Evermore

Thirty-One

At first she just stares, green eyes wide and unbelieving, then she lifts her chin and bares her teeth. But before she can attack, I lunge toward her. Determined to get to her first, to take her down while I can. But just as I spring forward, I see this shimmering veil of soft golden light, a luminous circle just off to the side, glowing and beckoning, like the one in my dream. And even though Drina planted those dreams, even though it's probably a trap, I can't help but veer toward it.

I tumble through a brilliant haze, a shower of light so loving, so warm, so intense, it calms my nerves and soothes all my fears. And when I land in a field of vibrant green grass, the blades hold me, support me, and cushion my fall.

I gaze at the meadow around me, its flowers blooming with petals that seem lit from within, surrounded by trees that reach far into the sky, their branches sagging with ripe juicy fruit. And as I lie there quietly, taking it all in, I can't help but feel like I've been here before.

"Ever."

I spring to my feet, poised and ready to fight. And when I see that it's Damen, I take a step back, having no idea whose side he's really on.

"Ever, relax. It's okay." He nods, smiling as he offers his hand. But I refuse to take it, refuse to fall for his bait. So I take another step back as my eyes search for Drina.

"She's not here." He nods, his eyes fixed on mine. "'You're safe, it's just me."

I hesitate, debating whether or not to believe him, doubting he could ever be thought of as safe. Staring at him, while weighing my options (which are admittedly few), until I finally ask, "Where are we?" In place of my actual question: Am I dead?

"I assure you, you're not dead." He laughs, reading my thoughts. "You're in Summerland."

I look at him, without even a hint of understanding.

"It's a sort of-place between places. Like a waitingroom. Or a rest stop. A dimension between the dimensions, if you will."

"Dimensions?" I squint, the word sounding foreign, unfamiliar, at least in the way that he uses it. And when he reaches for my hand, I quickly pull away, knowing it's impossible to see anything clearly whenever he touches me.

He gazes at me, then shrugs, motioning for me to follow him through a meadow where every flower, every tree, every single blade of grass bends and sways and twists and curves like partners in an infinite dance.

"'Close your eyes," he whispers. And when I don't he adds, "Please?"

I close them. Halfway.

"Trust me." He sighs. "Just this once."

So I do. "Now what?"

"Now imagine something."

"What do you mean?" I ask, immediately picturing a giant elephant.

"Imagine something else," he says, "quickly."

I open my eyes, startled to see a ginormous elephant charging right at us, then I gasp in amazement when I transform him into a butterfly-a beautiful Monarch butterfly that lands right on the tip of my finger. "How-?" I glance between Damen and the butterfly, its black antennae twitching at me.

Damen laughs. "Want to try again?"

I press my lips and look at him, trying to think of something good, something better than an elephant or a butterfly.

"Go ahead," he urges. "It's so much fun. It never gets old."

I close my eyes and imagine the butterfly turning into a bird, and when I open them again a colorful majestic macaw is perched on my finger. But when a messy trail of bird poop drips down my arm, Damen hands me a towel and says, "How about something with a little less-cleanup?"

I set the bird down and watch it fly away, then I close my eyes, fervently wishing, and when I open them again, Orlando Bloom has taken his place.

Damen groans and shakes his head.

"Is he real?" I whisper, gaping in amazement as Orlando Bloom smiles and winks at me.

Damen shakes his head. "You can't manifest actual people, only their likeness.

Luckily, it won't be long before he fades."

And when he does, I can't help but feel a little sad.

"What's going on?" I ask, looking at Damen. "Where are we? And how is this even possible?"

Damen smiles and makes a beautiful white stallion appear.

After getting me mounted and settled, he makes a black one for him. "Let's go for a ride," he says, leading me down a trail.

We ride side by side, down a beautiful, manicured path, cutting right through the valley of flowers and trees and a sparkling stream the color of rainbows. And when I see my parrot perched next to a cat I veer from the trail, ready to shoo him away, but Damen grabs the reins and says, "No worries. There are no enemies. All is at peace here."

We ride in silence as I gape at the surrounding beauty, struggling to take it all in, though it's not long before my mind starts reeling with all sorts of questions and no clue where to begin.

"The veil you saw? The one you were drawn to?" He looks at me. "I put it there."

"In the canyon?"

He nods. "And in your dream."

"But Drina says she created the dream." I look at him, seeing how he rides with such confidence, so sure in the saddle. But then I remember the painting on his wall, the one of him mounted on the white stallion, sword by his side, and I figure he's been at it for a while.

