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“Tell me what you’re feeling. Talk to me.” She looked so worried, almost like a mother concerned for her child. “Please.”
The “please” got to me.
“I’m never going to see him again. There were so many things I didn’t say, and after my parents … I swore I’d never leave anything unsaid. But I did. Now he’s gone.”
Could we have had the same kind of lifetime connection Grace and Liam did? I’d never know. I’d wonder about the possibility for as long as I lived.
Cat moved toward me slowly with her hand outstretched, as if she was approaching the scene of an accident.
She kind of was.
“Don’t touch me.” I scrambled farther back on the bed, out of her reach, pulling my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around my legs. I rocked back and forth. “Did you know there are seven stages of grief?”
I said the words so conversationally that I must have sounded manic. Cat stepped back and silently lowered herself into the desk chair.
“I learned all about it in counseling. Seven stages. And guess what? Four of them suck. Where’s the balance? Why not eight stages of grief? Give me some kind of benchmark for my suffering; let me know I’m halfway there.” A dry laugh escaped, and I paused to regain control. I needed to be in control.
I focused on a cobweb in the corner by the ceiling, a tiny remnant of forgotten life stirring in a wayward breeze. “But there are just seven. I should be able to talk myself through the first few—shock and denial, pain and guilt. I already have experience, so it’ll be easier, right? I can tell myself all the right things, remind myself of the coping mechanisms.”
Resisting the urge to stand and tear the fragile cobweb to the ground, I hugged my knees more tightly to my chest. “I … got stuck in those stages when I lost my parents. For months. I almost disappeared.”
Cat’s frown had only deepened since she sat down. It didn’t go with the rest of her face.
“When I came to him from the future, why didn’t I tell him to get out of the building before it exploded?” I couldn’t understand why I’d keep knowledge like that to myself now or ever. “How could I let him die that way? How could he choose to die that way?”
“You couldn’t have said anything—there are rules, especially if you remain connected to the Hourglass in the future.” She was trying to comfort me, but her explanation only made me angry.
“Who makes these rules?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.” She stood, speaking matter-offactly. “I expect after today they’ll be paying a visit.”
I stared at her blankly. “What are you talking about?”
“What if I told you,” Cat said, leaning over to look deep into my eyes, “that you could change things?”
I looked back, afraid to believe but desperate to do so.
“The fact is that I’m already in enough trouble.” She paused, pressing her lips together, and I could almost see the gears clanking in her brain. “If Landers is missing … and we can gain access to the Hourglass … there’s a bridge there. I could put you through.”
“Put me through?”
“So you could change things?” The question was leading.
Save Michael. She was talking about saving Michael. I sat up on my knees. “Yes. Oh yes, please—”
“Wait.” She held up one finger. “It’s not that simple. Once the powers that be show up, you could be stripped of the choice to ever use your ability again.”
“I don’t care.” There was no rule I wouldn’t break or consequence I wouldn’t accept if I could bring Michael back. I scooted to the edge of the bed. Hope rose like the sun in my chest, warm, full of possibility. “When can I go?”
She checked her watch as she stood up. “Give me thirty minutes. I have a feeling Liam and everyone else will be going to your place to see if they can find any sign of Landers. I’ll tell them you want to stay here, and that I’m going to stay with you. And Emerson?”
“Yes?”
“You can’t tell anyone. Liam never breaks the rules. I’m actually shocked he came back with you. What we’re about to do is dangerous and very, very wrong.” Her mouth was set in a harsh line. “Do you understand?”
“I understand.”
Chapter 50
