When he returned, he would find Aurelia and tell her. No more half-truths, no more careful distance. He would lay himself bare. Tell her she was not an obligation or a broodmare or some temporary inconvenience. Tell her she was everything. That he loved her beyond reason, beyond sense, beyond his own capacity to understand it.
That losing her had carved him hollow.
Lightning split the sky, so close now he felt it in his bones. Rain began in heavy drops that turned to deluge, soaking through his coat in seconds. He gasped at the cold. Late May, and winter had returned with vindictive fury.
He hoped Aurelia had found shelter before this hit. She would be somewhere warm and safe, trying to piece herself back together after what he had done to her.
Perhaps she would forgive him. Perhaps love was not entirely one-sided, and she would come back.
If he closed his eyes, he could almost hear her voice calling to him through the storm.
Sebastian!
Delusions now. Perfect. He was losing his mind along with everything else.
The cold had steadily seeped into his bones. He had not dressed for a storm, had not expected it to roll in so fast. The day had been mild when he left the house.
“Sebastian?” This time, the sound came closer, whipped to him by the wind, and just as desperate as he had felt when searching for Kate.
Slowly, he raised his head, squinting against the torrent. The wind hurled itself against the clifftop as though it intended to knock down the lighthouse entirely.
“Sebastian!”
His head immediately whipped back. These were no delusions—this was real!
She was here!
He whirled, staggering to his feet, bracing himself against the tempest that threatened to knock him flying, and peered at the small path leading to the lighthouse through a firm hand.
A figure. Tiny, hunched against the gale, one hand clamped to her bonnet, the other white-knuckled around a twisted tree by the steps of the lighthouse.
No.
No.
His mind struggled to process the evidence of his eyes.
“Aurelia!” The wind ripped her name from his throat. He launched himself toward her, fighting for every step. The gale shoved him backward, sideways, tried to hurl him off the cliff entirely.
“Aurelia—what are you doing here?!”
The distance between them closed with agonizing slowness. She was soaked through, shaking so hard he could see it even through the rain. Face white as death. Still clinging to that tree with frozen fingers because letting go meant the wind would take her.
She had run into a storm for him.
Lightning cracked, so close the world went white. Thunder exploded on its heels. The cliff edge by the lighthouse steps was ten feet away. Maybe less. One strong gust and she would lose her grip.
He threw himself forward, fighting the wind for every inch. His boots slipped on wet grass. He did not slow down.
“Hold on for me!”
She turned her head. Saw him. Her mouth moved but the wind tore the words away.
Fivemore steps.Four. The tempest tried to shove him sideways, off the cliff. He dug in harder.
Threesteps.
Two.
