“Is it over?” called Patrick to us, his voice tense and uncertain.

“Hopefully,” said Lucas. “But it looks like we won’t know for sure until later.”

I let out a long low breath, eyeing the shafts of sunlight that sneaked down the stairs from the kitchen.

Erik.

No matter what he was—was it possible he was free now?

Was it possible I was?

THAT NIGHT, DAD came home in a cast.

After picking him up, I’d gone to get Charlie, and we all returned to the house.

Though I’d waited for questions to come pouring out of Dad, none had. Not until we’d settled back into the house that I hoped would stay as quiet as SPOoKy had left it.

First, as I expected, Dad had asked about the smell. He’d assumed I’d cooked something, and since he couldn’t go upstairs to find the smell up there, too, I let him think that I had.

Then, all too predictably, came the questions about Lucas. Had I been with him all day? Were we a “thing” now?

“Maybe,” I’d told him as I’d brought out a stack of blankets for him to sleep with on the couch. Tomorrow, I’d have to see about getting a bed set up on the ground floor, at least until the cast came off. Something that presented still more complications. Namely, halting my father’s progress on this house, which ensured we wouldn’t be moving until, earliest, spring or summer. Dad was going to be miserable until the doctor cleared him to work. But the trade-off amounted to more time with Lucas.

Dad, probably still groggy from pain meds, hadn’t pressed for more details about Lucas or last night. And once I had him situated on the couch, I took Charlie upstairs to my bedroom, still not trusting to leave her in her own.

I texted Lucas as soon as I had Charlie tucked in with me, and put my phone on silent as she finally began to nod off.

After giving Lucas the all’s-well update, he texted back.

Are you still coming to school tomorrow?

I smiled and typed a response.

Not sure yet. I want to see everyone and thank them again. It depends on Dad. Knowing him, though, he’ll probably insist.

Did he ask about us?

He asked if we were a thing.

Only two seconds passed before his next text.

And?

And I put him off. But I think he knows we are.

This time, a delay of several seconds before Lucas’s answer.

Maybe I’ll still get to kiss you one last time before I die.

I rolled my eyes, unable to suppress a grin.

Maybe.

I FELT THE dream first.

The sensation of smooth gliding layered over an almost imperceptible swaying.

The soft lapping water . . .

All of that told me where I was even before I opened my eyes.