I stretch and slide out of bed, then jump into the shower. Taking my time this morning, I slather on the luxurious body wash I took from The Hari the last time I stayed there. Bluebells and strawberries fill the air.Mmm.Divine. After washing and conditioning my entire body, I dry and style my hair into silkylocks with a slight curl before I slide into a pair of fitted jeans and a crop sweater.
The mocking voice in my head asks why I’m going to all this trouble, but it’s not for the usual reasons. I mean, it is, but it’s more than that too. Do I want to remind them of what they’re missing? Absolutely. If this is war and the prize is a future with them, I’m going to use every tool in my arsenal. I’m still going to do everything I can to find the panels and, hopefully, offer them a way home, but I’m also going to fight like hell for their forgiveness.
But also…I need this. To feel good and strong. Ready to take on the world. I’ve never been one to tiptoe through life, and I refuse to start now.
All three pairs of eyes widen when I stride into the kitchen thirty minutes later and take a seat at the island.
Gatlin leans in close, inhaling deeply, when he hands me a cup of coffee, and I hear him mutter under his breath about women and battles. I smirk. Smart man.
Jamison’s steel-blue eyes spark with heat as his intense gaze slides down my body, knuckles whitening on the handle of his cup.
Hawthorne shoves away from the island and strides out the door. “I’ll be in the study working.”
Satisfied with all three of their responses, I turn to Gatlin. “I’m starving. Is there any breakfast?”
“Of course,” he replies dryly. “Did you get some sleep?”
“Hmm, I did. You know, I never thanked you for carrying me to the couch every night,” I say with a wink. “I appreciate it. My neck thanks you too.”
Gatlin tilts his head in acknowledgement as he slides food onto a plate. “You needed rest.” He puts my breakfast down in front of me. “Eat.”
“Thank you,” I tell him, taking a bite. An idea pops into my head. “Although I have to admit, my bed felt so much better than the couch last night. Perhaps next time you find me asleep at my desk, you could carry me to bed?”
Gatlin narrows his eyes. Probably wondering what I’m up to. “If that’s what you want.”
Transparency, right? “That and you,” I reply in a husky tone, my invitation clear.
Jamison spits out the coffee he just drank and gives me an incredulous look. Handing his mug to Gatlin, he storms out of the kitchen.
Gatlin’s low chuckle makes my eyebrows rise in astonishment. “It’s about time you started fighting dirty. Finish your breakfast.” He grabs a towel to clean up the mess.
I laugh and devour the rest of my toast and eggs. After the last bite, he picks up my plate. This time when he leans down, he places his lips by my ear.
“Someday soon, I’m going to take you up on that offer,” he murmurs huskily into my ear. Heat flares between us as I meet his gaze in astonishment. Is he saying what I think he is? “But right now, you need to find Jamison and make him talk to you. He thinks too much, and the longer he thinks, the harder it is to reach him. You look ready for battle, and his anger will be your best bet to tap into his emotions, not his reasoning.”
“Thank you,” I tell him, placing a kiss on the edge of his strong jaw before I leave to find Jamison.
Surprisingly, he’s sitting on the porch, staring out across my land. One elegantly shod foot propped up on an ottoman.
“I’m sorry.” I figure an apology would be a great place to start. Maybe some honesty too. I take the seat across from him to give him space and look him in the eye.
He stiffens. “You can say whatever you want to Gatlin.” His blue eyes briefly meet mine before looking away.
For a long second, I stare at the side of his incredibly handsome face. Deflection is a tactic I recognize well.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my past. I’m sorry I hurt all of you,” I tell him. “I know you don’t believe me, but I’m trying to figure out how to fix it, whatever it takes.”
“The whole time. You knew what this would do to them. To us. Yet, you didn’t stop for one second to consider whether you should tell us, did you? Instead, you readily accepted things would be over when we found out.”
Ouch. The truth sucks. “I didn’t know how to tell you. Or anyone, really. Thousands of supernaturals were pulled into this world because of me. Over the years I’d hear them cursing my sister, believing it to be her fault. It made me afraid to tell anyone. Then I came up with mygrandplan to find the pieces of the vase and send everyone home, including my sister. It was my sole focus. After that, telling the truth didn’t seem to matter.”
The words reverberate in my head. Is that why the gods came up with this plan? They knew the vase was no longer a viable option, so they decided to create a new one? Do they want me to open the portals? But why? It doesn’t make sense.
“How could it not matter?” Jamison asks, his brow furrowed.
I switch back to the conversation. “I told myself the beginning didn’t matter, only the end.” I shrug in response to his incredulous look. “Over the years, I deliberately isolated myself. Did my penance. My future was the same day after day. In my mind, the only way it would change is if I found all the pieces, and I knew I was a long way from my goal.”
“And nothing changed when you met us,” he says bitterly.
