When I woke up, I saw nothing but black, thick and suffocating, like tar. There were faint rustling noises that had disturbed my moment of peacefulness and solitude. I blinked and tried to focus my vision. Light from the hallway found its way under the crack of the door and reminded me that I was in a hospital room. The throbbing in my head had settled into a dull ache, and my shoulder was stiff and bruised. I sat up slowly, pushing off the sheets that had gotten bunched up and tangled around my arms. As the room came into focus, I saw there was a glow from the city coming in through the window, casting dynamic splashes of light and shadows over the bed.

Deep, rhythmic breathing enveloped the room in a heavy pulse, like it was alive and sleeping itself. The air was uncomfortably hot and stuffy. I pushed the hair from my face and tried to settle back into my chair, but the rustling noises were growing louder and more intense. I realized it was Chase. He was shifting around and moaning, but I couldn't tell if he was awake or not. Then he started coughing.

I reached out impulsively, trying to find his arm in the mess of twisted sheets. "Chase? Are you okay?"

He bolted upright, breathless and wide-eyed.

"Are you all right? What is it?"

"The hospital," he blurted.

"We're at the hospital. What's wrong? Should I get the nurse?"

He just blinked at me. His eyes were almost glowing, deep violet, like an intricate web of lights, flickers, and flowing electricity. He looked terrified. Finally he spoke again and, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, said, "I hate hospitals."

"Me too," I whispered. "I'm sorry."

Chase shook his head. "I just… it was a nightmare. It happened a long time ago." It seemed like he was going to say more, but he sighed and tugged his fingers through his hair instead. It felt like minutes passed as he caught his breath.

"You can tell me," I offered, trying to sound nonchalant, as I ran my hand along the edge of the bed. My neck was tingling with heat.

He stayed silent. The seconds seemed to drag on, each passing moment smothering me with its void darkness. I settled back against the chair and watched him, his electric eyes, pulsing with static and a passion I hadn't seen before.

"Have you ever wanted something?" he asked after a moment. His voice was thoughtful, light, and strangely calm. I leaned in but he wouldn't look at me. His eyes were on the far wall, like he was looking at something that wasn't actually there.

I nodded. He gave a half-smile, and it seemed like he was talking to himself. "Have you ever wanted something so much it becomes the only thing you think about? To where it practically consumes you?"

I thought about Roscoe, and going to bed every night without his warm body lying across my feet, waking up every morning to my alarm clock instead of wet kisses, talking to myself in the kitchen, and bending down to pick up food scraps that normally wouldn't have lasted five seconds on the floor. I had a feeling Chase was talking about something different. Something deeper.

He lowered his head so his hair fringed over his eyes. "So the good news is," he said, "I've finally figured it out."

"You've figured out how to get what you want? You're not excited about it."

His eyes flickered to me. They were dull, as if the electricity had suddenly gone out and left nothing but the empty dark bulb. "Yeah, I've figured it out," Chase repeated. "The only problem is, it's ten years too late."

I stared at my hands and whispered, "What is it that you want?"

When I dared to look at him again, he was shaking his head. He looked over toward the window and sighed. "I don't know anymore."

The stillness of the moment was fragile, like glass, and I tried to continue the conversation without shattering it. One wrong word and broken glass would be sent flying.

"Chase?" I asked. I wanted to open the window, but I was sure Gill was asleep and I didn't want to make extra noise. "You were coughing earlier. Are you having trouble breathing?"

He looked at me and narrowed his eyes. "I was?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"No reason. I was just— I was having this dream." I knew he didn't want to tell me. After a moment he swallowed hard, like he was trying to physically swallow his pride, and said, "There was a fire. And smoke. It was so thick that I couldn't breathe. I felt like I was suffocating."

He stopped, but I nodded for him to continue. Listening to him talk like this, honest and real, made me feel like the glass was cracking. The mystery was beginning to shed, the fragility of the moment was punctured, and the unfamiliar truth was spilling out through the cracks. It gave me a strange fluttery feeling.

Chase lifted a bandaged hand and placed it over his side. "The flames were burning me. Right there. And I was trying to get out… but I couldn't move. I kept hearing people yelling at me to do something, but I couldn't figure out what they were saying. So I was just standing there… and the flames were—"

"Stop!" The fragile moment was shattered; I couldn't take it anymore. I stood hastily and bumped into my chair. Chase watched me with a wary expression, his lips still barely parted to finish his last sentence. "Sorry, Chase. I'm sorry. I can't listen to it… not like this. You shouldn't be here. I should have never asked you to come with me."

"What are you doing?" Gill asked. His voice was dazed and groggy. "Is everything okay?"

No words would come out. I shook my head dumbly.

Chase grabbed my arm, freezing me in place. I looked down in surprise and fought back a sensation of vertigo at our contact. "Angela," he said, his voice as still as ice. "It's not your fault."

