“Were you?” His eyes sharpen. “Dakota survived. You both did. Together.”
Like it’s that simple.
Except maybe it is.
“We should get into position,” Cameron says. “Rosa’s giving me the look through the window.”
I follow his gaze. Sure enough, Rosa stands inside, tapping her wrist with exaggerated impatience.
Around us, the balcony has been transformed. Chairs arranged in rows—mismatched, scavenged from different rooms, but lined up with care, even if most of them remain empty. Wildflowers in mason jars mark the aisle. And an arch made from branches and vines is where I’ll stand.
Where Dakota will meet me.
Cameron takes his position under the arch, a book in his hands. Not a Bible. We don’t have one of those. Dakota, understandably, banned all of them, as the mere mention of them still makes her flinch. Instead, it’s some collection of poetry Sienna found in a library.
I move to stand before my brother, Cole falling in next to me. My hands find my pockets, fingers brushing the ring again.
“You wrote vows?” Cole asks quietly.
“Something like that.”
“Something like that isn’t very reassuring.”
“I’ll figure it out when I see her.”
He makes a sound that might be a laugh or might be concern. Hard to tell with him.
The balcony door opens.
Arianna emerges first, followed by Sienna. Both are wearing a simple blue dress, probably from the same supply run wherewe discovered the rings. They both take their place on the other side of the arch.
Then Rosa appears in the doorway.
And beside her, Dakota.
Everything else falls away.
She’s wearing white. Actual white, somehow, in a world where everything’s stained and torn. The dress fits her perfectly, flowing to her feet, sleeves capping her shoulders. Her hair falls loose down her back, a few small flowers woven through the dark strands. No makeup. No jewelry except the small pearl studs from Rosa, which she always wears.
She doesn’t need any of it.
She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Just like the purple flower she found the day I knew I was done for.
They begin the walk down the makeshift aisle.
Dakota’s eyes find mine.
She smiles.
The real one. The one that transforms her entire face, lighting her up from the inside.
I force air through my lungs, focusing on breathing.
They reach the arch, and Rosa releases Dakota’s arm, pressing a kiss to her cheek before leaning up to kiss mine too.
“You take care of her,” she whispers.
