Everlasting (The Immortals #6)(69)
“I should go.” I try to pul away, only to have him hold me even tighter, keep me right there before him.
“Ever…” His voice is thick, ragged, a tone I know wel .
My eyes graze over him, noting his freshly laundered T-shirt and jeans, the scent of soap, fresh air, and ocean that drifts from his skin—and I know the effort was made for Honor, not me.
“Jude, are you happy?” I ask, fervently hoping he is, that the night star I made granted my wish, or at least that it wil soon.
He gives me a long look, one that lingers so long I’m sure he won’t answer when he final y drops his hands, shoves them deep into his pockets, and says, “I’m working on it.” He shrugs. “I think I’m getting closer. You?”
I start to shoot off some blithe and breezy reply, the kind you toss out when someone asks how you are but you know they’re not going to stick around for the answer, but then I stop just as quickly. Jude answered honestly, so the least I can do is answer honestly too.
Though it does take a moment to figure out just what that answer might be. I hadn’t real y considered my own state of happiness—or at least not for a while anyway.
Let’s see, I passed every test on my journey and seized my destiny, which makes me completely selfactualized in the deepest sense of the word, and yet, even after al that, there’s one thing that’s stil glaringly missing. Or, make that two things—one huge, one only slightly less huge. But after I leave here, I’l face those things too.
“Same here,” I final y say. “I’m working on it too.”
Chasing the words with a flash of a grin. “But I think I’m making good progress, getting pretty dang close, anyway.”
I start to turn, start to head for my car, when he pul s me back to him and says, “Hey, Ever—”
I face him.
“Just so you know, you’ve got it al wrong.”
I narrow my gaze, having no idea what he means.
“That real y isn’t what I was doing al of those lives, or at least that’s only part of it. The other reason I was trying to keep you from Damen is because I wanted you al to myself. Stil do.” He shrugs, tries to laugh, but it’s not the funny kind. It’s far too resigned for that.
“Remember what you told me—the first day we
met?”
I squint. I said a lot of things back then. In fact, I gave him one heck of a palm reading, told him al about his past—or at least his most immediate past. about his past—or at least his most immediate past.
“You told me I have a serious history of fal ing for al the wrong girls.”
Oh yeah. That.
“Turns out you were right.” There’s that laugh again, but this time it’s lighter, brighter, hinting at a promise of better days to come.
“Little did you know it was just one girl in particular—one girl over and over again. Little did you know it was you. ”
I gulp, my stomach going al twisty and weird.
“It’s always been you.” He shoots me a rueful grin.
I edge closer to my car, having no idea what to say, what to do, but that’s okay, because he cancels the awkwardness for me.
“So, what do you think of Honor?” he asks.
Our eyes meet and hold, until I manage to stammer, “For reals?”
He nods, swipes a hand over his head in the same way he used to back when his hair was long and twisty, only now there’s not much to latch onto and his arm fal s back to his side. “What did you tel me back then? If I’m fool enough to ask, then you’re fool enough to tel ?” He laughs, adding, “So yeah, what the heck? Have at it. What do you think of Honor? Or, better yet, what do you see for our future?
Do we even have a future?”
He offers his palm, wanting me to take it, to tel him al that I see. And I stand there before him, knowing al I have to do is lower my psychic shield, press my finger to his skin, and everything he wants to know, including stuff he most likely does not, wil be revealed.
I inch toward him, just about to do it, when I remember what Damen once said, and decide to quote him instead.
“Life is not meant to be an open-book test,” I say, turning back toward my car and driving away.
chapter thirty-six
My next stop is Sabine’s.
I figure since it’s late on a Sunday afternoon there’s a good chance I’l find her at home.
Maybe even at home with Munoz.
And the closer I get to her street, the more I start hoping Munoz wil be there, if for no other reason than he seems to be on my side—or at least for the most part. Which means he just might be able to help me convince her of the truth.
The startling, mind-blowing, world-rocking truth that proves everything she so vehemently denies is actual y real.
The truth she’l most likely fight like hel to refuse no matter how much evidence I put before her. And even though I’m ful y prepared to pul out al the stops, do whatever’s required to make her believe (knowing that may require no less than a judge, a careful y selected twelve-man jury, and possibly even a handful of alternates thrown in for good measure), it’l stil be good to have Munoz around to help build my case.
You know, two against one.
Power in numbers.
That sort of thing.