Exit Light by Megan Hart

stares. Kelly had seen Tovah’s leg as a part of her. Not seen Tovah as an extension of her loss. That was worth a lot, even if it meant listening to fangirl squeeing about Justin Ross, who really was pretty cute.
    “I don’t really crush on celebrities,” Tovah explained at the Sticky Bun. The coffee was delicious, even for being decaf, and she thought briefly of the hospital. Maybe next time she went to visit Henry she’d bring along a cup for Dr. Goodfellow.
    “I can’t help it.” Kelly sounded glum but looked absolutely unapologetic. “Hey, at least crushing on an actor is better than a real person.”
    Tovah laughed. “You don’t think Justin Ross is a real person?”
    “Well, he’s real. Just not, you know. Real.” Kelly laughed, too, scraping up the crumbs from her pastry.
    “And your husband doesn’t mind?” Tovah sipped more good coffee.
    Kelly shrugged. “He works third shift. I need something to do.”
    Tovah nodded. Kevin hated any actor she’d expressed interest in. Then she’d thought it was cute, that irrational jealousy. “My ex would’ve minded.”
    “Maybe that’s why he’s an ex.”
    Tovah laughed. “Maybe one of the reasons.”
    “At any rate, you have no excuse not to watch Runner then.” Kelly declared this like there could be no question. “I’ll even lend you seasons one and two. You’ll love it.”
    Tovah smiled at the other woman’s confidence. “Okay, you sold me.”
    “Great! You’ll be at the gym tomorrow? I’ll bring them then.”
    As easily and casually as that, they became friends. It was, Tovah reflected on the way to her car, the adult equivalent of giving someone on the playground a lick of your sucker. She didn’t mind. It had worked.
     
    Sleep was refusing Tovah. Her daily workout had left her body pleasantly exhausted, but her mind continued racing like a yappy dog fighting its tail. Max’s snores from the floor next to her bed usually soothed her, but tonight they pulled her back from the edge of slumber with each rumbling mutter.
    So did the whir of the ceiling fan, the clatter of cars passing, the flicker of moonlight streaming through tree branches moved by the wind. The weight of her blankets became too heavy, and she kicked them off, but was chilled a moment later and had to pull them up again. She closed her eyes, counting backwards. She timed her breathing.
    Nothing was working.
    It was performance anxiety, Tovah realized with a disgruntled sigh. She wanted so badly to get into the Ephemeros she was blocking herself. And why did she yearn so fervently for the dream realm?
    Sex.
    She could still feel her lover’s touch. Smell him, taste him. She hadn’t made love in the waking world since the last time she’d been with Kevin, and that had ended in disaster. He’d turned from the sight of her scars, breaking the already fragile glass of their marriage. She’d asked him to move out the next day, and he’d gone without argument.
    She’d made love in the dream realm on occasion, when her solitary pursuits no longer satisfied and the craving for a man’s hands on her grew too much to bear. She’d never carried over the sense of satisfaction into the waking world, the feeling that everything had somehow opened up for her in a way she wasn’t sure she understood but enjoyed, anyway.
    Now she tossed and turned and yearned for that feeling of freedom back again. It was sex, but more than that. It was the ability to let someone get close to her again instead of holding most everyone off at arm’s length. The sex had been great, magnificent, extraordinary, but it had also been…
    “More.” She spoke aloud to her ceiling.
    He’d said he’d find her, but he never would if she didn’t get to sleep. Though her eyes drooped and her breathing had gone slow and deep, Tovah was still minutely aware of every tick of the clock, every rustle of skin on sheet.
    Through her window a beam of light flared. Her eyes flew open. The floodlight from