He grins. “You’re my favorite subject.”
I pull him close. He leans in to kiss me, but his smile fades.
“I was thinking about the gallery again this morning. How soon do you think we can rebuild it for Jasmine?”
His guilt has been haunting him, and I can only hope he’ll let it go soon. But maybe that’s why he’s so eager to repair the studio. It’s a tangible way to undo his mistakes.
“How about on the next trip into the city, we pick up some supplies?”
“How soon is that?”
“We go every few weeks. Sometimes less.”
He exhales softly. “Thank you. I want to find the negatives of the photos I ruined too, so I can reprint them. Will you help me?”
“Of course. You should add some photos of yourself to the wall, though. Jericho, Evan, and Evelyn too. Oh and Aster. My dad never got to meet him.”
His smile is instantaneous. “That’s a great idea.”
We walk a little further before he asks, “Do you think they’ll stay after this is all over?”
“Jericho and Evan? I hope so.”
He slides an arm around my waist. “I do too.”
I smile at him. He’s come a long way with Jericho. From hiding in a closet the first time he saw him to considering him a friend.
When we reach the side of the house, our steps slow. Tobias takes a few more photos as I turn to survey the land. The bitter bruises of the fight will probably last through the summer. Some of Mom’s prized flower beds need repairing too. But the house, surprisingly, had taken only minor damage. Two of the patio stairs need replacing, and a window on the second floor has a crack, but otherwise, everything is good.
Tobias stops ahead of me, staring at the ground like something’s caught his eye. “Rowen, look.”
When I step closer, I see it too—half-buried in the dirt, dulled by soot and rain. I recognize it immediately. The glass beads glint faintly in the light.
The bracelet.
It must have fallen off him when he first shifted.
I crouch down and brush it clean with my thumb. The leather is cool now—no warmth, no magic. Just a scrap of what it once was.
Tobias watches me, his expression unreadable. His throat bobs, but he says nothing.
I hold it up between us. “Do you want it?”
He studies the bracelet for a long moment, eyes flickering with something like guilt or maybe mourning. Then he shakes his head once.
He scrubs his face, sucking in a long breath, and when he exhales, I can sense a release of pain and heartache.
I spin it between my fingers.
“You can keep it, though,” he murmurs.
“No.” The answer is so swift it surprises us both. I glance toward the horizon, where the sun hangs low and orange. “I know exactly where it should go.”
Standing, I reach for his hand before walking to the fire pit at the back of the yard. I hold it out for him, and Tobias tosses it in. It’ll be a few months before we light anything in there, but the gesture is the same.
“Good riddance,” he says.
I pull him close.
