The Lives Between Us Read Free

braces, have her first kiss, go to prom, be a bridesmaid at Skye’s wedding—not that she was even dating anyone right now, but she might get married some day, and she’d want Niki to be a bridesmaid. She couldn’t die.
    Niki’s face creased in worry as her gaze moved from her to Peter. “Daddy?”
    “Well... I know Skye’s cooking isn’t the best, but I’m pretty sure it won’t kill you.” He put a hand on Skye’s shoulder and squeezed hard. “Ya gotta give her points for trying. She didn’t make you her famous stew, did she?” He shuddered.
    Niki giggled. “Nope. Chicken. Store bought.”
    Peter released a deep exaggerated breath. “Well, good. Then you’re saved. Praise Jesus, it’s a miracle.”
    Skye scowled and swatted his stomach. “I’m a fantabulous cook.”
    “So are they sending me home? Is our sleepover cancelled?”
    “Not a chance, kiddo.” Skye forced the lightness into her voice. “They can kick us out tomorrow, but tonight’s already paid for, and I’m not being gypped out of my movie. If your parents will ever leave, that is.”
    “We can take a hint.” Peter reached for Faith and pulled her to her feet. “Brush your teeth and don’t stay up too late. You can always finish watching the movie tomorrow morning.”
    “Enough already. Say goodnight and get out so we can get on with our party,” Skye ordered.
    Peter and Faith kissed Niki goodnight, promising to return first thing in the morning to bring her home. Skye set the DVD player on the tray directly in front of them, then climbed onto the bed and wrapped Niki in her arms. She resisted the urge to press Niki close, as if crushing their bodies together might somehow magically recharge her damaged heart. Or maybe, if Niki were a part of her, Skye’s heart could beat for them both.
    Skye sighed, forced her arms to relax, and turned her attention to the movie. Unfortunately, the predicament of a thirteen-year-old girl magically turning into her successful thirty-year-old self overnight couldn’t come close to competing with her niece’s real-life drama. Skye couldn’t do much about finding Niki a suitable heart for transplant, but she could—and would—find compatible stem cells.
    She would not let Niki die.
     
    * * *
     
    “What the hell.” Skye jabbed the delete key on her laptop to erase the close-up of Senator Edward Hastings. She scowled at the computer and slapped the lid closed with a loud click, then poked her head outside her cubby to see who might have overheard her outburst. Low-pitched murmuring came from Doug White’s lit cubical, and the janitor pushed his cart toward the bathrooms, but other than that, everybody else had gone home. Good.
    Skye dropped back in her chair and crossed her arms. Her hand drifted over to the three-inch research pile. She opened the manila folder and then pushed it aside. There had to be something she’d missed.
    Skye spun away from her ugly, gray metal desk and reached for her tea. Bringing the warm cup to her lips, she savored the gingerbread aroma misting her face. She took a fortifying sip, enjoying the gentle melding of honey and ginger, anticipating the familiar wake-up call to her sedentary brain cells. After another satisfying swallow, she squared her shoulders and lifted the computer lid.
    Skye started at her ringing desk phone. “Hello.”
    “What’re you doing at the newsroom at nine-thirty at night?”
    “What’re you doing calling me at nine-thirty at night?” Faith went to bed early.
    “You have work that can’t wait until tomorrow?”
    Or putting in overtime researching every dang aspect of stem cell therapy until exhaustion drove worry from her mind, allowing her to get four or five of hours sleep. “Is Niki okay?”
    “She’s fine. Just checking to see if you’re coming for dinner tomorrow.”
    “I’ll be there.” Skye paused and took a deep breath. “I... There’s something I need to tell you. I’m still looking, but—” She blew hair