An odd sense of peace washes over me, and I feel so fucking warm, so free, so unchained. “I’m not,” I whisper, smiling. I’m smiling. I can’t help myself. Joy. That’s what I feel. Pure, unfiltered joy. “She is, Damon. These are her words…I think. Not mine. They don’t feel like mine.”
His eyes widen, his voice trembling and hoarse. “What are you talking about? How can she?—”
“I don’t know…” I mutter, gaze flicking heavenward, and I see it. I feel it. Energy. It’s seeping out of me. Floating toward the gray, stormy clouds. It’s leaving my body. My mind. My heart.Myheart. It’s beating with such a melodic rhythm. Not too fast. Not too slow. It’s perfect. It’s beautiful. It feels like me. Oh, God. It feels likeme. Tears roll down my cheek. “This is insane,” I whisper, unable to comprehend what the hell is happening to me.
“Emery…”
A powerful gust of wind blows past us, picking up every single strand of my hair, my coat billowing as it passes through me. And then he’s there, holding me, his arms tightly wound around my waist.
“Emery…” Disbelief fills his brown eyes as I tip my head and smile at him. “What…”
I blink up at him, attempting to reason with what just happened. But I can’t. There’s no logical, earthly explanation. It’s otherworldly. It’s something I’m afraid to utter, afraid to put out into the universe. But the truth isn’t escapable. What I feel. What I felt. It was a piece of her. And now it belongs to the wind.
I stare at Damon in bewilderment, my hands shaking from a newfound belief in something that I only viewed as eternal darkness. As endless nothingness. But I was wrong. I feel it in my bones. In my veins. In my flesh. In my blood. This body isn’t the end. I can’t stop the tears. I can’t help it as they stream down my cheeks.
“You were right,” I whisper, my heart opening to all the possibilities. “I think you were right, Damon.”
His concerned gaze scans my manic expression. “Emery, are you okay? Maybe we should sit down. Maybe?—”
“You were right.” I cover my mouth. “You were right, Damon.” Letting out a shaking breath, I stare at him, lifting my hand to his cheek, my fingers stroking his stubble as he simply gawks at my unusual behavior. “There’s meaning, Damon. There’s…” I fling myself into his arms, hugging him so hard that I fear he may not be able to breathe. “There’s meaning.”
It takes several minutes. Several long, charged minutes of silence. But as he tenderly palms the back of my head, his lips press against my hair, I hope he understands. I hope he can feel it emanating from my body, from my hold, from the way I bury myself into his shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, but he’s not speaking to me. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
I hold him tight against me, not letting go. Not letting him slip back into the darkness that had once swallowed us whole.
“I was meant to meet you,” I say, my lips feathering against his neck and nestling into his embrace. “There was a reason we collided. I see that now, Damon. I feel it.” A tinge of anxiety buzzes through me. “Do I… Do I feel different to you now? Can you feel a difference?”
His hold on me only tightens. “No. I only feelyou, Emery.” He swallows. “Only you.”
I pull back, sucking in a long stabilizing breath. “She saved my life, Damon.” It’s twisted but the words don’t feel wrong. “You… You saved my life.” Pain flashes across his face but I press on. “I was so sick, Damon. My heart was giving out. I had… I didn’t have very long left. I-I would have died. If you didn’t…” I tilt my head toward the clouds and whisper, “Thank you.”
It’s the first time since the operation I’ve said those words. Thank you. Thank you for giving me another chance. Thank you for being so generous. Thank you for picking me. Because she did. She gave me life. Not just breath but life. And all the chaos that comes from a messy existence.
She brought me Damon. She brought me Quin. She loved them. I felt it without knowing what it was. It was a painful sort of love. A tragic love. But what I feel for these two men is far from tragic. It’s breathtaking. It's beautiful. It grants me energy. It makes me whole.
“What do we tell Quin?” Damon asks.
“The truth,” I say. “He can handle the truth.”
Damon perks up a brow. “He’s like you, Emery. He’s pragmatic. The truth might scare him.”
“I don’t think he’s as pragmatic as you think,” I say. “Deep down, I feel like we all knew but we were too afraid to say it.”I tilt my head. “There was something always familiar about the two of you. Like I knew you in a past life.” I give him a small smile. “And I suppose I did.”
“You felt familiar too. I… I was looking for the past when I was chasing after you, Emery. But I’m done chasing the past. I want to chase the future…with you.” Damon swallows as footsteps sound from the living room. I can almost smell Quinton as he approaches us. Damon traces his finger along my hairline. “I pledge myself to you, Miss Jones.” He looks over his shoulder as Quin steps out onto the balcony, a folder in his hand. Quin gives us a quizzical look. “We both do.”
“We both do, what?” Quin asks, pursing his lips.
Damon and I exchange a knowing look. “What’s in the folder?” I ask. Our metaphysical revelations can wait until this evening.
He narrows his eyes suspiciously but doesn’t pry. “Take a look.” He passes me the folder, and I open it, multiple MLS listings tucked into the pockets. “Pick one, darling.”
I blink. “A house?”
Quin glances at Damon, who hesitates for a moment then nods. “You were right, Emery. We should all be together.” He glances around, inhaling the fresh air. “Somewhere new. Somewhere that belongs to us.”
I flip through the dozen listings and stop on the last document. I furrow my brows as I read the header. “Diazenix Family Fund?”
