Lucie

My senior year was dragging; I had a hell of a lot to catch up on. Though the school and teachers alike were rather lenient considering the trauma I'd been through, nothing really alleviated the amount of work I had to do.

I was leaving the school now, ducking into my ancient Subaru—which I'd admittedly missed. I'd been used to riding in Cian's Escalade, but that car was totaled now. Cian tried to act like it didn't bother him, but it did. I knew him better than that.

The air was moderate, a light kiss upon my windbreaker as I slammed the car door shut. The key went in the engine; as it rumbled to life, I called my mom and hit speaker.

"Do you even have to tell me?" my mom answered, with no preamble. There was no bitterness in her tone, just a slight humor.

I decided to play along with her. I placed my phone on the dash, putting the car in reverse. "Tell you what?"

"You're going over to those boys' house, aren't you?"

"Yes," I answered, "but at least I told you this time."

She paused a moment, her tone warier. "You know how I feel about them, Lucille—"

"Mom, please," I cut her off, a frown forming at my mouth. "None of what happened was their fault. Besides, I'm okay now. It doesn't matter anymore."

She grunted to display her disbelief, but I just told her I loved her and hung up, heading full speed for the Hornes' house.

The residence was a bit hectic at the moment, what with both Zev and Nura currently living there, and Caprice constantly wafting in and out. Zev was still in the process of training Vinny, Nura had no other home to go to; and whatever time Caprice didn't spend residing over her nightclub or participating in one night stands, she spent under the Hornes' roof.

Of course there was me, too. I was there almost every afternoon.

I pulled up and parked in the driveway, stepping out into the late September breeze, glancing at the leaves just beginning to turn brown and orange. The closer I came to the door, the louder the ruckus behind it became. I couldn't make out any words, but someone was shouting at someone else, and someone else was shouting at this person to stop shouting.

I rolled my eyes, using the princess key Cian had given me to open the door. The yelling was coming from the kitchen; I approached it, rounding the corner with a risen eyebrow.

Cian was pointing an accusing finger at Zev, who was snapping back at him; Vinny and Nura sat quietly, their faces twisted as if trying to hide smiles; Mrs. Horne stood there with a pen and a paper clutched in her hands, watching the exchange with mouse-like eyes.

"You can't fill it out with purple pen," Cian was saying. "It's an official document!"

"So what! As long as it can be read, what does it matter if it's purple? It's prettier that way, anyway."

"It's a form. It shouldn't be pretty—"

"Okay," I cut in, dropping my backpack to the floor and coming over to the island, around which everyone was congregated. "What is going on here?"

Mrs. Horne set the paper down for me to see; it appeared to be some sort of overly complicated paperwork. "We're trying to fill out Nura's adoption files."

"And for whatever reason," Cian added, "Zev thinks it should be done in purple ink."

"But it's Nura's favorite color," Zev defended, casting a brisk glance at her. "Isn't it?"

She shrugged. "I guess, but—"

"Point proven," Zev said, picking up a purple ink pen from the counter and thrusting it at Mrs. Horne. She narrowed her eyes at it; Cian continued to shake his head at her. "Here. Take it and sign away, Mrs. Horne."

She sighed, then looked to Nura, a pure congeniality gleaming in her eyes. She'd been better, much better, since Vinny had come back, since life had settled down for the first time in years. And after spending a few weeks with her, she fell just as much in love with Nura as the rest of us had. As soon as these papers were filled out, Cian and Vinny would have a new little sister.

"What do you think, Nura?" Mrs. Horne inquired, leaning over the island with her cheek in her palm. I noticed Vinny was looking between the two of them, his eyes locked on his mother for a moment, then switching towards Nura for another. A soft smile played at his mouth; I wasn't sure, but everything about him seemed softer, like the blood of heaven that now ran in his veins had soothed every sharp edge.

"It is your adoption, after all," Mrs. Horne reasoned.

Nura considered it for a moment, then sighed and hopped off her barstool. "No offense, Zev," she said, "but I have to go with Cian on this one. I don't want any chance of this being rejected."

Zev let out a theatrical groan, but Cian just chuckled and reached out for her, ruffling her hair until she called out between giggles for him to stop. It was strange to watch the two of them, how a girl could get along with the boy who'd killed her father. It was forgiveness at its purest, and Nura had shown it to me, to everyone. "And it won't get rejected, thanks to your brilliant choice," Cian commended, releasing Nura as he grinned down at her. "You're one smart cookie, you know."

Zev was still grumbling; Nura just ignored him and poked her nose in the air. "Yes. I'm quite aware."

