Page 110 of Ablaze

Zander gives me a proud smile, as if I’ve just accomplished the world’s most difficult task under his guidance.

He’s dressed in a white linen button-down, the sleeves rolled up casually, over khaki shorts. His light brown eyes reflect the vast lake in front of us, and he places his hands in his pockets, leaning back on his heels, as if taking it all in.

My brows furrow, and a thought I can’t shake floats to the surface. “What are you doing here? How . . . how are you here?”

Zander gives me a sidelong glance before turning to the lake again. “Been here the whole time, buddy.”

I look down at my toes in the sand before I scan the ground, the lake, the sky. I lift my hands in front of me, like I’m seeing them for the first time, before I examine his profile next to me. He’s about as tall as I am, but perhaps a little broader.

“Fuck,” I gasp, feeling like my throat is closing up, my chest caving in on itself. “Did I fucking die?”

Zander chuckles softly. “Nah, brother, you’re alright. Well . . .” He pauses. “You will be.”

An incessant beeping chimes from his pocket and his hand pulls out a two-way radio–the same kind we use as firefighters to communicate during emergencies. Strange. The pockets of his shorts didn’t seem big enough to hold it, but somehow it doesn’t register as completely odd to me, either. Probably because a part of me recognizes my mind is justifying the details that don’t make sense.

In this dream, they do. In this dream, it all makes sense.

“So, why are you here?”

Zander makes no attempt to stop the beeping, shifting to face me. “Two reasons. One, to thank you.”

I shake my head, frowning. “I don’t deserve it. I couldn’t even keep my word,” I remind him, recalling the promise he asked of me, to not let Jane lose her spark. “It wasn’t until Jane found Owen that she smiled again.”

“You were there for her from day one. She knows that, and so do I.” He raises his dark brows. “You don’t think I know it was you who cleaned her driveway right after the big snowstorms before she’d even wake up? That you made an anonymous donation to the college fund Jane opened for Catherine? A donation that’ll pay for a huge chunk of her tuition.

“You don’t think I know that you kept in touch with her–visited her–even when she wouldn’t text you back? Even when you rang the doorbell and she wouldn’t answer. You don’t think I know that you kept going back?” He glares at me incredulously, almost like he’s accusing me of doing the things he claims. “You know why you did all those things, brother?”

I don’t answer, though I suspect I wouldn’t be able to even if I wanted to. My throat feels too dry to attempt.

“Not because of that promise, Dean. It had nothing to do with that promise, because what you did–what you kept doing–was so far beyond a mere promise.” He squeezes my shoulder. “It’s why I wanted to thank you.”

I swallow, trying to coat my dry throat.

The beeping continues from his radio, and I open my mouth to ask him to turn it off, but Zander speaks before I can. “The other reason I’m here is to tell you to wake up.”

Strangely, his voice morphs into something familiar, but higher-pitched. “Wake up, baby. Please, Dean.”

I stare at him in confusion. Why the hell is Zander calling me baby, and what just happened to his voice? And why won’t he turn off that stupid beeping radio?

“Dean. I love you.”

A gust of wind carries droplets of water toward me and one lands on my forehead, trickling down the side of my head.

A sniffle registers in my ear, and as if my eyes are being pried open, I blink up at the harsh lights above me. My heart races as my gaze takes in the light blue walls around me. The various machines beeping and clicking. A woman with blonde hair, similar to mine, sits with her head resting against the wall behind her, her eyes closed. I realize after a few seconds that it’s my mother.

But it’s the shift of soft hair at my shoulder and the scent of lemons that has me closing my eyes again.

And though the tentacles of sleep pull me back and I’m wavering at the threshold of consciousness, I register the ache inside my heart. The tears drenching my skin. The soft whispers and sobs right at the shell of my ears. Heartbreak and fear curled around each syllable.

If this is the pain I’ve given her from surviving, then what would it do to her if I didn’t? What would it do to her next time?

She doesn’t deserve this. No one does.

Chapter Thirty-Three

MALA

“Dean.”

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