Suddenly the room was swallowing me whole, and the walls were pressing the air out of my lungs. I could feel the shards of glass digging into my skin, piercing my flesh and cutting me open to bleed. I jerked my arm away from Chase and rushed to the window. It was too hot. I had to get some air.

My hands were shaking too much and it wouldn't open. My face became wet, my head was pounding, and I realized I was crying. I dropped to the floor on my knees and covered my face with my hands. The tears wouldn't stop. There was a rush of cool air and I looked up to see Gill standing over me, unlocking the window and opening it. I felt stupid. It was just locked.

The bed creaked behind me, and I imagined Chase sitting there, rolling his eyes and sighing, like how he did with Maya. "Angela, what's the matter?" His voice was raw and scratchy now that he wasn't whispering.

"What's the matter?" I twisted around, suddenly furious, and wiped my tears on my sleeve. "What do you think? You are! Why'd you do that, Chase? How could you be so careless?" My voice wavered. "You were almost killed. And it is my fault."

The room went silent. Chase blinked at me, studying my face, and stayed quiet for a long time. My breaths were shuddery and slow. I closed my eyes and imagined hundreds of glittering shards of glass scattered across the floor, like crystal ballerinas poised under the moonlight, as still as the silence.

"I wasn't being careless," he said. When I opened my eyes, I saw he smiling weakly. "I was keeping my promise."

"What?" I shook my head. "No, you broke your promise. You got stabbed, Chase. Nothing bad was supposed to happen."

"Angela." He pulled his fingers through his hair and chuckled, staring down at me with those electrifying indigo eyes. "Nothing bad was supposed to happen to you. Isn't that what an escort is for? Or did I sign up for the wrong job?"

Those words felt like a slap in the face. I was wrong. He actually wanted to get in the way and protect me. He knew what he was doing when he pushed me. I stayed on the floor, speechless, floundering in my thoughts. The whole time, I thought it had been my fault since the man was coming after me, but Chase made the decision to get in the way all on his own.

"You take promises seriously then, don't you?" I said.

Chase gave me a curious look. "Well, I guess. It's not a big deal. Just chill out, okay? You're overreacting."

I had shattered the stillness, the glass, and he was coming behind me and picking up the pieces. Of course, broken glass can't be picked up without leaving a few cuts. I probably deserved what he just said; he was trying to lighten the mood the only way he knew how.

"It's a wonder why you're still single," Gill remarked, obviously relieved that the tension was beginning to dissipate. He went to check his watch but discovered it wasn't on his wrist anymore. He rubbed it awkwardly. "I should go back to the hotel now. Luke probably did something stupid. Coming Angela?"

I nodded, standing back up and wiping the remaining tears off my face. It was all too crazy. Chase saved me. It was more than that, though. He actually wanted to save me. A hysterical giggle bubbled up inside me, and I clasped my hand over my mouth, causing the laugh to hitch in my throat.

Gill didn't seem to notice. He pressed his mouth into a tight line. "And Chase?"

Chase leaned back against the pillows. His hand was pressed against the bandage on his side; his fingers contracted in pain. "What?"

"Try not to do anything irrational. You can't afford an extended hospital visit," Gill said.

Chase rolled his eyes. "Nice to see you're alive, too."

"By the way, you owe me a new shirt."

"It was ugly anyway. So you're welcome."

Gill shook his head and turned to leave.

"Hey, wait," Chase said. He pointed to the corner of the room where his shoes and other items were stacked. He quirked his brow and smiled. "I got you a little something."

Gill walked over to the pile and bent down. "What is this? You want me to have your underwear? Thanks, but I'll pass."

"Ha-ha very funny. I happen to be wearing my underwear, so you're out of luck. Keep looking. You'll know what it is when you see it."

He continued searching through the pile. A few moments later, he stood up, holding something shiny and silver in his hand.

Chase smiled and settled back against the pillows. "I'm the best. Don't deny it."

"Well, this explains why you look mauled."

He waved his hand in Gill's general direction. "Don't drown me in praise all at once now. Save some for later, like when I need to borrow fifty bucks or something."

I rocked forward on my heels, trying to get a better look. "What is it?"

Gill held up his watch; the same watch he had reluctantly handed over to the guy back on the street. "Chase apparently decided he needed a new makeover, so he starting throwing punches at a guy twice his size and—dare I say—twice as crazy. He lost, obviously, and this was his consolation prize." He was smiling as he turned to Chase. "By the way, all that purple on your face isn't a good look for you. Ask Julius for help before you experiment with makeovers next time."

"Really, now? I think it brings out my eyes." Chase leaned farther back and rested his hands on his stomach. "I'm pretty sure you won't die if you thank me, you know. Give it try. I know it's hard, but I think you can do it."

