“No,” I answered both of them, sharp and unyielding.
Aspen raised a shaking hand, lightly grazing my bloody cut. “I will not let you hurt yourself for me. I am not worth it.”
“He’s right. And we need to move.” Ronen reached down.
“Touch me, and it’s the last thing you’ll ever do to me.”
“Lucille, it’s the bond. Ignore it and look at me!”
It was partly the bond. But at least this time we were on the same side. Something fluttered in my chest—light and knowing. An intuition. It was beyond the bond’s control, and yet the bond welcomed it. I ignored Ronen, the fast-approaching footsteps, and Rune’s whimpers, knowing what I had to do.
“I can’t breathe for you,” I said to Aspen, forcing his eyes to meet the severity of mine. “But I can show you why I think you’re worth breathing for.”
Then I pushed through his fiery mental barrier. Getting straight to work, I pulled on my Infernus’s undulating melody and wove two hallucinations in quick succession—or more like snapshots of us. Moments I had with Aspen that made me think he was worth it. But from my perspective, filled with my emotions, and with me at the forefront commenting while he watched from a separate body.
I started with the memory of when he first found me in my forest. But even after telling him this was the moment he saved me, his eyes remained lifeless, his emotions unbelieving. All I needed was a seed of light. Something to tell me he’d fight when I released him from this.
I quickly changed the hallucination to the next, knowing we didn’t have much time. “This will forever be one of my favorite memories of us.”
My mom and I had gotten into another vicious fight. Aspen found me teary-eyed, music blasting in my headphones, curled into my knees while resting against a tree trunk.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded.
“You always sounded like you wanted to take on the world for me,” I said, talking over the scene.
“Fighting with my mom again.”
Memory Aspen frowned. There was nothing he could do to help the fights with my mom. It was something we’d have to work out ourselves, which we barely did in the end.
“I’m sorry, Lucille.”
I shrugged. “It is what it is.”
Aspen nodded, then bounced, as if nervous energy dug into his heels and forced them to bob back and forth.
My memory-self’s eyes widened at the action, and I smiled.
“I still can’t believe you bounced.”
A sliver of something light hummed beneath his pain. “I thought I might’ve gotten the wrong one,” present-day Aspen explained.
Hope stung my eyes, and instead of turning back to us, I watched him as I wove the imagery I knew by heart, infusing it with my emotions.
Memory Aspen, dressed in his black uniform and cloak, his hand squeezing the hilt of his sword, pulled out a chocolate bar—one with a gold-and-blue wrapper. A special chocolate available only at a specific store across state lines. I had randomly told him about it one day, thinking nothing of it. I never imagined he’d do anything about it.
Aspen watched my memory-self’s mouth pop open. She squealed, and a semblance of a smile crept onto his face. But the sliver of light didn’t truly grow until I heard the rustling of my feet and a soft oomph.
He’d made me so happy, I accidentally luscelered off the ground, then leaped on him.
Past Aspen’s eyes widened as we fell together. He laughed once we hit the ground, infecting me with the sound until my own bubbling happiness joined his.
I glanced at Aspen, witnessing the softness in his eyes before turning back to the memory.
Straddling him, I pulled back, my smile practically manic. Aspen tucked a few wayward strands of hair behind my ears, his gorgeous eyes crinkling with humor.
“Thought that might cheer you up, sweetheart.”
That had been the first time he ever called me that. The soft, adoring word had completely melted my insides. I couldn’t think about what I thought of it now. But back then, it was everything to me.
