Keeping my hand on the small of her back, we sink into the couch together. Surprisingly, rather than leaning away from me, she leans into me and rests her hand atop mine, tracing circles into it.
“What do you want to know, Kai?”
“Well, I’m an open book. Hell, considering you were my Watcher, I assume you know all about my life. You know Iris, Jasper, and Truman. You know about my parents. My ex. My baseball career. My death. And guess what?” I pause, picking up her legs off the ground and settling them on top of my thighs, tucking us under the blanket together. “I feel like I hardly know anything about you. Yet somehow, you still consume nearly all my thoughts.”
She shifts her weight.
“Let’s start with the basics. Did those other measurements belong to siblings of yours? Tell me about them. You know I’mallabout sibling bonds.”
She presses her lips together in a soft smile.
“The ‘J’ stands for Jonathan. He was only three years younger than me and two years older than my little sister. Being sandwiched between two hormonal girls was no easy task, but honestly, he handled it so well. We lived through so much of my life together; it’s hard to remember a time when he wasn’t right there by my side. We learned how to paddleboard together on the lake. We stayed up late telling each other spooky storieswith ominous flashlights under our bedsheets. He was always the most artsy of the three of us—while I spent all my free time dancing, and my sister spent hers in sports, he spent his with a sketchbook and pencil in hand.”
She looks up at me, tears brimming in her eyes. “Jonathan went on to become an animation artist for some really popular cartoons. He even freelanced some book covers—I have one of his books up in the Middle Realm. I actually stole it from the library. How could I not?”
Her pride strikes a chord. I understand the feeling. Iris has no idea how genuinely proud I am of her. Something tells me Jonathan isn’t aware of Cleo’s pride, either.
“It’s cliché, but Sadie was special. She was the kind of girl people gravitated to without even knowing. A true athlete at heart, she participated in tennis and volleyball. She was also an exceptional swimmer—she swam laps around my short self in the lake every year—”
Every year.
They visited this lake house annually.
“—We had different tastes in music, movies, and celebrities, but that’s what made our conversations so invigorating. We challenged each other constantly, and despite how tumultuous our relationship was at times, I’m better for it. Because of Sadie, I’m able to fully respect other people’s opinions while staying true to my own beliefs. She may have been younger, but she taught me as much—if not more—than I taught her. She went on to be a Realtor. She’s always been a people person. The role is only fitting.”
Cleo beams as she talks about her family. I find myself not wanting the conversation to end. Hell, I’ve fallen so hard that she could talk about a vacuum and I’d be fully invested at this point.
“I was the oldest sibling—like you.” She pauses and literallyboopsmy nose. This girl is maddening. “I didn’t have quite as much time with my siblings as you had with Iris. I died when I was only twenty-three, leaving them alone to fend for themselves. After my life ended, I could’ve chosen to guard one of them as a Guardian, but I couldn’t fathom only helping one without the other, so I passed, hoping the Guardians assigned to them could help them more than I could. It was selfish of me.Cowardly—"
She pauses, her throat bobbing as she shakes her head.
"—I was supposed to take care of them until we grew old and gray, but I failed them. I would’ve given them the world if I could. I’d give anything for the outcome of our story to be different.”
She’s right—I died when I was twenty-seven. I had a few more years with Iris, and I still didn’t feel like even that was enough time.
Her eyes glisten in the cabin’s warm, glowing light, reminding me of silver. Her raw expression of emotion shakes me.
“You being the oldest sibling makes so much sense. We just get each other, you know?” I stroke her thigh. She rolls her eyes with a coy smile. My expression sobers, and I whisper, “You aren’t a coward, Cleo. I get why you chose not to guard them—it would’ve been hard helping one of them heal but not the other.”
She closes her eyes and shakes her head, pressing her lips into a flat line. “I could’ve—no, Ishould’vedone more.”
“Cleo, I’msosorry. I wish I could take your pain away.” I gulp. “What about your parents? What were they like?”
She swallows and exhales. “They were everything to me. My mom was a tailor—a cool one. She ran the business from our home and everything. I helped pick up the slack and watch my brother and sister when she had to work, but I didn’t mind it. My friends all loved her because she was hilarious and full of life. Mydad was an engineer. I can’t lie, I don’t know the first thing about what he actually did daily, but I can confidently say he was the most patient person I have ever known. My mom was stubborn, hotheaded, and a bit cold at times—familiar, I know—but my dad was gentle, protective, and calming. After a bad day, he’d sit me down and let me talk him through it with a cup of hot cocoa, no matter how insignificant my sorrows were. It was more than I deserved.”
Everything is clicking now. Watching the way she talks about her family makes so much sense. Death tore her away from them, and for some reason, she’s angry at herself. She sighs and shuts her eyes. “They just cared about us. Truly cared. They weren’t perfect parents, but they were mine.”
“That’s so special. I can’t even comprehend what it’s like to have parents who undoubtedly care. I always doubted whether mine did—until I died, that is. After my departure, I finally realized how much they cared, but it’s a bit wild that it took my literal death for that to become clear.” I choke up, thinking about how she described her parents. “Your parents sound perfect to me. I hope to meet them one day.”
A tear slips out of her eye, running along the edge of her cheek. “They would’ve really loved you.”
My heart does a flip in response to that. “Damn, that’s high praise coming from Cleo Graves herself.” I lean close enough to her to count her eyelashes and the small, faint freckles on her cheeks. “How are you feeling now?”
With almost no hesitation, she nods and answers, “Lighter.”
I smile. Mission accomplished.
“Most of the time, it feels like you’re the only person I can talk to,” she gently whispers, gazing into my eyes.