"Drina showed you the location, I showed you the exit."

"Exit?" I say, my heart pounding again.

He shakes his head and smiles. "Not that kind of exit. I already told you, you're not dead. In fact, you're more alive than ever. Able to manipulate matter and manifest anything you want. The ultimate in instant gratification." He laughs. "But don't come here too often. Because I'm warning you, it's addictive."

"So you both created my dreams?" I ask, squinting at him, trying to get a handle on all these bizarre events. "Like-like a collaboration?"

He nods.

"So I don't even control my own dreams?" I say, my voice rising, not liking the sound of any of this.

"Not that particular dream, no."

I scowl at him, shaking my head when I say; "Well, excuse me, but don't you think that's just a little invasive? I mean, jeez! And why didn't you try to stop it, if you knew it was coming?"

He looks at me, his eyes tired and sad. "I didn't know it was Drina. I was just observing your dreams, you were frightened by something, so I showed you the way here. This is always a safe place to come to."

"So why didn't Drina follow me?" I say; looking around for her again.

He reaches for my hand and squeezes my fingers. "Because Drina can't see it, only you could see it."

I squint at him. Everything's so weird, so strange, and none of it makes any sense.

"Don't worry; you'll get it. But for now, why not just try to enjoy it?"

"Why does it seem so familiar?" I say; feeling the tug of recognition, but unable to place it.

"Because this is where I found you." I look at him.

"I found your body outside the car, true. But your soul had already moved on and was lingering here." He stops both our horses, and helps me dismount, then he leads me to a warm patch of grass, so brilliant and sparkling in the warm golden light that doesn't seem to emanate from anyone place, and the next thing I know he's manifested a big cushy couch and a matching ottoman for our feet.

"Care to add anything?" He smiles.

I close my eyes and imagine a coffee table, some lamps, a few knickknacks, and a nice Persian rug, and when I open them again we're in a fully furnished outdoor living room.

But it's too late, we're already soaked.

"Thoughts create," he says, making a giant umbrella, the rain sloping steadily off the sides and onto the rug. "It's the same on Earth, it just takes a lot longer. But here in Summerland, it's instant."

"That reminds me of what my mom used to say-'Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it! " I laugh.

He nods. "Now you know where that originates. Care to make this rain stop, so we can dry off?" He shakes his wet hair at me.

"How-"

"Just think of someplace warm and dry." He smiles.

And the next thing I know we're lying on a beautiful pink sand beach.

"Let's leave it at this? Shall we?" He laughs as I make us a plushy blue towel and a turquoise ocean to match.

And when I lie back and close my eyes against the warmth, he confirms it. Not that I didn't already start to figure it out for myself, but still not having it stated in a complete sentence. One that begins with: "I'm an immortal." And ends with: "And you are too."

Is not something you hear every day.

"So, we're both immortals?" I say; opening one eye to peer at him, wondering how I could have such a bizarre conversation in such a normal tone of voice. But then again, I'm in Summerland, and it doesn't get more bizarre than that.

He nods.

"And you made me an immortal when I died in the crash?" He nods again.

"But how? Does it have something to do with that weird red drink?"

He takes a deep breath before answering. "Yes."

"But how come I don't have to drink it all the time, like you?"

He averts his gaze and looks out toward the sea. "Eventually you will."

I sit up picking at a loose string on my towel, still unable to fully wrap my mind around this. Remembering a time in the not-so-distant past when I thought just being psychic was a curse, and now look.

"It's not as bad as you think," he says, placing his hand over mine. "Look around, it doesn't get any better than this."

"But why? I mean, did it ever occur to you that maybe I don't want to be an immortal? That maybe you should've just let me go?"

I watch as he cringes, averting his gaze, looking all around, focusing on everything but me. Then he turns to me and says, "First of all, you're right. I was selfish. Because the truth is, I saved you more for myself than for you. I couldn't bear to lose you again, not after… " He stops and shakes his head. "But still, I wasn't sure if it worked."

Obviously I knew I'd brought you back, but I wasn't sure for how long. I wasn't Sure I'd actually turned you until I saw you in the canyon just now-"

"You were watching me in the canyon?" I stare at him incredulously.

He nods.

"You mean you were there?"

"No, I was watching you remotely." He rubs his jaw. "It's a lot to explain."

"So let me get this straight. You were watching me, remotely, but still, you could see everything going on, and yet you didn't try to save me!" And when I say it out loud I'm so mad I can barely breathe.

He shakes his head. "Not until you wanted to be saved.

