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“You’re really willing to risk that?” I ask, my voice wavering.

“What risk?” Keane says firmly. “I’m as much a part of this as anyone. I’ve helped Arthur chase this dream. The weight of what’s happening isn’t just on your shoulders. Many of us have played our parts in this, so don’t think I’m stepping back now. I deserve a chance at redemption as much as anyone.”

Redemption—the thing Killian also claims to desire. Well, for their sakes, I hope they both find it.

Oliver stands, with Finn rising beside him. “We’ve got a Saturnalia party to prepare for. And I, for one, intend to dress the part.”

Braxton and I also rise, watching as our friends leave the room. Once we’re alone and the door closes behind them, Braxton turns to me with a serious look and says, “I have something for you.”

38

Braxton presents me with a small package, elegantly wrapped and tied with a blue velvet ribbon. His expression, tinged with apprehension, takes me back to the night he gifted me the talisman for my eighteenth birthday.

Cradling the box in my hands, I tease, “Is there a special occasion I forgot about?”

He shifts nervously, a rare sight. “Well,” he begins, “not that I planned it this way, but I guess it marks the end of everything we know, and the start of everything that’s yet to unfold.”

Inside the box, I find a beautiful golden bangle bracelet. Engraved within its curve, hidden from view, is the inscription:TheLove that moves the sun and other stars.

As our eyes meet, Braxton’s grin widens. “I wish I could claim the words as my own,” he says, “but alas, Dante Alighieri got there first. But what it’s meant to say is that my love for you, much like this circle, has no beginning and no end. It just simply exists, timeless and eternal.”

Carefully lifting the bracelet from its velvet cradle, he gently guides it onto my wrist. And, once again, I’m left with the uncanny feeling that I’ve seen this before, lived this before. As if this moment has already been written in the stars, a loop in the fabric of time where past and future collide.

Time is a flat circle…

The thought dissolves when Braxton’s hand finds its way to my cheek. Drawing me closer, our lips meet in a kiss that speaks of endless cycles of love transcending the bounds of time itself.

It’s a kiss loaded with the weight of moments that might never come again, charged with a silent acknowledgment of the precarious ledge on which we now stand.

It’s a kiss of every word never spoken, every wish yet to unfold, a lifetime lived in the span of a heartbeat.

Our embrace deepens, a mingling of breath and being, as if trying to memorize the feel of each other, to carry this moment through whatever fate we may meet.

We draw apart, our foreheads resting together, knowing that soon, we must each walk a path that could divide or unite us across the endless spiral of time.

But for now, this fleeting moment is the only certainty we possess.

Our bodies collide once again, mutual longing igniting in a frenzied urgency, compelling us to shed our clothing with reckless abandon. Braxton’s sweater is hastily removed, sailing high over his head, while my leggings split at the seams as I struggle to free myself of them.

With the remnants of our haste scattered around us, Braxton clasps my hand in his and guides me toward the sanctuary of his bed. His voice, a whisper laden with wonder, breaks the charged silence. “If I were an artist,” he muses, as he arranges me amid the plush sea of blankets and sheets, “I’d capture your beauty on canvas.” His index finger dances across my skin, tracing a series of intoxicating spirals that send shivers racing down my spine. “And if I were a composer,” he adds, his grin spreading, “I’d compose a melody as enchanting as you.”

Gently lowering himself, he seals his vow with a kiss, an intimate whisper against my skin.

The world beyond the confines of Braxton’s bedroom instantly fades, leaving nothing but this electric charge strumming between us. Every touch, every breath shared, sparks a deeper connection, an unspoken understanding that transcends mere words.

As Braxton’s gaze finds mine, I feel truly seen, known to my core, as if he’s peering into the depths of my soul, acknowledging every shadow and light, and loving me anyway.

His body stretches over mine, and I arch against him as he presses into me. Together, we create a new space where time folds into itself, where we are both lost and found. Our souls, like our bodies, entwine in a bond as ancient as time and as new as the dawn.

When it’s over, as we tumble through a sky full of stars, the outside world cruelly intrudes. The warmth of Braxton’s body sprawled alongside mine, the steady rhythm of his breath, stands in stark contrast to the turmoil brewing within my heart.

Lingering together, reluctant to let go of the magical bond we just shared, I grapple with a multitude of questions now swirling through my head.

How do we hold onto this moment, this connection, when time itself could be our greatest adversary?

“What is it?” Braxton asks, turning onto his side, as he tips a finger to my chin and angles my face toward him.

I hook a leg around his hip, edging him closer. “Sometimes I wonder,” I start, loathing myself for spoiling the moment by bringing this up, yet pressing on, “if maybe there’s a better way…” My voice trails off, uncertain I should continue, but Braxton’s encouraging nod urges me on. “I mean, what if instead of Tripping to Greece, you went back to the time before Gray Wolf Academy was built, maybe even back to when Arthur was a kid, and…I don’t know, stop him somehow?”