“I can’t see us laughing either, but I hope for some sort of peace.”
My heart yearned for peace too. “The days are going, Wolfe. And I still feel like an amateur pulling rabbits out of a hat.”
Everyone else seemed certain of themselves, while I was still guessing my way toward destiny.
He shook his head and sat straightened. “No.Youknow you are so much more than that. I have faith in you, Elariya. You will learn what you need to do to learn to master your powers.”
“Thank you. I just worry it won’t be in time.This time.”
“We can’t worry about that Ziyka.” He brushed over my cheek.
“I do, though. Maybe that’s why I want to know what you’re thinking.”
He stared at me for a long moment then sighed. “I have something to give you that may help with that.”
My hopes rose and I smiled. “What? What do you have to give me?”
He flicked his palm upward. Shadows gathered at its center, and when they thinned, a black leather journal rested in his hand.
He held it like it was weightless, but it was quite thick. Thicker than mine.
“A journal?”
“My journal,” he clarified. “For you.”
“Me?” My breath stilled and I gazed back at him wide eyed.
“You. On the last reset you told me your grandmother kept a journal for you. I thought I’d do the same, but I guess it turned out to be so much more.” He paused for a beat. “I went beyond recording the day-to-day and started writing about my feelings about you. I finished it the other day, before you went to the mortal realm.”
“Wolfe…I can’t believe you did that.” My voice cracked, and my chest splintered open, letting in a flood of emotion—love, gratitude, wonder—they tangled together until tears burned hot behind my eyes.
“I thought you might like it and it would help in some way.” He handed me the journal. I took it and held it close to my heart.
“It means everything to me. Thank you.”
“Just do me a favor, and don’t read it yet.” He leaned in and cocked his head. “Read it tomorrow, when we get home.”
My mouth dropped. “Are you serious? You can’t give me something like this and expect me not to read it.”
He laughed, but beneath the smile I saw it—the fear of being seen without his armor. And somehow, that only made me want to see it more.
If he was willing to hand me something this fragile, then he already trusted me more than he realized.
“It’s too much for me,” he confessed. “I think I wrote parts of myself I’ve never shown anyone. So I’d rather not be here while you read it.”
I looked from him to the journal and nodded slowly in understanding. “Okay. I get it. So, as eager as I am, I’ll read it tomorrow.”
Relief softened his expression.
“How come you didn’t give it to me before?” I asked, searching his eyes.
“It wasn’t the right time. Things are different now.” His gaze wandered over me. “Especially since you no longer hate me.”
I chuckled. “Then I guess it is the right time.”
“Yes.” He sat straighter.
I set the book down on the space between us. “So, if I can’t read the book today, what are we doing next? Going back to bed?”
