The road led to a gate with a metal sign of a crescent moon and the words “Rancho de la Rosa.” Behind a garden of rocks and succulents, a low porch ran the length of the ranch house. A metal peacock and an old-fashioned framed still life of overblown roses hung on the outer wall of the house above an outdoor couch covered in a woven blue and pink Mexican blanket like one Izzy and Cyrus had on their bed. Blue glass wind chimes spun and clinked. A pair of large desert boots slouched by the door.

Beyond, across the highway, lay the monument. Ever and Izzy parked on the pavers and then walked up to the door with Dog. The large room, lit fuzzily by candles and strands of white lights that gave everything a gauzy radiance, housed a home recording studio with a computer, microphones, monitors, cables, a large set of keyboards, a drum set, guitars, and bass. Also: two worn green velvet armchairs, a brown leather couch, an emerald green Moroccan rug covered with red and blue birds and flowers on brown branches, a wooden coffee table with mugs, ashtrays, incense burners, and candles oozing vanilla scent with each drip of wax. On the wall hung photos of famous musicians posed in front of the studio, stern as cacti and casting long shadows in stark desert sunlight.

Izzy collapsed onto the couch. Shifting shadows became a black cat with green eyes.

“Oh,” Izzy said, tugging on Dog’s leash, but he just lay on the carpet, and the cat stalked over, sniffed him a bit, then glided into her lap.

She closed her eyes, twirling the long, solid tail with her fingers. The cat purred and pressed his head to her stomach. “I’m so tired,” she said.

“Why don’t you rest?”

Suddenly, her head felt chasmal. Pain was there but at the periphery. The cat curled into a ball in her lap, reverberating against her full belly. She tried not to think of the kitten she’d had as a child.

“Trout loves you,” Ever said. She glimpsed a flash of dimples for the first time. The cat’s name almost made her smile, too. “Maybe he knew you in another life.”

“Was I a cat?” she asked the animal. He brought his nose to hers. “Or were you human?”

“Maybe you were both both.”

“Do you believe in other lives?”

“Maybe.” Ever crouched down near her, watching her face. His knees strained his jeans—the fabric would tear.

“I’m so tired,” she said again.

She and Ever looked at each other. Then he reached out and touched her cheek with one finger. It was what Cyrus would have done.

“Sleep here,” Ever said.

She wrapped her arms around herself, pressing her fingers into the notches of her rib cage, and closed her eyes tight to shut everything out.

◆◆◆

She woke in the night, leaned on her elbow, and watched him asleep beside Dog on the floor at her side. As if he’d sensed her gaze, he opened his eyes. Something glimmered in the dark between them.