We're headed toward Massachusetts, which isn't more than a couple of hours out of New York. It's well into the afternoon by this time, so we're probably going to arrive at his sister's by dinner.

"Where does she live?" I ask, growing tired of guessing based off of the road signs we pass.

"Boston," he replies. "She and her husband bought a house a few years back. Unfortunately, he took off a few months ago, so it's just her and the kids. It's fitting that we're both finally on the East coast. We grew up in Seattle, but were on separate coasts for the longest time."

"My mother lives near Boston," I mention casually, picking at my nails.

"Want to drop by for a visit?" He glances over at me, reading my reaction.

I shrug. "We haven't talked much lately. Not sure she'd be happy to see me."

"What do you mean? She's your mom, of course, she'd love to see you," he says.

"The last exchange we had was a year ago. It was a fight, to say the least, and it got pretty heated. I don't think she really wants to talk to me."

Joel considers this for a second. "Well, ultimately it's your choice, but I think it would be good for you to see her. And I'd like to meet her. Call me old-fashioned, but I think it's important to meet my girlfriend's mother."

It's sweet that he wants to get to know her, but I know how strained the relationship is on its own. Our last fight was because of college. Tuition and fees are high in New York, the extent of which I never anticipated. She didn't want me to leave home for a number of reasons, but I was stubborn, insisting that I had to go. Part of it was because of my visions. Our community was small, so seeing the death of every person I loved and had grown close to was almost unbearable. I figured a city like New York might be the place I could find hope.

It was an argument like no other. Yet, she still pays for my college and a share of the rent for my apartment. We talk sometimes, but never real conversations. She has no idea what I'm majoring in or even if I'm seeing anyone. We are more or less just ships in the night.

By the time we're in the suburbs of Boston, Joel and I are both exhausted. Though we haven't done much today, the past couple of days have been understandably rough. He takes his gun out of the dash and slides it into the back of his pants before we step out of the car.

His sister's house is a cute two-story, an older victorian with a big porch and a manicured lawn. A sprinkler is running as we walk up the path to the house, my leggings growing damp before I climb the creaky wooden steps up to the house.

Joel raises his fist to knock, but a short dark-haired girl throws the door open before he can. She's got her hair cropped short and layered, her knees stained by grass. Her eyes are just like Joel's: a bright, startling green. If I had to guess her age, I'd say she can't be much older than twelve.

"Uncle Joel!" she exclaims, throwing her arms around him.

"Hey, Avalon," Joel beams. "Wow! You've grown up so much since I last saw you!"

"Who's this?" Avalon asks when he releases her from the hug, head cocked at me.

"This is my girlfriend, Violet," Joel tells her. "Vi, meet Avalon, Mal's youngest."

"There are only two of us," Avalon reminds him. "And Daniel is only a year older."

Joel snickers. "Excuse me."

She steps out of the way so we can enter the house, closing the door behind us. Instinctively, I reach down to remove my shoes, which consist of some slip-on sneakers Joel got for me after he realized I was going barefoot.

I notice right away that a delicious aroma is filling the air around us. Someone must be cooking, and my stomach grumbles.

The three of us are idling in the foyer, standing on a plush carpet that covers most of the floor. The color matches the curtains in the windows ahead in the living room. It's clear whoever decorated took the time to make everything perfect. It feels like a home and reminds me a lot of Joel's place. It's no wonder they're so similar. I can already tell he and Mallory are close.

Mallory emerges from the kitchen a few seconds later, flour in her dark curls. She looks just like Joel, down to their stunning eyes and dark skin. "Hey, little brother!"

Joel gives her a hug too, her height just barely reaching his chin. "Hey, sis."

"And this must be Vi!" She shakes my hand excitedly.

I tense up involuntarily. It's my knee-jerk response to any close contact with my skin, and Joel probably my change in demeanor right away, despite my efforts not to let it show. I prepare myself for the vision, grateful when it's a commonplace sight: an elderly woman going peacefully in her sleep. It's the sort of death everyone deserves. I'm glad someone as kind as she is gets to live a long, full life.

My relief must be visible to anyone paying close enough attention.

