Page 55 of Reverie
Misha and Luna. Leo and Ella. Veronica and Summer.
And Amelia too?
I draw in a shuddering breath and kiss the top of her head.
“Okay,” I say.
Her shoulders relax. “Okay,” she echoes.
After a few long minutes in each other’s arms, she looks up at me, blinking sleepily.
“What are you thinking, H?” she asks.
“I’m thinking that even though this is one of the worst days of my life, I’m still the luckiest bastard breathing.”
Her eyes focus on mine.
“What makes you say that?” she whispers.
“Because you’re here. You’re alive. We’re all alive, even though we shouldn’t be.”
I lean down to give her a hard kiss on the lips. It’s possessive and demanding, and I pour all my fears and hopes and dreams into the press of our mouths together.
“I am so fucking grateful, Sunbeam,” I whisper against her lips.
She shudders a breath. “Why do I feel there’s a ‘but’ in there?” she asks, whispering with her face pressed to mine.
“There isn’t a ‘but.’ Just an ‘and.’ And I’m terrified my luck will run out. And I can’t face that.”
She closes her eyes, and I feel the fan of her eyelashes against mine.
“Well, I guess we’ll have to do our best to keep the streak going and leave the rest to fate,” she tells me.
“Yeah,” I say.
With a final kiss to her head, I usher her beneath the covers, and she wastes no time curling onto her good side.
“Let’s talk more later, baby. But everything is going to work out for us. I’m putting it out into the Universe, so you know it’ll happen,” she says. “I’m a powerful manifestor if you didn’t know.” She releases a sleepy chuckle that turns into a yawn.
“I have no doubts in you, Sunbeam,” I say, kissing her on the lips as she slips into unconsciousness. Everything within me wants to slide under the blankets with her, but I know I don’t have that luxury. I leave the room, headed for the garden to work through my memories in the darkness. I might know something.
Maybe.
Winter’s words spin between my ears, and the more I focus on them, the more I want to believe them. The more I want to believe they’re right.
Winthrope gave me twenty-four hours to hand over Ella.
I pull out my phone, glancing at the time. There’s under an hour left on his countdown.
“Finally, I get you alone.”
I bite back a groan and roll my eyes to the heavens as Misha Hroshko’s voice stops me in the hallway. I’m a few feet from thedoor that leads to the garden and the peace I so desperately want to access.
The garden reminds me of Amelia Manor. Even though I try to divorce my thoughts of my home from my mother, I struggle to do so.
“Misha,” I bite out. Turning to him, I say, “What do you want?”
Misha’s dressed casually in dark gray joggers and a loose cotton T-shirt. His wavy brunette hair looks mussed, and no one could miss the hickey on his neck.