Butch followed us, so I figured I might as well kill two birds with one stone. I said, “Let’s take him out.”
I had the feeling she wanted to talk about something, but I hoped it wasn’t more guilt over hooking up with Jesse. I was having another guy’s baby, for fuck’s sake; if that wasn’t the definition of I’ve moved on, then I had no idea what would convince her. Over the past months, I’d done my best to convey that I was cool with the way things went down. Plus, I was totally, absurdly in love with Chance—to the point that Jesse had thought, at one point, that I was in serious denial and in danger of needing mental health care.
She read my look as Butch trotted into the grass, and laughed. “It’s not what you think.”
“No?”
“I just want to make sure we’re okay. Before the whole amnesia thing, we talked about going into business together—”
Yeah, I remembered. We’d discussed running a consignment shop together, what seemed like ages ago. But circumstances changed. She had new dreams now, and I understood. So did I, actually.
She went on, “Now, I’m putting together a business plan for my own deal. I just don’t want you to think that—”
“Shan, you’re always going to be my best friend.” I put an end to her verbal stumbling. “It doesn’t matter if we live together . . . or work together. As for your idea, I think Zombye Gear will be epic.”
“It’ll hit the goth market anyway.”
“All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be safe and happy. I know that sounds super motherly, but I don’t care, and you have to deal.” More tears prickled at my eyes. “Gods, these hormones. I don’t even know how Eva survived it.”
Shan laughed. “I won’t say you’re glowing, but I am relieved to have an explanation for all the barfing.”
“Me too,” I muttered.
“That was trippy, right? You go in with a demon dog bite and come out with, ‘Surprise, in seven months, you’re having a baby.’”
“It was terrifying,” I confessed.
“Yeah, and with Chance—”
“Dead. It’s fine, you can say it. I know what happened in Sheol . . . and normally, that would be an impediment to a life together.”
“Little bit.”
Butch trotted over to me, his job done, and I picked him up. When I straightened, I wore a smirk. “Anyway, I’m happy for you on all counts. I do, however, expect free clothing and cosmetics as you’re perfecting the prototypes.”
“Deal. But I have years of school ahead of me before then.”
“You’ll be famous by the time Cami is old enough to think your products are cool,” I predicted.
Shan waved a hand in dismissal but I could tell she was pleased. “Maybe. It’ll take some start-up money. I have some ideas on that.”
“Oh?”
“Well, I was thinking I might do séances. Talk to dead people?”
“Be careful. You might cause trouble for Jesse if you get a reputation as a charlatan. And if people think you’re legit, that’s a whole different set of problems.”
She grinned. “I didn’t say it was a perfect plan.”
I hugged her with a squirming dog between us. “I was wondering . . . would you and Jesse be willing to serve as godparents?”
It was a huge thing to ask, considering her age, but she was my closest friend. If all went well, it’d just be a titular role that involved spoiling the baby rotten; so far, it hadn’t been hard with Cami. There were more overtones, like religious training and raising the kid if something happened to Chance and me, but I wasn’t asking with those things in mind. This was a gesture that proved things were—and would always be—good between two Kilmer girls who made it out despite the odds.
Her arms tightened around my shoulders. “God, yes. I mean, I have to ask Jesse, but I don’t think he’ll mind.” Shan’s voice thickened, and I could tell she was on the verge of tears. “I have . . . so much now, Corine—family . . .” I suspected she meant the Ortiz clan and Jesse’s folks, plus all his other relatives. From what she’d said, they had welcomed her with open arms, even though she was young for him and didn’t dress like a nice girl.
She took a breath, continuing, “Friends, a future. I can’t tell you—”
“Then don’t. I get it.”
“Okay.” Shan pushed out a shuddering breath, hugged me hard, then let go. That felt a little symbolic.
At the beginning, she was a lost kid, but she’d turned into a strong woman who could meet me as an equal. She had her own plans and dreams . . . her own life—and that was as it should be. Maybe if I hadn’t cast that forget spell, she wouldn’t have figured out what she wanted from life so soon. I hated to think I could’ve limited her by being overprotective; damn, I had to watch that with my own kid.
“There’s one thing I want to give you,” I said.
“I’ve taken enough from you,” she protested, but I was having none of it.
I put the Pinto keys in her palm. “Chuch can work with you on the title, make it official. It’s a hell of an ugly car, but you need one, and it’s served me well.”
Shan paused, like she might argue. Then she tucked the keys into her pocket. “Thank you.” She’d evidently decided to be gracious. “Now let’s get back in there,” she said. “And party like it’s 1999.”
I nodded. “Yep. We’re taking Booke to the airport late tonight, and then we’re heading out too.”
“God, it hurts to think of saying good-bye to you,” she choked out.
“Don’t make the pregnant lady cry again. And it’s not a good-bye, Shan, never a good-bye between you and me. This is only sayonara.”
