I don’t, though, figuring I deserve to be cold and miserable given the way I just acted in there. It was not with the cool bravery and determination to do what was best for the cause that I’ve been exhibiting since becoming this sort of savior.
Choosing a couch, I settle one of the pillows behind my back and lean against the armrest, my legs stretched out before me. I settle the blanket over me and pull it up to my chin, staring at the southern part of the city that borders the water.
The sliding door opens with a soft whoosh, and I’m surprised he came out as fast as he did. I figured he was still continuing to make plans and ignoring my bratty exit because it didn’t deserve attention.
Sheepishly, I glance up. “What are you doing out here?”
The chastising look he gives me causes me to duck my face under the blanket. He moves gracefully across the patio to the couch I’m on. Picking up my legs, he takes the center cushion and drapes them back over his lap, his palms settling heavy and comforting on my thighs.
“I’m having a moment,” I say sullenly.
“You’re allowed,” he says simply as he looks straight ahead over the water. It puts his face in profile to me, which is as stunning from this angle as any other. Sometimes, there are brief moments I have doubts that someone as beautiful as him could love someone like me.
I even told him that once while we were lying in bed, and he stared at me as if I were crazy. He had told me I was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his almost five thousand years of living.
I chose to believe him but, sometimes… I have doubts that surface.
I push those away though, because I have enough worries on my plate right now.
“What’s going on with you?” Carrick asks, twisting so he can look me in the eye.
I shrug, pushing the blanket down a little and playing with the fringe.
“Finley,” Carrick warns, his tone implying he wants to talk and he’s not going to accept shrugs, silence, or being vague.
The sigh that comes out of me is long, and I hadn’t realized how much I had pent up. “I feel like I’m drowning,” I admit.
Carrick tips his head as one hand squeezes my thigh in reassurance. “How so?”
“Well,” I say sarcastically, but also with a hint of teasing, “it’s a little pressurizing to be the savior of the world, you know. And, apparently, I’m solely the one who has to take down Kymaris.”
Carrick’s eyes go soft with sympathy, and he nods in understanding. I get why he didn’t want to add that last burden to my plate, but I’m glad I know.
I pick at the fringe some more. “It’s just… my life has changed so drastically in such a short period of time.”
“From barista, to business owner, to savior of the world,” he murmurs.
“To finding out I’m under a curse to be reincarnated over and over again,” I point out. “Let’s not forget that.”
Carrick chuckles, draping his arm over the couch and leaning in slightly toward me. “You have the weight of the world on your shoulders.”
“Right,” I say in agreement. “But… I felt like I was handling it, you know? I was focused and driven, and we had a solid game plan. And now it’s all messed up, and we have to run. I don’t like it.”
Carrick studies me for a moment, his eyes roaming my face and ending on my eyes where he stares the longest.
Always my eyes.
“You’ve been so strong, Finley. Hell, just in the last few weeks, you fought a wraith, learned how to use your powers from Deandra, and went to Micah’s realm to steal the chalice and Blood Stone. You’ve had a less-than-satisfying conversation with your twin, who doesn’t seem interested in being rescued from the Underworld, you’re going to have to battle Kymaris, and you might have to sacrifice yourself in this prophecy. Even if you do make it, you’re destined to die by Rune’s curse at some point.”
“Not making me feel better here,” I grumble.
“The point is, you’re entitled to have a vulnerable moment or two, my love. And I’ll always be there when it happens, to prop you up and reassure you.”
The flush of love and admiration sweeps through me so fiercely that it actually takes my breath away. “You know me so well.”
His hand moves from the back of the couch to push some hair behind my ear. “I’m just saying… you don’t have to be strong all the time. I’ve got you when you’re not able. So, tell me what’s really going on because I know it’s not about Rainey and Myles’ wedding.”
Leaning my face into his hand, I briefly snuggle into it with my eyes closed. When I open them, I say, “So much has happened to me—overwhelming things—and I feel like I’ve changed so much. I’m afraid the real me is gone. That little episode you saw of me getting worked up and using the wedding as an excuse… that was the old me talking and making a point that things other than this prophecy can be important. I just don’t want to stop being me, you know. I don’t want to change into something I don’t like.”
“I don’t think you’ve changed, Finley,” Carrick says, and I frown that he can’t see it. Again, he brushes my hair back from my face. “Everything you’ve been through, all the horrible, overwhelming, and life-changing events, merely chipped away all the things you were not. What is left is who you really are. And you’ll always be the woman who cares about her friends’ wedding.”
“You really believe that?” I ask him curiously.
“Of course I do.” His hand slides behind my back, and he pulls me forward just a bit to put his face nearer to mine. “And no one knows you better than I do. No one has seen who you are at your core the way I have. You are exactly who you are supposed to be—and whether you’re worried about Rainey and Myles’ wedding or saving the world—you’re still the same amazing, brave, badass, smart, tough, funny, and sexy-as-fuck woman I’ve always known.”
My gaze pins to his. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
“Anytime,” he replies, then releases his hold behind my neck and sinks back down to the pillow.
“What do you think about Boral?” I ask, my brain switching back to business.
Carrick’s expression darkens. “I don’t know. I can’t imagine he’d voluntarily give it up because of the binding, but maybe Kymaris had some sort of magic to undo it.”
“Is that likely?” I ask.
“No,” he replies grimly. “He was probably tortured for the information. If so, the minute he gave it up, he died. If he gave it up voluntarily because they found a way to undo the binding, then he’s dead by my hand.”
In my heart, I think he’s dead. I don’t think he would have voluntarily betrayed us, which would have betrayed his son. I also take stock of the fact that I’m actually feeling a sense of loss over Boral. He was a wretched creature who was responsible for who knows how much suffering and death. He had no morals, no conscience, and yet… he was helping us.
He’d wanted to make amends with Zaid, and damn it… I was actually starting to like the Dark Fae. He’d never been untoward to me, and he had always helped. He even protected me when we came out of Micah’s realm and the top half of that pine tree was going to crush me.