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“That’s the most ridiculous name on the planet,” I say, twirling a strand of her dark hair between my fingers.

“It is, isn’t it?” she asks, pushing up to lean against her elbow. “You’re right. Cat daddy sunshine is so much better.”

“You’re insufferable,” I say, chuckling as I pull her on top of me and press a kiss to her lips.

“So I’ve been told a time or two,” she says, laughing. The sound of it fills the air and quiets the noise, like it always does.

“Move in,” I blurt, the words nearly a whisper over the pounding of my heart. When my question registers, I double back. “I mean, if you want. Or I could move in with you. I mean, shit, not that I’m trying to intrude on your space.”

“Callum cat daddy Thorne,” she interrupts, her words an instant distraction to my rambling thoughts. “Are you houseposing to me?”

“Am I … house what?” I ask, smiling as I piece together her made-up word.

“You know, officially asking me to move in with you,” she says matter-of-factly.

I begin to panic, wondering if that’s something people do now.

“Callum,” she says, her voice louder. One of her palms finds my cheek, and I lean into the warmth of her touch. “Yes, a trillion times yes. I would love nothing more than to share a home with you.”

“Yeah?” I ask, my eyes searching hers.

She nods, her bright blue eyes rimming with tears. I cup her face in my hands, drawing her in until our lips meet. A deep groan rumbles from my chest—not quite desire or hunger, but something deeper, something more enigmatic.

I’ve been running, fighting, merely existing for so long. But now, it feels like the storm inside of me is finally ripping apart, dissolving into a quiet horizon. It feels like forgiveness for all the things I deemed myself unworthy of. It feels like coming home to something I never knew existed, something I never thought I deserved.

And for the first time, it feels like peace.

47

Epilogue

Callum

One year later

Lydia Thorne is the best damn thing that ever happened to me.

Yep, you heard that right. Lydia is my wife. We decided to elope a few months back. It was more her idea than mine, but that didn’t stop me from driving us clear across the country to a little town on the outskirts of Salem, Massachusetts, to make her dream a reality. I’d do it a trillion times over, and in every single lifetime—if only to see the way she lit up when I drove up to her favorite cemetery. Vessel’s Rest, a place she’d previously only read about in books. If you’d asked me before whether I thought I’d ever elope in a cemetery, I’d have scoffed and said something under my breath like, “Elopement is for free-spirited morons. Married in a cemetery? How goddamn morbid.” Yet that’s exactly what I did, for her.

The memories of that day filter through my mind, just as vivid as the day we made them. The way she roamed between the gravestones toward me in that flowing, pale white dress. The way her hair looked black as ink and her eyes as blue as the edge of the afterlife she seemed to have walked right out of. She was breathtaking, beautiful in a haunting kind of way.

I can still see the way the light from the full moon filtered through the trees, casting her figure in the most ethereal glow. I’ll never forget the way my heart shattered into a million tiny pieces when she said the words I do. Or the way she put the pieces back together when she didn’t wait for permission, didn’t even allow the officiant to finish before she threw herself into my arms and kissed me like it was the first time. The memory easily marks one of the best days of my entire fucking existence.

“Callum.” Lydia giggles, pulling me from the memory as I carry her through the doorway of our home.

Our home. It’s been half a year since we decided to move in together, and I still find myself smiling like a goddamn fool every time the thought crosses my mind. Lydia decided she wanted to move into my house, for reasons she still refuses to admit out loud. I’m going to remind her of those reasons real soon, though.

“Yes, love?” I ask, setting her down once we clear the doorway. This is a tradition I started the day she moved in with me, one that I don’t plan to break, ever.

“Are you going to keep doing that for the rest of our lives?” she asks, laughing as she saunters over to check on our children.

Our fur children. Yep, we got a second cat. Her name is Hemera, the goddess of the day. She’s an all-white tabby, the yin to Nyx’s yang.

Lydia stopped calling me “cat daddy” and has resorted to “girl daddy.” I’d be lying my ass off if a part of me didn’t love hearing her say it, or if I didn’t often daydream about having a daughter, one as beautiful and full of life as her mother.

“Until the day I take my last breath, little siren,” I say, leaning down to pet Hemera as she rubs against my ankle. “And even then, I’d haunt the shit out of you for the rest of eternity.”

“Hmm,” she says, pausing as she arches a brow. “Ghost smut is certainly a niche, but I could get into it if you’re the ghost.”