Infinityglass (Hourglass 3)

“I understand, but I don’t want to lose time with you now. What if I can’t get it back later?”

His thumb smoothed over my forehead and down my temple. “We’re going to figure out how to stop the rips from taking over.”

This was the capable Dune, the one everyone looked to for ideas and support. Totally solid, completely dependable. He thought he was nothing more than the strength behind the scenes. “As much as I’ve tried to avoid being trapped in one place my whole life, now I don’t want to move from this spot. I keep thinking, Can they find me here? Am I safe here?”

“You’re as safe as I can make you.”

“I know.” Even though I hadn’t shed a tear, I felt like I’d been crying for days. Raw, achy, and emotionally spent.

“I want to make you happy,” he murmured into my hair. “Tell me how.”

I whispered in his ear.

Dune pulled away so he could look into my eyes.

“I could disappear,” I said. “Not exist, except as a full-time playground for dead people. I know the timing sucks, but right now is all we have.”

“No, it’s not, Hal. I’ll make sure of it.”

“You’ll try. But you can’t guarantee it, and I don’t want to lose one more second. Do you?”

Instead of answering, he shut the bedroom door.

He hadn’t fallen asleep until dawn, and even then he’d only slept in snatches. This time, I was the one who watched him take every breath. When my phone rang, I picked it up to silence it, figuring it was Dad checking in.

My heart stopped cold when I saw the name on the caller ID.

I shook Dune awake and answered.

“Hello, Mother.”

She sounded cool and well rested. Wherever she’d been for the past few weeks, the living hadn’t been hard.

“Where have you been?” I asked, keeping my tone as bored as I could manage. “We thought you were dead.”

“Don’t you mean hoped?”

“What do you think?”

Dune sat up beside me. The word backup had never meant so much. My mother’s lack of response gave me a petty amount of pleasure. Today, I’d take pleasure wherever I could get it.

“Why are you calling?” I leaned back into Dune’s chest. “I know you want something. You always do.”

“That’s no way to talk to your mother, Little Miss.”

It was her childhood nickname for me, a passive-aggressive insult. Her specialty. “Whatever.”

“I’m your mother. That’s why I’m calling.” She took a deep sigh for dramatic effect. “I want to help you. I want to lift the burden of the Infinityglass from you. I can make that happen. I can help.”

I tensed, saying nothing. Waiting for the bomb to drop.

“I’m in New Orleans, and I need to see you.”

“Could she be telling the truth?” Dune asked. “What if she does have a way to help?”

“Everyone should try something new once in a while. Maybe truth is her latest hobby.”

Dune had insisted on neutral ground, and Audubon Park fit the bill. We took Dad’s town car down Saint Charles. It dropped us off across from Tulane’s Gibson Hall.