Last Christmas eve, Noah convinced him to leave the lab, begging for him to come to the family’s party. He usually spent the holidays with his mom—they were crazy close—but she’d been called out of town on business at the last minute. Of course Phil refused, suggesting an alternate location instead. A small cabin on top of Hollow Hill Mountain.
Noah once admitted to me that night had been one of the best Christmas Eves in his life. It was just me, him, Corey, and Phil. All the beer we could drink and a truckload of fast food from every joint in town. Even though it was less than a year ago, it felt like another lifetime.
“We’re early.” I pulled back the mat to find the dirty silver key right where we’d left it last holiday. “Let’s get inside and warm up.”
I stepped through the door, Noah on my heels, and shook off the cold. The furniture was covered in old sheets. All of it except the small coffee table in the center of the room. That was covered in dusty beer bottles and yellowing paper bags. Phil had gotten a call early the next morning from the lab and had to rush off. He said to leave everything and he’d be back to clean up. Apparently he’d never returned.
“This looks cozy.” Noah shut the door and yanked off the sheet on the nearest piece of furniture. Plopping down, he kicked his feet onto the small table, sending some of the bottles onto the floor. They crashed to the hardwood, two of them shattering, sending small bits of glass skipping across the room.
“Make yourself comfy,” I mumbled.
“Always do,” he shot back. “So tell me about your Rabb—Phil. What’s he like?”
“He’s quiet and a total mamma’s boy. Wicked smart. Likes cheese…”
Noah snorted. “They all do. Mine had an entire wall in his room devoted to cheese posters. And the smell… It was kind of freaky.”
“So you knew him, too?” I pulled off the sheet over the rocking chair and settled in. A part of me wanted to keep him talking. If I could pretend, even just for a little while, that he was my Noah, that I hadn’t lost him, then maybe this whole thing would be bearable. “Why do they call him Rabbit?”
“Nickname. Not sure how he got it. Never said. Honestly, yours is the first one I’ve come across that goes by Phil. I intend to give him shit about it when I get home.”
I’d never been good at small talk—which drove my Noah insane since he was a talker. Besides that, being back here made my heart hurt. My life had never been perfect. I knew my foster parents didn’t love me, much less care about me. Everything they gave me, every opportunity I got, was a circus. They used it as publicity. Look what we’re doing for this poor, pathetic bottom tier orphan we took in. It made me sick, but I’d vowed to use it to make a better life for myself. To thrive and find someplace I truly belonged. Noah had always looked out for me. I knew that no matter how bad things were, at the end of the day, someone cared.
Now all that had been taken away. Even if we somehow managed to prove that the Andersons were involved in Noah’s death and got my listed status revoked, what kind of future did I have? I was broke, homeless, and would always be a Bottom Tier citizen.
Noah wasn’t as content with the silence as I was. He shifted uncomfortably, pulling his feet off the table, wiggling in the chair, then kicking them back up—knocking more of the bottles to the floor. “So what was the deal between you and the other me?”
Acid boiled up in the pit of my stomach. “Kind of a personal question.”
He shrugged. “No such thing.”
I believed him, too. My Noah had been sort of the same. Not as intrusive or brash as this one, but his boundaries left a lot to be desired. Comparison number four: Tact. The difference between them was that mine went about it in a more tactful manner. A slow, steady approach instead of steamrolling full speed ahead.
“We were close.” There. Short, sweet, and simple.
I should have known he’d never be satisfied with it.
“How close?” He made a circle with his right pointer and thumb, then poked his left pointer through the hole. With a waggle of his brows, he said, “We talking close close?”
“God. Are you always this much of an asshole?”
“I recall you already asking that. I answered, too.” He kicked his feet off the table again and stood. “Besides, it was a legitimate question.”
I stood as well, stalking forward until I was standing directly in front of him. “How the hell is my relationship with him a legitimate question?”
He pushed a little further, eyes narrowing to thin slits. The humor in his expression had drained away, replaced by something darker. “Um, ’cause technically he’s me?”
