Chapter 4

Any blind date that starts with a painting of your mother staring down at you can't go well. Especially if your mother is?—

I blink as I take in the sight of Wench around me. Same patrons at the bar, same lukewarm tea on the table in front of me. Same painting of Mother dearest mocking me above the bar.

How?

Vee is approaching me, no doubt so she can make sure I don't want anything to eat while I wait for my mystery man. Instinct tells me to run. We should all run.

Indigo. He's back.

The door swings open, and Jasper stumbles through. He's looking right at me, and he sits down with breathless anticipation.

"Morgan?"

I stab a finger at him. "You asshole." Whether he's right or not, I'm not feeling very charitable toward him right now.

"Do you remember?" He leans in.

"Can I get you something to drink?" Vee stands above us.

"We're leaving," I say, pushing up from my seat. Jasper's with me in a heartbeat as I hurry toward the door.

"What about your laptop?" Vee says. I spin on one heel and stride back to grab my computer, along with my coat hung over the back of the chair. I don't make eye contact. Jasper is waiting by the entrance, and he follows wordlessly as I step out into the street.

I wait at the intersection until the bus rumbles by. When Jasper goes to speak, I hold up my hand, silently telling him to wait. When the illuminated man says walk, we do. Safely.

As we approach the parking lot, Jasper is walking ahead of me, making a beeline for my SUV.

"How do you know which one is mine?" I ask.

"Date fourteen," he says. "I tried to explain then, but you wouldn't listen. Nearly ran me over with your car trying to get away."

"That's still an option now," I say, but I press the fob and unlock all the doors. My fully electric Range Rover has flush door handles that the average person struggles to find on the first try, but Jasper doesn't even hesitate. He swings it open, slides inside, and is shutting the door again before I'm halfway in.

"You remember?" he says into the dark interior once I've closed my door too.

I remember the horror of finding Indigo in Ezekiel's office. The pain of my body shutting down. Again. The further pain of the bus accident. But now is not the time for breathless confessions. It's time for questions.

"What the fuck is going on?"

His eyes widen. "Did you die? How? I'm never sure?—"

I press my palm to his mouth. "No. No. My turn for answers. Tell me what is happening."

The interior of the car gets quiet. A few guys—the same ones I used to fend off Jasper yesterday (today? How do you tell time like this?) stumble out of the diner.

Behind my hand, Jasper smiles widely, and I realize what I've done. In another life, he might kiss my hand. Oh my god. What if he has kissed my hand already? If you can kiss on the first date, surely we've kissed on the sixtieth? And I don't remember?

I can't cope with that. It's too much. To have kissed someone who looks like Jasper and not remember it is worse than—Well, okay, that's not true. Getting killed in quick succession by an environmentally friendly transit vehicle and a supervillain are worse than forgetting about kissing a cute guy. So much worse.

"Start at the beginning," I say, trying to slow my breathing.

"Alyssa said we should meet."

"Alyssa? What does she have to do with any of this?"

"You said to start at the beginning. Alyssa and I went to medical school together. She and your friend Clarissa thought?—"

"This is about the date?" My voice rises. "I don't care about who thought we would be good together. I care about the fact that I died last night and the night before, and yet here we are. And anyway, medical school? I thought you were some kind of goon, not a doctor?"

His lips thin. "I dropped out."

Great, so he's a slacker as well as a criminal. What a waste of a cute face.

"Jasper. Focus." I may be talking to myself on that last part. "Why is this happening?"

"I don't know!" For the first time, his boyish enthusiasm cracks. He balls his fists up on the dash, and I shrink away, waiting for him to punch something, but instead he turns to me, eyes desperate. "Why would I know any more than you do? Alyssa said I should meet you. I did. It was fine. Eventually you said you had to get back to work. I stuck around, had a couple more drinks. Then I went home and fell asleep, and when I woke up, I was on the sidewalk outside the diner again."

"And?" I say, ignoring the bit about how our first date—whenever that was—was only fine. Of course it was. That's the best I could hope for. Right up until the time loop kicked in. No one could predict that part.

Jasper shakes his head. "And you were inside. And you left again. And I went home again. And then it happened... again. It always happens."

"Sixty times?" I ask.

"Sixty-one now."

I glare at him because now that I am once more alive and breathing, what he's saying sounds too implausible to be true.

I say, "Have you ever considered standing me up? Maybe if we don't meet then?—"

His laugh is dark. Angry. "Oh, trust me. I tried that. Repeatedly. It didn't help. I'd get on with my life?—"

"Henching around? Terrorizing women and children?" I say sweetly, which earns me a narrow squint that gets my blood pumping. Maybe the "good dude" persona he puts out only goes so far. I always do love an argument. If Jasper could give as good as he gets, maybe we would have had a shot if it weren't for all of... this. I want to fight about whether paper straws were ever going to do anything to stop climate change. Not who is responsible for a date that won't end.

