Page 35 of Veil of Night & Flames

I have to battle back the urge to bounce onto her bed and yell I’M HOME and have her hit me with a pillow, then hug me until my ribs hurt.

But she’s out cold. And as much as I want my best friend, I can grudgingly let her sleep a little longer.

I plop down onto my bed and slide off my shoes, then find my towel, shower flip-flops, and bathroom bucket right where I left them. I snatch up fresh clothes, then head out of the room and take the longest, hottest shower in the history of the universe. I stand under the water until my skin goes red and the steam fills the entire communal space.

By the time I get out, dry off, and have changed into the shorts and tee I’d grabbed, I’m pretty sure I’ve washed off every smidgeon of Nightmare dust.

When I come back, she hasn’t moved, so I plunk myself down on the side of my bed, grab my very, very charged phone from where she must have plugged it in days ago, then start scrolling through emails and texts while I wait for her to wake the freak up.

After an hour, I turn on some music, but keep it mostly soft, because I’m a good friend and know I shouldn’t wake her.

After another thirty minutes, I’m starting to get over the whole good friend thing. I mean, soldiers are jolted awake, right? So it must build character.

With the power of the US military now behind me, I start rearranging the clothes in my dresser, making a point of slamming the drawers shut, just to be sure they stay closed.

Fifteen minutes later, I find the hand-held vac and suck up the crumbs on the floor between our beds.

She sleeps through it all.

Honestly, the girl could win a gold medal in the Sleep Olympics.

I’m seriously reconsidering that bed-bouncing thing when she rolls over and makes a noise somewhere between a snore and a snort.

Then her phone alarm rings. She groans, managing to both find the phone and shut it off without opening her eyes or noticing me.

Enough.

“Tia,” I whisper.

“Fimo minets.” The words—or semi-words—are barely audible.

“Tia.” This time I yell her name, and, finally, she sits bolt upright.

“What the hell, Cora? I was—” Her mouth snaps shut, and her eyes go wide. Then she launches herself off the bed and onto me, her arms wrapping around me in a suffocating hug as we tumble backwards onto my bed.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” she squeals as she wraps me in a hug so tight I can barely breathe.

“Hello to you, too,” I say. “Need air now.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry.” She shifts so that we can both sit up, then grabs my hand again, as if she’s afraid I’m going to slide through another slit in the universe any second now.

“You’re here.”

“You noticed.”

She grabs one of my throw pillows and smacks me with it. Then again and again and again until I finally knock it out of her hand and pull her in for another hug.

“I know,” I say. “I missed you, too.”

Her breathing slows, and she looks me up and down. “We’ve been so worried,” she says. “Not knowing. It was like hell.” Her brow furrows. “Oh, god. Have you actually been to hell? Is that what the Nightmare Realm really is? Hell?”

I shake my head. “No. Except it felt like it at times.” I draw a breath. “Whistler died. Wolves.” I shudder. “Horrible, terrible wolves.”

The color drains from her face. “No,” she whispers.

I nod. “We want to have a memorial. We haven’t yet. We wanted you there. Riley, too.”

She takes my hand and nods, a single tear sliding down her cheek. For a moment, we’re both silent. Then her fingers tighten. “I’m not going to classes today, and neither are you. We’re staying right here, and you’re telling me everything. We have coffee and snacks and wine if needed. But we aren’t leaving this room until you’ve spilled it all. Yes?”