Let the Sky Fall

I help her lower herself to the ground, then sit behind her. In my head, I picture this cool, romantic moment, like something from a movie where violins play in the background and the lighting’s all moody and seductive.

In reality, I kinda botch it, tangling her hair about a million different ways and taking three times longer than necessary. But come on, I’m a guy. I don’t have a lot of hair-unbraiding experience.

Audra turns to face me when the last strands come free.

My breath catches.

This is Audra. Not the fierce guardian always ready to fight. Just the girl from my dreams. Only now she’s right in front of me, and I can reach out and touch her. Grab her. Kiss her.

I sit on my hands and lean back.

I’m not going to force her—even if everything in me is screaming to screw caution and spend what could very well be our last night on earth in a tangle of heat and lips and limbs.

It has to be her choice.

She reaches for me, her soft fingers sliding down my cheek, leaving trails of sparks.

My eyes focus on her mouth as she licks her lips and leans closer.

She’s going to do it. She’s going to kiss me.

I resist the urge to fist pump the sky.

“You’re beautiful,” I breathe instead.

She leans closer. Our noses touch. I stop myself from closing the distance.

It has to be her.

She sucks in a breath and closes her eyes.

“What are you thinking?” a woman’s voice asks. At. The. Last. Second.

“Come on!” I shout as Audra jumps back like I have the plague.

I turn to glare at the woman.

Her long, dark hair is styled in a tight braid and she’s dressed in the same uniform as Audra, but she doesn’t wear the jacket. Only the tank underneath. Gavin sits on her shoulder—and I swear he’s laughing at me with his beady red-orange eyes.

She lets out a slow, dramatic sigh, letting it rock her whole body as she shakes her head and focuses on Audra—who’s busy trying to smooth her hair into some sort of sloppy braid. “No need to put on airs, Audra. I’ve already seen more than enough. But we’ll deal with that later. For the moment, why don’t you introduce me?”

Audra closes her eyes and swallows, “Vane, this is my—”

“Yeah, I know,” I interrupt—because even if I hadn’t seen her in my dreams, the family resemblance is impossible to miss.

Audra’s mother arrives at last.





CHAPTER 48


AUDRA


I want to claw a hole in the ground and disappear into it for the rest of eternity. But I won’t give my mother the pleasure of watching me crumble.

I dust off my pants as I stand. My legs shake and my loose hair blows in my face, making me feel sloppy and weak. But my voice is strong when I ask, “What are you doing here?”

A chilled night wind whips around us and my mother trembles, hugging her arms to her chest and squeezing her eyes shut, like the draft is stinging her skin. Her voice is strained when she finally opens her eyes and asks, “Did you really think I would leave you to take on the Stormers alone?”

Yes.

“Did you really think I wanted my only daughter—my only child—to have to sacrifice herself, if there was a way to avoid it?”

Yes.

“Yes.” The answer comes from Vane, not me.

My mother straightens up, smoothing the fabric of her tank as she turns to face him. “It sounds like my daughter hasn’t given you an accurate picture of me.”

“Actually, the fact that you wouldn’t call for backup said it all.” He sounds colder and harder than I’ve ever heard him.

Her eyes narrow. “That’s because I’d been counting on you to finally become a real Westerly. And I was hoping you’d turn out to be less useless than the others.”

“Hey,” Vane says, the same second Gavin screeches.

“Enough.” I rub my temples and hold up my hands to silence everyone. “Then why did you tell me you wouldn’t fight with me?” I ask my mother.

She sighs. “I thought if I gave you some extra motivation, you’d finally push for the breakthrough the way you should’ve been doing all along. But I always planned to fight by your side if it didn’t work. So here I am. And it appears I arrived in time to spare you from other things as well.”

My cheeks burn. My whole body burns. But some of that is disappointment—much as I hate to admit it.

My mother clears her throat, snapping me away from a mental image of Vane’s lips.

“I’m only going to say this once,” she says, putting her hand on her hip, like she’s reprimanding a couple of toddlers. “I’m willing to pretend I didn’t find you both in such a compromising position when I arrived, but only because it’s never going to happen again, right?”

I say yes at the same time Vane says no.

“What?” he shouts, making Gavin screech again.

My mother strokes Gavin’s feathers and murmurs soft words to calm him. For a second I’m speechless. Gavin’s the only bird my mother never reached out to, blaming him as much as she blamed me for what happened. I don’t know what to feel when he nuzzles against her fingers, completely swept up in her.