Page 52

Chapter

Thirty-One

It’s supposed to be finished.

I sit shoulder to shoulder with Noah on the bench, and together we stare at the mural.

For the last couple of days, I’d single-mindedly thrown myself into painting the final touches.

I’d avoided speaking to anyone about my pending offer from Paragon—Addison included, though I knew she was waiting on me—and instead allowed myself to be absorbed in my mission.

It looks exactly as I imagined it would, with purple-and-green trees encroaching from all sides.

The ethereal gold-and-white stag, perfectly posed atop a hill in the background, the night sky rich and dark behind him save for the pinpricks of stars and fireflies.

The traveler, weary from his journey but enjoying his evening drink at his campsite.

And finally, the fire, warm and welcoming and bright with every shade of red, orange, and yellow.

But something’s missing.

I turn to gauge Noah’s reaction.

The energy between us is different today. His hello, good morning! kiss lasted a touch longer than usual. My fingers lingered on his as I passed him his favorite latte. When I had to reach the top of the mural and needed the ladder again, his hand curled possessively around the back of my ankle.

Now he stares open-mouthed at the mural, fingers laced under his chin. His features have gone soft and sweet, and his eyes are full of stars. But then he pauses to tap his thumbnail against his lower lip and looks sidelong to me. “Is it finished?”

The fact that he has to ask at all tells me that my instinct is right. “No.” I adjust my glasses and rock forward.

And that’s when I see it. What it still needs.

Biting my bottom lip, I glance at my watch. Already noon. I usually don’t work past noon.

“Think I could steal a couple more hours today?” I ask.

“Sure, so long as you’re done by the time we open at four.”

Filled with renewed purpose, I pluck the paintbrush from behind my ear. “Okay.”

“I’ll be in the office with Dan if you need me.”

With my final vision for the piece consuming me so that it’s the only thing I see when I close my eyes, it takes me only a few more hours to complete it.

I barely register the hushed, tense voices muffled by the thin walls of the office, or the sound of Dan’s car as he pulls out of the parking lot.

I hardly feel the way the muscles in my neck and upper back start to lock up as I stretch to make final adjustments and additions. I am in another world entirely.

Usually when I finish a piece, I toy with it for a while.

I’ll put it under different lighting, add in some extra lines.

Or I’ll be hit with inspiration days after I thought it was done and rush back to include new details.

But for this mural, I know exactly which paint stroke is my last. It’s an arc of brilliant gold—the same shade as Jaylie’s holy symbol—that contrasts beautifully with the field of purple behind it.

Footsteps echo quietly behind me.

“Sadie, it’s perfect. It’s beautiful.” Noah wraps his arms around my middle, chin propped on the top of my head.

“I love it.” I’m surprised to hear the words come out of my own mouth. I’m often the type to constantly fish for feedback and reassurance, but in this moment, I don’t need it.

“I can’t believe you added so much.”

“I knew what it needed. It felt unfinished without it.”

“Are you going to sign it?”

I hesitate. But as pride surges through my chest, I kneel at the corner of the wall and sign my name along the curve of a dark green leaf.

Sadie Brooks.

Noah helps me adjust the curtains to cover the completed mural, and a little twinge of sorrow ripples through me as we tuck the art away for the final time.

“Well,” I say, my throat suddenly tight. “I’m sure I’ll—I’ll be back soon.” I still need to get my last payment anyway. But even without that as an excuse, I’ve developed a taste for beer over the past few months.

And a taste for the brewer, too.

I don’t want to act like this is goodbye. So, instead, I simply twine my fingers around Noah’s neck and pull him down for a kiss. “I’ll see you soon?”

“Whenever you like, Sadie.” His forearms squeeze against my lower back.

It almost sounds like a promise.

The bell hanging over the doorway rings as I walk out. The heat, as always, wraps me in its usual warm, humid hug. As I stand outside with my back pressed against the Civic, I scroll through my emails until I find Paragon’s offer again.

I inhale a deep, bracing breath.

It took me a while to realize that Addison isn’t insidious, not at all like the fire-breathing dragon that was my last manager.

No, truthfully, Paragon is a wonderful company.

Their office is beautiful, their turnover rate is low, the projects are engaging and inspiring, and every single employee I met was an absolute delight.

