Chapter 38
Thirty-Eight
SOREN
I flew home straight after reading exactly sixty-five letters aloud to ShelfSpace.
Sixty. Five.
One a week. Every damn week. For over a year. Plus a few more over the past few weeks.
They weren’t for me. They weren’t for publicity.
They were for her.
My Ava.
Every single one.
So even if Ava doesn’t see the stream today, tomorrow, or ever–if it gets buried in noise or drowned by the next scandal—it doesn’t matter…
It’s out there.
Like me.
Still waiting.
Still hers.
Christmas Eve is upon us. My house is still. Lonely. Lit by twinkle lights I’ve had up since last year. Not because I’m festive. Because I never got around to taking them down. They’ve dulled over time, flickering, trying to die quietly. They know joy doesn’t live here anymore.
The fireplace crackles, the vodka and tonic in my hand is barely touched, and the view out my windows is objectively gorgeous. Snow, evergreens, the Seattle skyline in the distance. It’s a goddamn postcard.
And yet?
Also a painting I can’t step into. Because none of it means anything. Not without her.
I don’t even realize I’m crying until a tear plinks into the glass and makes the saddest little ripple in the universe.
I wipe it away. It didn’t happen. (It did.)
Knock. Knock.
The sound startles me. No one knocks on my door. My neighbors text or throw pinecones. My manager FaceTimes before showing up. And Matthew always barges in as if he pays rent.
Knock. Knock.
My glass hits the table with a thud when I set it down. My feet are moving before my brain even catches up. And when I open that door, I nearly black out.
Ava.
A deep crimson coat hugs her body like she’s Christmas incarnate. Snowflakes cling to her lashes. Her cheeks are flushed. Her lips are pink and perfect.
She’s real.
She’s here.
I do the only rational thing I can think of and launch myself at her. The door flies open so hard it bounces off the wall as I grab her the same way a drowning man would grab a life raft.
“Holy shit, Bells,” I breathe, clutching her as though someone’s going to rip her away again. “You’re alive. You’re okay. You’re here. You’re—you smell amazing—”
And then I start sobbing. Ugly crying. Full-body, gasping, snot-dripping man-wailing.
“Oh my God.” Ava squeezes me tighter, her hand stroking the back of my neck. “Soren, breathe. It’s okay. I’m okay. You’re crushing my lungs.”
“I don’t care,” I sob. “I’ll buy you new ones.”
She laughs, and it’s the most beautiful fucking sound I’ve heard in days. “You’re going to kill me before I can even apologize.”
“You better apologize! I’ve been—” I hiccup. “I’ve been hallucinating your voice in my shampoo bottles. I almost slept in your treehouse. I hugged your pillow so hard I dislocated emotional cartilage.”
“Emotional cartilage?”
“It’s a thing,” I say. “Search it up on WebMD. Right after you search: ‘can heartbreak cause spontaneous personality collapse?’”
She sniffles. I realize she’s crying also now, so I pull back to gaze into her eyes. They’re glassy and red-rimmed, but still Ava. Fire and starlight.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “God, Soren I’m so so sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry,” I whisper back.
“I disappeared on you.”
“I faked dated you to try and get you to go out with me.”
“I left without a word.”
“I might’ve humped your pillow.”
Her head tilts. “What?”
I wave it off. “We’ll circle back.”
Her hand cups my jaw. “I missed you so much it hurt.”
“I missed you so much I lost all my abs,” I say. “They’re gone. From sadness.”
A laugh crawls out of her throat. “They’re not gone.”
“Okay, they’re maybe sulking under holiday bloat.”
We both exhale. We stare at each other.
And then the emotional whiplash hits. Because underneath this joy, there’s still the bruise that she left.
“Where. The FUCK. Were you, Ava?”
Her forehead crinkles.
“You vanished! Houdini’d right out of my life!”
“I broke. I needed space.”
“Why, Bells?” My voice cracks. “Why run? I waited outside your house until my legs went numb. I went to your family’s.
You had Emily lie for you. Every damn day since we came face to face with each other, I’ve been proving I’m here—showing you I’m not going anywhere—and you still disappeared on me. ”
Ava’s back stiffens under my hands, but she doesn’t pull away.
“I wasn’t running from you. I was running from everything.
Being humiliated. I nearly ruined your career, and mine.
I failed. I’m sorry I left and didn’t tell you.
I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you. Or trust you enough with that fear.
