Page 38 of Dead Set on You
“Forget about it.” I slide off the bed and head toward my walk-in closet, the one that leads to the master bath. The one with my clothes and shoes and purses organized by color. Whites, purples, and grays.
Behind me, Rafael exhales. “I met Cristina at the hospital. She told me about her car situation—unintentionally—and Ioffered to drive her the other day until she got her car back. Helped her bring up her cleaning supplies. Nothing nefarious.”
I keep my back to him, glad he can’t see my face pinch. Because I’m momentarily feeling like a jerk for assuming the worst. It’s hardnotto.
“Evie.” His tone makes my muscles tense.
“Rafael.” I glance over my shoulder.
He’s moved. He’s closer, standing in the doorway to the closet, jaw set and eyes devoid of their usual warmth.
A warning bell goes off. “What is it?”
“I can’t be here.”
“Then why did you bring us here?”
“To drop you off.”
“Drop me off?” My stomach performs a somersault. “What do you mean?”
He drags his hand through his hair. “I mean, I don’t know about all this. My head’s a mess. This past week has been … rough.”
“Sleep more, drink less?” I offer, aiming for some lightness.Needingit.
“Wish it were so simple.” No smirk. No amusement. Not even a flicker of it. And when Rafael looks down at his hands, I feel a new stab of panic. “But I can’t help you.”
“No.” I shake my head, panic taking hold. “You can’t back out. You made a deal.”
“There was no deal.”
Even though it’s the truth, his words are like a roundhouse kick to my ribs. “You can’t just …” I start but stop myself. Because hecan. He can leave. He can say no. He owes me nothing.
“Listen, I woke up this morning, and the last thing I expected to find was her—your—spirit in my apartment, and while you seem so fucking real, you’re not.” He exhales sharply. “You’re not Evie. The things back at the hospital—that’s my brain messingwith me.” He blows out another rough, uneven breath. “I can’t explain what’s happening, but this isn’t real. None of it.”
I’m not sure if I should laugh or cry. The one person I need to help me happens to be the one person who hates me. Worse yet? For a moment there, I thought he would.
Dumb Evie.
I should know better.
I swallow, forcing my voice to steady. “Get out,” I say, so quietly I think he doesn’t hear me.
But his face—hisgoddamnface that’s fooled so many—does this stupid thing where it softens and twists my memories to day one. To the Rafael from that first day at Media Lab. The one who tricked me into believing he cared. It’s not an act I’ll believe today … or ever again.
“Get the hell out of my apartment.” My voice is sharp and cold, and I think he flinches. Part of his act. “Now,” I add.
Rafael lingers, long enough I want to shout at him to go and never come back, but then he turns and leaves. The door clicks shut behind him, and the tears fall.
CHAPTER TENEIGHT DAYS AFTER
A cell phone buzzes, and I immediately reach for my nightstand. It’s most likely Dana asking for the updated budget on the SeeSide account, and I haven’t even had my coffee. My hand grasps for the nightstand, for my phone. I grab at air and jolt up in panic.
It’s always on the nightstand.
I blink through the grogginess. My vision clears—and my stomach drops.
I’m not in my comfortable, linen bed. In fact, I’m in the place that’s the exact opposite ofcomfort: hell.
