From this close, the only indication that it’s Barrett standing in front of me is the scar through his left eyebrow.
This moment I’m re-living belongs to Barrett and Petra.
“No,” I whimper.
All of my hallucinations feel like reality at the moment but this one is even worse—Archer’s hands on me mimicking the way Barrett held Petra.
“Don’t,” he growls. “Don’t leave me now.”
Even Barrett’s voice sounds identical to Archer’s. That, mixed with Petra’s grief and yearning, makes me crumble.
Petra’s desperate to believe him, but her guilt continues to win out. She shakes her head.
Mine shakes in unison.
“No,” we say again.
I anticipate the crack of my knees on the cement, not bothering to prepare for it, but it never comes.
I’m dragged back to a standing position, my weight in Barrett’s—or Archer’s?—care now. Roughly, he wraps an arm around my waist and holds me against his chest. His other hand cradles my cheek as he pushes me backward until my back hits one of the bookshelves.
“I’ve got you, Petra,” Barrett vehemently swears. There’s a quiet echo that follows.
Renata.
“This isn’t real,” I say.
Pushing into my hair, he grips the strands tightly at the nape of my neck, making sure my eyes stay on him.
“Yes, it is.” He lightly shakes my head like he can shake my hallucinations out.
“You’redead,” I shakily whisper.
It doesn’t matter who I’m talking to anymore—one man already is, and the other will be soon enough. At my ownhand.
“Goddammit. I’m real.Me.” He presses his forehead to mine and lets out a deep, pained breath. “Whatever the fuck is going on in your head isn’t real, but I am, Renata.”
This time when I hear my name, it’s with the faint echo of Petra underneath it.
My eyes fly open. From this close, I can’t see if he has the scar.
With shallow breaths and shaky hands, I tentatively trail my fingers up his arms until I reach his neck. A small sob breaks out of me when I close the last inch and touch his small hoop earrings.
“Archer,” I say in a raspy voice.
“Yes, fuck,” he growls and presses in closer to me. “It’s me. Just me.”
Trying to shake my head, I want to tell him it’s neverjustbeen him.
It has always been him.
Even when I had never seen his face or heard his voice, it was still him.
Not able to find my voice through the tumultuous emotions, I opt for what feels like the best option at this moment.
My grip around his neck tightens, and I close the small distance between us, slamming our lips together. It’s a clumsy attempt, bumping our noses together and clashing teeth.
But it’s real—it’s Archer.