"I get on with my life," he says again slowly. "And then at some point, whether I'm awake or asleep, at home or at... somewhere else?—"

I snort. "Don't sanitize it for my sake." When the world goes back to normal, making sure he pays for his crimes is first on my to-do list. I may not work at SPAM anymore, but I still have connections. Jasper will be sorry we ever met.

"Whatever I'm doing, suddenly I'm on the sidewalk again, heading toward the diner."

It's a lie. Has to be. The last two months, I've been working. The only people I've seen are the board members, the engineering team, Ezekiel, and Clarissa. And while some days no doubt blend together, they've all been different.

"If what you're saying is true, then why do you remember and I don't?"

The anger drains out of him. He's back to being the guy I saw coming through the diner. He'd make a charming bartender or an appealing stranger at a party. Too bad about his career choices. As a doctor, his powers would be unstoppable. Even if he dropped out of med school, he could at least play a convincing doctor on TV. He'd have a funny nickname like Doctor Steamy. Mister McSexy.

Focus, Morgan. The alluring henchman doesn't get sexy nicknames. He gets evil ones. McSneaky. McStab-You-While-You're-Sleeping.

In fact, what he gets is a pained look on his face. Jasper says, "It has to be you. Every time you die, the day starts over."

My fingers slide to my chest. It still aches. My other hand goes to my ribs, then my hip, snapped from the impact of the bus. They don't hurt much today, but yesterday I could barely think from the pain. What pains and injuries have I already forgotten? Never mind forgotten kisses. This is a far more important question.

On a shaky breath, I say, "Are you telling me I've died sixty times?"

His cocky grin is back, a little more sheepish than before. "I think so? I wasn't there for a lot of them. You really don't seem to like me."

I jab a finger into his chest. "You knew what was happening and you didn't do anything?"

He blinks. "I saved you from the bus yesterday."

But not from Indigo. And how many busses before that?

I nearly tell Jasper to get out of my car, but he has more information than I do, and it's not like I can go home and search "How do I stay alive so I can escape a blind date that's really a time loop?" on the internet.

Jasper's picking imaginary lint off his jeans and pretending not to look at me. He's about as subtle as a bag of hammers, but I guess we're a team now. The fastest way to extricate ourselves is to use what Jasper knows and to do my best not to die anymore.

Easy peasy, right?

"So, what else have you figured out?" I say with a heavy sigh.

He squirms. "Not much. The day's not always the same length. Sometimes it's fast."

"Because of the bus," I say.

"Yeah. And sometimes it takes longer. Once I made it all the way to noon tomorrow before everything started all over. Whatever you did that day, I really thought we were going to make it."

"But you don't know what happened... or will happen..." Seriously, thinking about time this way is hard. "Tomorrow if we split up?"

"Well, obviously, you die." He gives me an apologetic smile. Somehow, I keep having to remind myself about the whole henchman thing. Jasper really seems more like the kind of guy who holds your hand during the sad part in movies than the kind who slaps it away and tells you to give him all your money. "But no. No. Sorry. I don't know how or where. The only time I ever see it is when it's here with the bus."

That's really not very helpful at all. All those data points lost. We could have used those to map something better going forward.

"What about you?" I ask.

"What about me?"

"Do you die?"

He looks away uncomfortably for a second, which gives me the answer I was expecting even before he says, "No."

"Have you tried?" The question comes out meaner than I intend. His eyes get big. Has he really never considered this? Jasper scrabbles for the handle on the door. On instinct, I bang the lock down on my side. He goes pale.

"I—" He swallows. "What if I don't come back?"

Oh, for fuck's sake. "I'm not going to murder you in my car in the name of scientific inquiry, Jasper. I only want to know what we're dealing with. And I'll have you know that, even though I come back, it still hurts like a son of a bitch. After Indigo obliterated my?—"

"What?"

The car goes quiet. Shit, I wasn't ready to bring that part into this. Not yet. I still want to understand how this works—the limitations, the variables—before I introduced new factors.

"Indigo?" Jasper says slowly. For a guy who was so cavalier about his underworld connections earlier—yesterday? Damn, this really is hard—he suddenly looks nervous, maybe even more than when he thought he was about to meet his demise in the front seat of a luxury SUV.

I stare up through the moonroof. Full moon. That wouldn't be relevant, would it? Of course not. The moon causes tides, but it doesn't alter the course of time. Whatever is going on, there's a person causing it. If it were a natural phenomenon, it would have been documented. Studied. Even the parting of the Red Sea has a plausible scientific explanation. And if someone is doing this, they can be found and be made to stop it. Maybe knowing a henchman will prove valuable after all. We just need to follow the clues.

I try again, without the insinuation of murder.

"After I left our date... yesterday? Last night? The one before this. Ugh, what's the best way to talk about this?"

Jasper relaxes. "Yeah. Yesterday. That's the easiest way, I've found. Even if today only lasts a few hours, it's easier if you think about each one as its own day. I never know how much time I'm going to have, so stitching it together to make a twenty-four-hour period is an exercise in frustration."

"When I left yesterday, I went home. I went to bed and I woke up later, and I heard a noise downstairs. When I went to check it out?—"

"Were you in your underwear?" He shows off his crooked tooth again as he grins, but I'm not in the mood for his leering, even if he's clearly joking. I punch him—hard—on the shoulder.

