sequence of eventsthat all these new instincts of hers told her had already begun. His arrival told
her that the countdown had started. With his truth revealed to him, he would no doubt
turn away from her, and she knew it wasn’t yet time for him to do that. There was
another reason for him to be here with her. They had…some place to go together. Some
place where it was cold and…bleak.
Her rendezvous with death.
And that was the final reason why she had not offered him his truth. Because he had
intrigued her with his challenge. With the possibilities of what he saw. He was so
sure. So sure that fate could be changed. That destiny was merely the sum of one’s
choices.
Sarah needed his certainty. She didn’t want to die. There were things she hadn’t done
yet, places she hadn’t seen, experiences that eluded her. She was not ready to leave
life, at least not willingly. But she had no hope of her own left, no certainty that
her path could be chosen by her.
All she saw was darkness.
If he was right—if there was even a small chance he was right—then Sarah needed his
help to attempt to change her destiny. She needed his certainty to keep her going,
his hope to replace the hope she had lost.
It was thoughts such as these that kept Sarah awake long into the night, but when
she heard Margo’s buoyant voice in the other room, thoughts of her own dim future
were cast aside.
Margo was home. In Richmond.
The last place on earth she needed to be today.
When Sarah came out of the bedroom to greet the other two, her first glance and tentative
smile at Tucker met a somewhat guarded response. She knew why, of course. Even a brief
glimpse into someone else’s soul left that soul feeling disturbingly naked.
Psychic eyes aren’t so fascinating when they’re aimed at
your
soul, are they, Tucker?
It hurt, though.
“Good morning,” she said, impartially to both but shifting her gaze immediately to
Margo. “You didn’t have to come running back here, Margo. You shouldn’t have.”
“I was worried about you, kid. I didn’t want you to be alone.” Margo grinned suddenly,
a pleased look that belied the anxiety in her expressive eyes. “Didn’t know about
Tucker, obviously, or I wouldn’t have barreled back here to be a sixth wheel.”
“Third,” Sarah corrected automatically. She looked at Tucker, caught the flicker of
a laugh in his green eyes, and they shared a brief moment of silent amusement.
“Oh, right, third.” As always, Margo accepted the correction amiably. “Breakfast,
Sarah?”
“Just coffee.” The pot was almost empty, and Sarah used that as an excuse to make
fresh. Margo made the worst coffee in creation, and repeated instructions had done
nothing to change that.
“You should eat,” Margo protested. “Look, at least some toast, and maybe the bacon
Tucker didn’t finish—”
“All right, toast.” Her head was pounding, and Sarahreally didn’t feel like arguing. Conscious of Tucker’s silent scrutiny as she moved
past him on the other side of the breakfast bar, she tried not to think about him,
something that required a disturbing amount of effort. Instead, she tried to think
of a way to get Margo to leave as soon as possible. She didn’t want to frighten her
friend, but even less did she want to lose her. For good.
Unbidden, the image that had haunted her for weeks rose starkly in her mind, all too
clear and without ambiguity. Tomorrow’s newspaper, with a headline that turned Sarah’s
blood to ice…
“Are you all right?” Tucker asked quietly.
Sarah looked blankly at him for a moment before she realized she had been standing
immobile with one hand on the breadbox for just that instant too long. “I’m fine.”
She wondered idly what her expression looked like to make him look so doubtful. “Really.”
She busied herself making toast, while Margo leaned back against the counter sipping
her coffee and
her that the countdown had started. With his truth revealed to him, he would no doubt
turn away from her, and she knew it wasn’t yet time for him to do that. There was
another reason for him to be here with her. They had…some place to go together. Some
place where it was cold and…bleak.
Her rendezvous with death.
And that was the final reason why she had not offered him his truth. Because he had
intrigued her with his challenge. With the possibilities of what he saw. He was so
sure. So sure that fate could be changed. That destiny was merely the sum of one’s
choices.
Sarah needed his certainty. She didn’t want to die. There were things she hadn’t done
yet, places she hadn’t seen, experiences that eluded her. She was not ready to leave
life, at least not willingly. But she had no hope of her own left, no certainty that
her path could be chosen by her.
All she saw was darkness.
If he was right—if there was even a small chance he was right—then Sarah needed his
help to attempt to change her destiny. She needed his certainty to keep her going,
his hope to replace the hope she had lost.
It was thoughts such as these that kept Sarah awake long into the night, but when
she heard Margo’s buoyant voice in the other room, thoughts of her own dim future
were cast aside.
Margo was home. In Richmond.
The last place on earth she needed to be today.
When Sarah came out of the bedroom to greet the other two, her first glance and tentative
smile at Tucker met a somewhat guarded response. She knew why, of course. Even a brief
glimpse into someone else’s soul left that soul feeling disturbingly naked.
Psychic eyes aren’t so fascinating when they’re aimed at
your
soul, are they, Tucker?
It hurt, though.
“Good morning,” she said, impartially to both but shifting her gaze immediately to
Margo. “You didn’t have to come running back here, Margo. You shouldn’t have.”
“I was worried about you, kid. I didn’t want you to be alone.” Margo grinned suddenly,
a pleased look that belied the anxiety in her expressive eyes. “Didn’t know about
Tucker, obviously, or I wouldn’t have barreled back here to be a sixth wheel.”
“Third,” Sarah corrected automatically. She looked at Tucker, caught the flicker of
a laugh in his green eyes, and they shared a brief moment of silent amusement.
“Oh, right, third.” As always, Margo accepted the correction amiably. “Breakfast,
Sarah?”
“Just coffee.” The pot was almost empty, and Sarah used that as an excuse to make
fresh. Margo made the worst coffee in creation, and repeated instructions had done
nothing to change that.
“You should eat,” Margo protested. “Look, at least some toast, and maybe the bacon
Tucker didn’t finish—”
“All right, toast.” Her head was pounding, and Sarahreally didn’t feel like arguing. Conscious of Tucker’s silent scrutiny as she moved
past him on the other side of the breakfast bar, she tried not to think about him,
something that required a disturbing amount of effort. Instead, she tried to think
of a way to get Margo to leave as soon as possible. She didn’t want to frighten her
friend, but even less did she want to lose her. For good.
Unbidden, the image that had haunted her for weeks rose starkly in her mind, all too
clear and without ambiguity. Tomorrow’s newspaper, with a headline that turned Sarah’s
blood to ice…
“Are you all right?” Tucker asked quietly.
Sarah looked blankly at him for a moment before she realized she had been standing
immobile with one hand on the breadbox for just that instant too long. “I’m fine.”
She wondered idly what her expression looked like to make him look so doubtful. “Really.”
She busied herself making toast, while Margo leaned back against the counter sipping
her coffee and
Similar Books
