I pushed my food around with my fork, staring listlessly down at my plate. It wasn't that the food wasn't good. If anything, Iggy's cooking had improved since a month ago when we returned from Paris. Everyone did their best to occupy themselves every minute of the day, because no one wanted to think about Angel.

But at mealtimes it was dead silent. It was painfully obvious how broken our family had become. I missed the laughter, and the food fights, and just being kids. But it seemed like everyone had aged five years after leaving France.

Poor Gazzy, his eyes were never dry. The smallest thing would remind him of his sister – strawberries and teddy bears and the ocean. And Total was devastated too, head low and tail drooping. Nudge hadn't spoken two words to me since we got back. I hated to say it, but I missed her motormouth. Iggy was constantly flying, and I understood why. From way up in the clouds, everything seemed a little less hopeless. With the sun on your back and the wind in your hair, you felt almost whole again.

Almost. Never quite. It was like someone had torn off a little piece of my heart, and every time Angel slipped to the back of my mind, the edges of the wound throbbed, bringing all that hurt and grief and guilt back. No matter what anyone said, Angel's death was my fault.

I felt someone's gaze on me, but I didn't look up. I knew who it was. Quietly, I got up and dumped Iggy's shrimp alfredo in the garbage. It was delicious, I was sure of it, but I didn't have the appetite to eat it. Out of the corner of my eye, my suspicions were confirmed. Deep turquoise eyes were boring into the back of my head, watching with what looked like pain.

Dylan was hurting too. Though he'd only been with us for a little while, he'd grown to love Angel as much as we did. Losing her had dealt him an equally heavy blow as it had to all of us. I turned around and walked outside and sat on the stoop. I wasn't surprised to hear footsteps follow me.

I felt a hand on my shoulder as I watched the sun sink below the desert, knowing that Ella was out there somewhere. God, my life was a wreck. But the strangest thing was that I didn't flinch at the familiar touch, that I didn't scoot away when he sat down beside me with a sigh.

I turned away from the sunset and studied his face in the disappearing light, and his turquoise eyes met mine questioningly. I felt all the barriers I'd put up between us start to crumble. I opened my mouth to explain myself, and again surprised myself. "I'm sorry, Dylan. I'm sorry that I can't get over Fang." I thought about the blowout on the plane to Paris, and about what Angel had said afterward.

"He's not coming back. I know that. And I don't want you to feel like I'm settling for you. Because, believe me, I'm not." I looked out to the last brilliant flare of the sun, unable to meet his eyes any longer. "It's just … Dylan, I can't keep pushing you away. It's too hard. I think that I have to stop fighting you. Because I'm stronger with you than without you."

He just continued watching me thoughtfully. "Are you sure, Max? You're doing this for you, not just for me? Because I want you to be happy, even if it means that you're happy without me."

A tear seeped out the corner of my eye. "You see, that's why I think I'm falling for you, Dylan. How can I resist someone that puts me first like that? Damnit, you're just making it too easy! I – I don't like feeling this … vulnerable."

Dylan gathered me to him, and I started to cry in earnest. "You're not vulnerable, Max. You're the strongest person I know. And anyway, I'll always be here to catch you if you fall." He stroked my hair comfortingly, and for the first time, I didn't compare him to Fang. For better or worse, he was out of my life, and I could no longer deny Dylan. Fang had gotten over me, and I could do the same.

I started to doze off in Dylan's arms, his warmth keeping away the biting cold of the desert. I felt something familiar brush against my consciousness. -ng, Nudge, Iggy, anybody? Angel's voice cried, sounding frightened and desperate. Surely a dream. Max, I don't know where I am, but I'm trying to get to you. Her words sounded strained, like this was costing her immensely. Please, don't give up on me, and I promise I won't give up on you. I'll keep fighting them. I'll find a way out. Just, please.

She also sounded very far away, like I was standing on the shore while she was on a ship sailing over the horizon. Whatever happens, I love you, Max. Oh, if only you knew the things I know! I've seen how it's all going to end. It's so terrible, Max! Or maybe I had my feet planted firmly on the ground, and her shadow was being swallowed up by the sun.

I shifted uncomfortably, tucked against Dylan's side by his wing. My subconscious was doing a very good job of conjuring up Angel's voice, of making sure that the inflection was just right, that the pitch was dead on. I could feel myself falling for the trap, and I longed to open my eyes and dispel the dream, but it was just too hard. When would the torture end?

Does anybody hear – and then her voice was cut off, finally. It was so cruel of my mind to play tricks on me like this, to offer up my wildest fantasy as if waiting to see if I'd take the bait. But I wouldn't, and eventually, I slipped into dreams that made more sense. Nightmares filled with ghosts of my past, but nonetheless they made sense.