“I'm absolutelynota ‘softie.’” She narrows her eyes and scowls, her eyes burning holes into mine.
“Sure thing, sweetheart. Keep telling yourself that,” I tease her, nudging her and whispering, “Your secret’s safe with me.”
“You’re relentless.” She rolls her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. “And I didn’t miss your deflection. You never answered my question.”
“What question?” I ask innocently, knowing damn well what, but wanting her to talk more just to listen to the sound of her voice.
She groans and exhales a breath of frustration. “What do you miss most about the land below?”
“Ah. Easy. I miss scenic mountain drives. I miss trying new foods. I miss coaching baseball. I miss annoying my family. I miss my people.” I zone out. As images of loved ones cross my mind, my chest physically aches. It’s too much. “I miss it all. Even the bad times. I’d give anything to be given another chance to live down there.”
A beat of silence passes between us. “It gets lighter over time.”
“What does?”
“The weight of it all. Eventually, you won’t feel it much at all,” she murmurs.
“What if I want to feel it?”
“Why would you want to feel that?”
“Because the depth of my longing correlates with the vitality of those bonds. My pain is a constant reminder of the strength of my love.”
Her lips part for a moment before pressing into a firm line. Then, she knits her brows as if trying to solve a jigsaw puzzle. Seconds later, she swings her legs around to the other side of the railing and begins pacing back and forth on the roof, arms crossed.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?” I ask, turning then rising to stand on the rooftop, watching her.
“You did a favor for me tonight. It may not have seemed like much to you, but it meant a lot to me,” she says aloud reluctantly as if she’s confessing her darkest secret. “Consequently, I’ll do you a favor to—in your words—‘even the playing field.’ But I need you to promise me something in return.”
“You’re speaking in riddles. You don’t owe me anything.”
“Promise me first,” she says, holding out her hand to shake mine.
I eye her hand skeptically, not knowing what the hell is going on.
“Blind promises aren’t really my thing…” I say, pushing my hands into my pockets and shrugging.
“You’re impossible. So damn impossible.” She sighs, then grits her teeth. “Promise me I can trust you.”
“Oh,that’sthe promise? Easy-peasy. You can trust me.” I smirk, reaching out to shake her hand. Immediately after shaking my hand, she pulls on my finger, attempting to… tug my ring off. After a moment of aggressive tugging, I shrug my shoulders. “Not sure what your goal is here, but I’ve already tried prying this off. It’s no use, angel.”
“It should work. Ithasto work. A trace of my magic is embedded in this ring. I don’t understand…” She stares at the band, calculating her next move. Her eyes brighten for a second, then darken before she shuts them tight. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“What? What is it?” Concern laces my tone.
“Here goes nothing,” she grumbles, lifting my pointer finger to her face and planting a gentle kiss on the ring, her eyes shut. In an instant, my knees feel wobbly.
Weak kneesover a kiss on my finger? Who am I?
I may be imagining this, but the longer her lips rest on the ring, the more it seems to loosen.
What on earth is she doing?
Why am I in a constant state of confusion in my afterlife?
“Cleo, stop. I don’t want you to get in trouble—”
She holds up a finger against my lips, shushing me. After another moment, she breaks away from the ring, gently pulling it off my finger and placing it in my pants’ pocket. “What’s done is done, Kai. I’m giving you a free pass to visit the land below,but you need to keep this ring in your pocket at all times. You promised me I could trust you. Please don’t make me regret this.”
