“And how does it feel to create change, Mr. Ellis?” I ask as I run both my hands down his arms.
He shrugs as his cheeks flush a light pink. “I guess not everyone is beyond redemption after all.”
“No. Not everyone is. And isn’t that a beautiful thing? That there still might be hope for some people?”
As we stand there with the sun dropping low outside, shadows long across the floor while the world starts to quiet for the night, Jackson frowns. It’s faint, barely tugging at the corners of his lips, but I know why it’s there.
Even if he’s not sorry for it, I know he doesn’t like that hehadto do it.
Richard Grant was never going to change, and we both know it.
“But as I’ve said before, we can’t hope to change everyone, Jackson. We can’t save them all as much as we might wish we could.”
His hands come up, and he places his palms flat against my chest. “I hate that we’ll probably always be fighting against the Professor Grants of the world.”
“But you proved that you’re more than capable of fighting them. And also that we can’t always fight them alone.” I place my hands over his. “‘Hold my hand in yours, and we will not fear what hands like ours can do.’”
Jackson’s smile comes back with a slight crease of his brows. “Wait. Is that…?”
Keeping hold of one of his hands, I reach behind me with the other and slide the crimson, leather-bound book of Babylonian epics and poetic texts that Jackson gave me for Christmas across the desk so he can see it.
“TheEpic of Gilgamesh. I’ve been rereading it.”
He shakes his head with an affectionate grin. “You’re such a nerd.”
I raise a brow. “And you’re not?”
“Yeah, but you love it.”
Staring into his eyes, I feel my heart swell in my chest. “I do,” I tell him as I bring my hand to the side of his neck. “I love you, Jackson.”
His eyes glisten until they’re shimmering emerald pools. My soul is ready to leap right into them, not caring if I sink or swim, prepared to get lost in them for all eternity. I hold onto him a little tighter even though my fear of him disappearing has vanished instead.
“I love you too, Isaac.”
“Good. Because I’m never letting you go.”
I trace his mouth with my thumb, then kiss him like the world has finally stopped trying to break us.
He tastes like hope, like everything I never believed I deserved.
Our hands find each other on instinct, holding tight—proof that we’re writing a different ending, one that’s finally ours.
One where we both get to stay.
Two weeks later.
Ever since my mom died,I don’t really get excited about my birthdays like I used to. But Isaac insisted that I spend the day with the people who matter most to me, so now we’re all crowded in his living room—ourliving room—with plates balanced on our knees and torn wrapping paper kicked under the coffee table.
The red velvet cake he made is almost as good as my mom’s. I told him that after I snuck a bite while we were alone in the kitchen cutting everyone’s slices, and he lit up like it was the best compliment I could give him. I had admitted my mom’s cake was one of my favorite things about my birthdays growing up, so…yeah, I guess it was.
Isaac sits on the couch next to me, fork dangling from his fingers as he tells some exaggerated story of my attempt to install a new garbage disposal.
I can’t help that I want to be helpful and…good.
Erin laughs loud enough to have Bodie nudging her with his shoulder for disrupting the peace but instead ends up laughing with her.
My dad sits in the armchair closest to the TV, and I’ll admit it’s really fucking weird to see my dad inside Isaac’s home. Yeah, it’soursnow, but it’s still strange to see himreallytrying.
