“See ya.” I keep my tone casual, not wanting her to worry.
Delilah flips off the TV, standing up from the couch and following Lark out the door for an early Valentine’s date.
“You knew about spring, didn’t you?” I say as soon as the lock clicks behind them.
Jax swallows audibly, and I turn to face him. “We were summoned back to Nivea for a meeting.”
“When?”
“A few days ago.” His prismatic gaze drops to mine, all the sorrow I’m feeling reflected right back at me.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because leaving you is already hard enough.” He sighs, then brushes back some strands of my hair and cradles my jaw. “I’d rather enjoy every moment we get until I have to.”
“Wouldn’t I eventually figure it out when solstice hits and I’m rabid for you?”
“Well, yes, but then I’d have an easy way to distract you,” he says with a growl. He leans over and nips the base of my throat where the scars of his claiming bite remain. It sends a full-body shiver through me, my underwear becoming damp.
Stupid, sexy harbinger and his mate magic.
He’d actually be here for this one, able to sate my need for him in person. As much as I was looking forward to a solstice together, I hate that it also means Jax will be returning to Nivea for at least another season. And he’ll need to hibernate for some of that, meaning he’ll be unreachable. I’ve been much too spoiled having had months where we could talk all day, even when we were separated. That’s going to end soon. There’s no plan in place for after this. We’ve just been savoring this winter together.
“I don’t want you to go.”
“I know. I hate it too,” he says ruefully. I open my mouth to speak but then clamp it shut. Jax arches a brow. “What is it?”
I blurt the words out, something I’ve wondered during our time apart but have been too scared to give voice to. “Do you ever regret saving me?”
“Never, Tempest. Not even once.” There’s no hesitation in his tone. It’s hard as steel and twice as sharp.
“But we wouldn’t ever have had to be apart. I’d be a harbinger like you, like my mom, even if we were designated to different seasons.” My heart thuds loudly in my chest, and Jax’s palm rests over it until its rhythm slows. “It would be easier.”
“You’re right that things would be easier, but I wouldn’t have changed a single thing,” he says, thumbing my mate mark. His glows back at me from his bare chest, and I reach out to touch it, not missing the twitch beneath his waistband. “Other than maybe getting stuck watching you with that idiot, Blake. I could have done without that.”
Oof.I glare and punch him gently for that one.
“But I look at everything you’ve done, how much you’ve grown. Maybe I would have had you already, but I’d be missing out on the incredible person you’ve become.” He kisses me softly—once, twice, three times—before reaching past me and grabbing the wooden spoon, stirring the water on the stove before it boils over.
I quickly grab the potholder and strain the noodles, finishing up my macaroni and cheese while I talk. It’s the only thing keeping me from breaking into tears. I don’t want to cry right now. I want to be able to discuss this. “How long will we do this, Jax? How many seasons will Fate keep us apart?”
Jax nudges my bowl closer, and I dish my lunch out and grab a spoon. He follows me back to my room, sitting on the bed while I sit in the desk chair, spinning it to face him. I know if I join him on the bed, he’ll become too distracting, so I keep a healthy distance and shovel some macaroni into my mouth.
Clasping his hands in his lap, he taps his foot nervously on the floor. After a minute, he sighs, expression becoming serious. “I don’t know how long. But whatever time I bought you when I begged Fate to bring you back, I want you to have. I don’t wantyou to miss out on a single thing that life can offer.” His eyes drop to the floor and his lips press into a thin line. “Even when you can’t see me, can’t reach me, I’ll be there through it all.”
My chest aches. I don’t want him to think I’m ungrateful that he saved me, for being able to dance again, for the time we’ve gotten together over the last year, I just hate the circumstances. The way our love is constantly racing against a ticking clock that neither of us has control over. “Promise?”
“Of course, Tempest,” Jax says, crossing the room in two strides and kneeling at my feet. His strong hands slide to the outsides of my thighs, and I set down my macaroni. Taking my hands in his, he kisses each knuckle, then cups them in his own. His hypnotic irises peer up into mine, and he holds my gaze like he refuses to ever let it go.
“It’s never truly goodbye. Not for a love like ours.”
15 SEASONS LATER…
(45 MONTHS)
46
JOLIE
