“Yes.”
“Would you explain how they might feel like giving up and dying during the treatment?”
“Not in those words, but I wouldn’t hide how hard it would be on them and their family.”
“If you could switch off their body’s response to chemo and allow the treatment to take place—the destruction needed to allow health to rebuild—would you do it?”
I folded my arms. “I don’t like your analogy.”
“Just because it doesn’t hurt, doesn’t mean that transformation isn’t taking place. The number of prayers I hear, even now, from loved ones who want to endure the pain for someone, is by far the most demanded thing. It doesn’t mean that those people aren’t strong enough, or that their loved ones believe them weak. It’s both the curse and the beauty of human nature to shield those who hold your heart. Your mate treads a line closer than most to that despair because of who you are. Your pain, your suffering, your breaking heart could not only destroy both you and him, but everything humanity has built. Stop giving them a hard time for loving you. You want your memories back? Go get them. Nothing is stopping you but you. Perhaps it is not they who think you’re weak, but yourself.”
I just got schooled by God. “Our world is being threatened by huge power players, and I’m meant to stop them.”
“No, you aren’t.”
“Excuse me?”
“No one said you had to stop them.”
I scoffed and folded my arms. “The alternative is to what? Let it go and hope Eloise doesn’t set fire to the world?”
“That’s one choice, yes. But what I meant was, you aren’t responsible. No hero works alone. Even the Avengers worked that out.”
I blinked. “You’re anAvengersfan?”
His lips twitched. “They make a lot of good points. They excelled at writing a villain you could understand the motivations for, even if the cost was too high and not their choice to make. Someone always has to make that choice. The hero always has backup until the last minute, when the weight of that final choice comes down to them. But getting there? That takes bonds, Cora.”
And now I was being schooled by Marvel.
Hudson chuckled beside me as my mind got sidetracked by the idea of God watching back-to-back superhero movies.
I fisted my hands before forcing them to relax. “Eloise is on the cusp of altering the future.”
“The future is not yet written. You cannot alter what has not yet passed.”
A woman drifted over the pool toward us, her head tilted at an odd angle. “Time is up, Granddaughter. The dead have found you once more.”
“As is my curse.”
He stood and stretched his arms toward the sky, then leaned down to kiss my forehead before shifting his mouth to my ear. “Wrong, Cora. Death is your gift, not your curse.” Light flashed, and we found ourselves back on my couch. Dave jerked in the armchair God had vacated not long ago. If he’d been in his wolf form, his hackles would have been raised and he’d be growling at us.
“Why do you smell like tequila and coconut oil?”
I waved my hand at Hudson. “You explain,” I said as I jumped to my feet and strode toward the stairs.
“Where are you going?”
“To stop being weak and get my memories back.”
It was time for action. I was done being the woman everyone made choices for. I was not a whispered prayer for salvation; I was a weapon. And it was time I stopped being pathetic and running from my responsibilities. Eloise Roberts was a disease, and it was time I cut her out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Kiss me quick, kiss me slow, but for heaven’s sake, just kiss me.
There was such a thing as too much lace.
“Too fussy,” Rebecca muttered as Dayna tried to spin me around. I almost lost my balance due to how restrictive the ridiculous dress was. Why would they trap my legs like this? SoI couldn’t run? Maybe that was the dress designer’s marketing ploy—the perfect dress for the runaway bride.
