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I’m about to tell her that she doesn’t need to tell me if she doesn’t want to when she says softly, “I think I’m losing my mind.”
“Why?” I keep my tone as even and calm as possible, trying not to spook her.
She presses her lips together, as if she’s attempting to trap words in her mouth. But, eventually, the words win. “I keep seeing these things … about my past … that I don’t remember, and yet I clearly do. Like, I forgot all these memories, but they’re coming back to me … When you took that photo of me, I had this image in my head of some guy taking my photo and telling me to ‘smile for the camera, pretty girl.’” She shivers, looking away from me and staring at the wall.
I stare at her.
I can’t take my eyes off of her.
It hits me like a rolling wave, painful and violent, and part of me wants to fight it. The other part wants to just let it carry me away.
Holy fucking shit.
Holy shit.
Holy fuck.
I can’t hear anything else except the thudding of my heartbeat.
Not thudding.
Screaming.
My heart is screaming at me.
Screaming the truth at me.
I know the memory she’s talking about because I was there, being forced to wait for her to get her photo taken so that they could take mine next. I don’t remember a lot of the details; just that the man who took the photos worked for my father.
And that’s when I know …
RavenisWillow.
Willow is Raven.
Jax was fucking right.
Blood is pumping through my veins so forcefully that I feel like I’m about to pass out.
She’s not dead.
Our fourth.
The one who made us whole.
I don’t know how or why she’s here, why we thought she died, or how she didn’t. And I don’t care about any of that right now.
I’m going to kiss her. I know I shouldn’t. I know I—Jax and I—need to talk to her about our situation. It’ll freak her out if I do, but I’m losing control.
Snapping.
Crumbling.
Breaking.
And I don’t give a shit, about anything at the moment except her.
I turn her head toward me, and our eyes lock. She doesn’t say anything, and neither do I. She’s breathing heavily, her chest rising and crashing. Or maybe that’s my breathing. Then I’m leaning in, knowing I’m about to mess everything up, yet I can’t stop myself. And it’s like she’s on the same page, just staring at me, waiting, like maybe a tiny part of her wants me to kiss her—
