“Was it really dye? That’s it?”
“According to Coulson. Dissolvable packets. Like laundry pods. Thrown over the fence.”
“Okay. Okay.” She says it quietly, more to herself than to me.
She straightens, shoulders squaring.
“I don’t understand it yet,” she says. “But time will tell. Have Coulson do whatever security upgrades he thinks are necessary.”
Then she steps in and hugs me.
For a second, my heart stops.
“Thank you, Remy,” she says softly. “For coming over. For handling this. Come inside when you’re done.”
Chapter ninety-four
Christianna
Walking back to the house, I change direction and go looking for Meg. She’s in the studio.
There’s no music playing. She’s dancing to Erik’s piece filtering in from the other room.
I lean against the back wall and watch, completely still. I’ve always loved watching her move. I danced once. I was passable. Meg is impeccable. You don’t watch her so much as disappear into her, following the way she flows with the music.
I leave her there and drift into the sunroom. Erik is at the piano. This piece is new. His phone is propped beside the keys, recording.
Good idea. This room needs that. Something so you don’t lose a moment when inspiration hits.
I sit beside him on the bench and lean my head gently against his shoulder. He doesn’t pause, but the music shifts, softening, turning almost into a lullaby.
“I love this,” I murmur.
He starts to sing. By the time the last line fades, I realize tears are sliding down my face.
His arm comes around my shoulders, and I bury my face in his shirt.
“I wrote it at Angel’s grave,” he says quietly.
I nod, pressing closer. “It’s perfect.”
Another arm wraps around my waist, warm and steady, filling the last space on the bench.
“I realized something tonight,” I say softly. “Standing there, looking at the towel. This is nothing compared to what I’ve already survived.”
I lift my head, wiping at my face. “I lost everything that mattered once. I’m done hiding from the rest of my life. I want to fight for what I want now.”
Chapter ninety-five
Christianna
We have moved into the living room. I’m seated between both of them on the couch, with Meg across from us on the loveseat.
“Want to spend the night with me tonight?” I ask her.
She glances at my fingers interlaced with Erik’s while I lean against Remy. I give her a small smile.
“I don’t want to sleep by myself, so if you want to curl up with the Notes and me, there’s plenty of room.”