Gill slipped his watch into his pocket and gave a half-smile. "I do appreciate it, Chase. My mother gave me that watch before she passed. I still think you're an idiot, though."

"Sure, sure." Chase closed his eyes. "You're dismissed now."

Gill scoffed lightly before pulling open the door. The room was instantly drenched in unnatural light from the hallway, and I could barely see as I made my way toward the door. I caught my shoulder on the doorframe and bit back a yelp of pain. It clicked shut and I stopped, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the blanched walls and white, reflecting lights.

A wild impulsive feeling overtook my body suddenly, crashing over me like a wave. I whirled around, pushed open the door, and walked toward the bed. Chase opened his eyes and looked at me. The slight smile on his face told me he wasn't surprised to see me come back in.

Standing over him, I wasn't sure what I wanted to say, so I just stuttered out a random collection of words: "I was wondering… Oh, this is stupid. Can I… um, I just ruined it. Never mind."

"Can you what?"

"Give you a hug?" I stepped back, prepared for the worst. Giving him a hug was the only way I could think to show my appreciation, but it was a stupid thing to ask. I should have just done it. No one asks someone else if they can hug them.

His eyes narrowed at me. "What? You want to hug me?"

I nodded. Chase didn't say anything. He just looked at me with his eyebrow slightly raised and his mouth tugged into a smirk. After a while, he glanced around the room and then back at me. "Well?"

"Oh." I leaned forward and held my breath as my arms stayed rooted to my sides; I couldn't move them. We were close. Close enough that I could see his eyes, dark purple; his eyebrow, raised in a small challenge; and his mouth, turned slightly upward at the corners. He pushed himself forward, causing a splash of light to catch his face, and the exhilarating sensation of freezing water rushed through my veins.

Freckles.

He had freckles.

Then suddenly I was back on Maple Street, barely ten years old, laughing and eating ice cream with my friend Erin, while the melting chocolate dripped down the side of the cone and made my fingers sticky. The hot sun beat down on the back of my neck, and my flip-flops slapped against the pavement in a steady rhythm. Erin's older brother and his two friends walked ahead of us. We were all smiling. The summer had just begun.

And then we turned the corner and I saw the boy. He was holding a bag from the grocery store, swinging it idly back and forth, and standing near the bus stop. His face was bored, emotionless, and he didn't even look over when we approached him. Erin's brother and his friends were snickering. As he passed the boy, he slammed into him and jammed his elbow into his back. A laugh fizzled out in my throat and I stopped walking. The grocery bag fell to the ground, its contents tumbling out and splatting on the sidewalk. A can of Pepsi rolled toward my feet. Beside me, Erin gasped.

Her brother roared with laughter and received a clap on the back from one of his friends. He turned around as he walked, stumbling backwards and shouting, "Watch where you're going next time!"

I still hadn't moved. My glasses were sliding down my face and making my vision go blurry. They were new and didn't quite fit, so I was constantly pushing them up on my nose. I started walking past the boy who was now on the ground, kneeling on his hands and knees, gathering up his broken groceries. He looked at me as I passed. His eyes changed; he recognized me. I hadn't seen him since the day the girl tugged on his arm all the way down the sidewalk, when I left before he got close.

The boy made no move to retaliate, or even acknowledge that Erin's brother had just shoved him. Instead, his dark, peculiar eyes stared up at me, his eyebrow slightly rose, and his mouth tugged into a tiny smile.

My blood felt like it was replaced with ice as I looked at Chase now. There was no way he could be the same boy who smiled at me after getting shoved to the ground. It was a stupid thought. Why was I having these flashbacks? I didn't understand. It didn't even mean anything.

"So am I supposed to meet you halfway or something? Is this how you city people do it?" he asked.

I drew back, pressing my arms to my sides. "Do you have freckles?"

"Huh?" He touched his face, as if he had to check by feeling them under his fingertips. "I used to. They've faded a lot, but yeah. Are you afraid of them? It's not a disease, you know."

"I know," I said. "Sorry, I just hadn't noticed them before."

There was a prolonged silence that followed. The ice in my veins was melting and leaving a hot, tingly rush in my chest. Chase cleared his throat.

"You're an awkward person, you know that?" He squinted at me. "Do you have anything else to say? Any more requests for physical contact? I'm going to deny those from now on unless you can figure out how to properly initiate a hug."

"No," I said. Maybe I hit my head when I passed out. Maybe these memories weren't even real. It would explain the pounding and dull ache that didn't seem to be going away. Did that boy on the street even have freckles? I couldn't remember.

"Okay," he drawled. "Hey, did you happen to leave your medications on Castanet?"

I shook my head, too preoccupied to make words come out of my mouth.

"Are you sure? Have you ever considered it? I think it helps with your kind of issues."

I spun around, not even hearing him, and put my hand on the doorknob.