That's when I made the veil appear, and urged you to move toward it."

"You mean you were going to let me die?" I scoot away from him, not wanting to be anywhere near him.

He looks at me, his face completely serious when he says, "If that's what you wanted, then yes." He shakes his head. "Ever, the last time we spoke, in the parking lot, you said you hated me for what I had done, for being selfish, for separating you from your family; for bringing you back. And even though your words really stung, I knew you were right. I had no business interfering. But then, in the canyon, when you filled yourself with such love, well, that love is what saved you, restored you, and it's then that I knew."

But what about the hospital? Why couldn't I restore myself then?

Why did I have to suffer through all of the casts, and cuts, and contusions? Why couldn't I just-regenerate, like I did in the canyon? I think, folding my arms across my chest, not fully buying it.

"Only love heals. Anger, guilt, and fear can only destroy and separate you from your true capabilities." He nods, his eyes grazing over me.

"And that's another thing." I glare at him. "Your ability to read my mind, when I can't read yours. It's not fair."

He laughs. "Do you really want to read my mind? I thought my air of mystery was one of the things you liked about me?"

I gaze down at my knees, my cheeks burning as I think of all the embarrassing thoughts he's been privy to.

"There are ways to shield yourself, you know Maybe you should go see Ava."

"You know Ava?" I gape, feeling suddenly ganged up on.

He shakes his head. "My only connection to Ava is through you, your thoughts about Ava."

I look away, watching a family of bunnies hop by, then back at him. "So the racetrack?"

"Premonition, you did it too."

"What about the race you lost?"

He laughs. "I have to lose a few; otherwise people tend to get suspicious. But I certainly made up for it, don't you think?"

"And the tulips?"

He smiles. "Manifesting. Same way you made the elephant, and this beach. It's simple quantum physics. Consciousness brings matter into being where there was once merely energy. Not nearly as difficult as people choose to think."

I squint, not really getting it. No mater how simple he thinks it is.

"We create our own reality. And yes you can do it at home," he says, anticipating my next question, the one that just formed in my head. "In fact, you already do, you're just not aware of it because it takes so much longer."

"It doesn't take longer for you."

He laughs. "I've been around awhile, plenty of time to learn a few tricks."

"How long?" I ask, gazing at him, remembering that room in his house and wondering exactly what I'm dealing with.

He sighs and looks away. "Very long."

"And now I'll live forever too?"

"That's up to you." He shrugs. "You don't have to do any of this. You can simply put the whole thing out of your mind and go on with your life. Choosing to let go when the time is right. I only provided the ability, but the choice is still yours."

I stare out at the ocean, its sparkling waters so brilliant, so beautiful, I can hardly believe it exists because of me. And even though it's fun to play with such powerful magic, my thoughts soon turn to darker things. "I need to know what happened with Haven. That day I caught you… " I grimace at the memory. "And what about Drina?

She's immortal too, right? Did you make her that way? And how did this even begin?

How did you become immortal in the first place? How does such a thing even happen? Did you know she killed Evangeline, and almost killed Haven too? And what's up with your creepy room?"

"Can you repeat the question?" He laughs.

"Oh, and another thing, what the heck did Drina mean when she said she's killed me over and over again?"

"Drina said that?" His eyes go wide as his face drains of color. "Yeah." I nod, remembering her smug and haughty face as she broke the news. "She was all, 'Here we go again, stupid mortal, you always fall for this game, blah blah blah. I thought you were watching, I thought you saw the whole thing?"

He shakes his head, mumbling. "I didn't see the whole thing, I tuned in late. Oh God, Ever, it's all my fault, all of it. I should've known, I should've never gotten you involved, I should've left you alone-"

"She also said she saw you in New York. Or at least she told Haven that."

"She lied," he mumbles. "I didn't go to New York." And when he looks at me his eyes are etched with such pain, I reach for his hand and hold it in mine. Shaken by how sad and vulnerable he looks and wanting only to erase it. I press my lips against his warm waiting mouth, hoping to convey that whatever it is, there's a pretty good chance I'll forgive him.

"The kiss gets sweeter with every incarnation." He sighs, pulling away and brushing my hair off my face. "Though we never seem to make it further than that. And now I know why." He presses his forehead to mine, infusing me with such joy, such all-consuming love, then sighing deeply before pulling away. "Aw, yes, your questions," he says, reading my mind. "Where to begin?"

"How about the beginning?"

