“You won’t die. You’ll lose concentration, coordination, and maybe a little bit of sanity. But people can go for days without sleep. I believe the scientific record is eleven days. It takes six months or more for your body to get into the kind of hypermetabolism that would kill you.”
“Am I supposed to be comforted by the fact that you even know that?”
Ian shrugged.
Marley’s mind reeled to think of the kind of life he must lead, where that kind of knowledge was par for the course. She shook her head to clear it. “You do have a plan, right?”
“You need a new identity. We’re going to see a contact of mine who can help.”
“A new identity,” she repeated.
Ian inclined his head, watching her. Waiting.
A piece fell into place, and the truth of her situation crashed over her, shattering the foundations of her world. “I can’t ever go home,” she whispered. “You’re telling me that everything I’ve worked for, everything I’ve fought for, is just gone because of someone else’s foolishness?”
“I know this is difficult—”
“Difficult? You don’t know the first goddamned thing about difficult. I clawed my way up from nothing, keeping myself off the streets, working my ass off while going to school, to try to make something of myself. And you’re telling me it’s all for nothing. All because of some stupid, selfish creature that shouldn’t even exist. It’s not fair!”
With a cry of rage, Marley hurled the mug against the wall. It shattered, and coffee dripped down the dingy wallpaper like a bloodstain. Breath heaving, she tried to calm down, think through the choices. Starting over was shitty, but she’d done shitty.
“Maybe I can transfer my school credits somewhere else.”
“You can’t keep your name. That’s too easily tracked.”
“What if I left the country? Surely they wouldn’t—”
“No.”
“There has to be some other way.”
“There isn’t.”
Tears clogged, hot and heavy in her throat. A scream rose up, fighting for release, and she folded into herself, pressing her face into the bed as some distant, instinctive part of her brain demanded she stay silent, even now. She let the tears come, her sobs spilling out like broken glass against the thin, musty comforter.
“I’m sorry.” The words were a ragged whisper in her ear as the bed creaked. Ian’s arms came around her, dragging her into his lap. “I’m so sorry.”
Marley curled into the heat of him, taking the comfort he offered. She was tired, so very tired, of doing everything alone. He held her tightly as she wept, pressing his cheek against her hair as he uttered a litany of useless apologies that only made her cry harder. What good was remorse? It changed nothing.
“Please don’t cry,” Ian murmured, an edge of desperation in his voice. He cupped her cheek, lifted her face to his. The pad of his thumb was rough against her skin as he brushed the next tears away. “Don’t cry.”
Closing her eyes, Marley leaned into the touch. So little of her life had been kindness that the gift of it made something inside her crack open and yearn. Another fleeting touch, softer this time. Some of the tightness in her chest eased, and she sighed, her breath mingling with his. His closeness was a comfort. For this moment, she let herself believe she wasn’t alone.
Ian’s lips settled softly over hers. Marley’s heart kicked hard in her chest, shock stemming the tears, but she didn’t pull away. His mouth was warm, so unexpectedly gentle. An answer to one of her million whys.
Oh.
The sensation drew her in, until her hands splayed across his chest. The pulse beneath her palms hammered, but his lips stayed easy, undemanding. She could lose herself to this, forget for a little while. She wanted so much to forget, to escape.
Tilting her head, Marley fell into the kiss, the taste of him spar
king fireworks behind her eyes. Her blood leapt. She shifted, drawing him closer, as want morphed to something hotter, more potent. A helpless, needy sound escaped her, and the world fell away.
Marley found herself bouncing on the bed, her hands empty, her body suddenly cold. Reality intruded in a brutal, disorienting rush.
Ian was on the other side of the room, shoulders heaving. “I…I’m sorry.” He stepped into the bathroom, leaving her alone and breathless.
The hands Marley scrubbed over her face trembled. Well, that was unexpected. She was too raw, too exhausted to analyze the mix of regret and gratitude swirling inside her. Instead, she wrapped her arms around one of the threadbare pillows and settled in to count the hours until morning.