LOGIN(Sabrina’s POV)Three weeks later, Nate was on Grandma Cooper’s couch with his socked feet up on the arm of it and the Sunday crossword folded on his chest and his hand on my belly.Grandma Cooper was in the wing chair opposite. She had a cup of tea on the little table beside her and a shawl over her knees and a look on her face that I could not have described without embarrassing her.She had worn that look every time she walked into the same room as us since we brought her back from Crestwood two weeks ago.She had been discharged over Adrian’s objection, on the grounds that she had things to do that could not be done from a hospital bed.Those things had turned out to be: watching Nate refuse to lie down when he was told to, watching me refuse to eat when I was told to, and informing us both on the hour that our behavior was going to give her a stroke and it would be on both of us.She was very well. She was very well and she was in her house and she was drinking tea from her mothe
(Nate’s POV)I pushed Sabrina behind me.He came in fast—smaller than me, quicker than me—and the blade caught my left side just below the ribs.It was hot at first and then cold, and I grabbed his wrist before he could pull back. I put his arm against the doorframe and twisted until I heard a crack and the knife fell and he went down, curling around the broken arm.“Come on,” I said.Sabrina was staring at my side. Blood was soaking through my shirt and dripping onto the carpet.“You’re bleeding—”“I know. Come on.”I took her hand. We went out into the hallway and down the stairs.Desmond was standing in the doorway of the ground-floor study.He watched us come. His hands were in his pockets. His face was blank and still. Just a man in a linen shirt watching his thirty-year investment walk out the front door.“Sabrina,” he said quietly as we passed him.She didn’t look at him.We went through the kitchen. Out the service door. Across the property. Through the fence. I held the wire
(Nate’s POV)I was dressed before the call ended. Shoes by the door, keys on the counter, wallet in my back pocket.I had been sleeping in the guest room of a rented apartment near the Cortlandt site, and the room was so bare that getting out of it took eleven seconds.I called Eric from the car.He didn’t pick up. I called again. Again. On the fourth try, he answered with the clipped irritation of a man pulled out of something important.“Cooper, it’s two in the morning—”“Where is she?”“Where is who?”“Sabrina. Where is Sabrina right now?”“She’s with Desmond. In Nevada. Adrian cleared the trip. She went voluntarily, Nate, we’ve been through—”“She’s locked in a house in the desert,” I said. “Alexis just told me.”Eric went quiet.“And you’re believing Alexis now?” he said slowly.“I’m believing the woman who has no reason to help me and every reason to hurt me, yes. She told me because she thinks it’ll destroy me. She’s wrong. Give me the address.”“Nate, I need you to slow down—”
(Alexis’s POV)I watched the video for the fifteenth time on Mara’s couch with the sound turned low so only I could hear it.My mother’s face on a phone screen. Gray at the temples and buttoned to the throat and sitting in front of a camera she had clearly set up herself. She had practiced this. I could tell from the way she held her hands, one on top of the other, flat on the table, unshaking.If you’re watching this, I’m already dead.I pressed pause.Mara was asleep at the other end of the couch, her bare feet tucked under a cushion near my thigh. The apartment was dark except for the kitchen light she always forgot to turn off.I unpressed pause.There’s something I should have told you while I was alive. I was afraid of it, afraid of what it would do to you, and afraid of what it would do to me.Her eyes cut past the camera and came back.When the time comes, there are people who’ll help you. People I trusted. People who know what happened, and who’ve been waiting for you to be r
(Sabrina’s POV)I woke up too warm and wrong.The bed was not the bed. The pillow was too soft, and the sheets were too smooth, and the smell of the room was wrong, faintly citrus, and there was no traffic under the window, no anything under the window.My mouth was thick. My hand was cold and heavy.I sat up too fast and everything swung. I put both hands flat on the mattress and waited until it stopped.The room was beautiful.That was the first thing wrong with it. It was beautiful, and it was not my hotel room, and I had gone to sleep in my hotel room.Now I was here, in this room with pale gray walls and a chest at the foot of the bed and a vase of pale roses on the dresser, and I did not know how I had gotten here.I got out of bed.My legs did not want to hold me. I put a hand on the bedpost and stood there a full minute before I could cross the room. My phone was on the nightstand. I picked it up. The battery was full. There was no signal at all.I checked the settings. Airpla
(Sabrina’s POV)Adrian sat across from me in the cabin with his arms crossed and did not speak for forty minutes.We had reached altitude by then and the flight attendant had come through twice. Desmond was at the front of the cabin on his phone, murmuring to somebody in Nevada about the car and the doctor and the discreet second doctor.Adrian would not look at any of it. He was looking at the window, and every so often he glanced at me and looked back out the window and said nothing.“Adrian.”“I am not going to argue with you at thirty-nine thousand feet.”“You already argued with me on the ground. Eric already overruled you. You lost.”“I did not lose. I was outvoted. It’s different.”“How is it different?”“It is different when what you were outvoted about is your sister and the two people carrying a vote are a man who is not a doctor and another man who is not any kind of doctor and also not related.”“Desmond is family.”“He is not family, Sabrina. I don’t care what Eric calls
(Sabrina’s POV)I woke up because there was someone in the room.Not in the room—in the next room. Through the door I could hear the soft give of a couch and the slow constant noise of someone breathing. I tried to sit up, but my chest hurt. My throat felt as if I had swallowed gravel.My hand went
(Nate’s POV)The doctors finished talking but I didn’t move.My grandmother was on a ventilator. She might wake up. She might not. The smoke had done what smoke does. Every hour she stayed under was an hour she might not come back from.That was what the resident said. The resident was twenty-eight
(Sabrina’s POV)I picked up Nate’s pen. The pen I had bought him for our first anniversary, engraved with his initials on the side. He had never used it. The barrel was cold.I signed.I clicked the pen shut and laid it down across the form, right over the word consent.My hand did not shake. I did
(Sabrina’s POV)“Congratulations, Mrs. Cooper. You’re one month pregnant.”My fingertips landed on my stomach before I told them to. The doctor kept talking, but I was already three streets ahead. Already pricing the crib. Already picking the name.Pregnant.For three years I had been Nate Cooper’s