He nods, his gaze drifting away, all the way back to the beginning, as I cross my legs and settle in. "My father was a dreamer, an artist, a dabbler in sciences and alchemy, a popular idea at the time-"

"Which time?" I ask, hungry for places, dates, things that can be nailed down and researched, not some philosophical litany of abstract ideas.

"A long time ago." He laughs. "I am a tad bit older than you."

"Yes, but how old exactly? I mean, what kind of age difference am I dealing with here?" I ask, watching incredulously as he shakes his head.

"All you need to know is that my father, along with his fellow alchemists, believed that everything could be reduced down to one Single element, and that if you could isolate that one element, then you could create anything from it. He worked on that theory for years, creating formulas, abandoning formulas, and then when he and my mother both… died, I continued the search, until I finally perfected it."

"And how old were you?" I ask, trying again.

"Young." He shrugs. "Quite young."

"So you can still age?"

He laughs. "Yes, I got to a certain point, and then I just stopped. I know you prefer the frozen in time vampire theory, but this is real life, Ever, not fantasy."

"Okay, so… " I urge, anxious for more.

"So, my parents died, I was orphaned. You know; in Italy, where I'm from, last names often depicted a person's origins or profession. Esposito means orphan, or exposed. The name was given to me, though I dropped it a century or two ago, since it no longer fit."

"Why didn't you just use your real last name?"

"It's complicated. My father was… hunted. So I thought it better to distance myself."

"And Drina?" I ask, my throat constricting at the mere mention of her name.

He nods. "Poverina-or, little poor one. We were wards of the church; that's where we met. And when she grew ill, I couldn't bear to lose her, so I had her drink too."

"She said you were married." I press my lips together, my throat feeling hot and constricted, knowing she didn't actually say that, though it was definitely implied when she stated her name, her full name.

He squints and looks away, shaking his head and mumbling under his breath.

"Is it true?" I ask, my stomach in knots, my heart pressing hard against my chest.

He nods. "But it's hardly what you think, it happened so long ago it hardly matters anymore."

"So why didn't you get divorced? I mean, if it hardly matters," I say, my cheeks hot, my eyes stinging.

"So you're proposing I show up in court with a wedding certificate dating back several centuries, and ask for a divorce?"

I press my lips and look away, knowing he's right, but still. "Ever, please. You've got to cut me some slack. I'm not like you. You've only been around, well in this life anyway, seventeen years, while I've lived hundreds! More than enough time to make a few mistakes. And while there are certainly plenty of things to judge me on, I hardly think my relationship with Drina is one of them. Things were different back then. I was different. I was vain, superficial, and extremely materialistic. I was out for myself, taking all that I could. But the moment I met you everything changed, and when I lost you, well, I never knew such agonizing pain. But then later, when you reappeared-" He stops, his gaze far away. "Well, no sooner had I found you, than I lost you again. And so it went, over and over. An endless cycle of love and loss-until now"

"So, we… reincarnate?" I say, the word sounding strange on my tongue.

"You do-not me." He shrugs. "I'm always here, always the same."

"So, who was I?" I ask, not sure if I really believe it, yet fascinated with the concept.

"And why can't I remember?"

He smiles, happy to change the subject. "The journey back involves a trip down the River of Forgetfulness. You're not meant to remember, you're here to learn, to evolve, to payoff your karmic debts. Each time starting fresh, forced to find your own way.

Because, Ever, life is not meant to be an open book test."

"Then aren't you cheating, by staying here?" I say, smirking at Mr. Let Me Tell You How the World Works.

He cringes. "Some might say."

"And how can you possibly know all of this if you've never done it yourself?"

"I've had plenty of years to study life's greatest mysteries.

And I've met some amazing teachers along the way. All you need to know about your other selves is that you were always female." He smiles, tucking my hair behind my ear.

"Always very beautiful. And always important to me."

I stare at the sea, manifest a few waves just for the heck of it, then make it all go away.

Everything. All of it. Returning us to our outdoor living room.

"Change of scenery?" He smiles.

"Yes, but only the scenery, not the subject."

He sighs. "So after years of searching I found you again-and you know the rest."

I take a deep breath and stare at the lamp, clicking it off and on, on and off with my mind, trying to get a grip on all this.

"I broke off with Drina a long time ago, but she has this awful habit of reappearing.

And the night at the St. Regis? When you saw us together? I was trying to convince her to move on, once and for all. Though obviously, it didn't quite work. And yes, I know she killed Evangeline, because that day at the beach, when you woke up alone?"

