Page 46 of Find My Way Down to You

He scoffs. “I would like to see you try.”

We’re only a breath apart now. Morning light falls around his face. His pink lips are full and pouty even when he’s not scowling. All three buttons of his Henley are undone, exposing a long, pale gold throat, finely sculpted collarbones. He stands tall but not rigid. Comfortable in his skin.

I swallow, then look up. A warning glazes over his eyes, bright and gold. I refuse to let it break my resolve. He’s not leaving here without me. I won’t let him steal away my chance to see London again.

I might not be able to force him physically, but…

A thought comes to me. “You actuallyhaveto take me.”

His snort is cold, humorless. “And why is that?”

“Milos invited me back. Anytime I want,” I remind him. “He’s the prince, right?”

Something else burns against his black irises. I’m notsure what. It’s enough for his mask of confidence to slip.

“I don’t know how things work inyourworld,” I say wryly, “but I’m pretty sure it means you have to do what he says.”

Cary’s chest puffs, fingers flexing angrily at his sides.

I grin as he sniffs. Eyes narrowed, he says, “You smell like hot sauce.”

Humiliation pricks against my cheeks. I stagger back. It’s enough room for Cary to finally move around me. The impulse to punch him comes back stronger than ever. If I break a few knuckles—or my entire hand—at least I’m already at the hospital.

Cary doesn’t go far. “Wait here.”

I look around, confused. “Right here?”

His mouth scrunches. “Is that not what you mortals say when you want someone to stay where they are?”

“Yeah, but—”

He cuts me off. “Then wait here.”

“Are you coming back?”

Cary pauses to glance over his shoulder. In this glow, he’s so boyish. Almost normal.

To my surprise, his voice slips into something softer. “Yes, August.”

He doesn’t wait for another one of my questions. I watch him walk into the hospital. To collect another soul. To escort them to Aides. Where London is.

I sway a little on my feet. I’ve been to the underworld. And now I’m going back.

I’m going to see London again.

It’s been nearly two years. More days and hours and unending sadness than I care to remember. But I’m so close.

This has to work. And for it to happen, I need to do better at pretending tolikeCary. Which can’t be that difficult. Acting is all I do now. It’s the only way I survive every singleAre you okay?andI’m sorry for your losswithout ripping my skin off.

Without letting After August take center stage.

“Why do you look like that?”

I jump at Cary’s voice.

He’s in front of me again. How long has it been? Minutes? It’s as if he never left. Except, his hair looks darker, damp. The lock on his forehead is curlier.

“L-like what?” I stammer.