Chapter 40
We’re not out of the vortex’s perimeter.
“This isn’t right.” Panic rises in Sumner’s voice. “It can’t—I measured. The calculations proved this is the end of the boundary.”
Sumner is meticulous. I have no doubt he’s correct. Lionel measured the same boundary earlier in the year, and it hadn’t changed. Either it’s spreading or—
Our gaze connects. We’ve come to the same realization, and I’ve never seen him look so afraid.
I unearth the words from my throat. “It’s me.”
He’s shaking his head, disbelief in his eyes. “It’s not.”
Lionel glances between us, but we both hear it. The denial in his tone. So I loosen my hand from his and test the theory. One step backward, then another. Putting distance between us as I leave them outside the invisible border while I remain in.
Sumner’s eyes jump to the compass. I keep moving farther, and it’s only when I’m several yards away that he locks eyes with me. He doesn’t need to say it. It’s readable in his collapsed expression.
Somehow, I’m part of this.
I was within the magnetic vortex’s limits the night I collided with William, because he’s the one who unknowingly set them.
Whatever cosmological phenomenon occurred must have bound us to this place—or perhaps to each other.
Maybe William was right all along. There is a connection between us.
The evidence stands. I can’t escape the vortex without expanding the boundaries, inviting anyone into the zone of no return and diminishing any chance of this timeline’s survival.
What happens to me? I’m supposed to remain here.
We’d done everything right, hadn’t we? Resolved to get him to his correct time. Reset everything to how it was. Unless—
This was always going to happen. No resets. There is no Ivernia without William’s venture into this timeline. Because if his presence is intentional to fulfill both of our wishes, I was never meant to reverse mine. It wouldn’t work. His time here determines what he’s meant to do with his life.
Give me what I need to make this place his again.
My fragile plea to the universe had made this place William’s again, and, in turn, my father’s—but William is the only one with the power to ensure it belongs to us. His choices moving forward in his present can change the outcome in ours. That’s what’s tying us together.
“He needs to know—” I don’t have time to explain. “I have to go back.”
Sumner’s at my side in seconds. “I’m going with you.”
Emotion grips my throat. “You can’t.”
“Don’t ask me to do this,” he croaks, closing the gap between us. Our arms weave around each other. “Not without you.”
My heart splinters and cracks. He’s always been difficult. It doesn’t surprise me he refuses to budge on this.
I slide my hands along his jaw. “I have to try.”
A tear leaks from the corner of his eye. The wind snatches it away. “It wasn’t supposed to happen this way,” he says hoarsely, hands circling my wrists. He’s shaking his head now, a thousand tiny no’s of pure denial and devastation.
It takes monumental effort, but I try for a smile. “When have I ever turned down a challenge?”
His eyes sweep over mine. That single searching motion shatters me into a thousand sparkling lights emanating off the reflective surfaces of a disco ball.
As though led by a gravitational pull, we crash together like a stellar collision.
His soft lips ignite warmth through my core, the feeling bright and urgent and rare.
It’s a meteor shower in the center of my chest, magic lighting up my darkest corners.
And I can’t help but think we’re supposed to fit like this, like it’s always made sense.
Like it’s powerful enough to fuel the sun.
His thumb sweeps across my jaw as we pull away.
I take the pen from behind his ear and wind my arms around him one last time, pressing my cheek against his jacket.
He holds me close, his chin resting against the top of my head.
A tightness fills my chest as I breathe him in, his bright amber warmth.
I desperately wish I could carve every memory of us into my soul.
The time we had together wasn’t enough, never enough, but at least it was ours.
The wind whistles. Grand pine trees sway under its strength. Above us, the funnel continues to corkscrew rays of green light as it gains momentum.
We’re running out of time.
Loosening my hold, I move back. “I need you to promise—” I say, and the cracks in his resolve deepen. The biting wind steals my tears and stings my eyes. “Promise me it will be okay. That we’ll be okay.”
A heavy sadness falls over him. “Delaney,” he rasps.
But I shake my head. Sometimes you need to hear the encouraging thing even if it’s not a guarantee.
“Please,” I urge. Turmoil leaks from my lips and fractures my words. “Please promise me.”
Or I won’t be able to make myself go, I think.
He folds me into his chest, hearts beating against hearts. “I promise,” he whispers against my ear.
We don’t know what happens next. All I know is I don’t want any life other than the one I have now.
I’d take the heartbreak, the loss and grief and pain, all of it a thousand times over if it meant holding tight to this corner of the universe.
Because I don’t want to exist in a world without the love I have here.
My gaze catches Lionel’s over Sumner’s shoulder, still outside of the boundary. “Lionel!” I have to shout over the wind. “Make sure he stays.”
Expression crumbling, Lionel gives me a brave salute. “Four minutes!” he yells. “You can do this.”
The sky is the brightest I’ve ever seen it without help from the sun, saturating the night in exquisite shades of green.
The aurora continues to coil in a cyclone pattern overhead, growing ever brighter.
Sumner’s jacket ripples under the wind’s strength.
His out-of-control hair whips skyward. Cheeks flushed, eyes bright and beautiful.
I memorize this glimpse of him and seal it in my heart.
And then I release him, drinking in these final moments. My fear threatens to root me in place. Because this is it. From here there are no concrete answers. Only guesswork and hope.
He takes slow, agonizing steps backward, solid assuredness behind his eyes. When he mouths, Go, it takes an enormous amount of bravery for me to act.
But I do. I turn, and then I run.