“And I fully support that right. Here.” I pushed away from my desk and handed him the carton of fried rice I’d brought from the kitchen, with a fork sticking up straight from the center. I didn’t know whether or not he could use chopsticks, but I knew Tod could not. At all. “You should eat.”

“Thanks.” He took the carton and glanced at me, but then turned back to Sabine. I headed for the hall to give him space, but when he spoke, I stopped, one hand on the doorknob. “What if she dies?”

I let go of the door and turned around. “She’s not going to die.”

“But what if she does? What if she dies without ever waking up, and I don’t get the chance to tell her...all the things I need to say? All the things she needs to hear?” He exhaled slowly, and I could practically see his optimism die. “I’ve wasted so much time. And so many words. What if I don’t get the chance to make it right?”

He was looking at me now, as if I might have the answer. As if I had to have the answer. “Do you love her?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, but I don’t think I ever really stopped. I just didn’t realize it until she came back and made me remember...everything we had. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t love you, too....”

I actually laughed, just a little, over the irony. I couldn’t help it. “You don’t have to apologize to me for loving your girlfriend, Nash. In fact, don’t ever apologize for loving someone. Just make sure that when she wakes up—and she will wake up—you tell her what you just told me.”

The door squeaked open at my back, and Tod stepped into the room. We’d both been making an effort to stay corporeal when we weren’t alone, for everyone else’s benefit. “Any change?” he asked with a concerned glance in Sabine’s direction.

“Nothing yet.” Nash cleared his throat nervously, and I realized what he was about to say just a second too late to prevent it. “While you’re here, I...um...I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Tod crossed both arms over his short-sleeved tee. “What did you do now?”

“Nothing. Nothing recent, anyway.”

“Then what are you sorry for?”

Crap, crap, crap! I’d wanted to warn Tod that I’d broken my promise....

“Everything. I’m sorry for everything.” Nash shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at the ground for a second. When he looked up, I could see him struggling to hide the conflicting emotions stirring in his irises. “You should have told me what really happened. I could have handled it. But that’s not the point.” He took another deep breath, and I saw Tod’s posture slowly start to relax, though he didn’t uncross his arms. “What I’m trying to say is that what you did for me means something. It means everything. And I’m so damnsorry for wasting it.”

Tod blinked. Then he turned to me, his irises as still as I’d ever seen them. “You told him?”

“I’m sorry. It just kind of...came out. But, Tod, he needed to know. He deserves to know.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Nash said, and Tod turned back to him, struggling to keep a lid on what he was feeling. Locking us both out.

“Because I didn’t want it to be like this. I didn’t want you to think you owed me something. I didn’t want you to feel like you had to live your life like I would have lived mine. I wanted you to live your own way.”

“My way is stupid, Tod. Stupid and reckless.”

“I know.” The reaper finally cracked a small smile. “I knew that going into it. But stupid and reckless can be outgrown—death can’t.” Tod shoved that single, errant curl back from his forehead, and suddenly he looked serious again. “You’re smart enough to be someone important. To do something good. But you weren’t going to do any of that from a hole in the ground.” He shrugged. “When you died, I realized that the most important thing I could ever do with my life was to make sure you’d keep living yours.”

“You are so full of shit,” Nash said. Then he threw his arms around his brother, and their long overdue fraternal hug blurred beneath my tears—the first happy ones I’d shed in ages.

* * *

“Well, you’ve had a busy day.” Tod sank onto the couch next to me with two glasses of soda and handed me one of them.

“Thanks.” I took a drink, then made myself meet his gaze. “I’m sorry I told your secret. I was going to tell you as soon as you got back, but then Sabine was hurt, and there just hasn’t been much of a break since then.” I sipped from the glass he gave me, then held it, letting condensation drip down my fingers.

Tod shrugged, and I noticed a mischievous tilt in the corners of his beautiful mouth. “I planned to tell him eventually anyway, but according to the official Big Mouth code of honor, you now owe me a new secret.” He took my glass and set it on the coffee table next to his, then took my cold, damp hand in his warm one. “That’s the only way to restore the balance of information in this relationship.”

“You already know everything worth knowing about me.”

His fingers threaded with mine and he leaned so close I could feel his breath on my ear. “You don’t have to tell me a new secret.” His intimate whisper echoed through me in all the best places. “You have to help me make one.”

My eyes widened. “Here? Now?” I frowned, trying to ignore the cravings that just being so close to him awoke in me. “Just because we can be invisible and inaudible doesn’t mean—”