My breath stopped when my hand met her warm cheek.
“Are you real?” I choked out, my throat constricted with emotion. I blinked past the forming tears and let them fall down my face. “Say something. Please.”
I recognized the expression on her face, and it wasn’t joy or happiness to see me. Or even shock. It was fear. And my Shiloh wasn’t afraid of me.
It must be a fucking dream. It has to be.
My legs gave out, and I fell to my knees. I gave into the urge to hold her one last time and wrapped my arms around her waist, burying my face in her shirt.
“You’re dead. I know you’re dead. And this is a nightmare. Fuck. I miss you so much, Shiloh. I miss you and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. Please forgive me for not helping you sooner or being able to stop you or…”
I ran out of air in my lungs as I sobbed. My tears were soaking her shirt, and I still didn’t let go.
“Rezzie,” Ford called from beside me, his hand shaking my shoulder. “Rezzie, dude, do you know her? Are you okay?”
“Shut up, Ford! Just let me hold her for one more damned minute! Don’t ruin this nightmare. Please, Shiloh. Just say something. Anything.” I pleaded and begged, even as she pried my arms from her waist and Ford pulled me back into his body to keep me from going after her. Even when I watched her cold hard stare tell the crowd she didn’t know me.
Even as she turned and raced down a back hallway.
I still muttered her name like a plea.
Until Brett came out with a taser and threatened to call the authorities if we didn’t leave immediately.
But that didn’t matter, because soon I’d wake up and have to relive the fact that Shiloh was dead and only alive in hellish nightmares like this one.
Three
June 20, Saturday
Emory
My hands were shaking and sweaty, and my grip was too tight on the handles of my bike. I had only stopped long enough to grab my backpack, helmet, and keys, yet I didn’t stop the bike or pull over. Protective gear wasn’t going to stop me from getting killed by my past life.
I sped up, the road a blur as I merged onto the highway, as far away from downtown as I could get.
The ringing in my helmet from my Bluetooth abruptly stopped.
“Hello?”
“He’s here. He saw me. He knows I’m alive.”
“Who?” He didn’t seem affected by my distress.
“Enoch.”
“The kid from your high school?”
“Yes! He’s fucking here in Anchorage. Showed up at my work.”
He released a long sigh, more annoyed sounding than worried. “Okay. We’ve planned for a recognition event. Get yourass to the meeting point. A Marshall agent will be there waiting. Your place will be cleaned within the hour.”
My blood was rushing in my ears as I merged onto the highway. My breath caught in my throat and suddenly it was as if my lungs had stopped functioning voluntarily and I needed to force the oxygen inside.Fuck, breathe dammit. Not now. Dammit. Not now.I weaved around a semi, the road like a box closing in on me.
“Emory? Did you hear me? Get to the meeting point? Do you remember where it is?”
“Fuck! This isn’t fair! I don’t want to leave!”
My throat was clogged with the urge to cry, and I let out a scream of frustration.I will not fucking break my record. Three fucking years since I’ve cried and I will not lethimruin it.
