AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Twenty-Seven
AURELIUS
“Good morning princess!”
I’d rushed home from a six mile run, having spent the pre-dawn hours prepping info for a variety of classes. Imparting my wisdom before leaving would turn out to be a big chunk of my last few months. Just one more favor I had to do Uncle Sam, before he’d cut me loose and grant me my freedom.
Dakota was sitting on her bed looking melancholy, folding the last of her things into her biggest suitcase. There were tears in her eyes still. According to Jace and Merrick, they’d been there all morning.
“Don’t be sad,” I said, sitting down next to her. “This isn’t goodbye, it’s—”
“See you later?” she sniffed.
I wrapped my arms around her and squeezed as tightly as I dared. “Of course!”
The sobbing began immediately, as I suspected it would. But I had to choke back tears of my own, too.
“Dakota, listen,” I told her. “It’s not like you’ll neverseeus again…”
She didn’t want to be consoled. At least not right away. Her tears ran down my neck and onto my shoulder, as I did my best to maintain my own composure.
“You know where we’ll be,” I went on. “Colorado’s not that far, and you can always come visit.”
She pulled back, bleary-eyed, and shook her head miserably.
“It’ll never be the same,” she said softly. “It’ll never be like this.”
I leaned forward, placing my forehead against hers. Very carefully, I kissed away her tears.
“Everything changes,” I admitted gently. “But no matter what happens we’ll always have this place. We’ll always have our time together.”
She lowered her face, so I took her chin in my hand. Bringing her back to eye level, her eyelashes kissed my face like butterfly wings.
“Hey…” I said pointedly. “I got you something.”
Dakota sniffed again, clearing her throat as she sat up straight. After drying her eyes with the hem of her shirt, I handed her the small white box.
“Go on. Open it.”
She undid the ribbon and pulled out the long, gleaming chain. As the charm dangled before her eyes, she looked at it curiously.
“It’s your name in Greek,” I smiled. “There’s a street vendor who crafts these not far from here. He twists them with pliers from precious metal wire.”
Dakota’s lower lip quivered. Her eyes were glassy.
“I know it’s a little silly, celebrating a name,” I laughed. “Hell, my name is originally Roman, not Greek. But my parents—”
The rest of my sentence was lost forever, as she pressed her beautiful lips to mine. I could taste the salt of her tears. The distinct strawberry flavor of her ChapStick that would, for the rest of my life, remind me of her.
“Dakota—”
She put a finger to my lips, shushing me. When it was obvious I’d remain silent, she slowly drew it away.
“Just hold me,” she said, and this time she didn’t cry. “Don’t say anything. Don’t try to talk me down from the ledge.”
I did exactly as she asked, pulling her down into the softness of the bed. With her head on my chest we just laid there, staring up at the ceiling for what felt like a long, long time.
Inhaling deeply, I concentrated on remembering her scent. I focused on the feel of her body, and how amazingly perfect she fit all curled up against my right-hand side.
