Page 72 of Inked in Bloom
“Long time no see.” She pushes off the branch and leaps down toward the ground, so slow and elegant, ethereally so.
“Y-you’re a Frost.”
Jolie gracefully walks toward me, as if we’re performing a ballet and not two immortals hidden from the living. When she reaches me, she brushes her chilly fingers along my cheek. “And you’re a Bloom.”
I shiver, lifting a palm to where her touch glided like ice across my skin.
“Look at all your marks.” While the Blooms’ markings look like inky tattoos, the Frosts’ have ridges along their swirls, etched into their skin. “Is this where you’ve been all these years?”
“Years?” She blinks a few times before returning her attention to me. “Has it been that long? It’s hard to keep track when your life changes with the seasons.”
“What are you doing here? Are you handling winter for this region too?”
“No. I’ve been stateside.” A smile skims her lips. “I heard you were out for your first spring, so I called in a favor with my mate before we return to Nivea.”
She gestures behind her where another harbinger is poised up on a higher branch. He’s got icy-blue-tinged skin and wild strands of silvery-white hair. Most noticeable of all, though, is the holographic stare glowing in the darkness.
“That’s your mate?” My eyes go wide.
I’m not sure why I’m surprised. She passed away when I was still in the early years of my practice. Why wouldn’t she have a mate? I found out about mine only weeks after the accident.
“I do. That’s Jax.”
He waves from the trees, snowflakes trailing from his fingers and skating toward us. Recognition flares to life.
“Jax, as in the one you talked about in our sessions?”
A mischievous smile curls her lips. “The very same.”
“How is that possible?”
“It’s a long story and I haven’t got much time.” Her eyes dart around the space, and she frowns over at Jax. The frost running up the bottom half of her armsdrips,drips,dripsas the sun breaks through the horizon. “Sorry. We’ve got to get back to Nivea before the veil closes.”
“You’ll tell me someday? When we have more time?”
She smiles. “It’s a date.”
Her body continues to melt its frosty coating, which she refreezes every so often. She doesn’t have much time, but I can’t stop myself from asking, “And you’re happy now—like this?”
While the question comes off like I’m checking on her, I’m certain she sees right through me. It’s got nothing to do with my curiosity. It’s purely selfish, and I’m not sure why I need the reassurance.
“I am, though I knew what I was getting into.” The taut lines soften around her eyes, brilliant blue sapphires glittering like gemstones. They watch me intently. “I suspect the same cannot be said for you.”
“No. But I don’t really understand how I’m supposed to be okay knowing there are people who still need me.” My body heats and thedrip,drip,dripslipping from Jolie’s icy skin hastens. I take a few moments and center myself with some boxed breathing. Jolie doesn’t interrupt the silence, though. She waits, patient as a therapist. The irony isn’t lost on me. “What about everyone I left behind?”
“It was hard for me, but I eventually found my way after losing my mom in the accident.” Her tone is low and seriousuntil the corner of her lip pulls up into a grin. “Those you love will too.”
“How can you be so sure?” My voice fissures as I try to get out the words.
“Because I learned that from you.” She reaches for my cheek. “Our sessions.” I jerk at the intensity of its chill. It tingles, spreading from the point of contact, then she wipes away a frosted tear track.
When did I start crying?
“There are always so many things left unspoken.” She tucks a mint strand behind my ear. “I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to tell you. I wanted to thank you for everything you did for me. How much you helped me after losing my mom.”
My chin wobbles, but I steady it. I don’t want the last thing Jolie remembers before she leaves is me breaking down in tears, even though it feels like holding up an immense weight fighting them. “I’m glad it helped. Now I just want to go back. Help more people.”
Jolie’s navy brows draw tight. “Who says you’re not meant to help where you are?”
