Echo (The Soul Seekers #2)(56)

She inches closer, runs a purple painted nail from my shoulder to my elbow. The chill of her touch penetrating all the way through my heavy down jacket and the wool sweater beneath, leaving my skin pricked with cold. Her voice soft and lilting, she says, “Funny, I didn’t feel like a kid when I was with you.”

I flinch at her touch, aware of her sharp intake of breath as her hand falls back to her side. But I don’t feel badly. It’s all coming back to me now. The way she manipulates. Calculates. The wave of regret that washed over me the instant it was over.

“Are you well?” I figure I owe her the courtesy of asking.

She nods.

“And your dad—is he well too?”

“He gets by.” She shrugs, tilts her head from side to side.

“Okay then. I’m glad to hear it, but I really have to—”

“You really have to go. I know.” She stares at me for a long time. Too long. Her features darkening, she steps aside and says, “Don’t let me stop you.”

I push past her. Push into the night. Glad for the bite of frigid air blasting my hands, my face. Overcome with relief to finally be rid of her.

After a quick consult with the map, I navigate the path Daire outlined. Stopping before two long rows of glowing luminarias lighting either side of a trail that ultimately leads to the place where she stands huddled against the bitter night air.

When she sees me—when her eyes meet mine—it’s all I can do to keep from sprinting down the trail and taking her into my arms. But I force myself to walk it instead. Force myself to take the time to appreciate the stage that she’s set.

“Merry Christmas,” she says, once I’m standing before her. Her cheeks flushed and luminous, her eyes flickering with amusement. “I’m your not-so-Secret Santa.”

I smile. Content to just stand there and fill my eyes with the glorious sight of her.

Screw Cade.

Screw all the Richters.

This is all that matters.

This beautiful girl standing before me.

I’m hollow without her. Just barely existing. I know that now.

And while I know that what we’re doing is right—that this is the way it has to be until Cade is stopped—I also know that when this is over, there will be no more shutting her out of my life. The last few days without her were hell, with thoughts of her haunting me at every turn.

If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll find a way to make this work.

Or die trying, anyway.

I find her eyes once again. Realizing she’s waiting for me to react to her news, I say, “Oh, and I’m yours.”

“Really?” She cocks her head in a way that encourages a spray of curls to fall across her cheek. And it takes all of my strength not to pull her tightly to me and sink into the softness of her. “Well, actually, Lita drew your name, not me. But then she asked me to trade, so I did.”

“Lita pulled the same thing on me.” My eyes fix on her mouth—those soft inviting lips I ache to taste again and again. “I hear she puts her name in twice so she can spend the money on herself.”

“So the whole thing was rigged?” Daire grins in a way that’s infectious. “And here I thought it was fated.” Her eyes move over me, leaving a trail of warmth that starts at my head and wanders all the way to my feet.

“This is really beautiful.” My voice sounds hoarse, unused. “I can’t think of a better gift than to find you waiting at the end of a candlelit path.”

“I’m not your gift.” She smiles. “I’m not that poetic.”

“No?” I take another look around. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“This is your gift.” She hooks a thumb toward the chain-link fence at her back.

I squint, try to think of a reply, but its meaning is lost. So I go the jokey route and say, “I’m pretty sure you’ve gone way past the twenty-dollar limit. The permits alone—” My words halted by the finger she presses to my lips.

“Not the fence, silly—this.” She flicks the small golden lock that’s fixed to one of the links.

Still, I look at her. Not really getting it—but not caring either. My lips burn from her touch. It’s all I can think about.

“You probably don’t realize it, but today marks six weeks since we first got together. And, well, I wanted to observe it in some way. This is pretty much a first for me.”

“It’s a first for me too.” I want so badly to kiss her, right here, right now. But something tells me to wait. There’s still more to say.

“Is that because you’re usually long gone by this point?” She chases the words with a grin, but it doesn’t take much to spot the vein of worry that pulses just underneath.

“That’s Cade’s game, not mine,” I say, hoping to convince her I will do whatever it takes to be with her—now and forever. I was a fool that night in my kitchen. I won’t be anymore.

She nods, takes a deep breath, and says, “Anyway, I wanted to do something special, and then I remembered this.”

She points to the lock again, but I still don’t get the significance.

“There’s a place in Paris with an old chain-link fence, much like this one.” She hooks her finger around one of the links and rattles it for emphasis—the move, along with her words, leaving me even more perplexed than before. “Only that fence, the one in Paris, is completely covered with locks. The entire thing is crammed chock full of locks of all kinds. And, well, it’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. Or at least it is once you realize what it is the locks symbolize.”