Before I had a chance to open the door, Chase's voice grabbed me and turned my body rigid. "I'm leaving tomorrow, Angela."

"You're going home?"

He laughed. "No, I mean that I hate hospitals and I don't care if I have to jump out of a two-story window to get out of here. Tomorrow I'm leaving." He rubbed the back of his neck and smiled. "The whole point of coming to the city was to get your dog back, right? Well, he better appreciate this."

The tension broke inside me, and I smiled. "I appreciate this. I know he will, too."


It was two o'clock in the morning, and I felt dead. Gill and I had walked up three flights of stairs in the hotel to get to our rooms, since the elevator was out of service. By the time we reached the top, my limbs were as heavy and immobile as lead, my vision was swirling, and the throbbing in my shoulder had returned. I was entertaining a fantasy of collapsing onto a fluffy bed, pulling the soft sheets around my face, and falling asleep. My fantasy was crushed when Gill continued to stand there, empty-handed.

"I don't have the room keys," he said, sighing and shaking his head. "I think Luke does."

I knocked on the door. "Luke! Are you in there? Please open the door."

Nothing.

"Luke!" I called again. "Let us in, please!"

Gill leaned against the wall and brought a hand up to his forehead, touching a bruise under his fingertips. "I'll go back down to the desk and get another key."

Despite what he said, he stayed leaning against the wall.

I sighed. "I'll do it."

I waited for him to say something like, "No, it's okay. We'll go together," but it was as if he didn't even hear me.

"Hey, are you okay?" I asked. He didn't respond. "Hey. Look at me."

I stepped toward him and put my hand on his shoulder, pressing him against the wall. He stiffened under my touch. "You're hurt, aren't you?"

He glanced up. "What? No, I just—"

"Your eyes..." I dropped my hand from his shoulder. "I think you have a concussion. Why didn't you say anything?"

An indignant expression crossed his face. "Since when are you a doctor?"

"I'm not, but it explains why you got sick after the fight and why you almost tripped on the stairs. Twice. Do you remember what happened?"

He dropped his shoulders and looked away.

"That guy hurt you."

Gill frowned. "There was more than one guy, Angela. They hurt all of us."

"Did they get hurt?"

He didn't answer. His eyes wandered to a spot past my head. I turned around, and there, coming down the hallway, was Luke.

His eyes brightened and he jogged to close the gap between us. His face lifted the heaviness in my chest, and it felt like an airy breeze was winding around my legs and propelling me forward to meet him. He wrapped his arms around my body and pulled me close. I smiled into his shoulder.

"Angela," he breathed as he pulled back to look at me. "Are you all right?"

It was all so crazy and absurd, I just laughed. "Yes. I'm okay. Where have you been?"

The smile faded from his face.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"Let's go inside," he said, pulling a room key out of his pocket. He unlocked the door and pushed it open.

Gill sighed and followed us before sitting down on one of the beds. Luke asked what happened to his shirt and got a mumbled response.

"Where's my room key?" I asked. "Gill said you had them both."

"He did?" Luke smiled again. "There's only one room. Did you want to go back down to the front desk and get a separate one?"

Just the thought of climbing down three flights of stairs and back up again made my head pound. "No, I'll manage. Will you tell me what's wrong now?"

He nodded and glanced over his shoulder at Gill, who was pulling the hospital shirt over his head. Luke led me across the room to a sliding glass door, which opened up to a balcony and a breathtaking view. City buildings and traffic lights lit up the black sky and traveled like an electric current through the streets. The roaring symphony of cars sounded a little like the ocean, and I closed my eyes, trying to imagine myself standing on the sandy shores of Castanet.

Luke cleared his throat as he sat down across from me. I opened my eyes.

"You missed all the action," I joked. "We got attacked by a street lunatic and his friends."

He looked at me with his curious golden eyes and asked, "Is that what you think?"

The hurt in his tone surprised me. "It's not your fault. You didn't know what was happening."

"No. I'm sorry." Luke shook his head. "When you didn't come back, I went out looking for you guys. I'm glad you're safe now."

"Thanks." I smiled but he didn't look happy. "What's wrong?"

He stared out at all the sparkling flashes of neon below us. After a moment he looked back at me and smiled. "Nothing. As long as you're okay, then everything is okay, right? Where's Chase?"

"At the hospital. He was stabbed right here." I placed my hand over my side. "I was terrified, but he's okay now. He had surgery."

"How bad was it?"

"I really thought he might die. I thought… I couldn't let him fall asleep because I didn't know if he would wake up again. He couldn't breathe. He just kept bleeding."

Luke stood abruptly. "It's late. You should go to bed."

"What about yourself?"

"I think I'll stay out here for a while. It's pretty cool, don't you think? There aren't any stars, but it's so bright. All the lights are nice to look at."

I smiled. "Yeah, it's pretty."

Then I slid the door shut, glancing backward once.