Traveler (Traveler #1)(82)

“We switched. I was in her reality, hiding from Eversor. She came here. We were trying to throw her off.”

“And that Jessa just up and decided I was boyfriend material?”

I sit back down next to him. “No. In her reality, you two have been dating for almost a year. She’s in love with you, Ben.”

Something flares in his eyes, but he bites his lip hard and tamps it down. “And you came back without knowing what the hell was going on.”

“I knew,” I say. “I get all of her memories. She gets all of mine. We’re the same person, just in two different places.”

“So did you feel any of that? What she felt?”

I make myself look him in the eyes. I owe him that much. “I felt every bit of it.”

He lets out a long stream of air through his lips and shakes his head, still trying to wrap his brain around it.

“I hated hurting you,” I say. “I’m sorry.” The tears start again, and he shushes me, bringing his fingers up to gently wipe my face.

“It’s okay, St. Clair. At least I know what’s going on now.” He wraps an arm around me and pulls me in again. “You’re one of the freaking X-Men and didn’t tell me. Some friend.”

I laugh explosively, my shoulders shaking, and then I sit back up and look at him.

“It’s not over yet,” I say. “Someone was giving Eversor orders, and they’re both still after me. We’re not going to be able to hang out for a while—until I get this sorted out. I don’t want you put in danger.”

“Tough luck,” Ben says, grasping my hand. “I’m signing on as a junior X-Man, and you’re not keeping me out of the club.”

“Ben—”

“I mean it, St. Clair. I’m in.”

“I can’t make you a Traveler,” I tell him. “It doesn’t work that way. And you could get hurt. Or worse.” I swallow again, not wanting to think about worse.

“You’re stuck with me,” he says. “I’ve saved your butt too many times. And I’m fixing to save it again, if I have to.”





47

The Comforts of Home

“Take it back!” Danny calls out. “Take it back!”

“All right, all right … gimme a second.” I grab the DVD remote off the table and reverse the movie a half-dozen frames.

“Right there!” He points. “Watch!”

I hit play and lean in to see what he’s talking about.

“You’re right!” I turn to look at him. “When Iron Man head-butts Thor, it dents his helmet. Holy cow!”

“I don’t know how either of you can see anything in that movie,” my mom calls out from the laundry room. “It all goes so fast in those fight sequences.”

“That’s why it’s called action-adventure,” I say.

“They shouldn’t fight,” Danny says. “They are friends.”

I walk over and lean in the doorway of the laundry room. After the events of yesterday, it’s almost bizarre to have this slice of normalcy. I’d say it’s comforting, but the knowledge that someone’s trying to murder most of the universe—including me—is never far from my mind. Normalcy is a temporary balm, and always will be until I find a way to get this target off my back—and the backs of all the people I care for.

Mom looks up from the pile of laundry she’s sorting.

“What’s up?’ she asks.

“Are you going to watch with us?”

“Huh? Oh, you guys go ahead.” She gestures with a dirty hand towel. “I need to get a load put in and then I need to fold all that.” She points at the basket full of clothes she just pulled out of the dryer.

I pick up the basket. “Why don’t I bring it out to the couch and we can fold while we watch?”

“Okay.” She smiles. “I can make us some popcorn, too.”

“I’m already on it,” I tell her. “Danny!”

“What?” he calls from the living room.

“Popcorn!”

“Okay!”

I can hear him stomping over to the kitchen and pulling open the pantry doors.

“I’ll make two!” he calls out gleefully.

Mom closes the washer door and starts it up, and then follows me out. I set the laundry basket down by the couch, and Danny pauses the movie while Mom waits in the kitchen for the popcorn to finish in the microwave.

“I’m gonna go back,” he says. “For Mom.”

“So she can see the helmet?”

“Yeah. ’Cause she missed it.”

“What did we do before microwave popcorn?” Mom muses as she pours the popcorn into a bowl. “You know, we used to make it on the stove top. Back in olden times, I mean.”

“Yeah, you’re so ancient,” I say, rolling my eyes.

Danny turns to look at me as he cues up the DVD. “When you miss something, you should go back,” he says matter-of-factly.

My mind turns his words over, then runs them through again.

When you miss something, you should go back.

I look over at my mother—my far-from-ancient mother—and a thought takes root.