37-Zach #2
Seth jogs up, face flushed, hands braced on his ripped jeans as he catches his breath. “Kit’s away lookin’ for a dry shirt,” he pants, accent thickening with exertion. “Freezin’ oot here.”
Whitney reaches for another bite of apple, and Silver yanks it away. “Get your own!”
“I could actually go for a snack,” Pamrata says.
Liane turns to me. “You want to come?”
I shake my head, still reeling from seeing Judas stripped bare. “I’m good.”
“I’m starvin’.” Alyssa agrees, turning to her wife. “Lou?”
“I think I’ll stay with Zach,” Louanne says, though her eyes flick toward the exit.
Everyone drifts off except Louanne and me. The greenhouse feels suddenly warmer, the humidity clinging to my skin like a second layer. Somewhere behind us, a misting system hisses to life, sending a cool spray across the orchids. It does nothing to cool the heat rising under my collar.
I spin my necklace aimlessly, the chain slipping over my fingers with a soft, familiar rasp. Louanne’s gaze flicks from my face to the vial and back again, knowing.
A tightness gathers in my chest.
I swallow hard. “At this point I’m assuming you know more about this thing than I do.”
Louanne sighs. “Kit’s always doing impulsive shite, but that thing—he never took it off.
Not even to bloody shower. Then all of a sudden he just gives it away to some random bloke.
He regretted it. I could tell every time he reached for an empty neck.
And now it’s around the neck of the first person I’ve seen make him look alive since the accident, even if you do drive him mad. ”
My stomach drops. “You know about the accident?”
“Of course.” Louanne cocks a sharp brow. “Kit’s my best mate, and so was—”
She chokes on a sob. Instinctively, I reach for her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her body shaking as though she can repel the sorrow. “Melody was like a sister to me. Losing her wrecked me, but it killed Kit. He found that necklace after he got out of the hospital, just picked it up from some random street vendor when I dragged him to Market.”
My mind spins. “Wait, you mean Kit was in a car accident?”
“He didn’t tell you?” Louanne pales, eyes flicking to the necklace. “Then what in the bloody hell did you think I was talking about?”
“My car accident,” I say, voice frayed thin. “The night he gave away this necklace.”
I lift it, as if she can’t already see it. The world tilts. He’d been in an accident too. He survived. That’s what he meant—to survive when you think you shouldn’t have.
“I lost my best friend,” I whisper, cradling the vial. “I hold her ashes in it now.”
“Oi, shite, Zach,” Louanne murmurs, pulling me close. “I had no idea.”
We sit in silence. Tears spill before I can stop them.
“I understand how that feels.” Louanne nods, eyes soft. “Melody was brilliant. Sharp as a tack. Once, she and I buzzed Silver’s hair right down the middle. They were pissed for months. Really until there was a steady patch of fuzz. I don’t blame them, though, they looked like Dr. Evil.”
We laugh through the watery, fragile grief.
The group returns with Yensil and Judas in tow, his clean-shaven face the barest I’ve seen it since that meeting months ago. He’s wearing a gray T shirt with a picture of a watering can that says I sometimes wet my plants.
I burst out laughing. When I look up, he’s watching me, smiling, a weft of wet blond hair sticking to his forehead right above his left eye.
Blue. But not just blue.
A hundred shifting shades, like they can’t decide which version of him to reveal. I know that face. I’ve seen it a thousand times. But for the life of me, I feel like I’ve seen him before—in life. Back when gods were just myths used to make up stories.
Louanne ushers everyone ahead, and the group trails off.
“You all right?” Judas asks, lingering behind with me but keeping his distance.
I look at him, Louanne’s words echoing through my skull like a terrible song on loop.
Car accident. London. No. It’s impossible.
“When was your car accident?” I ask. He lurches back like I slapped him. My breaths shorten. “Tell me!”
“August. Twenty-fourteen,” he blurts out, fear and concern twisting his features.
Everything I know fractures. Tears spill down my cheeks. My knees buckle, but he catches me before I hit the ground.
“I prayed for you,” I whisper through hiccupping breaths.
“Zach, I don’t under—”
“I was there!” I clutch his stupid T-shirt and shake him. “Don’t you get it? I. Was. There. I saw you. I saw you lying on that fucking gurney and I thought you were dead. Then you took a breath and opened your eyes, and it was like I could breathe again.”
He stares at me, stunned, mouth parted, head shaking. “That’s not—”
“Possible,” I say, laughing bitterly. Remembering where we are, I gather myself. “How is any of this possible?”
We stare at each other, the humming thread between us pulled taut. Why do I even bother fighting it? It’s been there for over a decade, stitching us closer.
We’ve lived our lives like halves of a railroad track; always parallel, never meant to cross.
Until now.
The others return, chatting in muffled voices, like the world hasn’t quite snapped back into place yet.
“Greg called.” Seth jogs up, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. “Time tae head back.”
I wipe my tears, plaster on a smile that feels brittle, like it might crack if anyone looks too closely. “Yeah, come on.”
My legs move on instinct, carrying me down the stony path, past the orchids and the ferns and the misting vents that hiss like they’re exhaling for me. I don’t look back.
I can’t handle it.
He walks behind me like a presence tugging at the back of my ribs. I don’t have to turn to know he’s staring. It crushes me. When I finally risk a glance over my shoulder, just for a heartbeat, our eyes meet. He looks destroyed. I’m no better. I tear my gaze away, heart pounding, throat tight.
What the actual fuck.
Everything I fought to believe, that I clung to about the god’s lack of power, my autonomy, feels like it’s slipping through my fingers. All of my certainty can’t just be ego dressed up as bravery.
Was anything in my life ever mine?
My necklace swings against my chest, the vial tapping a frantic rhythm I can’t match with my breath. I walk faster. Because if I slow down and let myself think for too long, I’m terrified I’ll unravel right here in the middle of the botanical garden.
And I can’t handle that either.