My cheeks burned from restraint. I took his hand and followed each step. “The rumors will fly.”
When Laken turned over his shoulder, his eyes shined and glimmered. I prayed he wouldn’t stop looking at me like that. “Let them.”
We passed by the benders and I paused, yanking him back with me. Flames flowed over their fingers, moving like flares stripped from the stars. My jaw dropped. “They… they got—”
“Fire benders,” Laken interjected.
But I didn’t request them. They weren’t Faye’s normal go-tos. The only person I’d mentioned it to was… “You didn’t, did you?”
“I might’ve mentioned something.” He fought back a smirk, pulling me along and leaving the benders behind us.
And I followed. My hand fit in Laken’s as if it were made for me. We stepped onto the dance floor; the night sky engulfed the world around as flowers hung overhead.
He slid his arms behind me, and I wrapped mine around his neck, knowing he’d be the first thing I thought of every morning for the rest of my life. I felt it in my body, in the silence, in the dark. So many things I wanted to say, but—
“I would’ve waited,” I said.
A furrow pinched between his brows. “What?”
“I would’ve waited, you know,” I explained. “Whether I wanted to or not. I’ve done it for the past three years because one way or another, Laken, it was always you.”
Music flowed around us, soft and gentle like a flower petal on the breeze. He reeled back, glancing around as his lips tightened. “You know the whole town is watching,” he teased.
Biting my lips, I nodded. “Whatever should we do?”
As if I’d said exactly what he wanted me to, his brows rose. “Give them a show?”
“Only if it’s enough to be the talk for more than a day.”
With a golden smile as bright as the sun, Laken tilted his head back—dimples and all. His hands gripped my waist, almost as if he thought he’d never touch my skin again. When his lips pressed against mine, again and again, I knew hedidthink that. He savored the taste of me on his lips like it was served from the heavens. And I memorized the feel of his chest, the warmth of his kiss, and the comfort of his hold.
I’d need to remember it for as long as he was gone. But it wasn’t hard; the feeling of home never truly faded. Standing with Laken’s arms around me, surrounded by people who loved us—there was nowhere else I’d rather be than home.
EPILOGUE
One year later
Standing up too fast from where I’d crouched in the closet, my head slammed into the corner of a wooden shelf with a loudbang. Pain ricocheted off my skull and rebounded behind my eyes.Mother-clucker.
“Gods fucking above,” I groaned, aiming my stare at Blaze, who gawked at me from our bed as if I were the animal instead. “What are you looking at?”
Dressed in a brown corset and tan skirt, I hobbled around with one boot halfway hanging on to my foot as I searched for the other one but came up empty-handed. We were going to be late—once again. For different reasons this time. We’d undoubtedly earned the “always late” title.
Grabbing my earrings, I thought maybe my boot hiddownstairs. Down the hall, I made sure not to touch the daggers sitting on the dresser. I’d gotten used to seeing them out once again. The house looked much different than it used to. It actually showed evidence that someone lived in it. My favorite blankets hung on the ladder we’d grabbed from his childhood bedroom, my shoes stayed by the door (when I didn’t lose them). Gordon and Blaze had their bowl and enclosure in the kitchen, along with their tin food containers.
And on the wall above the fireplace, my most prized artwork—Laken and me standing in front of the sanctuary with all of our feathered, scaled, and stinking companions. After seeing Wilson’s of him and his wife, I didn’t want to go without capturing this stage in our life. And after hours of gathering the creatures, chasing Benedict twice, and saving Gordon from suffocation, we paid the artist well.
He’d even captured Roasted Chicken’s flames on the trim of my skirt.
What was I doing?I moved past the fireplace with a smug grin. Oh, yes—my shoe.
It wasn’t by the couch. It wasn’t in front of the door or the fireplace. And it wasn’t at the base of the stairs. Scatterbrained, I spun in slow circles and tried to remember where the hell I’d left it.
Opening the back door, I slipped through the narrow sliver and peeked around. In his old wooden rocking chair, he sat with his gaze set on the green fields unrolling ahead. A crisp spring breeze floated in the air, keeping it cool and fresh. When he’d returned three months ago, the porch became our favorite place.
“Laken,” I called, grabbing his attention. At my voice, he peered over his shoulder with a faint, thin grin. Deep-blue eyes dragged up to mine and I could’ve drowned in them, even after all this time. “Do you know where my—”
“Under the kitchen table,” he answered, and I…
