Page 86 of Inked in Bloom
Even though I’d been paralyzed by my grief, the world didn’t stop when Charlotte died. It didn’t stop for my death either. And much as I don’t want to leave, I don’t belong here.
Not anymore.
“I’m so sorry, Monroe, but we need to go.” Briar’s voice drags the present into focus. He glances at the clockand his lips flatten. “I’m worried we won’t have enough time or magic to transport back.”
Swallowing the realization that time has officially outpaced us, I bend and place a kiss on Beth’s and Richard’s cheeks. “I promise I’ll be back to fix the door.”
I turn and nod to Briar. Without hesitation, he lifts me into his arms, cradling me to him. Our bodies shake as he carefully descends the steps. He inhales then pushes through the wall to the home’s exterior.
I gesture for him to set me down, and we cross to the wooded area at the end of the row of houses.
“Do you have enough magic to return to Florezca?” I ask him, not missing how he staggers a bit through the rain.
“I do, but you’re too depleted to shift. Here.” He pulls out his flask and hands it to me. I swirl it, only hearing the slosh of a small amount of water, scanning over the cracks along his skin. I try to push it toward him, but he won’t budge.
“You should go without me before you get sick again.” I stumble a step, plopping down on the wet grass. “There’s no reason for both of us to stay here if you can go, and it’s not like I’m going anywhere.”
Brows knitting together, he wipes rain off his spectacles, then waits for me to hand him mine. I do, and he slips them into his pocket. “You think I’d leave you here, alone?”
A chestnut tail disappearing into the shrubs and a bright-orange bus replay in my mind…
He winces like I’ve struck him.
“Monroe, I’ll regret running across that street for the rest of my immortal life.” Dropping to the ground, he sidles up next to me and leans against the peeling bark of a tree, tenderly pulling me into his lap.
I nuzzle into his shirt, stuffing my nose full of the scentof rich vanilla and damp cedar. His chest vibrates against my cheek as he unscrews the flask again and puts it to my lips until I sip once. It takes so much effort to swallow.
“Do you want to go back?” Another sip. This one empties the flask, and it disappears. “You didn’t have a choice last time, but I’m giving you one now. I know you want to stay and help the people you care about, but you can’t help anyone if you don’t help yourself. Don’t you see how much you’ve given them already?”
“Yes,” I admit, though it hurts.
Painting Hope still thrives, and its members continue to provide support and community for one another. Richard and Beth are together, reunited with Charlotte’s pet, Jessica. When my friend died, it broke me. I missed her every day that followed, but I carried her impact with me. Her death didn’t dissolve what she’d given to me, and my death didn’t negate the work I’d done.
“I eventually found my way after losing my mom in the accident… Those you love will too… I learned that from you.”
Even after her own death, Jolie had wanted to see me to tell me how I’d helped her. Maybe our actions were finite, but the impact of the care we put out into the world was boundless.
My body tingles everywhere, and I weakly reach for his cheek. “We should go back.”
He nods, focus going next to us. His nose barely twitches, and it takes him a few tries before the ground spills outward and our way back appears. Getting to his knees, he hooks his arms under my elbows. “Okay then, let’s?—”
Searing pain shoots up my spine and a desperate whimper escapes my raw throat.
Briar stiffens. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t,” I rasp, shaking my head. “There’s not enough magic in me to get back. You should just g?—”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” he commands. “If you think I’d leave you here in pain, then I hope you’re ready to watch me wither right alongside you.”
“Why would you do that?” I ask through my trembling.
“You know why.”
The corner of my mouth lifts, but I can’t stop staring at his. “Because you’re a Rescue Rider?”
“If that’s what you need to believe, then yes, Monroe. That’s why I came for you. That’s why I’llalwayscome for you.” He sighs. “It has nothing to do with our?—”
With the little strength I have, I grip Briar’s collar. His lavender brows lift in surprise, mouth slack as I guide him to mine. Rain pounds the ground, soaking our clothes, slipping between our tangled tongues and cracked lips. It’s not the kiss of ballads and fairy tales. It’s not steeped in ignited passion or strong enough to break a curse. It’s the jagged edges of two broken shards melding together.
