Page 92 of Crown of Death
But his expression softens. He rises to hisfeet.
“I may not have been kind these past few days, Logan,” Cyrus says. Once more, I see it, how draining this information is. “But you…” he shakes his head, his eyes sliding closed. “You are slowly driving me mad. The things you say, the person youare…”
He takes in a deep breath, and I try to understand hismeaning.
“I cannot take it any longer, Logan,” he says. Emotion tugs on his words. “I must know. Please,” he whispers. “Please end this uncertainty forme.”
I crawl across the bed slowly. When I reach the end of it, I rise up onto my knees. I place a hand on either side of his face, and slowly his eyesopen.
Dark green. Deep as the ocean. Ancient as theforest.
“The last month has been an incredible, unforgettable one,” I say. Our faces are so close. We breathe the same air. I feel the heat of him. “And I never expected it, the way you’d twist my stomach up and confuse every emotion inme.”
His eyes slide closed and his hands rise to rest on myhips.
“I realized it last night, and just now, my heart told me the truth,” I whisper as it fractures. “I wanted you to love me for me. And for you to stop looking for someone else whenever you look in myeyes.”
I press my lips to Cyrus’ forehead as he stopsbreathing.
I squeeze my eyes closed. A tear pushes out onto mycheek.
Before I can shatter apart on this bed, I climb off and walk toward thedoor.
“Logan,” Cyruscalls.
I stop with my hand on the door and look over myshoulder.
He stares after me, the face of an anguished, confused man greetingme.
I watch him, waiting for him to say the words. To tell me that he does love me, no matter who I may turn out tobe.
His wife ornot.
But he can’t seem to find any morewords.
So I open that door, and I walkout.
* * *
It’s Friday.My very last day of work at Sykes FuneralHome.
No one died last night, so there isn’t any work for me to do. Instead Emmanuel went and got a cake, and as a send-off, he, Craig, and Katie throw me a little going away party. I try my best not to, but as I gather my few personal belongings and hug each of them goodbye, Icry.
I look around my workspace, and I know it: I’m going to miss this, what I do, very, very much. Because somehow I know, I’ll never work as a morticianagain.
Everything willchange.
That afternoon, I sit in my car for a very long time, trying to decide what to do. Trying to decide how Ifeel.
Cyrus has been searching my face, overthinking everything I say, because he’s been watching for signs of his Resurrectingwife.
The acknowledgement of that truth sends shivers racing down myarms.
It’s why he has said my fate after I Resurrected wouldn’t be determined until the act wasdone.
If I am his wife, we’ll have a happily ever after, for a time, and I will return toRoter Himmelwithhim.
If I am not her, he doesn’t really care where Igo.