She froze.
Her skin went pale like she saw something terrible.
Do I look that bad?
She sank back down into an unsteady crouch and brushed her trembling fingers into his hair, pulling it into a loose tail. Slowly and very gently, she guided him to turn his head to one side and then the other.
When she closed her eyes, tears scattered down her cheeks.
His breath quickened with fear he couldn’t place. “What?”
“Oh, Nate.” She gasped. “Love, I’ve been looking for you for so long.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Nate shuddered and scrambled away from her, his back against the wall. He had nowhere to go and nothing to do but stare at her kind, familiar face.
She couldn’t be his mother. His mother was dead.
But she pulled him into her arms, and she smelled the same—warm and safe, like the soft edge of a lingering dream.
Fear and hope mingled sickeningly in his gut.
This isn’t real.
She was dead. Pulled into the depths of the sludge in a flaming car.
Her embrace tightened.
“Ow.”
She drew back, brow knit. “Are you hurt?”
“My shoulder.” The room spun. He didn’t know how to begin to explain what had happened. Or whatwashappening. “I. . .it popped out.”
She adjusted her hold on him, gentle and trembling.
Sometimes, people saw things that weren’t there. Sometimes, his dreams were so real they left him hollow all day as they faded to nothing. He’d gone so close to the stillness, maybe it had bruised his mind.
“What’s happening?” he asked, hoarse and frightened.
“When James said he heard talk of GEMs on the tickers. . .I didn’t think I’d really find you. I couldn’t bear to hope.” She wept, tripping on every word. “Oh, Nate. I can’t believe it’s you. You’re okay. Are you okay? You’re so thin. Where have you been?”
She was asking too many questions, and all he could think about was her nickname. His father had spoken it fondly, always with a smile.
Ivy.Ivy.The sick-den was named after her. After his mother.
He shrugged away to look at her. Her small, strong hand cupped his good shoulder, and she stared at him with tears running down her face.
“You’re dead. You crashed.” His voice was flat, numb. “You didn’t come back for me.”
If his mother wasreallyalive, she wouldn’t have left him.
“We faked the crash and went into hiding.” Her chin trembled. “When your father got sick, we couldn’t come for you like we’d planned. And then Bernice was gone, and you were gone. I couldn’t find a trace of you.”
The longer he studied her face, the more he knew her. His ears rang. It was too much—so much at once. She was alive, solid. Touching him. His father was dead. She’d been alone all this time.
Looking for him.