I narrow my eyes, thinking: I knew it! I knew he wasn't surfing! "I'd just found her body, but it was too late to save her. And yes, I know about Haven too, though luckily, I was able to save her."

"So that's where you were that night-when you said you were getting a drink of water…»

He nods.

"So what else have you lied about?" I ask, folding my arms across my chest. "And where'd you go Halloween night, after you left my party?"

"I went home," he says, gazing at me intently. "When I saw the way Drina looked at you, well, I though it better to distance myself. Only I couldn't. I tried. I've been trying all along. But I just couldn't do it. I can't stay away from you." He shakes his head. "And now you know everything. Though I think it's obvious why I couldn't be quite so forthcoming at the time."

I shrug and look away, not willing to give in so easily, even if it's true.

"Oh, and my 'creepy room' as you call it? Well, it just so happens to be my happy place. Not unlike the memory you hold of those last blissful moments in the car with your family." And when he looks at me, I avert my gaze, ashamed for having said it.

"Though I have to admit, I had a good laugh when I realized you thought I was a bloodsucker." He smiles.

"Oh, well excuse me. I mean since there are immortals running around, I figure we may as well bring on the faeries, wizards, werewolves, and-" I shake my head. "I mean jeez, you talk about all this like it's normal!"

He closes his eyes and sighs. And when he opens them again he says, "For me it is normal. This is my life. And now it's your life too, if you choose it. It's not as bad as you think, Ever, really." He looks at me for a long time, and even though part of me still wants to hate him for making me this way, I just can't. And when I feel that overwhelmingly warm, tingly pull, I gaze down at the hand that he's holding and say, "Stop it."

"Stop what?" He looks at me, his eyes tired, the skin surrounding them tense and pale;

"Stop making that warm, tingly, you know. Just stop it!" I say, my mind torn between love and hate.

"I'm not making that, Ever." His eyes are on mine.

"Of course you are! You're making it happen with your… whatever." I roll my eyes and fold my arms across my chest, wondering where we possibly go from here.

"I'm not manifesting that.. I swear. I'd never use trickery to seduceyou."

"Oh, yeah, like the tulips?"

He smiles. "You have no idea what they mean, do you?" I press my lips and look away.

"Flowers have meaning. There's nothing random about it."

I take a deep breath and rearrange the table with my mind, wishing I could rearrange my mind instead.

"There's so much to teach you," he says. "Though it's not all fun and games. You need to take caution, proceed with care." He pauses and looks at me, making sure that I'm listening. "You have to guard against the misuse of power; Drina's a good example of that. And you must be discreet-which means you can't share this with anyone, and I mean no one, understand?"

I just shrug, thinking: Whatever. Knowing he's read my thoughts when he shakes his head and leans toward me.

"Ever, I'm serious, you cannot tell a soul. Promise me." I look at him.

He raises his brow, his hand squeezing mine. "Scout's honor," I mumble, looking away.

He lets go of my hand and relaxes, leaning back against the cushions when he says, "But in the interest of full disclosure you need to know that there's still a way out. You can still cross over. In fact, you could've died right there in the canyon, but instead, you chose to stay."

"But I was prepared to die, I wanted to die."

"You empowered yourself with your memories. You empowered yourself with love.

It's like I said earlier-thoughts create. And in your case, they created healing and strength.

If you really wanted to die you would've simply given up. On some deeper level you must've known this."

And just when I'm about to ask him why he was sneaking into my room while I slept, he says, "It's not what you think."

"Then what was it?" I ask, wondering if I really want to know.

"I was there to… observe. I was surprised you could see me, I was transmuted, so to speak."

I wrap my arms around my knees and bring them close to my chest. Everything he just said went right over my head, but I get just enough of the gist to be suitably creeped out.

He shrugs. "Ever, I feel responsible for you, and-"

"And you wanted to check out the goods?" I look at him, eyebrows raised.

But he just laughs. "May I remind you of your penchant for flannel pajamas?"

I roll my eyes. "So you feel responsible for me, like-like a dad?" I say, laughing as he cringes.

"No, not like a dad. But Ever, I was only in your room that one time, the night we saw each other at the St. Regis, if there were other times-"

"Drina." I cringe, picturing her creeping around my room, spying on me. "Are you sure she can't come here?" I ask, glancing around.

He takes my hand and squeezes, wanting to reassure me when he says, "She doesn't even know it exists. Doesn't know how to get here. As far as she's concerned, you Simply vanished into thin air."

"But how'd you get here? Did you die once, like me?"

