He makes it sound so simple, but I can’t even wrap my head around the conversations I need to have. Will Dad forgive me for leaving? Will Mom? Can I forgive them? There’s so much to work out. But I want to do it. I need to.
“So this is why you’ve been afraid of me?” Gideon says, after a moment. “You think I’ll pull a move like your dad. That I’ll head for the hills when you need me to be there for you?”
“First of all, I’ve never been afraid of you. I’ve been afraid of being with you. Secondly, you have it backward. I knew you wouldn’t run. I was afraid I would. I was afraid I don’t have the ‘stick-around’ gene, and that I’d just check out like my dad. By keeping things superficial, I was sparing us the bigger hurt when I leave.”
He leans back a little, the tension releasing from his brow. He nods. “Solid read on me, Martin. But you’re wrong about you.”
“I am?”
“Hundred percent. You might take the long road from time to time, but you never actually leave. You’re here for Bas, aren’t you? And you’re going home to your family when this is over, right? You’re not a leaver. Especially not when it comes to me. You’re in really deep when it comes to me. I mean, Daryn, you infiltrated a military base to take a picture of my ass. You’re a goner. Believe me. You’re not going anywhere.”
I want to disagree with him, but I just laugh.
As ridiculous as he’s being, I’m comforted by what he said. And relieved. Mostly though, what I feel is the profound desire to stay right where I am.
*
“Remember Bas’s birthday cake?” Jode says as he finishes reading Sebastian’s note for the third time. He passes it to Marcus, who hands it back to me.
Their earlier suspicion has eroded. As I look across the fire, the hope of finding Bas is tangible. It’s in the glint in their eyes. Their easy smiles. The way no one complained about trail mix for dinner.
Bas knows we’re here. He could show up at any moment.
We’re so close now. So close.
We all feel it.
“You mean our collective unbirthday cake in Germany?” I say. “How could I forget?” We’d been on a train somewhere near Frankfurt, running from the Kindred, when Bas showed up in our private car with a birthday cake. An amaretto-infused cake frosted with layers of white and dark chocolate. “I think about that cake regularly.”
Not just because it was so good. Bas decided that, since it was none of our birthdays, we should celebrate our unbirthdays. We did it, too. We sang the song and everything.
It was so Bas. Random and fun. He elevated ordinary moments.
As the guys retell the story, I steal a few moments to write in my journal. Tonight has grown cold and my fingers feel stiff. I have to keep stopping to hold them closer to the fire.
22. Fires, when it’s cold
23. Riot, to start fires when it’s cold
24. The note from Sebastian (Come find us, Bas! We’re here. We’re waiting for you!)
25. Sebastian’s unbirthday cake in Frankfurt
26. Home, on the horizon (I will go and I will apologize and I will be apologized to.)
27. Gideon, I know you’re reading over my shoulder …
He laughs. “I thought you said it was our list.”
“It is, but you’re distracting me.”
“Am I distracting you, Daryn?” He smiles, his eyes going heavy.
He is a distraction. His smile. His attention. Everything about him. I’ve kissed him and touched him and I can do both now when I want to, just like I did by the lake a little while ago. It’s mind-blowing. If only we weren’t in a demon realm, I could really put this new development to good use.
“Would the pair of you like to turn your backs so you exclude us more effectively?” Jode asks.
“We’re just adding to the list.” I hold up my journal.
“Daryn.” Gideon shakes his head, pretending to be disappointed. “It’s our list.”
“A list?” Jode leans back, resting his head against his bag. “What’s this list about?”
Rather than explain it, I just lean over and give it to him.
Gideon puts his hand over his heart and winces. “I hate sharing, Martin.”
I lean up, whispering in his ear. “Some things are only for you.”
He gives me a long unblinking look that makes my face burn and my body feel light and hot.
“This is an outrage,” Jode says dryly. “I’m in here once and Gideon is here … two, three, four times?”
“Three,” I say. “The last one doesn’t really count.”
“Oh, it counts,” Gideon says.
“How many times am I in it?” Marcus asks.
“Are you guys making this a competition?”
“Of course.”
“Yeah.”
“Definitely. And I’m dominating.”
“For real,” Marcus says. “How many times am I on there?”
“Once, like me. For your winning smile.” Jode closes the notebook and tosses it to Marcus. “But don’t let it go to your head. Gideon’s arse has a spot on the list as well.”
Gideon looks at me and winks. “Like I said, dominating.”
“Dare, you got a pen?” Marcus asks.
This catches me by surprise for a moment. “Yes.” I toss it to him, smiling. This is perfect. Whatever he adds, it’s already perfect.
As Marcus writes, Jode leans back and gazes up at the trees. “You’re thinking it’ll be five for you after this. Aren’t you, Gideon?”
“You know me well, Ellis.”
Marcus finishes writing. He sets the pen in the fold and hands the journal to Gideon. I lean in and read.
Marcus’s handwriting is elegant cursive—almost astonishingly elegant. And what he wrote is, as expected, perfection. Even better is that Gideon reads it aloud.
“‘Twenty-eight. The family you make.’” He looks at Marcus. “Damn right, bro. This is the best one here.” He looks at me. “Tied with fourteen.”
“Ah, yes,” Jode says. “Gideon’s Super Lips.”
Marcus shakes his head at me. “Why?”
“It was a mistake. I wrote it before the list went public. What’s your addition, Jode? It can be anything. Anything that has significance to you.”
“Full English breakfast,” he says, without missing a beat. “Bacon, eggs, sausages, baked beans, grilled tomato, mushrooms, toast, marmalade. With tea, of course. One of life’s undeniable pleasures.”
My mouth instantly waters. “Well, it’s no trail mix, but all right.” I add “English Breakfast” to the list. “What else?”
“Another?” Jode narrows his eyes in thought. “Well, I don’t think Super Lips will like it.”
“Then don’t say it,” Gideon says.
“Say it, Jode.” Marcus smiles. “You gotta say it now.”
“Dude,” Gideon says. “No.”
“Number thirty,” I say, as I pretend to write. “When Gideon. Gets. Flustered.”
“I’m not flustered.”
“Actually, you are.”
“Actually, I’m not.” He looks at Jode. “Go, Drummond. Say your thing. Number thirty.”