Loved (House of Night Other World #1)(103)

It always felt sad when I first got here. Floral Haven wouldn’t have been Heath’s first choice. Not because it was a bad cemetery or anything like that. I just knew that Heath would have liked somewhere more … well … colorful. Heath had liked crazy, and Floral Haven was immaculate, structured, organized, and well regulated. The opposite of crazy.

But as I walked down the path to the Luck family plot, my sadness lifted a little—then more than a little when I caught sight of my neighborly addition to the grounds. I went to Heath’s proper, modest, boring tombstone and sat right on top of his grave, which I knew he would’ve appreciated. I leaned against the cold gray stone that said in block letters: HEATH REGINALD LUCK—BELOVED SON, and looked to the side at the family plot closest to the Luck’s. There was only one tombstone—the one I’d purchased immediately after I’d purchased the family plot. It was as unboring as the very proper rules of the cemetery had allowed. I’d commissioned a stone made from smooth blue marble, the exact color of a perfect fishing hole. The artist, who had been more than mildly confused by my unorthodox idea, had carved a scene of Heath sitting on a small wooden dock casting his rod out into the water. I’d had him make it so that Heath was looking right at me, grinning like he always did when he went fishing.

“Hey there. How ya doin’?” I asked the carving of Heath. “Yep, it was one of those awesome Oklahoma spring days today. Not too hot, not too much ragweed and pollen, and not too ticky. Yet. You’d say it was good fishing weather, but then again you thought every day was good fishing weather.”

Okay, let me be clear. I haven’t lost my mind—at least not totally. I am not under any delusion that Heath is actually here, listening to me. I know where he is—or at least one version of him. Heath Luck is hanging out where I last saw him, with Nyx. He was probably fishing right now up there somewhere.

But I like pretending to talk to him.

I need to pretend to talk to him.

Especially now.

“Zoey? It is you! I thought I saw your bug turn in here.”

I jumped at the voice and spun around on my butt.

“Kev! Sheesh, you scared the bejezzus outta me. Make some sound next time.”

“How about you tell me when you’re gonna visit Heath’s grave next time and I’ll meet you here?” Kevin said, settling in beside me. “You don’t ever find this creepy?”

“What? Sitting on his grave? Heath would love it,” I smiled.

“Well, that and that.” He pointed to the carving of fisherman Heath.

“Heath would love that, too,” I said. “Do you not remember he had a sense of humor?”

“Sure. Do you not remember he’s dead?”

I jerked back as if Kevin had slapped me. “Of course I remember. I was there. Losing him almost killed me. Why the hell would you ask me that?”

“Because of what Other Kevin told you.”

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t say anything. Since Other Kevin had slipped from his world into ours, and told me that Heath—the kid I’d been in love with since third grade—was alive back in that other world, I’d had one thought obsessively circling around and around my mind.

Go see Heath … go see Heath … Go. See. Heath.

“Zoey, I’ll go with you. All you have to do is ask.” Kevin spoke into the silence swirling between us.

My gaze snapped to his. “You can’t! I’m not alive in that world, so I could get away with sneaking over there, but you are—and you’re a rogue red vampyre who has probably been leading the resistance for the past several months. It’s not safe for you over there.”

“Z, it’s not safe for anyone over there.”

I looked away from Kevin and my gaze found Heath’s smiling image again.

“I understand that,” I muttered.

“Do you really?” Kevin cracked his knuckles and flexed his fingers—a sure sign he was stressed.

I answered my brother’s question with one of my own. “You know I’m going, don’t you?”

“Yep, I do. And, Z, if I know it, so do your friends.”

Foreboding surged through my veins like ice water. “No! I haven’t said one word to any of them.”

“You haven’t said one word to me, either. I figured it out.”

“Which means they will, too,” I said.

“Uh, yeah. For sure.”

This is going to break Stark’s heart, I thought, swallowing against the lump building in my throat. “Ah, hell …”