released by crying.
There are more important things to do than cry.
I get to my feet again, skimming my hands all the way up her arms to her shoulders to her neck to her face. Not a scratch. She doesn’t have a single scratch. I kiss her forehead, her temples, her cheekbones. Small talismans against danger. No one will ever hurt you here, or here, or here.
“Leo, you—” Her voice is tight, like she might cry. I love the sight of tears on her face. But there’s nothing to cry about right now. “You can’t do this. You’re—”
Someone in the room starts to say Mr. Morelli and Eva cuts it off with a hiss. I don’t care. I don’t care what anyone says, or what anyone does, because Haley is warm and soft under my hands. I can feel her heartbeat. The floor tilts with the weight of my relief but that doesn’t matter, either. I have us both crowded against the wall. I’ll keep them away from me. I’ll keep them away from her. We’ll be safe.
We’ll be safe.
I kiss her hair, the top of her head. Haley puts her hands on my chest. It hurts like a bruise, that soft touch. It breaks something. I get my hand to her chin—more pain, I don’t care—and tip her face to mine so I can see her. Tears deepen the blue of her eyes. They’re bright and scared and relieved.
Kissing her mouth is the only way to keep living.
Haley lets out a sob against my lips when I do it. She tries to turn her head. “Leo, you’ll hurt yourself.” She pushes against my chest. Less of a bruise, more of a knife. It drives a low noise from me and Haley’s eyes go wide and white. “Did I hurt you?”
“Let me.” It’s the most desperate plea of my life, the most I’ve ever asked of another person. Please. Let me prove to myself that you’re alive.
I kiss her again. Harder. Deeper. Haley stops fighting and I feel the moment she gives in, her body relaxing against the wall. Every taste of her is holy water on the fire I’ve become. The flames recede into a manageable burn.
I know now.
I remember.
The roaring hurt resolves into two distinct halves. My chest is an aching bruise under a slice in my skin that stings and twists. That must be where Ronan’s bullet went in. The thousand cuts on my back are the result of some tripwire being disturbed in my brain, in the nerves. Probably getting shot. The way I landed—
The way I woke up—
Haley puts small hands at the sides of my neck, searching and tentative. When I don’t tense up, when I don’t do anything but take another deep taste of her mouth, she curls her fingers into my hair and holds on tight. The holy water of her kiss becomes rain. Becomes a flood. It sweeps away the panic and pain and makes room for something else.
Something hazy and thick. Like being drunk. Like being drugged. Is Haley doing that? I kiss her harder to find out. Every place she touches me is a miracle. Every place I touch her is worship. She makes a small noise into my mouth. I could drink that forever.
Eva clears her throat from somewhere close by. The sound is lost to the rain in my head. It’s coming down in sheets. It’s putting out the fire. Eva tries again, and then she puts her hand on my shoulder, a place she knows won’t hurt.
“Sit down before you fall down, brother mine.”
Good idea. This place has a fucking terrible floor. I’m not going anywhere without Haley. I bring her with me away from the wall and Eva points. I’m going to tell her I don’t need directions to an obvious bed in the middle of the floor but it turns out I do. I only make it there through sheer force of will, using Haley to keep my balance. Sitting down is a controlled fall. Haley’s hand stays firm in mine, her grip tight.
Eva gets closer. Yes. I recognize those dark clothes. Those are what she wears in the present. Every landmark is another gift. The room turns in a slow rotation, but Eva stays where she is. Haley stays, too.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask the question as the room shudders and tilts.
Eva gives a casual shrug. “I heard you were about to croak, and I wanted to see if you’d