he said, letting her go. “This is the first good night I’ve had in forever.”
She shivered, as much from the warm current working its way through her body as the cold ocean breeze. The sense he wasn’t wholly of this world returned. It should’ve scared her. Instead, it made him different enough to be like her: a shadow on the fringe of society. Without knowing anything about him, she had the uncanny impression they were a lot alike in how alone they were.
He was the first real person she’d ever met.
She sat near him. The man stretched out his legs in front of him. He pulled her closer to him, until their sides were pressed together, then released her as the weird energy fluttered through her. Her sense of self-consciousness grew as the physical contact made her appreciative of the size and heat of his body. His strength was the kind she could almost imagine herself melting into. Unlike Logan, this man wouldn’t hesitate or complain about holding her on the days when the pain was too much. His strength was constant but steady. He took in the world with thought.
Why did she feel like she knew him?
“How are you going to do it?” he asked.
Startled, Deidre’s gaze went from the muscular legs to his face. He was looking at her, as if he already knew.
“I’m guessing in a week. Maybe two,” he said.
She said nothing.
“Something simple and quick. You’re brave, but you’re terrified as well. You don’t want to give yourself a second chance to think it over.”
He held her gaze as he spoke. His dark eyes were fathomless in the moonlight. He saw through her, pushed down the barriers of her soul and stepped back to examine it. The sensation left her feeling exposed.
“Your face may be blue and your hair pink, but I don’t see you doing anything messy, like taking a shotgun to the head.” He considered her. “You’ll go somewhere on your bucket list. Grand Canyon. You’re a jumper.”
Who the hell was this guy?
“Bingo,” he said, reading the expression on her face. He looked out to sea again.
Deidre felt the release of whatever strange magic he had. Part of her wanted to lean against him, knowing he wouldn’t turn her away. She resisted, already too aware of him physically.
“What gave it away?” she asked in a hushed tone.
“Nothing anyone else can see.”
His response made her think she wasn’t far off in thinking he’d at least read her mind.
“If it helps, death is indiscriminate,” he added. “Everyone dies. It’s nothing personal.”
“Spoken like someone on the other end of the equation,” she said, offended by his casual dismissal. “So you figured out my plan.” She moved to face him, distracted by the fact he shifted his body to keep from breaking their physical contact. Though she’d rather not be trapped by the eyes that made her blood quicken, she forced herself to look at him.
He studied her, waiting.
“Death is the most universal experience possible, true, but it’s also the most personal. There’s nothing else on the planet that forces you to really see and accept who you are as the day the doctor says you’re dying. You have to make a choice that day: to continue living or to start mourning,” she started angrily.
The stranger was silent, gaze riveted to her.
“Death lets you see the stars and the moon instead of how dark the night is. It teaches compassion, because sitting on the bus, I know the person beside me is someday going to have to search his soul the same way I did, so I don’t mind that he’s spilling his coffee on my shoes. My new shoes.” She grimaced at the memory. “Knowing what’s coming, I’ve never felt more alive than I do now.”
When she stopped, the sound of waves filled the quiet.
“I made this awkward again, didn’t I?” she said, embarrassed once more by the passion she put into her speech.
“Not for me,” he replied. His eyes were warm, his features losing their gravity as he gave a genuine smile. “I