“You?” I let out a stream of near-hysterical snorts. “You? He was as far from you as physically, mentally, and geologically possible!”
He opened his mouth, but I clamped my hand down across it.
“No. Stop. Don’t say another word. Did it ever occur to you that talking about this hurts? That seeing you—hearing you speak—hurts?” I removed my hand and took a step back. “You are loud and rude and the most insensitive person I have ever met.” Maybe I’d been wrong on the street. Maybe there was nothing more to this Noah Anderson than anger and aggression. Maybe I’d been looking too hard, desperate to find something redeeming to cling to.
“Yeah?” he snapped, matching my step away with one forward.
“Yeah,” I fired back. “My Noah might have been a bit rough around the edges, but you…you’re like a rusty chainsaw. You don’t know when to close your mouth, you dress like a reject from the listed compound, and…”
Every step I took he matched until I had backed myself against the wall.
“Well?” he said. “Don’t let me stop you. Keep going. What other ways do I suck? I mean, this other version of me was obviously perfection, right?”
“He wasn’t perfect, but he was a good guy beneath it all.” He was. Noah had loved me. I’d loved him. And now I was stuck here with this…this pale substitute?
“Sounds like a prize.” He tilted his head to the side, his grin going from ear to ear. “So when was the wedding? He was your soul mate, right? Prince Charming?”
“It wasn’t like that,” I shouted. Every word out of this guy’s mouth made me angrier. How the hell could one person push all my buttons at the same time? “He was my best friend. The one person I knew I could count on no matter what.”
He tried to hide a smirk—and failed. “There’s only one reason you’d be getting so worked up over this. It was like, what, a live-in friends-with-benefits thing? You guys were dancing the horizontal jig?”
“You’re disgusting!” My voice rattled a little and I swallowed back the lump forming in my throat.
“So you weren’t sleeping with him?” He shook his head, expression softening just a bit. There was something in his eyes I couldn’t quite name. Anger? Jealousy? Whatever it was, it made me hesitate.
“I—” The rest of the excuse died on my tongue. I realized that I was ashamed of what had happened between Noah and me. It wasn’t until that moment, prodded by this Noah’s not-so-subtle ribbing, that I recognized where my own anger was coming from. Guilt. I’d acknowledged that the kiss had been a mistake, but it hadn’t sunk in just how guilty I’d felt about it until right then. “We were just friends—and he was ten times the person you are.”
He kept his hands at his sides despite the fact that he looked like he wanted to clock me just as much as I wanted to him, and stepped forward, effectively pushing me back. “That so? And what do you think you know about me?”
“I know you’re a jackass.”
“Obviously.” He lifted his hands and began flicking his fingers, one by one. “But you forgot rude, stubborn, loyal as fuck, hot as hell—”
“Do you ever shut up?”
“Wanna know what I think?”
“I don’t even want to be in the same room as you, so safe to say that, no, I don’t want to know what you think.”
He wasn’t deterred. “I think there was mo
re going on than just friends. I think something happened—”
I’d never been the violent type. I’d gotten into my fair share of verbal spars. A fistfight, though? No way. But in that moment, my limbs acted of their own accord. My right fist balled tight and zoomed through the air, right at Noah’s head. It didn’t make contact. At least not with its intended target.
He caught the swing inches from his face, smirking like I’d just whispered all the dirty, dark secrets I had in his ear. “Hit a nerve, did I? Maybe you like rude. Maybe jackass is your kink.” He let go of my fist and leaned a little closer. “Go ahead. Tell me I’m not even the tiniest bit right. Tell me—”
I let out a howl and launched myself at him, but instead of stopping me, this time he allowed me to collide with him, full force. When I pulled away to smack him, he held tight and let out a sound that stirred something white-hot in the pit of my stomach. Secured tight, pressed up against his annoyingly perfect body, I felt him laugh. “See, I’m getting the impression that you like the chainsaw version of me.”
