He freezes, his thumb slackening on the throttle. The motor still rumbles, but no longer as though Rainier was about to ram his sleek black ride into me.
My knuckles feel stiff. I spread my fingers to stretch them out and get the blood flowing, however pointless that might be. The band dips on my finger, and then the heavy stone drags it down.
Over the knuckle.
Over the nail.
And into the snow.
Epilogue
CADENCE
“Slate!” I screech as I shove the clinic door open. “Slate!”
It takes my eyes a second to adjust to the darkness, to spot his broad body, his hunched shoulders, his bowed neck, his downturned face. Next to him sits Papa on his snowmobile.
“Slate!” I leap into the snow, barefoot, my thin hospital gown flapping. Six quick strides, and I reach them. “How dare you leave like that!” I shove his shoulder. “How dare you, Slate Ardoin.”
I don’t want to cry, but tears roll down my cheeks. I’m about to lose a boy I care so much about that I can’t imagine him not existing. Not being part of my life.
His hands sweep across my wet cheeks. “Cadence . . .” His voice is soft. The tone of someone about to apologize. About to say goodbye.
“We’ll find a way, Slate. I’ll find a way to save you,” I croak. “Right, Papa? We’ll find a way.”
My father remains as mute and still as my mother’s statue before the Quatrefoil animated it.
“Cadence . . .” Slate wipes my tears away again before resting his palms on either side of my face and tugging me so close our noses bump.
“You said we have to make our own luck. Running off to die alone—well, with Papa—is not making your own luck. That’s called giving up. I’m not letting you give up. I’m going to—”
“Cadence,” he says my name more forcibly.
I sniff. “What?”
“The ring came off.”
I blink. “What?”
“The ring came off.”
I jerk my head back. “What?”
“The ring came off.”
“I heard you the first time around.”
“Then why do you keep sayingwhat?”
I want to swat him for being so wickedly insolent. I want to kiss him for being so wickedly beautiful, inside and out. “Howdid the ring come off?”
“I put my hand down like this.” He pivots his wrist until his fingers point to the snow. “Andvoilà.”
My heartbeats quiet, then thunder when I spot a dark stain on the trampled white expanse. I don’t crouch to pick it up. Don’t dare touch it.
I raise my gaze to Slate, brushing every inch of his face and neck and torso with my fingertips. “Does anything hurt?”
“For once, not a damn thing.”
