On her list of wants, being with Daniel right now only came second to finding Gemma. What Harper really wanted to do was go someplace dark and quiet with him, to give in to the warmth of his voice and the strength of his arms. To have him hold her and kiss her until she couldn’t feel anything but him, until she’d forgotten about the ache inside, all the pain she felt about losing her sister and disappointing her family.

And that was exactly why she shook her head. She wanted to use Daniel as an escape, and that wasn’t fair to him or to her. She needed to deal with the mess of her life instead of hiding from it, even if hiding sounded far more pleasant.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Harper said.

She wanted to lift her head, to steal a look at his expression, but she settled for looking up from his battered Converse shoes to his torso. He wore a T-shirt today, the dark black lines of his tattoo traveling out from underneath his sleeve down to his elbow.

Ever since he’d helped her at Bernie’s house on Sunday, Harper had a weird urge to trace her fingers along the dark lines of that tattoo. Last night, she’d even dreamt about it.

She and Daniel were lying in a bed, probably the largest bed she’d ever seen. It nearly took up the whole room. The room itself was white. Everything was pure, stark white.

Harper could hear the ocean outside, and she could smell it in the breeze. French doors that presumably led out to the beach were wide open, and sheer curtains billowed in the wind.

Daniel was lying next to her in the bed, shirtless, with the sheets up to his waist. He wasn’t facing her, but instead had his head turned toward the ocean. Harper rested her head on his bare shoulder and ran her fingers along his tattoo, tracing the dark lines that ran along the scars. He said nothing, but Harper sang him a sweet lullaby.

Then she heard her sister’s voice, coming from everywhere and nowhere at all. Gemma simply said, “Wake up,” and then she did. Harper had opened her eyes to find herself lying in her own bed, alone.

Maybe that was why everything was hitting her so hard today. It was as if Gemma were telling her that she was running out of time, and that Harper needed to stop wasting her time on a silly crush and get back to what mattered.

“Harper.” Daniel sighed, frustrated. “We need to talk. It’s about Gemma.”

Her eyes shot up then, and she finally met his gaze. His face was solemn, but there was something hopeful in his eyes, like he might have good news. But really, almost any news about Gemma would be good at this point.