"I'm Mallory, Joel's sister," she continues. "You're even prettier than I imagined!"

I'm blushing so much I must be scarlet. "Um... thank you?"

"Daniel!" she hollers over her shoulder, then turns back to us apologetically. "Sorry, he just got a tablet for his fourteenth birthday and hasn't been off the stupid thing all day. Daniel!"

"I can claim responsibility for that one," Joel whispers in my ear. "They were having a sale and I knew it would probably make his day. Couldn't help myself."

I giggle. "They've probably got you wrapped around their fingers."

He smiles. "I'm perfectly fine with that. They're good kids."

Finally, a boy comes downstairs, his eyes glued to a glowing screen. He sets his gadget down on the bookshelf beside the staircase the second his eyes land on Joel and me. He, like his sister, shares the bright green eyes that undoubtedly run in the family, but his hair is lighter, more blonde than brown. He probably gets it from his dad.

"Hey, Daniel," Joel greets him. "Are you liking your birthday present?"

Daniel feigns nonchalance. "Yeah. It's pretty cool..." he trails off. "Who's this lady?"

Mallory shoots him a look. "Joel's girlfriend. Remember?"

"Ohhh." Daniel nods. "Right. Okay. Hi, I'm Daniel, Joel's favorite."

"Think your sister would agree with that?" I tease.

"Absolutely not!" Avalon cuts in. "I'm smarter than you and I'm prettier."

"I'm still Uncle Joel's favorite," he argues.

"No, you're not!"

"Yes, I am!"

I watch them bicker and can't help being amused. There's no genuine hatred in their argumentation, just the standard annoyance that comes with being a sibling. Since I was an only child, I'd never had this sort of experience. I can honestly say I'm a bit jealous.

"Anyway, you two are welcome to get settled in the guest room," Mallory says. "I've got to finish dinner and I'll call you down when it's ready."

"Do you want help?" I offer.

"Thank you, but I'm almost done. You two go ahead."

She retreats back into the kitchen, adjusting her ponytail as she disappears. Avalon and Daniel finally stop fighting and go their separate ways, leaving Joel and I standing alone for a few seconds.

He gestures theatrically toward the stairs. "Shall we?"

I let him take my hand and guide me down the hall to a simple bedroom next to the bathroom. The bed is made perfectly, dressed with a burgundy comforter like the curtains downstairs. It's a simple room, but it holds the same elegance the rest of the house does.

"Mal takes pride in decorating." Joel gestures to the pillows and the tapestry hanging on the wall. "It's sort of her thing."

"What does she do for work?" I ask.

"She's a kindergarten teacher, but she only works in the morning because her class gets out at noon," he says, kicking his shoes off and lying down on the bed. "She also paints but doesn't really share her work much. She's talented though."

"Did she paint that?" I point at a canvas hanging on the wall. It's a simple vase of roses, but it's truly beautiful.

He nods. "Told you she was good."

I lie down beside him and rest my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Absently, he reaches up and runs his fingers through my hair.

"This has been a hell of a week," he finally says.

"Definitely," I agree.

He kisses my forehead, his lips resting against my skin. "Hey, sweetheart, can you promise me something?"

I look up at him, so close that I can see his five o'clock shadow. "Anything."

"Promise me that if I." He pauses, gathering himself. "If I die, that you won't blame yourself."

"But it would be my fault, Joel," I say, eyebrows knitted in confusion.

"I know you," he says back. "And I know that you would never hurt me. Regardless of what happens, I need to know that you won't blame yourself for it."

There's no chance I'd be able to do that, Joel.

We both know I'm lying when I say, "I promise."

"I'm so lucky, Vi," he murmurs. "I'm so lucky to have you. No matter how long we get in the end, you really are it for me. I don't think I'll ever feel this way about anyone who isn't you."

He speaks so candidly, so sincerely that I know he really means it. The words make something inside my chest squeeze. I know what this feeling is, but I don't know the words to say it. I don't think I'll be able to convey the gravity of what I feel for him.

I make a vain attempt to slow time down, to stay in this moment for as long as I can.