I gave him a skeptical frown. "That's good to hear, 'cause from where I'm standing, it looks like a lot of death and screaming."

"Yeah, there's a good bit of that. But..." My father turned me by both shoulders until I stared up at him, only dimly registering the slow, steady swirls of chocolate, copper, and caramel in his eyes. "We have a gift, and if you're willing to put up with the challenges that come with that gift, then every now and then, life will toss you a miracle." His eyes churned faster, and his hands tightened just a little on my arms.

"You're my miracle, Kaylee. Your mother's too. She knew what she was doing that night on the road. She was saving our miracle. We both were. And as much as I still miss her, I've never regretted our decision. Not even for a second." He blinked, and his eyes were full of tears. "Don't you regret it either."

"I don't." I met his gaze, hoping mine looked sincere, because the truth was that I was far from sure. What made me worthy of a life beyond what fate said I should have?

My dad frowned, like he saw the truth in my eyes, which were probably telling him more than my answer had. Stupid swirls. But before he could say anything, a familiar engine growled outside, then went silent.

Nash.

I glanced at my dad expectantly, and he scowled. "Does he always come over this late?"

I rolled my eyes. "It's nine-thirty." Though admittedly, it felt more like two in the morning.

"Fine. Go talk to him, before he comes inside and I have to pretend I'm okay with that."

"You don't like him?"

My father sighed. "After everything he's done for you, how could I not like him? But I see the way he looks at you. The way you look at each other."

I smiled, as a car door closed outside. "What are you, ancient? Don't you remember being my age?"

"I'm one hundred thirty-two, and I remember all too well. That's why I'm worried." A fleeting shadow pa.s.sed over his expression, then he waved me toward the door. "Half an hour."

Irritation spiked my temper. He'd been back for all of three hours, and was already making up rules? But I stifled a retort because even my father's unreasonable curfew was better than being a long-term guest in my cousin's home. Right?

Nash glanced up in surprise when I opened the front door.

He was on the bottom step, one hand on the rail. "Hey."

"Hey." I closed the door and leaned against it. "You forget something?"

He shrugged, and the slick green sleeves of his jacket shone under the porch light. "I just wanted to say goodnight without my mom looking over my shoulder. Or your dad."

"Or your brother." I couldn't resist a grin, but Nash only frowned.

"I don't want to talk about Tod."

"Fair enough." I stepped down to the middle riser and found my eyes even with his, though he stood one step below me. It was an oddly intimate pose; his body was inches from mine, but we weren't touching. "What do you want to talk about?"

He raised one brow, and his voice came out hoa.r.s.e. "Who says I want to talk?"

I let him kiss me-until my dad tapped on the window at my back. Nash groaned, and I tugged him down the steps and into the driveway, out of reach of the porch light.

"So you're really okay with all this?" He spread his arms into the darkness, but the gesture included everything that had gone indescribably weird in my life over the past four days. "Most girls would have totally freaked out on me."

"What can I say? Your voice works wonders." Not to mention his hands. And his lips....

And again that ache gripped me, squeezing bitter drops of doubt from my heart. Would he be done with me in a month, once the novelty of kissing a fellow bean sidhe wore off?

"What's wrong?" He tilted my chin up until my gaze met his, though I couldn't see him very well in the dark.

I shoved my misgivings aside and leaned with my back against the car. "School's going to be weird after this. I mean, how am I supposed to care about trig and world history when I just brought my best friend back from the dead, and faced down a grim reaper over my cousin's poached soul?"

"You'll care, because if you get grounded for failing economics, there won't be any more of this..." He leaned into me, and his mouth teased mine until I rose onto my toes, demanding more.

"Mmm...That's pretty good motivation," I mumbled against his cheek, when I finally summoned the willpower to pull away.

"With any luck, there will be plenty of this, and no more of that." He gestured vaguely toward the house. "That was an anomaly, and it's over."

A chill shivered through me at the reminder. "What if it's not?" After all, Marg was still out there somewhere, and Belphegore was no doubt unsatisfied.

But Nash could not be shaken. "It's over. But we're just starting, Kaylee. You have no idea how special we are together. How incredible it is that we found each other." He rubbed my arms, and I knew from the earnest intensity in his voice that his eyes were probably churning. "And we have long lives ahead of us. Time to do anything we want. Be anything we want."

Time. That was the point, wasn't it? Nash's point. My father's point.

Finally, I got it. My life wasn't just my own. My mother had died to give it to me.

And no matter what happened next, I was d.a.m.n well going to earn her sacrifice.

Acknowledgments.

First of all, thanks to Rayna and Alex, for letting me pick your teenage brains, and again to Alex, for being the first reader in my target audience.

Thanks to Rinda Elliott, for showing me what I couldn't see.

Thanks to my agent, Miriam Kriss, for believing I could do this, before there was any evidence to support that claim.

Thanks to Elizabeth Mazer, and everyone else behind the scenes at Mira for making it happen.

Thanks to my editor, Mary-Theresa Hussey, for all the questions-for answering mine along the way, and knowing just which ones to ask in the margins.

And finally, thanks to Melissa, for being there.

end.