Chapter 2: Evan
Water.
It was everywhere.
Plop. Plop. Plop.
Cold and thick, pressing into my nose, my mouth, my lungs. It tasted of copper and salt. My chest burned as I tried not to breathe, but my body betrayed me, gasping, pulling the darkness inside.
Bubbles escaped my lips and floated upward—or was it downward? Direction meant nothing here.
My clothes dragged me deeper, heavy as concrete. My fingers went numb first, then my arms, the cold eating me from the outside in.
There was no crash, only a sound.
Plop. Plop. Plop.
The rhythmic dripping echoed in my ears, each drop marking time in this place between worlds.
My body felt suspended between sinking and floating. I was falling deeper, trapped in an endless descent through liquid darkness.
So much silence. Was this death?
A rush of heat flooded through my body, fighting against the cold that had already claimed most of me. It started in my chest and spread outward, wild and electric, making my heart slam against my ribs like it was trying to break free.
Warmth.
Hands wrapped around my waist. Not the water's suffocating grip.
They pulled with a strength that shouldn't exist in this place, their heat burning through the numbness, bringing feeling back to limbs I'd already written off as lost.
I wasn't alone.
***
"Evan, wake up."
The words floated somewhere above me, muffled like they were coming through water.
"Come on, wake up. I know you're faking."
The voice was rough, masculine. Warm in a way that made me want to sink deeper into whatever darkness held me. Strong hands gripped my shoulders, shaking me.
I wanted to respond, wanted to tell him I wasn't faking anything, but something thick and heavy sat in my throat. My body wouldn't listen. Couldn't move. Couldn't even open my eyes.
The shaking intensified. Not violent enough to hurt, but firm enough to rattle my teeth if I could feel them.
"I can't believe you'd pull a stunt like this after everything you've already put me through."
What stunt? The words wouldn't form, couldn't push past whatever blocked my throat.
Then, the pain exploded through my ribs.
A violent charge of pressure shot up from my chest, and I suddenly began coughing.
Water poured from my mouth, my lungs, everywhere. My body convulsed, muscles I'd forgotten existed suddenly screaming back to life. Somehow, I managed to roll onto my side, then up onto my knees. One hand braced against the ground while the other covered my mouth as I kept coughing, kept expelling what felt like an ocean from inside me.
When the coughing finally stopped, I tried to get my bearings.
My eyes opened slowly, but the light was blinding. Couldn't make out what was in front of me. The ground beneath my hands felt damp, like grass mixed with mud. With one eye open and the other squeezed shut against the brightness, I lifted my head.
"Ugh, too bright," I mumbled.
Ah, the blinding light on the way to heaven. Guess I made it after all, despite the shady contracts I'd signed to climb the corporate ladder. Maybe I'd been a saint in a past life.
A gust of wind made my stomach turn, bringing a scent that was metallic and sharp, coating my tongue with the taste of copper pennies. A cold knot formed in my stomach that twisted tighter with each breath.
I knew that smell. It was the same one that had filled our apartment the night I found Mom on the kitchen floor.
"Murderous intent? Since when could someone smell that?" I muttered.
"Stop sputtering nonsense! Have you finally lost your mind?" The rough voice again. "I knew you were faking. I fell for your trap and came here because you begged me."
I turned, blinking hard against the light. My vision focused slowly—boots first, then dark brown pants, a dark blue tunic. Christ, he was massive. A whole mountain of a man who made professional bodybuilders look scrawny. Angular jaw, nose slightly crooked like it had been broken more than once. But it was his eyes that stopped me cold—the most piercing blue I'd ever seen. And they were… glowing?
Heat rushed to my cheeks. I'd never been picky between men or women; relationships had always been fleeting things for me. But I'd never stood in front of someone where my body wanted to submit.
"Now you've lost all decency. You can't even control your pheromones!" His words came out like accusations. "It's always Gregory this, Gregory that. Have you looked at yourself? Did you fake falling in the lake just to show your indecent body to me?"
I was utterly confused. Maybe I wasn't in heaven after all, and this angel—guardian—whatever he was—was shaming me. But pheromones? Look at myself? What did he even mean?
So I'd stay in the same state as when I fell? My soul keeping the appearance of my body? I shivered, wincing at the thought of what a sixty-two-story fall would have done to me.
I fell. I remembered falling. No—someone pushed me. But my body felt too light.
I looked down at myself. My hands were intact, and my clothes were clean except for being wet.
But these weren't the clothes I'd been wearing. Taupe trousers clung to my legs, and a beige blouse that had turned translucent from the water stuck to my chest. I'd been wearing my grey suit when I fell.
And why did my body look so thin?
When I brushed water from the blouse, my arm moved wrong, too quickly, without the resistance I expected. Like the muscles I thought were there had vanished.
Another change in the wind caught my attention. The air carried the scent of musky forest blended with smoldering sandalwood, hot and burning. A subtle breeze grazed my skin, sending strange shivers down my spine. My heart pounded too hard in my chest.
I died, right? Then why did it feel like I was alive?