"Of course I would!"
I raised a brow, and he grinned. "Come on! Let me seeee. You owe me."
"I do?"
"Yes! I'm the one who told you to get drunk, remember? If I hadn't, you wouldn't have ended up at his house."
"I suppose you have a point there," I conceded, unfolding the letter.
It wasn't very long, written in the same beautiful handwriting. Had he used a fountain pen?
Dear Zamir,
I realized after you'd left that I forgot to ask for your number, so I'm resorting to a more classic form of communication. I hope this letter gets to you, but even if it doesn't, I'll be at your door tomorrow evening, knocking until someone opens it.
That brings me to the reason for this letter: are you free tomorrow evening for that date we talked about? I'll pick you up tomorrow at six, but if you're busy, let me know. I've included my numbers in the postscript.
Thank you for saying yes to the date. I know I should've told you earlier, about us being mates, but I want to reiterate that it wasn't because of you. It was all my baggage, and I'm dealing with it.
Clip and the gang say hi.
I hope to see you tomorrow,
Take care,
Nolan.
Like he'd promised, the postscript listed three numbers: one for his phone, one for his home landline, and the third for his bar landline. I hadn't realized people still had landlines, but then again, this was a man who used fountain pens and wrote letters on thick, expensive paper. Of course he had landlines.
"Holy shit, he's sweet. I did not think Nolan would besweet. Liam described him as pierced and grumpy, if I remember right," Keoni mused, and I shook my head.
"He isn't grumpy. He has like—" I counted in my mind, "—nine pets."
Keoni's eyes widened, and he grabbed my arm with both hands. "Tell me everything."
Nolan
"What are you thinking about?" Agnes asked, her brown eyes still the same as they'd been the first time we met when she was sixteen. That had been sixty years ago now, and while I looked the same, she didn't. Her smooth skin was heavy with wrinkles now, her bones weak, her back curved. Her fingers trembled as she reached for my hand, and I clasped her cold hand between my warm ones. She was alive, and yet she was so cold. It wouldn't be long now.
"I don't want to lose you," I admitted, and she smiled, her face soft. I knew she was in pain. I could sense the war waging through her body. I'd done all I could to make her comfortable, but I'd never been much of a healer.
"I've had a good life, Nolan. All because of you. But it's time now."
I shook my head, bringing her hand to my lips, wishing I could do something. Anything. When she'd been younger, I'doffered to find a vampire who could change her, so she could live longer, but she'd refused. She didn't want to live forever, and honestly, I didn't begrudge her that. If I had the choice to live a normal life, one where I grew old, where I could die... would I refuse it? I didn't think so.
"Do you remember the day you saved me? I'd never been more terrified," she murmured, and I squeezed her hand. I remembered, of course. I recalled every day I'd spent with her, but that day was burned into my memory.
At sixteen, Agnes had been curious, much too curious for the small village she'd lived in. She'd asked questions, figured out things about nature that seemed strange to the other villagers. And of course, what people couldn't understand, they villainized.
I'd been traveling, in search of somewhere new to settle down for a few years before I'd have to move again, when I'd stumbled upon a crowd gathered around a bonfire. I'd wondered if they were celebrating something, since it was much too hot for a fire.
That was when I'd heard the screams. I'd reacted without hesitation, and pushed through the crowd until I reached the bonfire that wasn't a bonfire at all. It was child, tied against a post, being burned alive.
I hadn't cared about hiding my magic. I hadn't cared about anything but saving the girl. I'd sucked all the fire into me, freed her, and carried her away from there as the townspeople watched in shock.
I'd found a healer, a mage, who'd healed the burns on her skin, and then we'd traveled together for years, and I'd answered all the questions she had.
"Can I ask one last question?" Agnes murmured, pulling me out of the memories, and I squeezed her hand gently. So, so gently.
