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But I’ve lost too many things I care about. I won’t lose her, too. Not without her knowing exactly what she means to me.

“I love you, Sapphire Hayes,” I whisper, letting the words fall into the space between us. “I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you at that bar. You’remysummer fae. And I can’t lose you. Not like I lost my mother. Not like I might have lost Ghost.”

For a terrible moment, I think I’ve made a mistake. That I’ve revealed too much, or asked for more than she’s willing to give.

“I love you, too,” she finally says, and something inside me—something frozen, starved, and aching—starts to warm.

* * *

The next memory… it’s not a memory. At least, I don’t think it is. Although, it feels so real. Like a dream—one I’ve been trying to remember but that keeps slipping through my fingers.

We sink beneath the water’s surface, and the emptiness—that hollow ache where my love for Sapphire existed before the dryad stole it from me—flickers.

Because the hatred in her eyes is gone.

And suddenly, my hands are finding her in the water, one gripping her waist, the other threading through her hair as I tilt her face to mine.

When our lips meet, it’s like breathing for the first time in ages. I could stay like this forever—her and me, floating in the water, lost in our own perfect world.

And I need her to know exactly what I’m feeling. So, I take her left hand, turn her palm upward, and trace letters onto her skin.

I.

Precise and deliberate, my finger moves slowly as I create the first letter. Then I tap her palm, silently asking if she understands.

When she nods, I continue.

L.

Another pause, watching her face closely, drinking in her reaction.

O.

I glance up at her, my heart racing at the raw emotion in her eyes.

V.

Her breath hitches, her eyes wide, waiting.

E.

She inches closer, silently begging me to finish.

Y. O. U.

Eight simple letters that mean everything.

* * *

As the memory fades, the part of my soul that I gave to the dryadstays.Because when I relived those memories, I experienced everything all over again. I wasthere,falling in love with her, just like I did the first time around.

My left palm tingles with the phantom sensation of her fingertips tracing those eight letters in return while we were underwater.

I love you.

A promise. A tether. A bond.

This isn’t just love. It isn’t just magic.