Chapter 1

The cold woke me.

Not the chill of the November air, but a coldness deep in my bones, a memory of water.

Thanksgiving Eve. Again.

My lungs ached with a phantom pressure. I could almost feel the water, Ashley' s hands holding me down.

Her face, twisted not with hate, but with a strange, calm righteousness.

"You ruined everything, Ethan. Brandon..."

Her voice echoed in the silent bedroom.

I sat up. My heart hammered, a frantic bird trapped in my ribs.

This was real. I was back.

Ashley was in the bathroom, humming. The shower was running.

She was getting ready to leave. To go to Brandon. To present herself as his girlfriend to his family, while her own parents, my kind in-laws, waited for us.

Waited for a Thanksgiving that, in my last life, almost killed them.

I saved them then. I called Ashley, dragged her back from Brandon' s.

She never forgave me. Brandon, humiliated, killed himself.

And then she killed me. Drowned me in our bathtub, the day after Thanksgiving.

Now, I was here again. Thanksgiving Eve.

The humming stopped. The water shut off.

Ashley came out, wrapped in a towel, her dark hair plastered to her head.

She smiled when she saw me awake. "Morning, sleepyhead. Big day today."

Her smile didn't reach her eyes. It never did anymore.

"Are you packed?" I asked. My voice was flat, devoid of the warmth I used to force into it.

"Almost," she said, breezy. "Just a few last things for Mom and Dad."

A lie. She was packing for Brandon. An overnight bag, her best dress.

"You' re still going then?"

She turned, rummaging in her closet. "Going where, silly? To Mom and Dad' s, of course. We talked about this."

"Brandon called you last night," I stated. It wasn't a question. I remembered.

She froze for a second, her back to me.

Then she laughed, a little too loud. "Oh, him? Yes, he called. Poor thing. Still carrying a torch after all these years. I told him no, of course. Thanksgiving is family time."

Another lie. She had giggled and whispered with him for an hour, thinking I was asleep.

I got out of bed. My body felt heavy, weary.

"Your parents are expecting us, Ashley. Your mom... she' s not well."

Mrs. Miller. Alzheimer' s. Her sweet smile, her confusion. Mr. Miller, always so kind to me, struggling to care for her.

They lived in Willow Creek Apartments, 15th floor.

Last time, a fire. Kids with fireworks on the 14th floor.

"I know, I know," Ashley said, pulling out a sleek red dress. Brandon' s favorite color. "That' s why I' m making sure to bring her favorite cookies."

She held the dress against herself, looking in the mirror. "What do you think? Too much for a family dinner?"

"Ashley," I said, my voice harder now. "Don't go to Brandon's."

She spun around, her eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about? I just told you, I' m going to my parents' ."

"You' re lying."

Her face changed. The fake sweetness vanished. "And what if I am, Ethan? What business is it of yours?"

"Your parents are your business. They need you."

"They have you, don' t they?" she said, a sneer in her voice. "The perfect, dutiful son-in-law."

She walked towards me, the red dress clutched in her hand.

"I' m tired of this, Ethan. Tired of you, tired of this marriage."

"So am I, Ashley," I said quietly. "So am I."

That seemed to surprise her. She stopped.

"What did you say?"

"Let' s talk about this after Thanksgiving. After you' ve seen your parents."

She searched my face, then a cunning look entered her eyes.

"You know what, Ethan? You' re right. Family first." She smiled, a different, sharper smile. "Why don' t you go start loading the car? I' ll just finish up here."

I didn' t trust that smile. Not one bit.

But what choice did I have? I couldn't physically stop her.

"Okay," I said. "Don' t be long."

I went to the bedroom door. As I reached for the handle, she moved, fast.

She slammed the door shut, and I heard the click of the lock from the other side. The old-fashioned bolt she' d insisted on installing "for privacy."

"Ashley! What are you doing?" I rattled the knob. Locked.

Her laughter came from the other side, muffled.

"Just making sure you don' t do anything stupid, Ethan. Like try to follow me or call my parents with your usual doom and gloom."

"Ashley, open this door!" I banged on it.

"I' ll be back tomorrow, probably. Don' t wait up." Her voice was receding. "Oh, and Ethan? Don' t bother trying to spoil my fun. Brandon is much more important than you or my parents."

Her footsteps faded down the hall. The front door opened, then closed.

Silence.

I was locked in. Just like she' d locked me in my own helplessness last time, in a different way.

Rage, cold and sharp, went through me.

Not this time, Ashley.

I looked around the room. The window. It was a two-story drop, but there was a thick trellis running up the side of the house.

I had to get to her parents. The fire. It would happen.

And this time, Ashley wouldn't be there to be called back.