Redesigning Fate (Revive #1) - A. M. Wilson Page 0,77

voice.

“It’s called We’ll Keep Running Forever by Joshua Radin,” he responds, still holding me tight to him.

“I really like it.”

“I really like you,” he says reverently, his eyes roaming over mine, my face and my lips. Always searching, always memorizing, his eyes never miss a thing.

He leans down to kiss the tip of my nose. “I know it’s too soon for love and forever, but I feel so strongly for you. We may have a shit storm to deal with outside, but when it’s just you and me I feel everything. I don’t want you to forget that through everything else. You’re mine.”

Everyone else melts away. Dredging up every emotion of the last month, from the first moment I laid eyes on him, to that first kiss, him saving my life, holding me after I fainted, fighting last Saturday, to his heartfelt declaration, I pour it all out into my kiss. Parting my lips to take his between mine, I breathe his breath into me, savoring the sounds I’m pulling from his mouth. My mind is reveling, but one thing is starkly clear: I’m his, but he’s also mine.

I place my hand on his cheek, rough with day old stubble, and peer into his clear blue eyes.

“I won’t forget. I’m yours.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Imagine a lifespan of eighty years. A handful of weeks seems like an insignificant amount of time when compared to the entirety of a life. Yet, a few bad days here or there have the power to cripple a person for months, maybe even years. Death, heartache, disease; there are multiple ways confidence can crumble, faith can be demolished, and pain can consume. I spent months enduring the pain at Travis’s hand, and for what? Walking away from him was the best decision I ever made. Because the opposite is also true. A day, a week, a month—miniscule periods of life also have the power to heal.

Lately, I find myself comparing what my life is like now, to what it was only a few short months ago. I went from being this shell of a person, living each day robotically, unable to take a deep breath because I had been so thoroughly wounded, to feeling like my heart is so full it could burst, looking forward to every minute of each day, breathing deeper than I ever have before. Eight weeks seems like such a short amount of time to know somebody, to love somebody. To me, it’s been more than enough. I feel like I’ve known Elias my entire lifetime and the previous one before it. His presence is comfort, and his voice is a soothing balm; He’s my place of solace.

There may be things untold between us, but I have to trust we’ll share them with time.

Contemplating myself in the mirror as I get ready for work, I realize a few things have changed. My eyes are brighter, more excited and full of life. My skin has a bit more color, with softly pink cheeks. The blossoming anxiety is nearly nonexistent. Whereas, I used to face it almost daily. Being around Elias has brought happiness back into my heart. He’s breathed life into me. Every day is brighter because he’s in it; every thought is positive because it’s usually about him. He erupted into my life, and no matter what happens I will never be able to remove the permanent mark.

When I arrive at the office, the news of Katie’s disappearance and the current investigation have spread wildly. The recent report of finding her car in the Mississippi River has brought everyone’s attention to the fact this isn’t merely a case of a college student chasing her wanderlust. Something happened to her, and it’s visible in the faces of her colleagues. An eeriness hangs in the air around the building like a bad draft because tragedy always brings to the surface ones’ own mortality.

The elevator dings, and I look up from the brief I’m proofreading to see a familiar police officer enter my floor. It doesn’t take me but a second to place him as Officer Gonzalez, the detective who came to Elias’s apartment this past Saturday. His step falters as he sees me, recognition flares in his rich brown eyes. Recovering quickly, he makes his way over to my desk.

“Miss…Marlena, was it?” He asks stopping in front of me, his head cocking to one side, puzzled, yet intrigued.

My legs feel unsteady as I stand up to shake his hand. His palm is warm and dry against