Page 33 of Never Say Die
“What?”
“Have you let it go? What youhadto do?”
Aiden tightened his lips. “We’re not talking about me?—”
“Aiden.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Then don’t ask me to.”
“Is that what you have nightmares about? Thomas? That girl—Cassie, whatever?”
“Usually, I dream about killing you.”
Aiden lifted his face, tipping his head against the wall. “Yeah, I figured. Let me guess, you eat me.”
“I never know it’s you until the very end.” Shay stood and crossed the room to the mini-fridge. White light poured over his feet—one socked, one bare—and he grabbed a drink. Fiji. Rich people water. “I’m not fully there. I know what’s happening, I can feel it happening. I think it’s Thomas or. . . or someone else. Then it’s over and I’m looking down at you. That’s when it becomes a nightmare.” He nudged Aiden’s knee with the water bottle. “Chug it, you’ll feel better.”
“Do I ever live?” he asked, tilting the bottle against his mouth. An icy stream flowed through his body, cooling his tight chest and upset stomach.
“In my nightmares? No.”
“What about your dreams?” Aiden asked.
Shay grabbed his journal and slid into bed, facing the blue hour through a crack between the black-out curtains. “We’re a lot different in my dreams, me and you.”
Aiden let the conversation fade. He listened to pen scratch paper, and Shay breathe, and traffic clog the street outside, and when he finally crawled back into bed, he dozed until hedreamed again. This time, Shay was there, kissing him tenderly, sliding his palm between Aiden’s legs, and they were themselves again. The people they’d been before. Young and brave and in love, maybe. Aiden jolted awake for the second time. He squeezed his thighs together, holding onto heat the dream had left behind, and stared at the intricate black ink on Shay’s neck. Vines attached to roses on his shoulder. Pomegranate flowers. Rosemary sprigs. Peonies. A wide-winged lunar moth. Aiden reached. His fingers hovered over Shay’s shoulder, tracing the air above his tattoo.
He stayed awake until dawn and pretended to be asleep the moment Shay rolled over, facing him again.
Shay sighed, that soft, Shay noise, and tucked his hand under his pillow. A few minutes later, Aiden’s phone vibrated on the nightstand. He feigned sleepiness, which wasn’t difficult, and grabbed it.
San Diego area code. The phone rang until it didn’t. He swallowed, relieved, then the phone vibrated again. Same number, same area code.
“Hello?”
“Aiden Moore,” Kelly said. Relief and something else—relief, danger—stirred in her voice. “Listen to me carefully.”
His heart jumped. He slid out of bed, tiptoeing to the bathroom, and dropped onto the toilet seat. “What. . . ?”
“Your sister is a professional friend of mine, someone I admire, and I happen to believe her blood relatives—as undeserving asyoumight be—should be cautioned when caution is due. Death follows you everywhere. You’ve been lucky, but it will catch you. Itwill.” She paused, breathing hard. “If you go to Colorado, your death will be put into motion. I’ve seen it. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, I hear you,” Aiden whispered.
“Consider yourself warned.”
The call ended.
Aiden replayed every crisp word, every honeyed warning, then stood and steadied himself on the sink. Cupped his hand under the faucet. Rinsed his mouth. Stared at his reflection, all dark angles and jutting bone.One of our biggest tour stops.One of our dream venues.He tipped his chin, studying the punctures on his throat. Everything he’d ever wanted swirled around him, beckoning him into the unknown. Success, fortune, glory. Love, maybe. Seized by force. And the well-known. Death, breakage, rock-fucking-bottom. Love, again. The messy, real kind.We’ve come too far.He drew a shaky breath through his nose, and went back to bed, carefully climbing under the sheets.
I’ve come too far.
Shay cracked his eyes open. “Who was it?”
Aiden turned, giving Shay his back, and squinted at his too-bright phone screen. “My sister,” he said, and saved Kelly’s number as:that bitch ass psychic. “She was just checkin’ in.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
