It takes me a minute to find my voice, and I’m still breathless when I do. “Is that where you . . .” How do I even ask this question? Live just doesn’t seem like the right word here, so I finish with, “Stay?”

As though the sound of my voice triggers something inside him, all at once his rigid stance diminishes and he’s whirling around so his back is to me. He rakes both hands through his hair, then clasps them behind his neck as he inhales a long, uneven breath. He waits a full three seconds before letting his arms drop and turning to face me.

His eyes are different now, the green gleaming through. There’s a rough edge to his voice, like a bomb trying to contain itself before it goes off. “Are you okay?”

“I’m—yes. I think so—”

“You should lie down. You need rest.” He’s scooped me up before I can process what’s happening, then takes steady, measured steps toward the bed. I would protest but it’d only be a waste of breath; we both know how weak I still am.

The blankets puff up around me as he sets me down, my head falling lightly on a pillow. He releases me and even though I still feel the soft strokes of his heat, I can’t suppress a shiver at the loss of his touch. He reaches toward the foot of the bed to retrieve the silky throw, laying it delicately over my body. Then he plucks up the rocking chair as though it weighs nothing, places it beside the bed, and sinks heavily down.

He avoids meeting my gaze, but I’m watching closely as he leans forward, eyes flashing brightly, jaw clenching. There’s so much emotion bottled up inside him, waiting to burst, that I can’t seem to single out any one more than the others.

“Hey.” I keep my voice gentle. “It’s okay. I’m okay now, thanks to you.”

He closes his eyes at my words, his lips pressing together in a hard line. “You were pulled in there, thanks to me.”

“What?” I sit up, adjusting myself so my back rests against the headboard. “You can’t seriously think that what happened tonight is your fault.”

His eyes flash open, centering on me. “It is my fault, Lou. You should never have been able to cross over while your heart still beats. It could have . . . it could have killed you. Or worse.”

I frown. “I can’t think of anything worse than if it’d killed me.”

He shakes his head, another quick tick of his jaw. “And let’s keep it that way. Tell me how it happened.”

“I—I don’t really know,” I murmur, my frown deepening. “One minute I was feeling sick, and the next I was . . . there.”

His brow raises. “You were sick again?”

“Well, not totally. It was just starting, I think. It hit me hard, all at once.” I pause, mentally reviewing this past week. “Actually, ever since that last fever I’ve been feeling a little off—”

“How so?”

I shrug. “Dizzy spells. Fatigue. Not all the time, but enough for it to be annoying.”

“And your heart?”

“My heart?”

“Yes,” he growls impatiently. Then he pauses, eyes falling closed as he pinches the bridge of his nose. His tone is strained when he calmly clarifies, “Have you noticed any differences with your heart?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” I have to stop again to think about it, but it doesn’t take long to remember the way my heart started fluttering the first day I’d been ill. “Yeah, when I had that fever. My heartbeat felt different. It wasn’t steady like usual, but more like a flutter. It was fast and light and just strange. Almost like it wasn’t really . . . like it wasn’t fully beating.” Oh, shit. Suddenly that sounds really, really bad.

He lets out a deep breath, then hangs his head low to his chest for a few seconds before bringing his now heavy gaze back up to mine. “Of course,” he mutters, leaning back against the seat and pursing his lips.

“‘Of course’ what? Did I miss something?”

He shakes his head, his fingers rubbing his jaw. “No. I did.” He bites the words out. “I should have known this could happen.”

“What could happen?”

“Your body, it’s . . . adjusting. Acclimating itself to my world.”

My eyes just about pop out of their sockets. “Excuse me?” I’m not adding anything useful to this conversation, but I can’t seem to assimilate anything properly right now.

“In order for you to fully cross into my world, your body would have to be . . . well, less body, and more soul.”

I blink. “Except, I’m definitely body.” I flip the throw off of me in demonstration and run my hands up and down my waist, my hips. “All body. See?”

His eyelids lower, gaze clinging to each spot my hands touch. A thick swallow passes through his throat, and I realize I should probably stop groping myself in front of him. “Yes,” he all but groans, “I do see.”

“Sorry,” I mumble as I scrunch my face, pulling the throw back over me. Such a tease.

