Untamed - A. G. Howard Page 0,67

I returned from the grocery store and could fix things.

“Hey, here’s a shot of Dad’s marble run blueprints,” David blurts, shaking me from the memory. He raises the picture toward me and his younger brother. “Jack, you gotta check this out. They’re plastered like wallpaper all over the garage. So weird that I’ve never seen this . . .”

Jackson takes my hand and tries to pull me over with him, but I squeeze his fingers and start for Jeb’s bedside instead. I don’t need to see the picture. I lived it.

It was two years after we came back from our final Wonderland adventure, and Jeb had been cleaning out his mom’s attic while she was at work and I was at college taking one of my finals. He stumbled upon a trunk, and inside were all the sketches he’d drawn as a kid when he and his dad used to make marble runs. There were even some he’d sketched that he had one day hoped to make with his dad, before he’d lost him in the accident. Jeb hadn’t known his father kept them all those years. He figured he’d thrown them out. Each was so intricately designed and planned, Jeb didn’t have to do anything but follow the blueprints—no artistic vision required.

Jeb had plastered my garage walls with the hundred or so papers before I got back from college that day. When I pulled Gizmo in, I was surrounded by our future. I’d never seen my fiancé look more fulfilled, because he’d found a way to continue to create, and his dad had helped him do it.

Arriving at Jeb’s bedside, I touch his face and he holds my hand in place to kiss it.

“Nanna! Pop-pop talks to beetles!” Alisia sings.

I laugh—though it’s bittersweet at best. She stands precariously on the mattress with Jeb guiding her, and bounces along until I capture her and nuzzle her sweetly scented hair.

“Oh,” Victoriana gasps from beside the nightstand. “This one’s always been my favorite.” Her smile is both bright and trembling.

One glimpse of the picture she displays, and I’m at our wedding again with my groom, surrounded by white rose trellises. Every female in the wedding party—even the flower girl—wore wings that lit up thanks to fiber-optic threads and battery packs. Only mine and Mom’s were real, with netting strategically wrapped around their bases to hide where they sprouted from our skin. I had a sparkling tiara, and all of the guys, including the ring bearer, wore chain mail tunics.

Jeb gave me a fairy-tale wedding on the beach, complete with knights and fairies, all of us glittering and gilded with the pinky-purple rays of sunset. The moment our vows were spoken and he kissed me, a small blue orb floated down from the sky and landed on Jeb’s head before bursting like a bubble. Those who attended thought it was some sort of atmospheric anomaly precipitated by the humidity and dim lighting, but they all agreed it was the most magical wedding they’d ever seen.

Little did they know how right they were: that the man who’d given up his dreams would be dreaming that night with his new bride—an unexpected gift from a netherling who had once been his bitter rival.

Jeb’s eyes trail over me like they did that evening, the first time we were together as man and wife, full of love, trust, hope, and desire.

Looking back and forth between us, David clears his throat and gathers up the photos that Scotty scattered across the nightstand. “You know, on second thought, I think I’m ready for some dinner. You guys want to come?”

Jackson skirts around the activity, clutching his sketchbook as he moves the chair behind me. “Sit down, Mom. Stay awhile.”

I give him a sad smile and he helps me settle at Jeb’s side.

Victoriana sniffles and drops the lid on the picture box. She leans over to kiss her father’s forehead. “Be back soon, Dad.”

He grasps her hand and presses his lips to it. “Okay, angel.”

Jackson and David hug him and gather the little ones.

“Wait, kids.” Jeb’s plea catches them just before they step out. “You all know I’m proud of you, right? How happy you make me and your mom?” His eyes sparkle with unshed tears.

They nod.

“Good. I love you.”

“Love you, too, Dad,” they say simultaneously, their voices quavering. The door closes behind them, and the only sounds are the clock and the rain.

Jeb pulls me in for a long hug and we softly cry together.

It’s difficult to regain composure,