Everlasting (The Immortals #6)(21)
“While that may be al wel and true,” I say, careful y avoiding his gaze, “there’s definitely a message here. And, according to Lotus anyway, there’s also a journey that only I can make.” Then, surprising just about everyone, including myself, I look right at Jude when I say, “Al that time you’ve spent in Summerland, al that time you’ve studied your past lives— our past lives—have you ever seen one I don’t know about? One that surprised you?
One where I was named Adelina?”
I hold my breath, al owing myself to exhale only when he shakes his head and says, “Sorry, no.”
“Okay then.” Damen nods, divorcing himself of the wal , signaling that this meeting is now official y adjourned. “I think we’ve covered about al that we can here, no?”
And even though I want to protest that the answer is, indeed, no, I just nod and go with it. Partly because I know he’s only doing what he thinks is right. Trying to protect me from Lotus, the dark part of Summerland, and heck, maybe even myself.
And partly because, wel , he’s probably right. There probably is no more to do here. Even though I’m reluctant to admit it, it appears we’ve uncovered al that we can.
Or at least for now anyway.
As for the rest—wel , I’m hoping it’l reveal itself somewhere along the journey.
chapter ten
“Are you going in?”
Damen stands beside me, right beside me. His
body so close to mine I can feel his swarm of tingle and heat, his warm breath brushing softly along the curve of my cheek.
“No,” I whisper. “I—I can’t do it.” I swal ow hard, wrapping my arms around myself as I continue to peer inside. Feeling like the worst kind of creepy stalker for standing out here in the dark, spying on Sabine and Munoz instead of just going around to the front, opening the door, and going in to join them like a normal person would.
But I’m not normal.
Not even close.
And that’s pretty much what keeps me
crouching out here in the dark, on the wrong side of her window.
If you’re not going in, can you at least tell me what we’re doing out here? The words thought instead of spoken, he doesn’t want to risk being heard.
I’m saying good-bye. I sigh. I’m preparing for a future without her.
Though I’m facing the wrong way to see his expression, I can feel the way his energy shifts, the way it broadens and expands until it swal ows us both. Providing a wonderful, warm, hug-like embrace that lingers wel past the point when his arm catches up and fol ows suit.
“Ever…” he whispers, hands clasped at my waist, lips pushing through my curtain of hair to land on my cheek. And even though it seemed like something might fol ow, he chooses to end it right there. Al owing the kiss to do what words fail to. We huddle together, watching as the happy couple picks at the remaining scraps of dinner. Each of them urging the other to claim the last slice of pizza before Sabine waves her hand and reaches for her wineglass and Monoz laughs and digs in. But despite their playful attitude, it’s not hard to locate the glint of remorse in Sabine’s gaze, the flicker of defeat at having taken a chance, issued an ultimatum, only to fail at the one thing that truly meant something to her.
A look that’s almost enough to rouse me from my position at the window so I can hurl myself in there and show her that al is okay, al is forgiven. Almost, but not quite.
Instead, I remain right in place, observing their date. She stil in her suit, which, coupled with the pizza, signals a late night at work; while Munoz is dressed far more informal y, wearing a pair of broken-in jeans and a long-sleeved white shirt with the cuffs rol ed halfway to his elbows, enjoying a little time off from school, using his winter break to work on his book.
The one he was about to give up on.
The one I told him would be published someday. Well, at least some good came of my abilities. They may have alienated Sabine, but at least I managed to convince Munoz to not give up on his dream.
And I’m so lost in the thought, and Damen’s so lost in the act of comforting me, that neither one of us is prepared for Munoz to burst through the side door with an overstuffed trash bag in hand.
“Ever?” He stands before us, Hefty bag
dangling by his side, squinting as though he stopped trusting his eyes the moment they landed on me. I flash my palm, my gaze pleading with his to keep quiet, keep the news to himself, keep on heading for the trash as though he didn’t see us stooped beneath the windowsil .
But it’s a lot to ask of someone who’s been searching for you. And while he makes for the trash can and drops the bag in, he’s quick to circle right back to where Damen and I stand.
“Where the hel have you been?” His words take me by surprise, mostly because they didn’t come out nearly as angry as they could have. They sounded more like a huge sigh of relief.
“I’m staying at Damen’s,” I say, as though that somehow covers the ful extent of my absence. “And Sabine’s ful y aware of that since Damen cal ed to tel her as much.” I glance at Damen, glimpsing the tel her as much.” I glance at Damen, glimpsing the wave of shock that plays over his face. He didn’t realize I knew that.
“Sabine’s been worried sick. You’ve got to go in there—you’ve got to let her know you’re okay.” He glances between us, his brain stil trying to catch up with what he sees before him.