“So, are you ever going to talk to me about Breckin Roberts?”

My grip loosens on my curling iron, the metal coming way too close to my ear, as Mom pops her head around my bathroom door as I’m getting ready for school.

“Gosh, you scared me!” I unwrap a curl and set the iron on the counter. “What are you doing home this early?”

“I have seven months before my only child goes off to college. I figured if I wanted to spend any time with you, I’d have to come home before you left for school.”

Guilt sucker-punches me. “I’m sorry.”

She picks up the curling iron and steps behind me. Drawing a chunk of hair from my scalp, she sets about curling it, just as she did when I was younger. “You haven’t been running, you haven’t stopped by the clinic to help file. This boy must be pretty special for you to give up all of your normal activities.”   

“He is,” I admit, meeting her gaze in the reflection of my bathroom mirror. “Do you need me at the medical center? I can come in.”

“Not if you’d rather hang out with Breckin, sweetie.”

See your mostly working mom or hang out with your newly found soul mate? What a choice. I fuss with the front of my hair, searching for pieces in need of the curling iron, as I carefully consider my answer.

“What if I bring him by?”

Her light brow arches. “Introducing him to the parental unit? Is he that special?”

My eyes roll as I smirk. “Mom, you know Breckin. You know his . . . Elias—”

“His Elias? Is that a term you kids are using these days that I wouldn’t understand?”

“Elias Jamison. He’s Breckin’s unofficial uncle. We ate dinner with him. He’s really nice.”

Her face changes. A thoughtful and far off look glazes over her eyes. “Yes, he is nice. And yes, I know them both, but not all that well. I’d love it if you brought Breckin by the center. I’d like to get to know the boy who’s convinced my normally rigid daughter to drop her schedule for an entire week.”

“Rigid daughter?” I scoff. She raises her brow again, a silent “Are you going to dispute it?” and I give in. “Aren’t you the one who poked at me for not having enough fun?”

“Not too much fun, Viv,” she says, and I inhale deeply at the censure in her tone.

This week has been a whirlwind. My usual “rigid” schedule, as Mom calls it, fell to the wayside. My daily running was replaced by making out with an angel. My evenings helping Mom file charts and eating dinner with her at work were replaced by dinner dates in front of a fire with Breckin. Four afternoons spent doing our homework together, and getting to know each other, on a level other than the angelic, soul mate level.

“It’s a good thing you raised me right.” I turn and pilfer the curling iron from her hands. “He’ll be here soon. Let me finish getting ready. How about we come by tonight? A Friday night date with my mom at a medical center? How could he say no?”

“Say no to a night with the Freeman girls? He couldn’t.” She slaps my butt on her way out the door.

* * *

I have so many questions. Breckin and I need to talk before Mom jumps on him and interrogates him tonight. If he agrees to go. I should have asked on the way to school, but I chickened out. I should have said something before he left me at my classroom door, but my stomach fluttered and my senses swam as he kissed my cheek.

I’ve put off letting them meet because I was worried she would see just how strong my feelings for him are. She knows me too well. Now, before they meet, I need to sort things out. Things I put off because I was too frightened of the answers. If Breckin is my soul mate, what does that mean? We’re seventeen. We’re in high school. This isn’t normal, being this attached to another when you’re not even sure of yourself.

And he’s an angel. He won’t age much further—he’s immortal. Will I be a creepy old woman passing the man I love off as my son, then grandson someday? I will grow old and die and leave him behind. My stomach turns. Am I thinking of a future with Breckin? Am I in love with him? Our souls are so in sync, it clouds all other feelings. It could be love, but it’s too soon to go there. Soul mates or not. Isn’t it?

“Buck up, cupcake. You’ll see lover boy again in one hour.” Zara knocks the back of my head as she takes her seat beside me. We’ve spoken less this last week than we have our entire lives. “You two are the real deal, huh?” Her words are dipped in resentment.

“Jealous?”

Zara snorts. “Of your hot boy toy? Totally. But I miss you more. He’s gonna have to give you up. At least occasionally—shared custody?”

I smile. Just like with my rigid schedule and mom, I’ve disappeared on Zara this week, too. With a rogue angel out to get me, it can’t exactly be helped, but she doesn’t know that.

“Eat lunch with us, and we can work out arrangements.”

“Really? He’ll share you?”

Never. Breckin’s words—You. Are. My soul—roll through my head.

I flash a coy smile. “What makes you think he’s the needy one?”

“I’ve never known you to be clingy, Viv.”

“That’s because you’ve never known me to be in love.”

Her face changes from wide-eyed shock to worry. Why did I admit that? Was I not just questioning my feelings? I’m an idiot, because I know darn well what my feelings are.

“You think you’re in love?” Zara scoots her chair halfway into the aisle. “Viv, I don’t want to see you get hurt. I know there’s some sexy appeal to Breckin Roberts, but he’s Breckin Roberts. Don’t get your hopes up.”

She means well. I push the leg of her chair with my foot, sliding her back toward her own desk. “I love you, Z. Everything will be fine.”

If she has more to say, she’s denied the chance by the start of class.

Halfway through AP Lit, my cell vibrates. I covertly slip the phone from my pocket.

Breck: My father is at the house. I have to go see him.

Me: Now? I’ll come with you.

My heart races as I wait for his reply. He’s taking too long. Why? A glance at the front of the room verifies I’m not being watched. I type again.

Me: Breck?

Breck: You can’t. I need you to stay here. Stay in the building and with someone at all times, okay? I’ll be back in time for chem.

I can’t? Irrational worry, or maybe it isn’t irrational considering what he’s told me about his father, hits me.

Me: Will Elias be there?

Again, his reply takes too long. I lean down and grab my backpack, half determined to run for the exit. Beside me, Zara hisses, drawing my attention. Her brows dip over her eyes in a silent question. I shake my head and mouth, I’m fine.

Breck: Elias is there, Vivie. I’ll be fine, I promise. I’ll see you soon.

The remainder of class is a blur. Within moments of Breck’s last text, dread hits me. I rub my chest, the emptiness I felt after he and Elias attempted erasing my memories coming back full force. Elias said I’d get used to it—the way my bond calls to Breckin’s when we’re not in close proximity. I’m empty, and he’s not even two miles away.

Two sharp knocks on the classroom door stops us in the middle of reading a passage from Heart of Darkness.

“Sorry for the interruption. May I see Vivienne for a moment please?”

The pencil I’m doodling with stills as I look up. The assistant principal wants me? She lifts a hand and waves me over, before ducking back into the hall. Sharing a curious glance with Zara, I slip my cell up my sleeve and stand. The reading continues before I’ve left the room.

AP Lit is at the end of a hallway on the first floor of the school. To the left are exit doors with colorful posters advertising the Yuletide Ball tomorrow night, and to the right is a long corridor of closed classroom doors, and the Assistant Principal’s back, as she walks away.

Am I supposed to follow her? What about my things?

The exit doors behind me open, a shock of cool wind and a beam of light shining into the hallway.

“Hello, pretty one.” His rasping voice sends tendrils of fear curling up my spine.