The room dissolved into a low buzz again. Nura was underneath Mrs. Horne's arm, watching her work. Vinny and Zev conversed softly about something—guardian angel business, if I had to guess—near the kitchen's edge. And Cian's and my eyes met. He must have caught the unrest in my expression. At once, he was at my side, slipping his hand into mine and pulling me away from the noise. "Hey," he breathed, close enough that I could taste the words, "you alright?"

"Yeah," I said. "It's just—I came by here because I needed to tell you something. Well, I mean, I would have came by anyway, but today—"

"I get it, muffin," he replied, a smile sneaking up on him. He nudged my cheek with his hand; I leaned into the embrace. "Trust me. I understand. Do we need to go somewhere else?"

He moved to bring his hand down, but I didn't want him to. I grabbed it, stopping him, peering up into the stern sapphire of his eyes. Looking into them was like feeling water itself, gently soaking my hair and kissing my skin.

My eyes fell to his lips. It was all I could to do to pry my gaze back up.

"Lucie?" he exhaled.

I nodded, and he paused a moment to frown at me before gripping my hand more tautly and pulling me out the door.

Outside was the only place far enough. It wasn't that what I had to say was all that private, it was just that it would be better if it was. I didn't want anyone to hear except Cian, anyone to talk to except Cian. He was the only one. So I didn't open my mouth until we were at the Hornes' dock, sitting silently at its edge.

"My parents," I began, keeping my gaze down towards the water, "think I should go away. For college."

Cian waited a moment. Though I could tell he was trying to steady himself, I heard the way his voice wavered a bit as he spoke. "Away?"

"Very far away," I elaborated, shaking my head. Even I couldn't believe it; it was entirely unfair. "Possibly out of state, even."

Cian didn't move, but I felt him tense, his shoulders squaring beside me. It was odd, I thought, how the burble of the bay and the gentle melody of the wind could be so tranquil while everything else was the opposite. I suppose that was why nature was so important; it remained constant even when everything else continued to move and shift. Years from now, maybe, long after Cian and I had died—maybe together, maybe not, who even knew—the bay would still be here. The dock might be rotted, the house might be gone, but the bay would remain, at least, and the sand for two pairs of feet like ours to stand on.

"Why?" Cian demanded.

I turned to look at him; the breeze blew strands of his hair into his eyes. "You know why, don't you? They just want someone to blame. I don't think they've gotten over it yet."

"But you're back," he defended. "Can't they see that? That you're awake, you're fine? So why would they—why would they want to take you away from us?"

"As long as I'm here," I started, my lips downturned, "as long as I'm with...you guys, I'm being taken away from them, as far as they're concerned. So they want me to go. Far away from here. They said—they said they just don't want me to get hurt."

"That's ridiculous," Cian muttered. He reached up to rub his eyes, shaking his head as he did. I heard him sigh, though it was more of a frustrated hiss from between his teeth. "That's ridiculous. This—here—is your home. What's safe about leaving it? You don't—"

He cut off, then looked at me.

"What?" I asked, so quietly that I almost didn't hear it myself. My heart was a drum in my chest, beating out of rhythm. What was I supposed to say? What was I supposed to—what did he want me to say?

"You don't want to leave, do you?"

"Cian," I exhaled, grabbing his hand again, "no. But they're my parents. I kind of have to do what they tell me to."

"Not on everything. Not on this," he said, then jolted to his feet. My hand was jerked from his, but he extended it down to me, his eyebrows furrowed, expression intent. Somehow, I knew. I knew what he was going to say, even before he said it.

"Lulu," he said, and savored it like a favorite taste on his tongue. "Tell me right now. Tell me you want to stay. Tell me you want to stay here, with me, with Vinny, with everyone. Tell me you want to be here—promise me you're not leaving. Tell me all that and I promise that's what'll happen."

I barely hesitated. I just squeezed his hand, slipped my arm around his lower back and pressed myself closer. I could hear it, his heartbeat underneath his breastbone, that little pulse that I realized I would never be able to live without. So I told him, "I want to stay. I want to stay, Cian."

He paused, then leaned back a little to look at me. I caught the very moment his frown evaporated, his whole face blossoming into a smile, his best smile, his true smile. "Then you'll stay," he told me. "And that's all there is to it."

"But what if—"

"None of that, muffin," he shushed, placing a finger against my lips, which I narrowed my eyes at him for. "There is no what if. There's only now. Here. Now. Right?"

I shook my head. "Not exactly."

Cian raised an eyebrow, but he let out a laugh when I drew him close again, close enough that his chest was on my chest and his air was my air. His next words were whispered right into my mouth, it felt like. I wouldn't have wanted them any other way. "I'm wrong?" he breathed.

"Yeah," I said, already shutting my eyes. "You forgot one.

"Forever."