“I fell,” he said quietly. “I think that’s how I died.”
My arms tightened around him. “Yeah, baby. I think so.”
Iknewso.
I’d found the article—an old newspaper clipping dated a few years after the poster. Julien Montclair had fallen during practice. He’d gotten tangled in the rigging, alone in the tent, and by the time anyone found him, it was too late. He strangled to death at just twenty-four.
It was a truth I’d been fretting over how to deliver, so I was relieved he realized it for himself.
When Zephyr told me he didn’t know why he deserved this strange afterlife, I’d lacked the words to explain.
The notion that eternity was the reward or punishment for earthly actions was a decidedly human notion. In reality, Heaven and Hell swapped souls like sports teams traded players. It was a game. A gamble of unfathomable odds, and it had nothing to do with right, wrong, or reason.
Zephyr didn’t move. He kept his eyes on the poster, expression soft but distant, like he was watching something far off unfold. Maybe hewas.
He touched Julien’s face on the page, then the woman beside him. “She was my mother.”
I nodded slowly. “Her name was Delphine.”
He leaned into my chest, and I rested my chin on the crown of his head.
“I wonder if they missed me,” he whispered.
“Of course they did,” I replied. “And I think they loved you so much it stuck to your soul.”
He gave a tearful laugh, then wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “I wish I could remember more. I wish I couldseethem. Hear them.”
“We’ll find what we can,” I promised. “Other posters, reviews, news articles, anything. We’ll put the pieces together.”
He’d gone quiet again, but this silence wasn’t sad. It felt like the air after a storm. Heavy, yes, but clearer somehow.
Zephyr’s hand rested on the corner of the poster. “I don’t know what to do with it,” he said at last.
“I think we should hang it,” I offered. “It was made to be seen, and I’d like to display it. If that’s all right with you.”
“That sounds nice,” he said, his voice steadying.
I gave his waist a squeeze before lifting him off my lap so we could both stand. From the lower desk drawer, I pulled out the frame I’d bought for this exact purpose. I slid the poster inside with care, smoothing the edges until it sat perfectly.
“I already picked a spot,” I told him.
Zephyr followed as I crossed to the far wall, the one set aglow by the morning sun pouring through the exterior window. Light streaked across the space, leaving it warm and golden. That spotlight belonged to them.
I nodded at the wall. “Would you like to do the honors?”
Zephyr gingerly took the frame from my hands. He found the nail I’d already sunk in the drywall, adjusted the angle twice, then stepped back and squinted.
“How’s that?” he asked.
“Perfect.”
He’d come close enough that I could slide my arms around and hug him against me. When I kissed his temple, he exhaled slowly.
“So… Julien?” I asked.
Zephyr shook his head. His gaze lingered on the image. “He was, and they were. But I’m here and now. Zephyr feels right.”
I smiled against his hair. “Zephyr it is.”
