Page 62 of Roses & Ruin

“Yeah,” Hayden says roughly. “Sometimes you’re on the other side of the world. I’ve found you in Australia, Ireland, Canada…I’m sorry about your grave. I should have taken better care of it. I should have…” His fists clench, and when he accidentally snaps a few rose stems in his hand, he loosens his grip immediately, looking stricken. He shakes his head. “I’ll get it repaired, don’t worry.”

“No, Hayden, stop.” I put a hand on his arm, and he looks away. “Stop beating yourself up.” His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t go back to cleaning off the snow from my tombstone. He just goes still, looking like the most heartbreaking statue, exactly the kind you might find in a cemetery. “Do you have any powers?” I ask, hoping a change of subject might help.

“Delia did a show-and-tell, hm? Not surprised—she never gets to show off. Nah. I can outrun her several times over, and I’m a hell of a jumper, but…” He shrugs. “Most of that I attribute to what I eat now.”

A question pops into my head, but I feel ashamed to ask it. Hayden’s watching my face, though, and he gets an amused look.

“It’s nice,” he says, cocking his head. “Being able to read you like a book. Ask your question. I promise you I’ll answer.”

“When’s the last time you killed something other than an animal?” This surprises him. But he doesn’t get distant or pull back. Just serious.

“In the over two hundred years since I first met you,” Hayden says solemnly, “I have only killed once.”

I nod, encouraging him to go on.

“It happened not too far from here, actually, just an hour’s walk north of Hemlock Cove, a mere few months after we first met. We had only just started seeing each other, and you wanted to spend a day climbing a mountain north of here. You still thought I was human.

“That day, we stumbled upon another vampire’s hunting ground. It happened so fast—one moment we were in a meadow where you were stooping to pick a flower, and the next you were pinned by a vampire with the most enormous fangs I’d ever seen.” Hayden shudders, haunted at the memory.

“I lost it. Unleashed every vile, violent instinct in me. In a few minutes, I was bathed in blood, pieces of vampire all around us, and you were on the ground, looking up at me like I was a demon.” I’m surprised to find his voice going soft and fond. “You thought I was a demon, and I thought it was over, but you came to me, Rose. You touched my bloody cheek, my fangs, and you said—you always say—‘I’m not afraid, Hayden.’ ” Hayden shuts his eyes and cups my face. “You still wanted me, even when you saw what I was, even though I didn’t deserve it then—I don’t deserve it now.”

In a sudden whirlwind of snow, Hayden’s standing a few feet away now with his back to me, gazing out at the sea. I swallow hard, my heart squeezing. I know he can feel it, how it pulses harder every time we’re close, when I’m afraid he’ll leave me.

I turn to my grave, still covered by the snow, and finish what he started, cleaning and scraping the years and weather from its ancient surface. Finally, I uncover my epitaph.

Forever missed,

Here lies our beloved

Rose Elizabeth Caldwell

Nov. 14, 1802–Nov. 13, 1821

Only one word on that stone arrests me.

“Hayden,” I breathe. Something in my voice drags Hayden from his broody cliff. He turns around, attentive, his eyes bright and violet in the swirling snow.

He is just so, so beautiful.

“We were married?” My voice is shaking. Hayden’s lips part on an exhale. His gaze is open, and a wave of grief swells in his eyes. Immediately, he ducks his head. Why does it make me so sad that he’s trying to tuck his grief away from me?

“Yes,” he finally says, heavily. I can’t help the tears that spill, turning to my stone. I dig my fingers into the grooves of the letters. C-A-L-D—

I drop my hand, wiping the snow and wet and sorrow from my eyes.

“I can’t b-believe you asked me so soon,” I say. “You hardly knew me. I…I can’t believe you asked me at all—”

“I can’t believe you said yes.” Hayden’s on his knees beside me, one hand cupping my nape, the other fisted in the lapel of my coat. His voice is broken. Fierce. “Rose, I…When I lost you, I didn’t leave your grave for weeks. I lay here, day and night, because I couldn’t—couldn’t bear the idea of you being alone. The town nearly sent me away, frightened by my madness, to an asylum, and I would have let them, but your father understood. He’s the only one who did. You so, so hated to be alone, especially in the dark, and I couldn’t leave you, I couldn’t—”

Hayden’s voice breaks in half, and I realize, my god, he’s crying. Silent, cold tears glisten on the angles of his cheekbones. He won’t stop touching me, his hands moving from my cheeks to my neck, his thumbs tracing the shape of my mouth. His neediness, his heartbreak, makes me want to climb into him, make us one person.

“Rose, what am I gonna do?” he rasps, kissing me frantically all over my face. “Every time I lose you, it’s incomprehensible. I can’t go through it again, I can’t, I can’t—”

“Don’t tell me about my funerals,” I gasp against his lips. “Tell me about our wedding, Hayden. Tell me.” Hayden’s cool, sweet breath rushes over my face in a huff of laughter.

“It was a disaster.” He kisses me. “You were late.” Kisses me again. “Thought I was jilted for one terrifying moment. Turns out you’d been training Winston to be the ring bearer, and he wasn’t cooperating.”

“That sounds like my perfect wedding,” I confess, meaning it.