Jared slipped on his jacket, preparing to leave. “You’ve had a long forty-eight hours. You need sleep.” He hugged me then, squeezing a bit too tight.

Bex shifted his weight nervously, holding the door open with one hand, holding his apple with the other.

“C’mon, Nina. You’re going to give me a complex,” Bex said. “I brought doves to put in the oven.” A sweet, hopeful smile lit his face, and I relaxed.

“Okay,” I said with a half-grin.

Jared patted Bex's arm as he passed, but just as he stepped out onto the landing, I grabbed his jacket. “Wait. What if it’s different? What if he needs to tell me something?”

“Who?” Jared asked, his attention focused.

“Gabe. Or Jack. We’ve learned a lot today, maybe the dream will change.”

Jared and Bex traded glances, and then Jared sighed. “Tomorrow.”

“I didn’t think we have time to spare,” I countered.

“We don’t, but….”

“I’m right. You know I'm right. So stay,” I said, pulling him into the loft.

Jared pointed at his brother. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Bex shook his head, and then shut the door behind us. “No way…I wanna see this.”

“Great, now I’m a circus freak,” I said, making my way to the table. Jared pulled out my chair and I sat, taking his hand and kissing his palm in appreciation. We had spent the last two days together, yet I felt I hadn’t seen him at all.

Jared sat across from me with a smile. “You are far from a circus freak. You’re amazing. Big difference.”

“Watching me float and scream is not amazing,” I grumbled.

“You only floated once,” Bex pointed out, unwrapping the dove and seasoning it before shoving the baking dish into the oven.

We discussed the possibilities for over an hour: how I could do things in my sleep that I couldn't do in a conscious state.

“It doesn't matter how. What is important is why,” Jared said.

“It matters to me,” Bex said.

“You're going to overcook your birds,” Jared said, nodding to the oven.

Bex jumped up, tending to dinner. He placed our plates of tender, steaming dove and mixed vegetables in front of us, and then returned quickly with his own. “I’ve got to figure out how to do that. If she can do it, we have to be able to do it, right?” he said to Jared, shoveling meat into his mouth.

“She’s not doing it, Bex,” Jared said. His eyes darted from me to Bex in warning. It was clear he didn’t want to dwell on the subject during dinner.

“Oh. Right,” Bex said, chewing.