And then he kissed me.
Chapter Seven
Noah
It’s wasn’t like I planned it. I didn’t walk into that dust-infested shack and think, Hmm. How can I manipulate the situation to get a taste of those teasingly perfect lips…?
Nope. This was all business and the fact that she was nice to look at was just some kind of pleasant side effect. Then she went and got all feisty and raw, and holy shit I couldn’t help myself. Stoic Ash was a looker. Angry Ash was irresistible in a melt-your-dick-off kind of way.
It was a side of her I hadn’t come across yet—and I liked it. A little too much.
The kiss was brief, but it was impossible not to notice that she didn’t push me away. In fact, she kind of threw her all into it—making me even more curious about what had gone down between her and this world’s version of me. We probably could have steamed up the windows, too—if Rabbit hadn’t walked through the door, stepping on a squeaky floorboard.
He was standing in the doorway, looking from Ash to me with a hint of confusion and just a little bit of irritation. He might have even opened his mouth to say something, but he never got the chance.
I burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny?” He closed the door behind him and came farther into the room. Even circled me, staring like I had several heads and glowing eyes. “And who are you, exactly?”
Once I got my breathing under control, I let out a whistle and gave him a nice long once-over. He wore Dockers and a crisp, white button-down shirt with black shoes I probably could have seen my reflection in if I got close enough. His hair was slicked back, cut super short and au natural in color, and his normally bushy eyebrows were plucked to precise perfection. “What the hell are you wearing, man?”
The question took him by surprise and he glanced down at himself. For a second he actually looked like the Rabbit I knew. It didn’t last. His jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed. “One more time, man. Who are you? Why are you in my house and why are you with her?”
Ash took a noticeably large step away from me and cleared her throat. Yeah. Because that didn’t make her look guilty? “This is Noah. He’s from—”
“Another Earth. Duh, Ash. I helped invent the tech, remember? What I want to know is why he’s here.”
“He needs your help—and so do I.”
Rabbit snorted. “What makes you think I’d help him?” His eyes traveled over Ash in a way that pissed me off. Not leering, but with disgust. Like he was looking down on her. “Or you for that matter.”
“Because it’s what Noah would have wanted,” she snapped.
That seemed to shut him up, so I decided it was my turn. “Look, I just need some answers and then I’m gone. I’ll do what I came here to do and be on my merry little way.”
“And what did you come here to do?”
Ash thrust her hands into her pockets. “They came here after a dangerous skip.”
The moment she said it, Ash realized her mistake. I could see it in her eyes.
Rabbit saw it, too. “They? They who?” He turned to me.
I threw up my hands. “Whoa, man. I know I’m not your Noah—”
“Damn right.” His disgusted gaze traveled me from tip to toe and he snorted. “The Noah of this earth would never be caught dead in Bottom-Tier clothes.”
Clearly this world’s Rabbit was a snob. “Well, your Noah’s shitty fashion sense aside, where I come from, we’re tight. In fact, dear Rabbit,” I rushed on before he could argue, “we’re tight in most realities.”
His face paled. “What did you call me?”
Ha. Nailed it. “So then you do go by Rabbit here.”
“No one’s called me that in years. How did you—”
“Because whatever the reason you got that nickname was, it seems to be a constant.”
“Constant?”
I shrugged. “Something that’s the same in a majority of universes. Whatever the hell you wanna call it, though, we’re close. You’ve always had my back.”
He stepped back and sank into the chair Ash had uncovered. With a sigh, he ran a hand through his over-gelled hair. I got the impression he was bugged by what I’d said. His eyes darted around the room, between me, Ash, and the door, and he was looking a little pale. After a few minutes, he said, “I’m not making you any promises, but tell me what you’re looking for.”
Ash was still standing beside me. So close that all I would need to do is extend a finger and I could poke her. But after that kiss, I wanted to do a hell of a lot more than poking. Instead, I lifted the leg of my jeans to reveal the cuff I’d been wearing going on a year now. “There’s something wrong with our cuffs.”