And if things got out of control again and I became overwhelmed and stressed, I could pick up strategies to help.

I could set better boundaries. I could grow.

I could move back to New York and try again. This time, I’d be more prepared. I could prove that Incite hadn’t broken me.

It’s taken me much longer to realize, though, that I don’t have anything to prove at all.

I press the green call button and lift the phone to my ear.

After the call, I sit in the car for a long time as dusk softens the sky to a sleepy blue. I watch Noah through the brewery’s windows as he welcomes in patrons with his usual enthusiasm and consider stepping back inside to tell him the news.

But for now the small seed of joy settling in my chest feels too fragile—too new. I need a moment to myself to give it time to take root and grow.

I pull out of the parking lot and drive home.

I know the way by heart by now, but a sudden rush of sentimentality convinces me to take the long way back.

I roll down the darkening road, past fields that Jules told me grow thick with bluebonnets in the springtime, past the beacon of the Mama’s sign farther down the way.

I slow as I drive under the twinkling lights of downtown and smile at the bookstore where I know Liam and Morgan are working the closing shift.

The scenery grows more mundane as I near my neighborhood, but even the sight of the bank, the library, and my preferred grocery store inspires a surge of sharp fondness.

After reheating a quick dinner, I take my time brewing tea, selecting a playlist, lighting Brooding Love Interest, and arranging all of my pillows into a cozy nest on my bed. I even hunt down Howard and purposefully carry him upstairs with me. After grabbing my tablet, I climb into bed.

Blissful contentment immediately settles around my shoulders like a warm blanket.

I sit and draw for hours, my fingers still crusted in paint from the day’s work at Alchemist. It’s a wonder that I still have energy left for more art after rushing to finish the mural, but for once, I don’t work on a paid commission.

This is a personal project. Something just for me and my friends.

Something I’m choosing to do for myself.

With our last session penned for this Sunday, I want to celebrate the adventure we’ve all been on together.

My phone buzzes in the pocket of my sweatpants. Howard lifts his head from where he’s pressed to my leg, annoyed at being woken up.

Noah:

will you write with me one more time, before the campaign ends?

I’m going to miss these characters:(

My gaze flicks to the time and I inhale in surprise. Already after ten.

Tonight?

if you’re up for it!

I am

I add a few more swaths of color to the illustration on my tablet before trading it out for my laptop. I navigate to the private server between me and Noah and sink back into our world.

It’s the night before the final confrontation.

Tomorrow, they will set the plan in motion and attack Donati in his home.

All week Jaylie has prepared for this moment, ensuring that every possible outcome has been planned for.

She should be able to rest easy, knowing that she’s done everything she can.

Not to mention, the bed Jaylie lies in is a thousand times more comfortable than the bedroll she’s grown used to.

Yet still she cannot find sleep, her eyes pinned on the canopy of silk that cascades over the four-poster bed frame.

Loren cannot rest. He sits on his bed, plucking through the chords of the song he wrote about Donati’s crimes — not that it matters anymore.

There’s no time left to spread the word any farther than he already has.

Sighing irritably, he sets his lute to the side, shrugs on a loose nightshirt, and walks into the hallway.

After peering both ways down the dimly lit corridor, he makes his way to the priestess’s door.

Inhaling deeply, he knocks gently three times.

The knock echoes in the darkness of Jaylie’s room. She summons an orb of gentle gold light, and it follows in her wake as she pads to the door. As she peeks out, she smiles. “It’s you.” She widens the door. “Can’t sleep?”

Loren shakes his head. His features are drawn, and there’s a tightness around his green eyes, but seeing her makes him smile all the same. “Can I come in?”

Jaylie lingers in the doorframe for a moment before she steps aside. “Of course.”

Loren steps in and closes the door quietly behind him.

He casts his gaze around her room — it’s twice the size of his.

“Shira must like you more than she likes me,” he murmurs.

And then, before he has time to think about it, the words he’s been pondering for weeks now come out in a rush. “Why did you kiss me, Jay?”

Jaylie blinks. Her lips part in surprise, and a few moments pass before she responds. “What do you mean?”

“After I brought you back. In the cave. Why did you kiss me?”

