Page 61 of The Slug Crystal

The door bursts open with a bang, and I jolt upright, well, as upright as I can get with Luca groaning and refusing to relinquish his hold.

Jake bursts in first, his expression so bright with excitement it's almost painful to look at.

Ben follows half a step behind, making a beeline for the curtains and yanking them open with theatrical flair.

Sunlight floods the room in a blinding wave.

"Emma, wake up!" Jake's hands find my shoulders, giving me a gentle shake that belies the urgency in his voice. "We found something. A real lead this time."

I squint, rubbing my eyes, still too groggy to follow. “What time is it?”

"Time to find Sarah," Ben announces, perching on the edge of my bed with none of Jake's restraint. His knee bounces with barely contained energy, the mattress vibrating beneath us.

Luca makes a low, disgruntled noise, his face still pressed into the pillow. “Why is it always you two interrupting us?” He tightens his arm around me, eyes still closed. “She’s busy.”

Jake’s brows shoot up, his gaze flicking between us. “Busy? You can’t monopolize all her time. We literally had a conversation about this already.”

“Wait a minute,” Ben adds. “Since when did you start having sleepovers?” He eyes Luca and me, tangled up in the bed, like he didn’t even register the two of us together until now.

I push my knotted hair out of my face, forcing words through the haze of half-sleep still muddying my brain. I need espresso, immediately. “It wasn’t planned. We just fell asleep. There are no rules about sleepovers. I think they are just going to happen when they happen.”

“Correction,” Luca cuts in smoothly, finally lifting his head. His smile is lazy, smug. “I slept here because I’m her favorite.”

I turn my head toward him, narrowing my eyes. “I don’t have favorites.”

“Except me,” he counters without hesitation, the arrogance sharpened by that Italian lilt.

“Or maybe,” Ben drawls, leaning back on his hands, “you’re just the clingiest.”

Luca narrows his eyes, and Ben smirks. Before this conversation can devolve into an argument, I lift both hands in surrender. “Enough. We can discuss the sleepover policy later. Right now, I want to know why you’re in my room at—” I glance toward the clock, “—whatever ungodly hour this is.”

Jake leans closer, his grin softening into something steadier, serious. “It’s past nine. And we’re here because we think we finally know where Sarah went. ”

From the adjoining room, I hear grumbling.

Marco appears in the doorway, glasses askew and hair standing in scholarly disarray.

He's wearing a wrinkled button-down that looks suspiciously like the one he wore yesterday.

"I overslept," he mutters, tugging against his clothes.

"I was having an exquisitely pleasant dream. "

The way his eyes linger on me makes me wonder if I was featured in that dream. Heat rises to my cheeks as I remember his gaze fixated on me in the living room last night.

Jake continues, either oblivious to or deliberately ignoring the undercurrents in the room, "We found a shop in Milan. It’s a small candle shop called Candele di Stella. The owner carried Sarah's products until about a week ago."

My heart leaps painfully in my chest. "You're sure? That recently."

Ben nods vigorously. "We've been up for hours, scouring everything we could find online. We called as soon as they opened, and the owner said they stopped carrying her crystals recently."

"The woman even said they were some of her bestsellers,” Jake confirms, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Why didn’t you ask about Sarah over the phone?” I ask, my voice cautiously hopeful.

“A customer came in and she hung up,” Ben says. “We tried calling back, but she didn’t answer. We thought it might be better just to head over there.”

I scramble out of bed, suddenly conscious of wearing only an oversized t-shirt I borrowed from Luca last night. It’s half tangled and not covering much of anything at this point. The men politely avert their eyes, except for Luca, who doesn't bother pretending not to look.

"How far is the shop?" I ask, already moving toward my suitcase, mind racing with plans and possibilities.

"About twenty-five minutes," Jake says. "There’s a gelato shop next door that opens at ten, which gives us just enough time to get there and get gelato after, if we leave within thirty minutes.”

“We can speak with the candle shop owner, then either celebrate or commiserate with gelato after,” Ben quips.

I pause, glancing at the three men crowding my door, then at Luca lying in my bed. I nod and grab a bundle of clothes from my suitcase, barely looking at them, and walk towards the bathroom.

“Should we all go?" Marco asks, already more alert, his scholarly mind visibly processing the implications.

