My knees buckled and Wil grabbed hold of me and said, “You okay?”

I started laughing and clutched him to me. “You’re alive! You’re really alive!” I kissed his cheeks, his forehead, his eyes, but I was remembering the man I had killed, Average Joe. Thoughts and images rushed at me, but nothing was as important as Wil. “I’m so happy that you’re alive!”

“I’m not sure I’m technically alive. I was stabbed.”

“Who did it?”

“My houseman. That old bastard followed me to California to keep me from his daughter. I had an awesome day riding the waves, was on my way to meet you when he caught up with me at a rest stop. The next thing I knew I woke up bloody dead in the back of your pickup.”

“Matthews claimed that you had asked him to join you.”

“Pure bollocks. I told you how I felt about him.”

“Yes, but you neglected to tell me that Nettie was his daughter. Besides, recalling things has been a problem. I fell and hit my head and got amnesia. Your kiss brought back my memory.”

“A shock to the system.”

“Here’s another one. Nettie’s in town and Matthews is, too.”

“What’s she doing here, and where are we?”

“She’s my fiance’s grandfather’s thrall and we’re at my fiancé’s ranch. My ex-fiancé, Oswald Grant. We were engaged again until about ten minutes ago,” I said, and tried to integrate Oswald’s recent behavior with our past together. “He’s busy having sex with my psychiatrist by the swimming pool right now.”

“You don’t seem upset.”

I grinned. “It’s just sex, Wilcox.”

He laughed hoarsely. “I’m starving. Do you have anything to offer besides brains? I’ve been living off old walnuts and greens. Most of the time I’ve been sleeping. Sometimes the dogs come and kip by my side.”

“Wil-cox,” I said, and took his thin hand. I kissed it. “You smell like spring.”

“I think I’m a vegetarian now. Odd.”

We walked to the house and he said, “I’ve had to learn to move again, but I’m improving every day.”

I took him to the kitchen and he slowly bent to sit in a chair. I laid my hand on his chest and felt a faint, slow beat. “You’re alive.”

“I feel alive. But different.”

I thought of Average Joe and asked, “What was it like being dead?”

He considered and said, “It’s as if I was a cup of water poured into the ocean and gathered up in a different vessel—not quite the same and yet essentially myself.”

I had hated Average Joe, but I felt relieved of my guilt for having permanently ended his existence.