“I love that you don’t need me to save you but let me try anyway. I love that you’re scared and you do brave things anyway. I love that you’re rebuilding yourself and letting me watch. I love—” His voice broke completely. “I love you.”
Tears tracked down her cheeks. Not sad tears—wonder, relief, joy.
“I love you too.” Her voice broke on the words. “And you look at me like—like I am worth seeing. Like everything I’d been hiding was exactly what you wanted to find. You make me feel brave enough to be myself again.”
“You are.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “You are. I’m done hiding too. I need you. I want you. I?—”
She kissed him.
It wasn’t gentle. Wasn’t careful. It was fierce and desperate and tasted like tears and blood and magic. Her hands fisted in his ruined shirt. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her so close he could feel her heartbeat against his body.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Avine was crying and laughing at the same time. Theo felt moisture on his own face.
“Well.” Her voice was thick. “That was dramatic.”
“The explosion or the love confession?”
“Both. Everything.” She smiled—that slow, private smile that was only for him. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Neither am I.”
He pulled her close again, holding her in the middle of the ruined workshop, breathing in the scent of sea salt, smoke, and her.
“Uh,” Piprick started, “does that mean I’m forgiven?”
“So.”
Beck’s voice came from what used to be the doorway—now a ragged hole in the wall. He stood there with fur still ripplingacross his shoulders, clearly having shifted mid-sprint, wearing an expression of profound amusement.
Behind him, Theo could see Dahlia and Cassia, both breathless from running. Junie pushed past them, her red hair wild, Glimmer the snake coiled anxiously around her neck.
“We felt the surge from Main Street.” Dahlia’s eyes swept over the destruction. “Is everyone—oh.” Her gaze landed on Theo and Avine, still wrapped around each other, and her expression softened into knowing. “Oh, I see.”
“I’m guessing this is resolved?” Beck asked, grinning.
Theo didn’t let go of Avine. “Yeah. It’s resolved.”
Beck’s attention flicked between them—the way they were holding each other, the kiss-swollen lips, the unmistakable evidence of confessions made—and his grin widened.
“You owe me fifty bucks.” He was talking to someone behind him. Junie’s voice drifted in: “The bet was ‘during the explosion,’ not ‘after.’ Technically, I win.”
Avine huffed a laugh against Theo’s shoulder. “They had a betting pool.”
“Of course, they did.”
“Later.” He kissed her forehead. “Right now, I’m taking you home.”
Beck caught his eye and nodded, already taking charge of the cleanup. “I’ve got this. Get her out of here.”
Theo led Avine out of the ruins, into the morning light. The sun had climbed higher while they’d been inside, painting the cobblestone streets in shades of gold. A seagull watched from a nearby rooftop—probably already composing its report to the gossip network.
He didn’t care. Let them talk. Let the whole damn town know.
Her hand in his. Her presence at his side. That was all he needed.
For the first time in longer than he could remember, Theo Vance felt like he might actually get what he wanted.
THIRTY-FIVE
