“Hey,” he said, catching sight of me.
“I’m not stalking you.”
“Glad to hear it. Aren’t you freezing?”
“I’ll live,” I said, hauling myself upright, legs stiff with cold.
“Give me five minutes.”
“You want help?”
He shook his head. “Five minutes. Don’t leave.”
I nodded, and he let himself inside. A low woof caught my attention: Iggy, sitting on the driver’s seat, nose pressed against the glass. “Hey, puppy. Did you go for a ride?”
The grocery store, I told myself. Not a date, not a party. Whatever his Original was doing, this Simon had gone to the grocery store, and the knowledge made me absurdly happy.
Iggy whined and bumped his nose against the window. “You want out? I know the feeling.”
I opened the door and held his collar while I snapped the leash on. A moment later Iggy was frolicking on the lawn, running in circles until the leash was wrapped snugly around my legs.
“This was not the plan,” I scolded.
“He wants to make sure you stick around,” Simon said, jogging down the steps. “Can’t say I blame him.”
He rested his hands on my shoulders. I held my breath, anticipating a kiss, but the next thing I knew, he was spinning me away from him, untangling the leash from my legs. The world blurred around me, and when he finally stopped, I stood dizzily in front of him, watching the sky dip and sway. The only steady things were his fingers, curving around my arms. “Iggy needs a walk. Keep us company?”
“Gladly,” I said, and we set off, hands bumping against each other so often I knew it wasn’t an accident.
We passed the cemetery, and I shivered. When Mrs. Lane died in the Key World, this version of her would begin to unravel. This Simon—and every other Simon in the universe—would lose her. There was no stopping it.
It didn’t seem possible that the multiverse could contain so much grief, no matter how infinite the branches were. Endless worlds and endless sadness, and I wondered if there could ever be enough joy to balance it out.
There was a small park a few blocks away. Two swings, a sorry-looking slide, and a few benches. Simon unsnapped the leash and took a glow-in-the-dark ball out of his pocket.
“You want the first throw?”
“Sure.” I tossed it gingerly. Iggy chased it down and ran back, reproof clear in his eyes.
I threw it again, much farther, and Simon tugged me onto the bench. “I’ve been missing you.”
Part of me thrilled to hear the words, but part of me twinged a warning. He shouldn’t miss me. He shouldn’t remember me. Every time I came here, I reinforced the connection between his threads and mine. And yet the frequency was stable. I couldn’t sense any breaks. It was harmless fun.
Iggy raced over, and Simon’s throw sailed to the other side of the park. He touched his lips to mine, slow and lingering and insistent. “Why’d you come by?”
“I wanted to.” I tipped my head back to look at the stars, the Pleiades clustered together, the familiar lines of Orion’s belt and shield. Fixed points. As close to unchangeable as things got, for a Walker.
The truth was a fixed point too. And the truth was the real Simon was out with Bree right now. Rather than accept it, I’d come here. Guilt snuck under my coat with fingers more icy than the wind. “That’s all. I wanted to be with you.”
“Then be with me,” he said, and kissed me again, pulling me in to him, his hands chasing away the chill. His words were soft and urgent, like the heat building inside me. “My mom’s asleep by now. Nobody will bother us. Come back and be with me, Del.”
I’d crossed a million lines every time I’d come here. But sleeping with Simon was a line I’d kept well away from. Even so, protests, denials, common sense . . . They trailed away to nothing, and what remained was the feeling of Simon’s mouth on my skin, the syncopation of our breathing, and recklessness, coursing through my veins like a drug.
“Come home with me. We can take it slow.” He stood and held out his hand.
For once, slow sounded good. I twined my fingers with his.
“Iggy,” he called. There was a distant woof, but no dog in sight. “C’mere, boy!”
Yet another constant: Iggy’s need for obedience school. Simon whistled, a short, simple melody. Instantly familiar.
“What is that song?”
“Iggy’s whistle?” He brushed his lips over my knuckles. “I made it up when he was a puppy.”
It was the same tune Simon had suggested for our composition today. “Do it again.”
He raised his eyebrows but obliged, the scattering of notes merry and alarming.
“Where did you hear it?” My voice sounded too sharp. Iggy raced over, goofy and delighted. I rubbed his silky ears, taking comfort in the steadiness of his frequency.
“I told you, I made it up.”
“Not the last two measures.” I’d written them myself this afternoon. There’s no way he would have known them before today. “That’s new.”
He whistled again, softly, strands of my hair stirring with his breath. “I guess so. You’re not the only one who’s good at music. Wait. You are good at music, right?”
“I’m freaking brilliant,” I muttered. Had I told him that? “Tell me your whole schedule.”
He rattled off the list, clearly humoring me. He had zero music electives. Dimly a part of my mind noted I knew even less about this Simon than my own.
“Did you ever take music theory?”
“Nah. Art history. What’s wrong?”
“Touch me,” I ordered.
He grinned and cupped my cheek in his hand, rubbing his thumb over my lips. I pushed aside the want rushing over me and listened as hard as I could.
His frequency was stronger every time we touched, but stable. Simon tilted my face to his. “You’re worrying me.”
“I can’t do this,” I said. “Not tonight.”
“Did I miss something?” His eyes were intent on mine, like he was hoping to see the answers I wouldn’t give him. “Five minutes ago you were ready to come home with me, and now you’re bailing for no reason.”
“I want to. I just . . . can’t. Please believe me.”
“I believe you’re awesome at leaving.” He dropped my hand and stood. “You want me; you don’t want me. You show up out of the blue and you disappear for days. Now you’re freaking out about how I call my dog? You don’t want to sleep with me, fine. All you have to do is say so. Instead, you take off.”
He started walking, shoulders stiff, Iggy at his side. “See you around, Del.”
“Simon, wait!”
He didn’t break stride, and I hurried to keep up with him. “It’s not the song. It reminded me of something I need to check on at home. If I don’t take care of this now, they’ll figure out what I’ve been doing. It’ll be the end of us.”
The end of him, I meant.
If Monty was right, Simon and I were connected, our threads twining together across the Echoes. But what if my visits here had strengthened the connection too much? What if I’d somehow triggered an inversion? My father would cleave this Echo himself. This Simon would unravel.
Real or not, I wouldn’t do that to him again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
WE HAVE A problem,” said Eliot at lunch the next day. He dropped into the chair next to me with a scowl.
“Another one?” I smeared peanut butter onto my apple slice and crunched down ferociously. After I’d left Simon, I’d retraced my steps through Doughnut World, Eliot’s map in hand. There’d been no hint of inversions or new breaks. Doughnut Simon was safe, but instead of relief, I felt like disaster was gathering in the shadows.
“More than one, technically. I’ve been analyzing the other Echoes in the branch system Park World belonged to. I compared readings taken prior to the date you cleaved to ones taken after. A lot of them—not all, but most—are destabilizing at an accelerated rate.”