Jaylie thinks back to when her eyes cracked open after she took that painful first breath. Loren was the first thing she saw, and the emotion she had felt in that moment was so strong she’d thought she would burst into thousands of pieces all over again. “I don’t know,” she says softly.

His face falls.

“No — I mean, I didn’t even think it through, Loren.

You were the first thing I wanted to see when I opened my eyes.

Kissing you felt like the most obvious thing in the world.

I couldn’t help myself.” She laughs a little and smooths her palms down her nightgown, fiddling with a loose thread on the lace. “I was just so happy to see you.”

Gently, Loren reaches forward and takes her hands between both of his. His thumb runs across the backs of her fingers, catching on each of her golden rings. “And what about now?”

Jaylie lets her head fall forward until her forehead meets his. “I’m always happy to see you, Loren.”

Loren lifts her hand and presses his lips to her skin. “Are you nervous about tomorrow?”

“That depends. Is your secret resurrection spell one that you can repeat?”

He snorts once, and his gaze skates away from hers. “Unlikely.”

“Then, yes. Of course I’m afraid.”

He tucks a stray golden curl behind her ear. “You’ll be fine, Jay. You’ve learned so much since then. We all have. You’ll keep us all together.”

She tries to smile, but her expression is shaky. It’s difficult to see through the tears that gather on her eyelashes. She clears her throat and tries for levity, to distract her from the battle on the horizon. “I’ll bet it’s going to be difficult for you to top this one.”

“This what?”

“This story. ” Jaylie glances toward her window.

Even now she can see the glow of dozens of campfires burning in the shadow of the tower.

“After we’ve defeated Donati and saved the day, you’ll finish your song.

” She gestures outward. “And then you’ll be off on your next big adventure.

” Her tone was meant to sound wistful, but there’s a note of regret that she can’t mask.

Loren follows her gaze, staring off into the night. The campfires mirror the brilliance of the stars scattered across the sky. “No, I don’t think I will,” he murmurs.

Slowly, Jaylie turns until she’s facing him again. “No?” A ghost of a smile passes over her features. “That’s what you told me last time — that you wanted to write the next great adventure. You wanted people to miss you.”

Loren shakes his head hard enough that strands of his hair escape from his braid.

“I don’t want you to miss me.” He grips her hand hard enough to hurt.

“Jaylie…I want to be the first thing you see when you open your eyes. Every time. I want to be the one to rescue you when you fall — just like you do for me, after every battle. I want to be the last sound you hear before you fall asleep at night. I don’t just want my songs to get stuck in your head, Jay.

I want you to be the reason I write them.

” His throat is so tight he has to clear it a few times before he continues.

He tilts his head down until his gaze bores into her warm brown eyes.

“I don’t want to miss those moments. I don’t want to miss you, ” he insists.

“I won’t go anywhere without you by my side. ”

Jaylie’s lip trembles. “I want that, too. I could not bear to see you go.” She presses a kiss…

No. No, that’s not quite right. I delete my drafted post. My foot bounces restlessly as I try to think of another.

Jaylie gasps. “Take me, then. Take me with you. I want to see the world you’re always talking about. I want you to show it to me.” She throws herself into…

But that’s not it, either. I scowl at my laptop as I delete my words and read through Loren’s declaration again.

I imagine that I’m staring at Loren through the screen, my hands clutched in his as he stares earnestly into my eyes.

The pointed ears fade until Noah sits in his place, thick fingers drumming against his keyboard as he whips up a string of flowery words that he surely knows will cut straight to my heart.

I won’t go anywhere without you by my side.

The filter of our in-game romance had been a welcome amusement from the beginning, an opportunity to flirt and explore our interest in each other without having to wade in too deep.

But now it’s like I’m back at the stream Noah showed me, thinking it was shallow before I jumped—only to find that the water stretches far deeper than I could have known.

It’s too much. It’s too much, to have only Loren say the words I long to hear from Noah’s lips.

My phone vibrates at my side, and I glance at it.

Noah:

everything ok?

It’s been a while now since Noah’s last post; I left him hanging, and he’s probably wondering where I’ve disappeared to.

Biting my bottom lip, I text back immediately.

I need to see you.