Page 42 of Loving Amari

“The more you’re away from limbo, the more you give Nathaniel the power to do what he wants,” she explains, her voice almost gentle now.

A tear escapes my eye as I just stare quietly at Aya.

“I know it hurts,” she says softly. “But sometimes, the life of a supernatural isn’t a fair one. I know that more than all of you.”

“And what will come of him?” I ask, my voice hollow.

“I don’t know,” she admits.

“Go away.” The words come out flat, empty.

“You can’t call on Tabatha. It’s not her problem anymore,” Aya tells me.

“I said go away.”

Aya falls quiet and nods to me. She disappears, leaving me alone in the darkness of the forest.

I don’t try to use my magic to summon Tabatha. What I do is use my magic to create a web bed, the pink strands weaving together to form a hammock between the trees. I float into it, letting the magic carry me up.

I lie back on the web and just think. The stars peek through the canopy above, indifferent to my pain.

I look up into the sky and just break into tears.

“Why?” I ask Mother Fate, my voice cracking. “Why give him to me, Amari, and you’re just going to take him from me? You give me love just to take it away. He’s the only one who’s seen me besides my children.”

I break down and just sob. I cry until my throat is raw, until my eyes burn, until I can’t breathe. I curl into a fetal position, wrapping my arms around myself as if I can hold the pieces together.

I don’t realize how long I’ve been crying or how long I’ve been there. I’m cold. I’m tired. I’m broken.

Amari suddenly flashes into the clearing, and I can feel his worry through our bond, but I can’t move. My time with him is limited. I know it now with crushing certainty.

I suck in another sob because my heart is just breaking, shattering into pieces too small to ever put back together.

Amari finally looks up at the web bed and sees me curled up, crying.

“Oh, baby. What happened?” His voice is full of concern, but I don’t respond. I can’t.

He looks to the tree one of my webs is attached to and climbs up. He climbs into the web bed with me and pulls me into his arms, resting against the tree trunk.

“Are you hurt?” he asks gently.

I don’t respond. I just cry harder. Amari pulls me up against his chest and just holds me. I can feel his heartbeat, steady and strong. It’s destroying me.

“You’re scaring me, baby.” His voice wavers, but he just rocks me, holds me, lets me know that I’m safe.

My Amari. I cannot live without him. I cannot do it. Everyone gets to keep their man. Angie, Anora, but me... I have to let go. It’s not fair. It’s not fair.

“It’s okay, baby. Let it out. Let it out,” he whispers against my hair.

I just cry and cry until exhaustion takes over, until I fall asleep in his arms. And still, even in my sleep, I can hear him. I feel him kissing my forehead. He’s telling me how much he loves me, urging me to just rest.

So I do.

15

AMARI

Istand over the bed, watching Carla sleep. I found her broken in the web, and I don’t have a clue what’s happening. Did one of our children get hurt? I have no way of getting into limbo without her.