Home at Last
It was tough leaving everyone in Texas, knowing it would be months before we got together again. Chance and I intended to catch a midnight bus, so we could sleep on the way home. Airports had better security, and he didn’t have any ID on him. His passport was back in Mexico City at the apartment, along with everything else he owned. I knew from experience that they didn’t care about illegal entry into Mexico. It was only tough getting back into the States.
That night at the bus terminal, I gave hugs and kisses multiple times, nuzzled Cami’s soft baby cheeks until she chortled. Booke was already gone, of course. We’d dropped him off at the airport first. He’d kissed me on the tip of the nose and asked, “How would you like a postcard from Shanghai?”
“I’d love one,” I’d said.
Shan hugged me hardest of all. “I expect regular Skype calls.”
“Every night if you want, at least for a few minutes.”
“Deal.”
Jesse stepped up beside her, letting me know he had her back. She wasn’t sketchy like some gifted girls he’d dated. Maybe she was a little off-kilter to be a cop’s girl, but like complex puzzle pieces, they fit perfectly, creating a larger design. She teared up when Chuch walked Chance and me to the front doors of the station, and I waved until she turned a tearful face into Jesse’s shoulder.
For once at a loss for words, Chuch shifted back and forth on his heels. “I could totally drive you to Monterrey. It’d be no trouble. Eva said—”
I held up a hand, stemming his protest. “And I said you should get home to your family. We’ll be seeing you soon.”
“You better invite us over.” Chuch cleared his throat, hard.
I choked up in turn. “As soon as possible. Please don’t make me bawl at the bus station, primo.”
At that he managed a smile, then hugged us both, hard. Other people surged around us while Chuch clutched us around the neck; he smelled of cologne and motor oil. Eventually Chance brought the tableaux to a close with a murmur that our bus was leaving in fifteen minutes.
It wasn’t a dramatic exit, more a quiet setting to rights. Chuch, Jesse, and Shan stayed to watch us pull out of the terminal. Though I hadn’t realized it, I was crying silently. Too much had happened, too much change, and my world would never be the same. It wasn’t bad, but it was different; and I’d never been one to adapt too fast.
“We could move to Texas,” Chance said quietly. “All our friends are there.”
“Not Booke.”
“True. But he will be in a year.”
I smiled. “Let’s talk about it then.”
The truth was, even though so many of my loved ones made their homes in Texas, it didn’t feel like home to me. Since leaving Chance, I’d only ever been content in Mexico . . . and I wanted to see how much better it could be with him at my side, building our lives together. If he hated it, then we’d revisit the question.
“I just want to be with you,” he said then. “I don’t care where.”
I melted.
“Twila showed me a glimpse of things to come, you know.”
He smiled at me. “Anything good waiting down the line?”
“The vision was kind of a mess, but we might be having a boy. If what she showed me is true.”
“Really?” The lights from the parking lot outside illuminated his face well enough that I saw his brows arch. “I guess we should talk about names, then.”
“I was hoping to convince you to name him after Kel.”
His fingers tensed in mine. I knew he had mixed feelings about the guy, but since he was gone, I wanted to do something to honor his life . . . and his sacrifice. So I tried to explain.
“Not Kelethiel. That’s too weird to hang on a kid. But something that could shorten to Kel as a nickname. Kelvin, Kelton, Kel—”
“Kellen,” he cut in. “I could live with Kellen.”
“Wow. You’ve been thinking about this already.”
He nodded, bringing my hand to his lips. The kiss to my palm roused tingles up and down my whole arm. “I have, actually. I’ll never like the fact that you cared about him . . . or that he wanted you for himself. But I’m here with you, and he died to make that happen. I feel like I need to repay the debt somehow.”
“Me too,” I admitted.
“Kellen means mighty warrior,” Chance said as the bus pulled away from the terminal. Chuch’s car drove out after us, and they turned the other way to take Shannon home.
“That sure fits, considering what this kid has already been through.”
“He’s a fighter, like you. I’m sure, down the line, he’ll make our lives hell.”
“In the best possible way.”
A family, I thought. That’s what we are—with shared dreams, a promise of forever. It had been so long that I didn’t remember how I should feel about that, and I strangled more tears. Men didn’t usually understand that they could come from a place of joy too, and I didn’t want to worry Chance.
He held my hand the entire trip. Not because he was afraid, but because he wanted to. He laced our fingers together after we talked about baby names and only relinquished me in Monterrey. No hitches prevented us from catching the next bus, a twelve-hour trip that ended with us exhausted in Mexico City. I fell asleep on Chance’s shoulder; he only woke me when we pulled into the final station. Then he collected our bags and hailed a cab in halting Spanish. I glowed a little that he was trying so hard. As we got in the taxi, I rang Tia to let her know we’d be there soon.