"Ow." His amusement turns to a plaintive pout. It should not be as endearing as it is.

"Not so tough for a henchman, are you?" I ask, watching the way he rubs his arm. Despite the fact he's dressed super casually, he fits his flannel very well. In another timeline, I wouldn't mind rubbing his shoulder for him.

"Why did you punch me?" he asks.

"Where do you get off asking questions about my underwear? Just because we've been on sixty dates doesn't mean we're a couple. That was rude."

"It's such a horror movie cliche. All alone at night. You hear a sound. You go to investigate, usually wearing only?—"

I jab a finger in his face. "You don't get to ask about what I wear to bed. We don't even know each other."

His mouth works like he's going to argue. I almost want to make him feel better, but then I think about sixty days where he knew me and I didn't know him and my sense of reality gets fuzzy all over again. Finally, he says, "So you heard a strange noise."

Right. Answering feels risky. There's still a chance I'm a rat in Jasper's maze. Maybe he's wearing a wire and some researcher somewhere is listening to my answers going "Hmm. Yes. Very interesting. The simulation is progressing as expected."

But not telling him means we're more likely to continue to repeat the same mistakes over and over, and somehow those always seem to result in me bleeding from an important artery or trying not to move as my bones puncture an organ. So I'll have to give him this much.

"Indigo was there. In my stepfather's office." My eyes widen as a terrible thought occurs to me. "Ezekiel! Where is he? If Indigo got me, then—" I fumble for my phone, getting ready to type a text. Only what am I supposed to say? Don't go home? I can't tell him how I know what I know. We've got too much riding on the presentation for Ezekiel to start worrying about my mental well-being, and he absolutely will if I start texting him impossible stories about blind dates that never end.

"Indigo?" Jasper's still hung up on other revelations. "Like, the Indigo?"

I nod. I guess it doesn't matter what happened to Ezekiel last night? We're back at the beginning, which means even if Indigo killed him too, he's alive again, just like me. Right? My fingers still itch to message him, but Jasper whistles softly and says, "And then?"

Even though I technically lived to tell the tale, talking about it is still hard. "He..." I snap my fingers, then make a gagging sound and wrap my hands around my throat when Jasper looks like he doesn't understand.

"But I thought he was dead."

That theory did get floated around. They never found Mother's or Indigo's bodies after the night at the hotel, so no one could ever say for sure. Yet, when there was no further sign of him, some of the media outlets reported that Indigo must have been buried under the hotel when it collapsed too.

"Dead and alive are relative terms right now," I say.

"Like good and evil!" Jasper's grin returns once more, but dims when I give him my best flat stare. I can't believe this is happening. And of all the people I could get stuck with, it had to be this guy.

His stomach growls, and he pats the front of his jacket. "Have you eaten?"

"Excuse me?"

"I haven't eaten. The first time, on our first date, I was hoping maybe we'd hit it off and drinks would become dinner, so I haven't eaten. And no matter how much I eat before the day starts over, I'm always hungry again."

That sucks. I don't eat much. Don't have time. We've been so busy at the lab that if Clarissa didn't order lunch in for me, I'd probably eat breakfast and subsist on coffee for the rest of the day.

I stare out the windshield at Wench. With everything, I can't face going back in there.

"We can't go to my place," I say. "Indigo will be there."

Jasper twists his mouth. If he suggests we go to his place, I'll say no. That sounds like a surefire way to wind up in some abandoned warehouse or dungeon somewhere, chained up to the wall and with no way to escape.

Instead, he says, "I know somewhere. They've got good food, and they might be able to answer some questions."

"About time loops?" Is that what this is even called?

"About Indigo."

The idea of going after Indigo makes me go cold. "Oh no. I don't want to find him again. I want to stay very far away from him at all costs." If my mother, Vee, and Ezekiel couldn't stop him, what hope do I have, especially with only Jasper as a sidekick? Indigo can kill with the snap of a finger. Mother believed there was a proximity element to it, that he couldn't kill someone unless he was close enough. But he could be captured, at least temporarily. That was what their light box was for... until it failed, that is. But I have neither the powers nor the technology to test these theories on my own, and who else is going to believe me besides Jasper?

Speaking of the devil, Jasper spins toward me, and this time he does reach for my hand. His palms are warm, even though the evening is cool. "But isn't it weird that we get stuck in a time loop and Indigo is suddenly back?"

"You need both those things to happen at once before it gets weird?"

Jasper sighs impatiently. "Do you have a better idea? We'll get food and ask around. If you want to do something else, I'm all ears."

I'm seriously thinking about buying a one-way ticket to a remote resort deep in the jungles of Belize, but since it sounds like that plan would only end in a fiery plane crash, I have to admit I've got nothing.

"Then let's see what we can find out." Jasper squeezes my hand. "Trust me."

Trusting him can only be the start of a very bad and very fatal string of decisions, but I put the car in gear.

"Let's go."