Page 19 of Living with Death

“How did you do that?”

“I can do lots of things.”

I narrow my eyes before placing the water cup on the table. I open the contacts and begin the ordeal of putting them in. Luckily, I’d gotten good at this growing up.

The door opens, and Sam bursts through just as I finish putting them in. I blink, trying to adjust my eyes, seeing hers wide as she stops in her tracks, looking at Death.

“Um, hello,” she says, her brows lifted.

“Hello,” he replies.

She gives me a look that says,Who. The. Fuck. Is. That?

I clear my throat. “Sam, this is my friend…from…” I try to come up with something, but my brain isn’t working. We should have talked about what we would tell people, but we haven’t had much time.

“I’m Jack,” he says, standing to take her hand. He brings it to his lips, and she slants her head. I swear her brows are going to shoot to the heavens.

I take another sip of my water.

“Jack?” she repeats, glancing at me. “Nice to meet you. I’m Mabel’s best friend, Sam.”

Jack. Is that his real name? His eyes go to me briefly, and I observe his outfit. The blazer has come off, his sleeves rucked to his elbows, and his tie loose around his neck.

Jesus.

“Likewise. Any friend of Mabel’s is a friend of mine.” He gestures to the chair. “Have my seat. I’ll take those flowers.”

She hands him the flowers and takes a seat, looking mystified. I nearly groan when I glance at my reflection. My hair’s sticking to my head. I have dirt on my face and dried blood on my neck. I lick my finger and wipe the dirt off, my eyes following him as he strides over to the windowsill. I see Sam’s doing the same.

He places the vase and then turns around. Both Sam and I yank our heads straight. I run my hand over the sheet, and Sam flicks a piece of lint off her shirt.

“I’ll give you two a moment to talk. Mabel, I’ll be near if you need me.”

“Gotcha,” I say, a little too high-pitched.

I exhale as soon as he leaves the room, and Sam whispers harshly, “Okay. Who the hell is Jack?” She glances behind her. “And where has he been all your life?”

“I’m fine, by the way. I just bumped my head, and I’m a little sore.”

“Yeah, yeah… good to know.” She scoots closer. “But what about him?”

I try not to laugh at her, but I understand her curiosity. Either way, I have no idea how to answer any of the questions she’s about to throw at me without revealing the truth, but I obviously can’t tell her what’s happening.

How would that even sound?

I died, and Death appeared with a proposition. I could follow the white light or have a second chance at living. The drawback? I’d have to do it alongside him, and I still don’t know why he wants to do that.

“He’s a friend. We grew up together.” I pick up the mirror and rub the blood off my neck.

Her dark hair falls over her shoulder. “And you’ve never thought to mention this Jack before?”

“We haven’t seen one another in a long time.” I shrug. “It’s complicated.”

She narrows her eyes at me, sitting back in the chair.

“What?”

“Seems odd, is all.” She bites her inner cheek. “A drop-dead gorgeous man comes out of nowhere, whom you say is a part of your past, and I just can’t help but wonder why you left him in your past.”

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