds me, if I want to go out, I'll go out, I'll just make sure to return before she gets home. I mean, it's hard to contain a psychic. Though it does provide the perfect excuse to stay home, lay low, and avoid all that random energy, which is the only reason I'm going along with it.