Page 26

RYDER

S he’s still kissing me.

Or maybe I’m still kissing her.

I don’t know anymore.

The only thing I know is she’s alive.

Her fingers grip mine with iron strength, and the tether hums between us, still burning bright in the dark.

But the rift?

The rift is gone.

Collapsed in on itself the moment she touched me. The moment her magic, no, her love wrapped around mine and held.

I felt it.

Not just seal.

Accept.

Like the lake finally understood.

I’m not its weapon.

I’m its guardian.

I pull her close, one arm around her waist, kick hard with my legs, and push for the surface.

She clings to me.

We rise slow but steady.

I can feel the magic dissipating. Sinking back into the water like mist.

The pressure lessens.

The cold fades.

Light begins to filter in, silver and pale.

Callie shifts against me and blinks.

“You good?” I mouth, just above the waterline.

She nods, breathless. Beautiful. Fierce.

We break the surface together.

Gasps tear from both of us. I clutch her to my chest, treading water like the lake might still try something.

But it doesn’t.

The water’s still.

Not just calm, quiet.

Like it’s exhaled.

Like it’s at peace.

Callie leans her head against my shoulder and whispers, “Well, that sucked.”

I laugh. Real. Deep. Surprised myself.

“Yeah,” I rasp. “It did.”

She tilts her face up to me, eyes wide, lips parted. “Did we… win?”

I look out across the lake.

No pulse.

No shimmer.

No pull.

Just soft ripples and starlight.

I nod. “Yeah. We did.”

She lets out a breath like she’s been holding it all summer.

Then she smiles.

Gods, that smile.

I kiss her forehead. “Next time you follow me into near-death, maybe leave a note.”

“Next time you try to sacrifice yourself,” she shoots back, “I’m punching you first.”

“Deal.”

We float there a moment longer.

Weightless.

Together.

Finally, I don’t feel like I’m drowning.

The others are on the dock when we swim back.

Torack’s eyes are wide. Julie’s got a hand over her mouth. Hazel’s holding up a glowing charm like she’s directing airport traffic.

But all I see is Callie.

Still in my arms. Still breathing.

Still mine.

We climb up onto the dock soaked, scraped, shaking but whole.

Torack crouches beside me, eyes flicking over my chest. “You did it.”

I shake my head slowly.

“No,” I say. “ We did.”

His brow furrows.

I look over at her.

At Callie.

The girl who glitter-bombed her way into my guarded heart and refused to let me fall without her.

“The rupture didn’t close because I was strong enough,” I say.

Callie’s eyes meet mine, surprised.

“It closed because of the tether. Because she found me. Held me. Chose me.”

Torack exhales.

Julie smiles, small and full of something that might be awe.

And me?

I take Callie’s hand.

Press it to my heart.

And finally let myself believe.

I’m alive.

Because she didn’t let go.

That night, after the dock’s quiet and the kids are asleep, we lay together in the field just behind the cabins.

The grass is damp, the stars are fierce, and for once, the lake doesn’t feel like it’s watching.

I’ve got her in my arms.

No pressure. No storm.

Just Callie.

She’s tracing circles on my chest with one finger, her cheek pressed to my shoulder.

“Do you feel different?” she whispers.

I nod. “Like something’s… shifted. Like I finally stopped holding my breath.”

“Yeah,” she says softly. “Me too.”

Silence stretches between us but the good kind.

The kind that says everything without needing words.

Still, I turn to look at her.

She’s watching the stars, her brow furrowed just slightly.

“What?” I ask.

“I was just thinking,” she murmurs, “I didn’t save you with magic, not really.”

I kiss her temple. “You did. ”

“No,” she says. “I saved you with love. And duct tape. And maybe a little reckless faith.”

I grin. “That sounds about right.”

She looks at me then, serious.

“You would’ve gone, wouldn’t you? Let the lake take you.”

“I was ready,” I admit. “But not to die. Just… to end it.”

Her fingers slide up to cup my jaw. “You don’t have to carry this alone anymore.”

“I know that now,” I say. “Because you taught me.”

She leans up, kisses me slow.

And in the still of the night, under a sky full of stories, I finally let myself believe.

This one’s ours.