Let The Wind Rise (Sky Fall, #3)(100)

But then I think about everything I’ve put them through these last few weeks—all the times I made them run for cover, and the mysterious injuries I showed up with, not to mention the whole Guess what? You’re son isn’t human! weirdness.

They deserve to know I’m okay.

My parents seem strangely unsurprised when I walk through the door—though of course there’s still plenty of hugging and crying. They ask questions I don’t know how to answer yet. So I tell them the only thing that really matters.

“It’s over.”

They hug me a whole lot tighter and promise they’re here for whatever I need.

“So wait—how did you guys know to come back?” I ask.

My mom smiles. “Audra answered your phone.”

“So you’ve seen her?” I ask. “She’s okay?”

“She’s more than okay,” my dad says.

“She has a surprise planned for you,” my mom adds. “But, uh . . . I think you might want to shower first.”

“Yeah,” my dad chimes in. “You smell like crap—literally.”

He smiles at his corny joke, and I think about all the facefuls of manure I got during the battle and head toward the bathroom. “Good call.”

It takes me longer than I meant to shower, but it’s not easy with my injured elbow and all the other wounds I have to clean and bandage.

Plus I keep trying to guess what Audra’s surprise is, and it’s very . . . distracting.

My favorite Batman shirt feels tight across the shoulders. All this fighting really has made me stronger. Even without food— Food.

God, I had no idea I was so starving.

I’m hoping my mom’s making me about ten of her famous torpedo burritos, but when I head out of the bathroom, she’s sitting with my dad on the couch, both of them giving me those horrifying our baby looks so grown up smiles.

“So . . . where’s Audra?”

“She’s waiting for you on the roof,” my mom says.

The roof??

That kills almost all of my favorite theories.

It’s already starting to get warm, and the air is turning still. But I find a Westerly and coil it around me.

As I do, I notice the compass on my bracelet has stopped spinning.

In fact, it seems like it’s pointing straight to the rooftop.

The wind floats me off the ground, carrying me to where Audra’s waiting, perched on the red tiles, her face turned away from me, focused on the sky.

She’s wearing a dress.

Not a skimpy dress like I’ve enjoyed before.

But I like this one even better.

She looks so . . . normal.

So real.

And when she turns my way and smiles . . . wow.

I mean, seriously.

I don’t know what I did to deserve this beautiful, incredible girl. But I’m never letting her get away.

I try to think of something deep and poetic to say. But the best I can come up with is: “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

“I’m glad you’re safe too,” she tells me. “I was starting to think you were never going to get here.”

“I know. Sorry, I—”

She holds up her hand. “You don’t have to explain. In fact, I think we should make a deal not to talk about anything stressful—unless you need to. I told the Gales we’re taking today to relax.”

I laugh. “Are you sure you know how to do that?”

She pats the roof tile next to her, offering me a seat. “I figured you could teach me.”

I make my way over to her side—and by the way: Walking on roofs is way harder than it looks. I nearly trip twice—but I get there.

When I do, I notice a red-and-white bag peeking out of a thermal lunch case, resting near her hip.

“Okay, am I hallucinating, or do you have In-N-Out?”

“Not hallucinating,” she says, opening the bag and filling the air with the smell of cheeseburgers and French fries.

My stomach growls so loud, we both have to laugh.

“I had your mom get it for me. I remembered what you said about how we haven’t really had many dates. So I thought I’d give it a try. I know we’re just up on a roof—and the food is mostly cold because I didn’t realize you’d be back so late—”

“It’s perfect,” I tell her.

And it is.

I sit next to her and she hands me my cheeseburger and it’s seriously the best moment ever. I get a little choked up by it, actually.

I watch her dive into her own burger without any hesitation or worries about sacrifice—see that look of oh my God this is amazing cross her face—and I have to kiss her.

I lean in and—

Gavin lets out a huge screech.

I nearly flail right off the roof, and fling a few French fries at him. “Dude—do that again and we’re having roast hawk for dinner!”

He screeches and hops over to the fries, gobbling them up as he watches me. I guess I should be glad he’s still alive—and that he has good taste in snacks—but it’s easier to like him when his beady eyes aren’t glaring.

Audra whistles something, and he flaps his wings and takes off toward the date grove.

“I told him to leave us alone,” she tells me.