“Did she tell you why I called her on Sunday?” I asked, sitting up so I could see his face. “Right before she called and told you to interrupt me and Nash?” When I’d asked her for advice about sex…

Tod’s irises swirled in a twist of amusement, and I wanted to cover my face with both hands. “There’s no shame in learning from the voice of experience,” he said.

“Aggghhh!” I snatched a couch pillow and screamed into it, venting embarrassment, and only stopped when Tod pulled the pillow from my grasp, still smiling.

“Kay, I thought it was cute.” He frowned, then rephrased. “Well, now I think it’s cute. At the time…not so much.”

“It’s not cute!” I snapped, considering pulling the throw blanket over my head. “It’s humiliating.”

“You’re cute when you’re humiliated.”

“I’m glad you think so.” I ran my hands through my hair to smooth it after the pillow incident. “That seems to be my perpetual state.”

“Yeah, well, that’s better than my perpetual state of not-really-alive, right?”

“I don’t know, from where I’m sitting, facing actual death, dead-but-still-here looks pretty good.”

“Well, it’s not,” Tod said, and I was surprised by his sharp tone. “Being with you today was beyond amazing. But it doesn’t accurately reflect the rest of my afterlife. Being alone in a crowd with you is one thing. But being alone for the rest of eternity?” He shook his head slowly. “You don’t want this, Kaylee. I don’t want this for you. And neither would your dad.”

Except that I wouldn’t be alone, if I were a reaper, and neither would Tod. We’d be together. But… “Don’t worry. I don’t qualify, right?” Because I was actually scheduled to die. “The reapers won’t even be looking at me.” Except for Tod, and whoever they sent for my soul. “I’m actually going to die.”

Tod started to respond—probably ready to convince me that true death was a mercy—but then his phone rang from his pocket, cutting off whatever he’d been about to say. “It’s Sabine,” he said, glancing at the display. “Shit.”

An uneasy feeling settled into my stomach, worry for him amplifying my guilt.

“Go ahead,” I said, when he looked unsure about answering. “She wouldn’t call if she didn’t need something.”

Tod flipped open his phone, and though I only heard his half of the conversation, the gist of it was clear. Nash had become too much for her to handle, at least for the moment. “Okay, I’ll be right there.” The reaper hung up and met my gaze, irritation swirling slowly in his. “His temperature keeps dropping and hecan’t keep anything down. They need me to go get my mom.” Because he could blink her home from work faster than she could drive.

“Isn’t that a little severe? He’s only been sober for, like twelve hours.”

“The relapse seems to be hitting him harder than the original addiction. That could mean he’s using a different source this time—not Avari—or that he’s taking a stronger dose. Or that his body’s less able to fight the physical backlash this time because none of this is new anymore.”

The possibilities did nothing to lessen my fear for him, settling onto me like a physical weight. This was my fault, even if I hadn’t popped a balloon in his face this time.

“I have to go,” Tod said, and my hand tightened around his involuntarily while my heart thudded in my ear.

“I know. It’s fine.” But it wasn’t. Not really. It was almost midnight. Almost Thursday. Almost the day of my death. My dad wasn’t back yet, my cousin and best friend were sleeping peacefully without the crippling fear I couldn’t shake free from, and death was looming over my shoulder, lurking in every shadow I glanced at, every panicked beat of my heart. “Nash needs you.” I knew that. But letting go of Tod’s hand was the hardest thing I’d ever had to do.

“I’m so sorry, Kaylee. I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he promised, confliction stirring the blue depths of his eyes, like a storm over the ocean.

I nodded mutely. It meant a lot to me that he didn’t smile and try to pretend like everything was okay. Everything was almost over, and every breath I took brought that reality closer. Soon, I’d take a breath and it would turn out to be my last. And the world wouldn’t care.

“Okay, then, I’ll be back as soon as I can talk someone into taking my shift.” He leaned in for a goodbye kiss, and I held him with one hand behind his head when he tried to pull away, determined to make this kiss last a while, in case it was my last. Because over his shoulder the microwave clock taunted me from the kitchen, blinking 12:04 over and over.

Thursday had come.

Today I would die.

With Tod gone, I curled up under the blanket, only half watching the movie while Emma slept beside me on two of the couch cushions, Styx snoring softly in the crook of her arm. In spite of my determination not to waste any of my last day, I was starting to nod off when Em’s phone buzzed on the coffee table. She had a text.

I picked it up, debating waking her, and read the message on the screen, from her sister, Traci.

Got dumped. Need sugar. Where r u?

Crap. Traci was home alone. She’d probably be fine—surely Beck had come and gone hours ago—but I wasn’t willing to take a chance with Em’s sister.