He rips his eyes away, scrubbing a hand down his face as though to clear his mind. “Do you remember what I told you before about the universe being confused? Blurring us together?”

I nod. I get the feeling I’m not going to like where this is going.

He pushes himself up from the chair, taking the single step toward my bed until he’s close enough to touch. He doesn’t sit though, just hovers over me, his heat tickling my skin and his blazing eyes devouring mine. “Lou.” It’s just my name, but his voice is smooth, low, and caresses parts of me I didn’t know a voice could reach. “Give me your hand.”

I comply without thinking. His own large hand wraps fully around mine, shooting a ripple of warmth straight up my arm, down my chest, and pooling low in my stomach. He raises my hand until it rests palm-down on his chest. Now it’s my turn to swallow. My gaze flickers from his face to his chest, unsure of where to land.

“Do you feel it?” he murmurs.

I pause, focusing my attention on the hard lines pressed up against the palm of my hand. I’m just about to ask what he’s referring to, when a soft thump beats beneath my touch. And then another. And another. It’s faint, barely noticeable in fact, but it’s there. I lift my chin to see his face, my voice almost a whisper when I say, “I feel it.”

His lips curve up, just on one side and not enough to show his dimple. The natural brightness of his eyes seems to have dimmed somehow, and I realize there’s something broken about this smile. “I’m not supposed to have a heartbeat.” With my hand still against his chest, the soft rumble of his voice vibrates through my body. “See, my body started adjusting too, Lou. For your world, for you. I couldn’t fully be here, all of me, until my heart began to beat.”

I don’t like the sadness coloring his tone, the foreboding look in his eyes. I smile up at him, eyelashes batting. “Are you saying that your heart literally beats for me, Gumdrop?”

His dimple flashes then, his eyes brightening gorgeously for a moment before quieting back down. “I think I’m saying that and more, Lou.”

My smile falters as I try to process his words. There’s no trace of humor in them, like there had been in mine. The way my heart squeezes at his response makes me seriously hope I’m not reading more into it than he intended. Before I have the chance to overthink it any further, he removes my hand from his chest and takes a step back, quietly lowering himself back into the rocking chair.

The sudden silence surrounding us makes me realize how tired I am, physically and mentally. I’m an aching mess from my head to my toes, and my heart is filling with a worry I don’t quite understand. “What’s going to happen to me? To both of us?”

He eyes me carefully for a second, a crease forming between his brows that tells me he can see the worry etched into my face. His hand comes up, and his fingers run gently through the long strands of my hair. Once, twice, that’s it before he pulls back, but I’m already sighing.

“You?” He leans closer, elbows resting on his thighs, and looks me dead on. I always love when his eyes get overtaken by the green like this. For some reason, it makes me feel like it’s not just Death talking to me, but him. The soul inside. “You’re going to rest right here in your warm, comfortable bed. You’ll wake up tomorrow ready for a new day. You’ll slip on your fancy mood ring—” He pauses, glancing down at my bare fingers with a cocked brow, and I slink deeper into the bed. Why does it feel like I’m being chastised for not wearing the ring? And why do I like it? “And you’ll go on with your life, just as you have been.”

“But my heart—”

“Don’t worry about that. Leave it to me.”

“Don’t worry? But—”

“Look at me, Lou.” I lift my chin, just now noticing that I’ve already curled fully into the blankets, my eyelids growing heavy with the need to sleep. I hold them open to peer up at him, his face looming over mine. He’s looking at me in a way I’m sure no one else has done before, because I’d recognize the wild rush it sends pulsing through my veins. “I don’t have all the answers right now,” he continues, his voice a smooth lullaby, “but I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Okay?”

I feel my head nod up and down, my eyes already closing. “Okay,” I whisper into the darkness.

The chair creaks beneath his body as he leans back against it, the sound filling me with comfort. That sound means he’s not leaving yet. It means he’s still here, with me. As the gentle silence drones on, my mind drifts away with it. I should still be scared after a night like this. I should be freaking out. But my chest, it’s somehow so full, and I can’t help but feel a certain sense of peace. Even if I know the feeling won’t last. Even if I know it’s just for a little while, as he sits here beside me. I’ll take what I can get.

“Gumdrop?” I whisper dazedly, just before my mind can shut down fully.

“Yes, Lou.”

“I think my heart beats for you, too.”