Cold Kiss

before her hand closes into a loose fist and drops to the table. I swallow, focusing on the scarred Formica instead of Rosalie’s face. You don’t have to be psychic to know she’s not done yet.
    “I don’t know how you pulled this off, kid, but there is no easy answer to an undead boyfriend.” She shrugs and adds, “Not unless you have an ax handy and you know how to use it.”
    A low, hurt sound vibrates in my throat, and Rosalie shrugs again.
    I can’t help glancing out toward the living room, picturing Danny on the sofa, his long limbs sprawled loosely, his face blank and cold. She may not be able to, but I can still see the Danny I knew, the one I loved, warm with summer sweat, laughing as he leans in to kiss me with grape soda on his lips. “You’re crazy,” I whisper.
    “I’m practical,” she counters. “But I’m not really serious. For one, you’d probably fall over backward just trying to lift an ax.”
    I’m seething, trying not to cry. I don’t care what anyone says—this is not some zombie flick, and I’m not getting rid of Danny like he’s some vicious, brain-hungry freak. “You’re so not funny.”
    “I’m not trying to be, kid.” She leans back and folds her arms over her chest. “Look, tell me how you did this.”
    Her voice has finally lost most of its nasty edge, and a thrill of hope raises the hair on the back of my neck. I stumble and backtrack and skip around and nearly lose it at least twice, but I manage to tell her everything—about my mother’s power, my own, the things I’ve taught myself to do, the car accident, and finally the spell in the graveyard. By the time I’m done, I’m hoarse and exhausted, and she gets up without a word and brings me a glass of water.
    I gulp it down gratefully. “So?”
    She raises her eyebrows. “Like I said, you and apparently your whole family make me look like a rookie who’s not even going to make it through the minors.”
    “Great, thanks.” I can’t help it now. A few scalding tears roll down one cheek and I swipe them away, hating that I’m crying in front of her. “I get it, okay? I’m going to the Hall of Fame for worst home run ever, right?”
    Before she can answer, something crashes in the living room, and Olivia’s voice carries into the kitchen. “Um, Wren?”
    I stumble out of my chair and into the other room. Danny has kicked over the coffee table, and magazines and books and a dying potted plant have spilled over the green shag carpet. He’s struggling, trying to get up, but my impromptu spell won’t let him.
    If the look he gives me is any indication, he knows it, too, and he’s pissed.
    “Danny, stop.”
    “You’re the one…” He wriggles, kicking his feet out again. His hands are clenched into fists as he tries to push against the magic holding him to the sofa.
    “Just relax,” I’m begging as fresh tears spill down my face. He’s as furious as he was in the park, charging at me like a bull, and if he managed to kick over the coffee table, I’m not sure how long the loose bond will last. “Please, Danny. We can go in a minute, but you have to calm down, please .”
    “Let me go .”
    Three simple words, and yet they stand for everything I haven’t been able to do since he died. Grief and regret flood through me, and it’s like trying to walk away from the wind—I can’t escape it, so I let it slam into me instead.
    “Stop,” I scream, just like the morning in the park, and Danny collapses as if his strings have been cut. He slumps back against the sofa, boneless where he was rigid and straining just a moment ago, eyes still open, staring at the ceiling without seeing it.
    The silence rings, stretching out so long, I flinch when Olivia makes a soft, wordless noise.
    “Oh, kid.” Behind me, Rosalie puts a hand on my shoulder. I can’t let myself lean into the weight of it, because if I do, I’m pretty sure I’ll break into a million tiny, heartbroken pieces.
    Olivia is trembling. “It’s okay,” I say. My chest is still heaving. “He’s just sort of … sleeping. Like before, when Gabriel and I brought him back to your place. But you have to help me get him into the car, okay? Olivia?”
    She nods.
    “You go get the car open,” Rosalie says to her. “I’ll help with this one.”
    Since Olivia isn’t much bigger than I am, I don’t argue, but it’s still ridiculous and completely undignified, the two of us struggling under Danny’s weight as we push and pull and