He leaned forward, studying my ankle for a moment before sliding off the chair and getting down on the floor. “Wow. Haven’t seen cuffs in ages. The Division still new where you come from?”
“It was in the early stages when I left. That was almost twelve months ago.”
He stood. “Twelve months, huh? So you’ve, what? Been skipping from place to place for almost a year doing…?”
“Chasing,” Ash supplied. Rabbit stiffened and grimaced. It was almost as though he’d forgotten she was here. “I told you, he came here looking for a skip. A dangerous one.”
“I dunno how it works here, but my cuff is linked to a main—the one this skip is wearing. For the last month or so, it’s been…malfunctioning. It seems to be getting worse.”
With one last glare in Ash’s direction, he turned back to me. “Malfunctioning how?”
“The guy we’re following has a certain…agenda. Lately though, his movements have been erratic. The timing has been off. He’s not doing what he came to in most places.”
Rabbit snorted, then flung himself up and backward into the chair. “You’re basing this whole thing off a guess?” He jabbed his pointer finger into the arm of the chair. “Couldn’t this guy you’re following just have decided to skip randomly? What’s his agenda? Maybe it’s changed. If he knows you’re on his tail, then maybe he’s trying to keep you guessing.”
“It hasn’t changed.” Simply talking about this made my insides boil. Just thinking about Dylan and the damage he’d done was enough to make me lose my shit. “He’s skipping with a single purpose. Revenge. Against those who sentenced him to death, and against my father—by killing Kori. Every single Kori he can find.”
He was on his feet and had his cell whipped out in a half second. “Has anyone told Cora? Did Karl—”
Obviously he’d been out of the loop for the last twenty-four hours. I grabbed the phone as he started to dial. “The Andersons know,” I said with a glance in Ash’s direction.
She cringed, visibly swallowing. “Phil, it’s too late. This guy killed Corey last night.”
His eyes rounded, skin lightening to an almost translucent color. He stared at her, lip hitched and fingers digging into the arm of the chair so hard that I was sure his nails would pier
ce the leather.
“It’s true,” I said, handing him back his cell. I even managed to sound soothing—which was something Cade told me I needed to work on. I didn’t understand why. He was the one who sugarcoated shit. To me, there was no point. The world was what it was and pretending anything else only led to heartache and disappointment. “Now that your Corey is gone, he’ll probably be going after three others—unless the cuff malfunctions and he has to leave. Or, a worst-case scenario—has to stay. Trust me, you don’t want this asshole stuck on your little slice of heaven.”
Rabbit recovered and slouched back in his seat. You could see he was rattled, but, still Rabbit at his core, he was able to pull his crap together and work on the bigger picture. “You think the cuff is forcing him to skip, therefore dragging you—and whoever else you’re with—right along with him? Now you’re worried it’s stopped working all together?”
“That’s the concern.” There was no point in saying me anymore. The cat was out of the bag—but at least it hadn’t been given a name yet. Cade and Kori were out there but their identities were still safe. “The timing is also out of whack. There’s usually a delay, but this last skip, the one that brought us here, was almost instantaneous. Whatever is wrong with it is definitely getting worse.”
“Sounds to me like the core might be going bad. We had a similar problem early on. That’s the main reason we switched to the chip system. Prolonged use wears out the cuff’s structure, which fries the insides. How often do you normally skip?”
“Normal time frame used to be once every six days or so. Sometimes longer, but that was the majority.”
His mouth fell open. “Once every six days using a cuff? For almost a year? Are you insane?”
“Is that a trick question?” Ash said with a roll of her eyes. “Because he’s—”
“Is it something you might be able to fix or not?” I said.
He didn’t answer me right away. Instead, his gaze turned in Ash’s direction. “What about you? Why are you here?”
She jabbed a thumb in my direction. “I told Noah I would help him.”