"Yes," I say firmly, before anyone else can respond. "We're in this together.”

Marco nods, but appears hesitant. He then backs away from the door, presumably to go change.

The next twenty minutes pass in a blur of activity. I shower in record time, throw on clothes without caring how they match. Then I join Jake in the kitchen, watching him gather Alex's supplies while my other men get ready with varying degrees of efficiency.

"He needs fresh lettuce," I remind Jake, who's already ahead of me, producing a small cooler he's prepared with Alex's favorite greens. The thoughtfulness of this simple gesture makes my throat tight.

"And water," he adds. "I filled his dish before you woke up, but I brought extra for the day."

Marco approaches with a small notebook, flipping it open to reveal meticulously written questions.

"I've prepared some initial inquiries for the shopkeeper," he explains, adjusting his glasses.

"If she had regular contact with Sarah, she might know details about her customers, her suppliers, and possibly even the components of the crystal kits. "

"Assuming she's willing to talk to the crazy people carrying a blue snail around Italy," Ben interjects, zipping his duffel bag with unnecessary force.

"We'll make her talk," Luca says with exaggerated menace, ruining the effect with a wink in my direction. "Or I'll charm it out of her."

"Nobody's charming or threatening anyone," I say firmly, carefully placing Alex's terrarium in the special carrier Jake designed. "We're just going to explain the situation."

Ben raises an eyebrow. "The full situation? Including the magical transformation and our... unique living arrangements?"

Heat rises to my cheeks again. "The relevant parts," I amend, avoiding his gaze.

A taxi pulls up in the villa's gravel driveway, and we all head outside.

I claim the back seat, placing Alex's carrier securely beside me, buckled in as if he were a child. Jake slides in on his other side without comment, while Ben claims the front passenger seat. Marco and Luca have a brief, nearly silent negotiation about the two captain’s chairs in the middle, with Marco eventually sliding into the one on the left.

As we pull away from the villa, the Italian summer heat already pressing against the windows despite the early hour, I find myself holding my breath. Hope flutters in my chest like a trapped bird, painful but persistent. I catch Jake watching me, his blue eyes full of understanding.

"We'll find her," he says quietly, reaching across Alex's carrier to squeeze my hand. "This time feels different."

I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.

The countryside blurs past the windows, vineyards standing like sentinels against the brilliant blue sky.

In my lap, my free hand taps a nervous rhythm against my thigh, keeping time with the questions racing through my mind.

What if Sarah's not there? What if she can't help us? What if Alex is stuck this way forever?

What if she can help, and I have to give up... whatever this is we've created together?

Luca turns around in his seat, offering me a grin, then reaching his hand back towards me, snagging my fingers with his.

I realize the debate between him and Marco was to determine who would get the seat that could turn and face me during the ride.

Heat infuses my chest as Luca holds my fingers and Marco struggles to find an angle that he can see me while speaking with me.

The car speeds toward Milan, carrying us toward answers or another dead end.

I watch the road ahead, trying to focus on hope instead of fear, on possibility instead of doubt.

Beside me, in his glass house, Alex slides methodically across his lettuce leaf, unconcerned with the journey or its destination.

I envy his simplicity, his ability to exist fully in the present moment without fear of what comes next.

Ben turns up the radio, Italian pop music filling the car.

He drums his fingers on the dashboard in perfect rhythm, occasionally singing along in mangled Italian that makes Marco wince.

Luca's hand remains steady in mine, warm and reassuring.

And for just a moment, despite everything, the impossibility of our quest, the complications of our relationships, the blue snail who was once my boyfriend, I feel something dangerously close to joy.

The taxi drops us off at the entry of what appears to be an alleyway.

Jake takes the lead, winding down the cobbled road ahead, carrying Alex.

A narrow storefront appears suddenly between a gelato shop and a boutique selling handmade leather goods, so small I nearly miss it despite Jake's dead stop in the middle of the path.

"Here!" he says, as I pull up short, barely avoiding a collision with his back.

A hand-painted wooden sign swings gently in the summer breeze, the words "Candele di Stella" written in flowing script above a simple star design. My heart climbs into my throat as I stare at the shop. This unremarkable little storefront might hold the key to everything.