Pax stares at me, his golden eyes warm in the shadowy room.
“You’re right,” he finally says. “A person can be flawed, but still be a good person, or have a good heart, at least. Where is this coming from? Because I asked about your parents earlier?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’ve had a weird recurring dream since they died and I think this has always been one of the things that my subconscious has been trying to tell me. I struggled after they died, I missed them so much, but I also resented them because of their relationship. They loved each other- to distraction, almost- but they weren’t healthy together. They didn’t communicate well.”
Pax stares at me. “Did your dad ever hit you?”
I shake my head immediately. “No. I was spanked a few times when I was a kid, but actually hit? No. They were good parents. Their problem was that they always pushed each other’s buttons until things escalated beyond their control.”
Pax is already shaking his head.
“Nothing is ever out of your control,” he argues. “Not in that situation. You were right, though. Your parents’ should have gotten help. I’m sorry that they didn’t.”
I close my eyes and snuggle against him again.
“I think my dream was a message to me, somehow. That everything will be okay, and that I should trust my gut. My gut tells me that it’s okay to be with you. You and I aren’t my parents and our relationship won’t be the same as theirs. No one is perfect and you have issues to deal with, but we’ll get through it, Pax.”
He startles, I can feel it. He’s stiff against me now.
“You think your dream was a message from your father that it’s okay to be with me?”
I shrug again. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
He shakes his head. “No way. It’s not that I don’t believe in that kind of thing, but there’s no way your dad would give his blessing for you to get involved with me. No way in hell. You dreamed what you want to believe that he would say to you. You’re just trying to make sense of things. We stirred up your memories tonight, so it’s normal.”
I refuse to let him sway me though.
“We’ll have to agree to disagree. But for now, let’s just go back to sleep.”
And so we do. Pax tightens his hold on me and I fall asleep in his arms.
When I wake, he is still asleep next to me. His arms are still tightly wrapped around me. I don’t think we’ve moved at all. I blink from the sunlight that is pouring through the windows. I am so comfortable that I don’t want to get up and close the blinds. But if I don’t, I’ll never go back to sleep.
And I’m just not ready to start the day. I want to stay in bed with Pax a while longer.
I carefully extract myself from Pax’s arms and crawl out of bed, padding to the windows. I find the strings that pull the shades closed and start to pull. As I do, I glance down at the lawn behind the house and I freeze.
An icy feeling spreads from the base of my spine all the way to my neck as horror ricochets through my ribcage.
There is someone lying on the lawn, out in the cold and wind. I peer closer, staring at the pale leg, spiky high heel and mousy brown hair.
Jill.
What the hell?
My hand drops from the blinds and I cover my mouth with it.
Jill isn’t moving and her body is sprawled at an unnatural angle. Her face is turned away from me, toward the lake, but she is too still. The wind moves her hair across her face, but it is the only thing moving.
“Pax!” I shriek, running to shake him. “Wake up. Wake up! Jill is on your lawn.”
He leans up groggily, trying to clear his head enough to realize what I’m saying. Realization finally crosses his face and he lunges from bed, and we both run to the back lawn.
Pax runs to Jill without hesitation, but I have to admit, I am hesitant. Dread seems to freeze me into place. I don’t know exactly what’s wrong with her, but I know it’s nothing good.
Pax kneels and examines her, but he quickly looks up at me and the look on his face is grave.
I have to force myself to walk to him.
“Can you call the police?” he asks quietly. I look down and Jill’s eyes are open. They are faded and unblinking and I know she is dead. I back away, my hands over my mouth, as complete and utter horror fills me up. I want to scream, but I don’t.
There is vomit on her shirt and chin. At some point, it had run down her arm onto her hand. It is frozen there now, an orangey-rust color. I gag and turn away. Pax stands up and wraps his arms around me.
“Let’s go call the police,” he says gently. “Don’t look again. You don’t need to.”
“We can’t just leave her out here!” I tell him. “It’s cold. How long do you think she’s been here? Since last night? Do you think she was texting you from here?”
I stare at him wild-eyed and he grasps my elbow.
“Mila, she isn’t feeling the cold now. We need to go call the police. And I have no idea if she was here when she was texting me.”
I don’t say what I know we are both thinking. If he’d only answered her, this might have been avoided. I don’t look him in the eye because I don’t want him to see my thoughts.
“Did she overdose?” I ask quietly as we walk woodenly into the house.
Pax shakes his head as we climb the stairs to the kitchen. “I don’t know, but it sure looks like it.”
He looks at me. “Can you make some coffee while I call?”
I nod and set to finding the coffee supplies. It somehow feels good to do this mundane thing, to let my hands operate automatically as I measure out the coffee and pour the water into the basket. The aroma fills my nose and I am standing there, with my hands gripping the cabinet, when Pax appears behind me.
“They’re on their way. I forgot to put your clothes in the dryer last night, but I think I have a pair of sweats you can borrow.”
I nod and follow him upstairs, where he finds the sweats and hands them to me.
“They’re way too big, but there’s a drawstring. Are you okay?”
He looks at me and I sit down on the bed, shakily.