Emilio cupped the back of my head and I buried my face in his chest and let the two of them wrap me in an impossibly tight hug, the warmth of their bodies the only thing keeping me from shattering into a million unfixable pieces.
Twenty-Seven
GRAY
I doubted any of us would sleep tonight, but when I finally emerged from Ronan’s bedroom an hour later, all was silent.
I stared blankly at the cold fireplace, strangely drawn to it.
Even after learning that a fire had taken the home I’d shared with my best friend, even after it had destroyed my childhood home, even after it had burned my mother’s body and everything I’d ever known, I still wanted to make another one. To stare deep into the flames and feel the heat licking my face, knowing that it hadn’t gotten me. Not yet.
I knelt down at the hearth, adding a few logs and kindling, coaxing a new fire to life.
The flames flickered and danced, and my mind went to Jonathan.
Tonight had been his doing—I felt it, deep in my bones. I was also certain he’d known I was no longer living there. So what could he possibly have hoped to accomplish by burning down an empty house? Was he just trying to unsettle me with a reminder of the fire his family had started in my home a decade ago? Did he think his actions might sufficiently weaken my mental state and make me an easier victim?
Or was this some clue, some piece of the larger puzzle we’d yet to figure out?
Keys jangled in the front door lock, startling me from my churning thoughts. I looked up just in time to see Asher walking in, cradling his helmet against his chest as if it were full of water he wouldn’t dare spill.
Sweat and grime coated him from head to toe, his face smudged with black streaks. His boots thudded heavily as he walked across the wooden floor to join me at the fireplace.
“Hi,” I said, getting to my feet but unable to meet his eyes. I hated fighting with him. Hated that I was taking everything out on him. Hated that no matter how close we’d gotten, something always came right back between us again.
“Gray,” he said softly, “I shouldn’t have—”
“No.” I held up a hand to stop him. “I was out of line. I had no right to bring that up—especially not like—”
“I hate that she haunts you, too. I know she does. It’s killing me.” His words were a whisper, and I finally met his eyes, my heart squeezing at the pain I found there. I wanted to tell him it was okay, that it wasn’t his fault—the woman’s deathormy nightmares—but when I opened my mouth to say it, Asher shook his head, silently begging me once again to let it go.
Frustration burned in my gut. If we could talk about it together, maybe we could help each other through it.
But I wouldn’t add to his pain. Not tonight.
“You went to the house, right?” I asked, but I didn’t need him to confirm. He reeked of fire, and his boots were coated in wet ash.
“I’m sorry.” Asher cleared his throat. “I tried to salvage…” He trailed off, holding out the helmet for me to look inside, but now I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his eyes, red-rimmed and defeated, so vulnerable it hurt to look at him.
“I looked and I just… I couldn’t,” he went on. “Everywhere I turned it was just rubble and ash.” His voice broke, and he turned his head and coughed into his shoulder. I moved to touch him, but he shrunk away from me, holding the helmet between us like another barrier, never letting me get too close. Not when it really counted. “Just take it, Gray. Please.”
Nodding, I finally accepted the offering, peeking inside to see what he’d found.
Three smooth, palm-sized stones sat at the bottom of the helmet, their carefully crafted designs and sweet messages no more than a multicolored swirl of paint that bubbled and curled at the edges.
But they were still hers. Sophie’s. My breath caught, and I reached inside and pulled them out, pressing them to my chest.
The house Sophie and I had shared for so many years had been destroyed tonight. Before this moment, all I had of my best friend were her book of shadows, her tarot deck, and memories so beautiful they hurt to look at.
But now I had these, the very last of her creations.
I looked into Asher’s ocean-blue eyes, tears slipping down my cheeks, my heart cracking wide open, and I nodded. It was all I could manage.
“I’m so sorry, Gray,” he whispered again, setting down the helmet so he could cup my cheeks. He caught my tears with his thumbs, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. “This was all there was. Please don’t cry.”
The helmet no longer between us, I leaned against his chest.
“You can never really know love until you know yourself,” he said, running a hand over my hair and down my back. “It was written on one of the stones—I saw it the night you did my cards.”
