“I am awake,” he mumbled, snuggling deeper.
I flipped onto my side, facing him, thinking about everything. “Oli…”
“What?” he groaned.
“Open your eyes.”
He sighed and cracked one.
It’d do.
“Why is it easier to blame ourselves or the people around us than the person who actually deserves it?”
He opened the other, and a familiar sadness shone in the green depths.
“Maybe because it gives us a sense of control—something to hold onto—instead of feeling the helplessness of knowing there’s nothing we can do to change the past.”
My lip wobbled. “But what if I can?”
He frowned, and I filled him in on everything I’d learned.
Oliver’s expression bounced between astonishment, concern, hope, and looking one breath away from a joke before he finally pulled me into his arms.
“The world sure does love to toy with us. What did we ever do to it?” Oliver teased.
“Be born.” I snorted. “I’m sure I unbalanced the celestial world somehow. Now it’s mad and taking revenge.”
Oliver wrinkled his nose. “Then what did I ever do to it?”
“Become my best friend.”
He thought about it, nodded, then sat up. “Right, well, I best be breaking up with you then.”
I jammed my finger into his side again. He yelped.
“Oh, this means war.” He snagged two throw pillows and battered me with them until I smiled, then imagined them away.
His mouth dropped open as he stared at his empty hands.
I laughed.
“Am I in a dream-walk?”
I nodded. “You can imagine anything here.”
At that, Sam blipped back into existence with his plate of lemon bars, though this time fully clothed.
“Not now, Oli.” I grabbed his hand and pulled him back beside me, getting rid of Sam.
“Time for more serious talk?” Oliver moaned.
I shrugged, entirely pleased with my compartmentalization skills. “We could just live in here forever. Let everyone else fend for themselves.”
He considered it. “What about Sam? The real one. Can you mind-hive him in?”
“You expect me to share a bed with you two?”
He smiled sheepishly. “And the couch when we get a little rowdy.”
