Endless (Shadowlands 3)

“I don’t know. Not yet. But I know there’s an answer.”

He shifted in his seat, squinting out at the blanket of fog. There was something brighter about the color of the sky. It was more purple than gray, contrasting sharply with the swirling mist overhead. I took a deep breath.

“You’ve always said there’s no way to get into the Shadowlands. Not for us,” I ventured.

“Yeah?” he said.

“But what if there was?” I asked. “If I had a tainted coin—”

“What? No. No way.”

“You don’t know that I can’t,” I shot back. “I can’t know unless I try.”

“Yeah, maybe. But how the hell would you get back out?” Tristan demanded.

“I’d find a way,” I said, turning in my seat to face him, my pulse thrumming in my wrists. “There has to be a way.”

“No way. There’s no chance,” Tristan said. “I am not going to let you risk your eternal soul.”

“But what about—”

“No. Rory. No. I can’t lose you,” Tristan said, grabbing my arm. “I don’t think I can exist here without you. Not anymore. You’re everything to me—do you understand that? Everything.”

I leaned forward, pressing my forehead to his. “Tristan—”

“Don’t leave me, Rory,” he whispered, his breath warm and sweet on my face. His fingers reached up and cupped my jaw, entangling themselves in my hair. “Promise me you’ll never leave me.”

I couldn’t speak. But I looked into his eyes, so very close to mine, and I nodded. I nodded my promise until his lips met mine.

I hadn’t known exactly how I would react to Tristan’s kiss until this moment, but now, suddenly, I knew that I had to kiss him back with everything I had. His lips were dry and tasted of salt and something rich and warm. I felt myself start to fold into him, my whole body sighing in relief. I was home. I was home. I was home. This was where I belonged. I knew it. He knew it. I was pretty sure the entire universe knew it. So this time, I didn’t pull away. I didn’t think about anyone else but him. I just let him kiss me and kiss me and kiss me, until he finally came up for air.

“God, I love you,” he said.

“I love you, too.”

He was cupping my neck with both of his hands, and I had somehow gathered the fabric of his T-shirt up in my fists until most of his perfect six-pack was exposed. Looking into my eyes, Tristan smiled contentedly.

“Check it out.”

“What?” I asked.

He turned my face to look out the windshield and I saw it. Five perfect beams of light busting through the fog ceiling, casting an incredible, ethereal glow on the ocean waves below. It was beautiful.

“The sun!” I gasped.

Tristan laughed. “The sun.”

Tristan cranked up the stereo—some ancient tune about summer in the city—and we headed back to town with the windows down. With one hand on the wheel and the other clutching mine, Tristan looked like himself again—like the beautiful, beach-town boy I’d fallen in love with—if only slightly less tan. Suddenly the bumps and divots in the road didn’t seem so much ominous as entertaining, showing us a bouncing, rollicking good time.

With Tristan’s hand in mine, I knew that everything really was going to be okay. He would never give up until my father and Darcy were freed. We’d figure it out together, come up with a plan, and save them. There was no longer any doubt in my mind. When Tristan said he was going to do something, he did it.

He parked the SUV near the town square and we could already see that everyone else in Juniper Landing had been inspired with the same idea. People strolled the sidewalks, stopping to chat with one another over the abrupt change in weather, or simply tipping their faces toward the sun. A couple of guys had already whipped out a Frisbee and were busy running and leaping through the wet grass, laughing as one of them skidded on his shoulder like the world was his own personal Slip’N Slide. Liam and Lalani stood at the edge of the general store’s striped awning, leaning into opposite sides of a column, not quite touching but smiling privately. There were bikers and skateboarders, joggers and gossipers. Some guy I’d never seen before bounced by on a pogo stick, giving us a jaunty wave.

The best part about it was, there were no visitors standing around shooting us dirty looks. No suspicious glances or whispers behind hands. The sun was working its magic on everyone’s psyches.

“Okay, this is like a circus,” Tristan said, still holding my hand.

“But in a good way,” I replied. “At least there are no actual clowns.”