Cassian tossed back his drink like he wanted the entire century to wash out of him. He stared into the empty glass for a moment, then said under his breath, “You are good for him. I never thought he would let anyone get that close.”
Nadia stayed curled against me. “He’s not that scary. A little grumpy. But honestly, it brings balance.”
Cassian snorted. “Accurate.”
The fire crackled. The room settled into a peaceful hush that would have been impossible in any other life but this one. Eventually, her head dipped against my chest, and her breathing slowed. Her fingers slid lightly along my shirt until they went still.
She had fallen asleep.
I shifted one hand to the back of her neck and brushed my thumb over her skin in small circles. I spoke quietly, mostly to myself. “She really saved me.”
Cassian lowered his drink. “You mean tonight.”
“All of it,” I said. “My life before she woke me was nothing but hunger and anger and old ghosts. She changed everything. She brought something real into my world.” I looked down at her sleeping face. “I did not know I could feel like this.”
Cassian’s expression softened. “Then keep her close.”
I nodded. “I plan to.”
The door burst open with a loud thud.
Lena stumbled in first, laughing so hard she dropped a bottle of tequila on the carpet. Ezra followed right behind her with two more bottles and the wild look of someone who had made too many questionable decisions in one night.
“We made a game,” Lena announced loudly.
“A drinking game! And we need everyone!” Ezra shouted.
Nadia jerked awake in my lap with a startled blink. She spotted the bottles, and her entire body lit up with new energy. “Yes!” she exclaimed as she jumped off my lap. “Bring it on.”
Lena screamed back. Ezra screamed with her. The three of them jumped in a chaotic circle like they had rehearsed it.
Cassian watched them, then looked at me. We shared the same exhausted, baffled expression.
He shrugged a shoulder. “I guess this is our life now.”
“Apparently.”
He poured a round of shots and slid one to me. “Cheers.”
Epilogue
Nadia
Iwalked into school feeling like the final boss of wholesome chaos.
Royal blue pleated midi skirt with tiny constellations. Crisp white tee tucked in. Sunshine yellow blazer that cost eight dollars at the thrift store and delivered pure joy. Polished black combat boots that made me tall enough to kiss Cristian without a step stool.Teach Peaceenamel pin on the lapel. Little gold book earrings that jingled when I turned my head.
The gym was a patchwork of tables. Hand-painted signs. Cookie platters. Homemade slime. Birdhouses. Lemonade. Crocheted frogs (mine, of course). The kids had transformed the place into a tiny economy with pride and mild capitalism—AKA a small person marketplace.
I floated between tables, fixing tape, praising display choices, and teaching three kids at once how to count quarters. I loved this part. The noise. The color. The goofy confidence. It fed my soul.
I had just finished reorganizing a paper money box when I glanced up, just in time to see Cristian walking through the gym doors.
He spotted me across the crowd, and his entire face split into a grin. It pushed warmth into my chest in a steady, clean rush. He moved toward me like the room belonged to him and only him, tall and confident and dressed like a man who had finally learned how to wear modern clothes without wanting to set them on fire.
He wrapped his arms around me as soon as he reached my table. “How is my favorite teacher?”
I melted into him. “Thriving. How is my favorite vampire?”