He shakes his head. "There are two types of alchemy: physical, which I stumbled upon because of my father, and spiritual, which I stumbled upon when I sensed something more, something bigger, something grander than me. I studied and practiced and worked hard to get here, even learned TM." He stops and looks at me. "Transcendental Meditation from Maharishi Mahesh Yogi." He smiles.

"Um, if you're trying to impress me, it's not really working, I have no idea what any of that means."

He shrugs. "Let's just say it took hundreds of years for me to translate it from the mental to the physical. But you-from the moment you wandered into the field, you were granted a sort of backstage pass, your visions and telepathy are by-products of that."

"God, no wonder you hate high school," I say, wanting to change the subject to something concrete, something I can actually urtderstand. "I mean, you must've finished like, a gazillion, bazillion years ago, right?" And when he winces, I realize his age is a serious sore spot, which is actually pretty funny, considering how he chose to live forever. "I mean, why bother? Why even enroll?"

"That's where you come in." He smiles.

"Oh, so you see some chick in baggy jeans and a hoodie, and you just have to have her so bad, you decide to repeat high school, just to get to her?"

"Sounds about right." He laughs.

"Couldn't you have found another way to ingratiate yourself into my life? It just doesn't make any sense." I shake my head and roll my eyes, getting worked up all over again, until he trails his fingers down the side of cheek and gazes into my eyes.

"Love never does."

I swallow hard, feeling shy, euphoric, and unsure all at once.

Then I clear my throat and say, "I thought you said you suck at love." I narrow my eyes on his, my stomach like a cold bitter marble, wondering why I can't just be happy when the most gorgeous guy on the planet professes his love. Why do I insist on going all negative?

"I was hoping this time would be different" he whispers.

I turn away, my breath coming in short, shallow gasps as I say, "I don't know if I'm up for all this. I don't know what to do."

He pulls me tight against his chest, his arms wrapped around me, as he says, "There's no rush to decide." And when I turn, he has this faraway look in his eyes.

"What's the matter?" I ask. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because I suck at good-byes," he says, attempting a smile that never gets past his mouth. "See, now there's two things I suck at-love and good-byes."

"Maybe they're related." I press my lips together, warning myself not to cry. "So where you going?" I fight to keep my voice calm and neutral, even though my heart doesn't want to beat, and my breath doesn't want to come, and I feel like I'm dying inside.

He shrugs and looks away. "Are you coming back?"

"Up to you." Then he looks at me and says, "Ever, do you still hate me?"

I shake my head, but hold his gaze. "Do you love me?"

I turn my head and look away. Knowing I do, knowing I love him with every strand of hair, with every skin cell, with every drop of blood, that I'm bursting with love, boiling over, but I just can't bring myself to say it. But then again, if he can truly read my mind, then I shouldn't have to say it. He should just know.

"It's always nicer when it's spoken," he says, tucking my hair behind my ear, and pressing his lips to my cheek. "When you do decide, about me, about being immortal, just say the word and I'll be there. I have all of eternity laid out before me; you'll find I'm quite patient." He smiles, then reaches into his pocket, retrieving the silver, crystal encrusted, horse-bit bracelet he bought me at the track. The one I returned when I threw it at him that day in the parking lot. "May I" he gestures.

I nod, my throat too constricted to speak, as he closes the clasp, then cradles my face between the palms of his hands. Brushing my bangs to the side, and pressing his lips to my scar, infusing me with all of the love and forgiveness I know I don't deserve. But when I try to pull away, he holds me that much tighter and says, "You have to forgive yourself, Ever. You're not responsible for any of it."

"What do you know?" I bite down on my lip.

"I know you blame yourself for something that's not your fault. I know you love your little sister with all of your heart and you ask yourself every day if you're doing the right thing by encouraging her visits. I know you, Ever. I know everything about you."

I turn away, my face wet with tears I don't want him to see. "None of that's true. You've got it all wrong. I'm a freak, and bad things happen to everyone I come near, even though I'm the one who deserves it." I shake my head, knowing I don't deserve to be happy, don't deserve this kind of love.

He pulls me into his arms, his touch calm and soothing, but unable to erase the truth.

"I have to go," he finally whispers. "But Ever, if you want to love me, if you truly want to be with me, then you'll have to accept what we are. I'll understand if you can't."

And then I kiss him, pressing into him, needing the feel of his lips against mine, basking in the wonderful, warm glow of his love, the moment growing and swelling and expanding until it fills every space, every nook, every cranny.

And when I open my eyes and pull away, I'm back in my room, all alone.