“Okay, Rafe,” I mutter. “You’re starting to sound insane there, buddy.”
By the time I reach the hotel, it’s nearly ten. The hallways are hushed, carpet muffling everything but the thud of my pulse. I pauseoutside her door and consider knocking, then decide against it. She’s probably sleeping, something I won’t be able to do. At least not until I get this in her hands tomorrow morning. A gift to apologize, to mark the beginning of something.
Chapter 34
The Start
Rafe
Isplash water on my face, cold enough to shock the ache behind my eyes. The circles are gone. The hair behaves, more or less. When she sees me, I want her to remember me as something solid. I shrug into my leather jacket, the kind that creaks at the seams, over a loose black shirt, leaving a few buttons open, the silver chain catching just where the collarbone dips. Black jeans, combat boots. The mirror catches something honest this time. Something Kasia might actually believe in.
It’s ridiculous, this effort, for what amounts to a goodbye. I’ve done hundreds of them. Hotel rooms, airport gates. Tour buses rolling out before dawn. I’ve always been fine with it. There’s a rhythm to leaving: a kind of relief in the constant motion. But this one feels wrong,weighted. Like I’m peeling off a layer of my skin and pretending it doesn’t hurt.
By the time I’m in the hallway, my hands are shaking, not from nerves exactly, but from everything that’s knotted under the surface. Her door is easy to spot, cracked slightly open, ready to head out. I knock softly, once, twice. From inside, the sound of leaving. Zippers,the thud of a suitcase being flung open. The faint flip of fabric, like wings folding against the body of an angel.
Normally it’s a sound I like, transit, the end of something, the beginning of something else. But now it makes the ache bloom wider, darker, in my chest. I push the door open by a fraction and then I see her. Hair still damp from a shower, loose gray sweater falling off one shoulder, minimal makeup, glasses on, justher.Somehow she's even more breathtaking like this,unarmored.
“Rafe?” she says, surprised. “I was just about to leave.”
“Glad I caught you, then.”
She smiles, small, tired. “You’re up early.”
“I wanted to make sure I said goodbye properly.”
Her eyes soften for a fraction of a second, and it’s enough to make my throat tighten.
“Well, mission accomplished.”
“Mind if I come in? It’ll only take a minute, I won’t keep you.” I step inside and close the door behind me, she doesn't protest just blinks at me, surprised and curious. I swallow hard, nerves acting up, throat dry.This is stupid.It’s just a gift, just a goodbye. No big deal.
“I—uh, got you this,” I say, holding out the box like it might bite. “It’s… well, you’ll see.”
She hesitates, curious now. When she opens it, the morning light catches the pomegranate charm and it comes alive, red enamel glowing, gold flecks sparking like embers. She laughs, soft and surprised, turning it between her fingers so the light scatters across the walls.
“It’s… beautiful. You didn’t have to.”
“I did,” I say. “To make up for what happened. For what he said at dinner. Something that’sjust ours.”
I can see it in the way her smile falters, that the gift made an impact.
“You know this isn’t acasualpresent,” she says shyly. “This is whatbindsher to him, in the myth. Forever.”
“I know.” I swallow dust. “I’m not asking you tobind yourselfto me. Just… think about seeing me again. In Seattle. Let me hope a little longer that all this chaos didn’t scare you off for good.” I drag a hand through my hair, step closer. “If it’s too much, I can take it ba—”
She looks down at the charm, thumb brushing the gold stem, and nods once. “No. I—, it’s—”
I lift my brows, waiting. “It’s?”
“It’s perfect,” she says, voice rough, emotions she’s trying to hide surfacing.
Relief pours through me, like sunlight through glass. That call I felt wasn’t madness, it was real.Mine. Maybe. If I don’t fuck this up.
“So…you’ll see me again, yeah?”
She studies the charm again, then me, hesitant but unable to hide the spark in her eyes. “Okay.” It’s barely a word, but it hits like a chord struck clean and true. I could live inside that sound.
“Okay. Right. Guess it’s time for you to head off.”
