I took the drink and sat on the floor in front of the window. He turned down the lights until they were barely a glow on the ceiling, the room lit by the city outside, the sun fallen, endless lights lifting the darkness. Then he lowered himself, somewhat awkwardly, beside me and began to talk. Gradually, between the drink and the dark and the low and steady rumble of his voice, I relaxed and stretched out on the floor, until, finally, exhaustion won out, and I drifted off to sleep.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

I woke in Gabriel’s bed, and there was a moment in the confusion of sleep, when I smelled something that reminded me of him—his soap or his shampoo or his own faint smell—that I smiled and reached out, expecting to find him there. Of course he wasn’t, and as soon as I realized what I was doing—and what I was thinking—I jumped up, guilt slapping me as hard as if he’d actually been in bed with me.

I stayed propped up on one arm, breathing hard, pushing aside the fog of sleep, until my heart rate slowed and I could tell myself I’d done nothing wrong, thought nothing wrong. Wak-ing confusion, that was all.

I dropped back onto the pillow, pulled up the sheets, and fell back to sleep.

When the dream came, it was harmless enough. I was wandering through dark and empty halls, searching for Ricky, more annoyed than worried. Something had happened—I couldn’t remember what—and we’d been separated, and I needed to get back to him, which should have been much easier than it seemed. I kept walking and calling and walking and calling . . .

That’s when I fell in the hole. Or it seemed to be a hole, and I seemed to have fallen in, but with the illogic of dreams, I couldn’t quite be sure. One moment I was wandering and the next I was in the dark, and in a full-out panic, the air thinning with each breath as I raced around the room, one hand on the walls, searching for an exit, for a ladder, for a hatch, anything, knowing I wouldn’t find it because I’d been searching for hours and I was trapped here in this box. A huge wooden box. When I realized that’s what it was, I screamed until my throat was raw. I was running around the perimeter of the room one more time when I kicked something. I crouched, feeling around in the pitch-dark. My fingers closed on a thin metal rectangle.

My phone! I fumbled to turn it on, holding my breath until . . .

Yes, it switched on. It had barely any power, but I had a signal. My fingers flew to the keypad, speed-dialing, and I thought I was calling Ricky, but when the name popped up, it was Gabriel’s.