Page 49 of Never Quite Gone

I sighed, letting my head drop onto my folded arms. “I don't know what I feel. It's all confused with... with everything else.”

“With Michael?” Her voice held no judgment, just understanding.

“With Michael. With work. With these strange dreams I keep having.” I lifted my head to find both of them watching me with careful concern. “Everything feels... shifted somehow. Like I'm seeing the world through someone else's eyes.”

David set a fresh glass of wine by my hand. “Maybe that's not a bad thing. Seeing differently.”

“You didn't see Will's face,” I countered. “The way he looked at me, like... like I was taking something that belonged to him.”

“Alex doesn't belong to anyone,” Rachel said firmly. “And neither do you.”

The pasta was perfect, because David never cooked anything less. The wine was excellent, because Michael had chosen it. The company was exactly what I needed, because my sister had always known how to hold me together when I started falling apart.

“I'm supposed to have dinner with Alex tomorrow,” I said finally. “Just us this time. He promised to explain everything.”

“Are you going to go?” Rachel's question held no pressure, just support for whatever I decided.

I thought about the way Alex had looked at me in the gallery,the mix of protection and something deeper in his eyes. About the way his hand had felt under mine in the car. About the strange sense of recognition that kept pulling me toward him despite everything.

“Yes,” I decided. “I need... I need to understand what's happening. Why everything feels so strange lately.”

Rachel squeezed my hand again. “Then we'll be here after. Whatever happens.”

“Whatever you need,” David agreed, already starting dishes because he was that kind of husband. “Even if it's just more pasta and wine.”

I looked at them – my sister who'd always been my anchor, her husband who'd become the brother I needed – and felt steadier than I had all night.

“Tell me about your students,” I said suddenly. “Something normal. Please.”

Rachel launched into a story about the fourth grade science fair, her hands painting pictures in the air as she described creative disasters and unexpected triumphs. David added commentary from his recent school visit with the fire truck, and slowly the weight of the evening began to lift.

This was real. This was solid. This was family and comfort and everything I knew to be true.

CHAPTER 16

Watching

Florence, 1587

Rain slicked the cathedral walls as I made my way through darkened streets. William's footsteps echoed behind me, my brother's presence as constant as shadow in this life. Something about the way he watched over me felt both comforting and strange - like he knew things I didn't, saw dangers I couldn't recognize.

“You don't have to follow me,” I called without turning. “I know you're there.”

“Someone has to watch your back.” He emerged from shadows that seemed to know him too well. “The Medici have eyes everywhere, Alessandro. And your artist friend has drawn their attention.”

I paused beneath a stone archway, studying my brother in flickering torchlight. William had changed lately - his movements carrying weight beyond his years, his eyes holding knowledge that made my soul stir with almost-recognition.

“Elia's paintings carry no threat to them.”

“His paintings show truth they'd rather keep hidden.” William moved closer, something ancient flickering behind hiscareful words. “The way he captures light, the healing in his brush strokes - it speaks to something older than their power. Something they fear.”

The words sent shivers down my spine, though I couldn't say why. Before I could question him, movement caught my eye. Torchlight revealed armed men surrounding Elia's studio, their weapons poorly concealed beneath fine cloaks.

“Medici guards,” I started, but William cut me off.

“Not guards. Assassins.” His voice carried command I'd never heard before. “Go. Get him out through the back. I'll handle this.”

“William-“

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