“Remember that time you dumped out a whole box of bait?”
I almost smile. It was the summer before eighth grade. Dad bought crickets at the bait shop. “They were screaming for help.”

“Remember that time you dumped out a whole box of bait?”
I almost smile. It was the summer before eighth grade. Dad bought crickets at the bait shop. “They were screaming for help.”

***

“And your dad,” Jeb continues. “He didn’t get mad that you turned the bugs loose. He just pulled out the aluminum lures, and that’s what we used from then on. I never knew a father could be like that. Forgiving. Kind. He’s the best guy I know. Pretty sure he saved my life a time or two.”

Shh." I squeeze his hand. His palm feels clammy. "We have to keep it down, okay? We don't want my dad coming in."

He grits his teeth against more shivers. "Always knew I'd end up in your bed . . . and hear you say those words one day." He manages a smirk.

Jeb snarls. "Unbelievable. Even when he's at death's door he's a tool." He arranges a pillow beneath Morpheus's neck. "Why don't you keep your mouth shut while we help you."

Morpheus laughs weakly, his skin flashing with blue light. "What say Alyssa"--his breath rattles--"give my mouth something else to do?

I turn, concentrating on Jeb. “No matter what you think happened between the two of us, I love you. We share battle scars and hearts. I don’t want to lose that.”
He studies my necklaces and the soldered clump of metal at my neck. “Yeah, I see how well you took care of my heart.”

“I can’t give you all the things I once hoped to,” he says. “But I can give you a family and a home. I love you, Al. I just hope you can love a simple mechanic.”
I wind my fingers through the wavy hair at his neck. I admire this side of him most of all . . . his fragility, his flaws. His strength in spite of them. And now, he sees that strength with as much clarity and confidence as I always have.
“There will never be anything simple about you,” I whisper. “And I already love you.

“Is Jeb alive?” I ask Morpheus.
White bleeds into his jeweled markings—the color of indifference. “I didn’t kill him, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“You know it’s not. Could you for once just give me a straight answer?”
He gazes up at the smoky gray sky. “Your mortal is alive and well. In fact, you will no doubt be seeing him very soon.”
Relieved tears spring into my eyes. “So, that means you know where he is?” Is it possible Morpheus took Jeb under his wings after all?
Dad stops stuffing the fabric in the bag, as if waiting to hear the answer.
Appraising his cane, Morpheus growls. “I do know where he is.” Before I can respond, he lifts his eyes to mine, jewels now bordering on emerald green. “I suppose I should be grateful his name wasn’t the first thing that came out of your mouth.”