I was so wrong, and I’ll carry the weight of that mistake for the rest of my life. ”
My hands find her hips. I yank her closer. “You think I can’t handle your fear? I can. Throw every insecurity you’ve got at me so I can knock them the hell down. Because I will.”
A thousand apologies swim in her eyes. “I’ve spent so long holding on to these trust issues—they’re a part of me, and I didn’t realize I was cutting myself on their jagged edges. But… I’m done. I’m handing them over to you now, Soren. Swing away. Shatter them. Please. I beg you. Just forgive me.”
My face falls. My heart sinks. “Oh, Bells, come here..” I guide her to the sofa, sit down, and ease Ava onto my lap. My arms lock her in. “You left your phone. Your wallet. Do you know how many gas station managers I bribed trying to find you?”
“Why gas stations?”
“I thought maybe you hitchhiked!”
She laughs at that. “Not exactly.”
“It’s not funny! I thought you were gone forever. Or DEAD!”
“I was...dealing. The only way I knew how.”
“Well, I’m sorry, Bells, but I can’t help but wonder—if you can leave once, what’s stopping you from doing it again?”
The tears on her lashes catch the light. “Soren…”
“No.” My voice falters, but I don’t let go. “I need you to hear me.”
She nods slowly.
“When you walked out,” I say, quiet and rough, “it wasn’t just a bad day for me. My mother left when I was a kid, Ava. One day she was there, the next day she was gone. Never came back. Do you know what that does to a child?”
Ava shakes her head no.
“It rewired me, made every goodbye feel like the last one. It made every knock at the door feel like hope, only to be severely disappointed.”
Her mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
“And my father was a joke as a dad, so I built my whole life around not needing anybody. I never wanted to be the little boy left standing on the porch, watching the taillights disappear, ever again. And then you show up in my life, snowball to the face, fire on your tongue, photo booth sin—everything I didn’t know I needed.
I let you in. I stayed. I proved myself every damn day. And you left.”
Her eyes squeeze shut. “I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t need sorry, Bells.” I brush a tear from her cheek with my thumb. “What I need is to know you’re not another person who’s going to prove I’m easy to walk away from.”
“I was scared,” she whispers, cheeks soaked with tears.
“I was scared too,” I rasp back. “Difference is, I stayed.”
Ava flinches at that. She twists to straddle me, her small hands gripping my biceps, anchoring herself to me.
“I didn’t know how to stay. I thought if I disappeared, I’d save you the trouble.
I was drowning in shame, in noise, in every whisper of a world waiting to judge me.
My demons kept telling me I’d ruined everything.
And the one thing I thought I could control was walking away first. Before you could. ”
I swallow the stone that’s lodged in my throat. “You’re not saving me when you leave, Bells. You’re breaking me.”
“I see that now.” Her voice trembles.
“You know it’s funny,” I say, tracing circles on her lower back. “When we first met, on that panel, you said: Sometimes the one who hurt you the most is the only one who can help you heal.” I huff a laugh. “You were right. You hurt me. And here you are.”
“I’m here because I don’t want to run anymore. Not from you. Or from what we have.”
My hand cups her cheek. “Then don’t, Bells. Stay. Let’s heal together.”
She nods.
“If you ever do that again, I’ll follow—I’ll find you…
In every city, whatever fucking crowd you try to hide in, and every single shadow you try to disappear into, until you finally understand there’s nowhere in this world you can go where you’re not mine.
You are my fire and starlight, Bells, but I’m not built to be left in the dark anymore. ”
She nods again, something like determination flashing through the tears. “I promise I’ll stay in the light with you.” For a beat, neither of us moves. Then Ava lifts her palm to my cheek. You, Soren Pembry, are the death of me.”
My throat tightens, but Ava keeps going, eyes on mine.
“Not the kind that ends something—the kind that begins again. You killed the version of me that only knew how to survive. And what’s left…
” Her thumb traces my jaw. “What’s left is someone who finally knows how to live.
You are my heart.” Her bottom lip wobbles. “I love you.”
The words knock the air right out of me.
My own heart kicks hard against my chest, wild and erratic, like it’s trying to leap straight into her hands.
I’ve imagined hearing those three words from her—hell, I’ve agonized over them—but nothing prepared me for the way my chest feels too full to hold it all, and Ava has no idea how she just leveled me.
After processing all that, I say, “I know,” giving the Star Wars reference to her again. Because why not?
“You’re the worst.” She laughs through her tears.
I brush my lips over hers. “I’ll fight through a million wars, curses, and every damn monster in the realm to hear you say that again.”
Ava’s head drops to my shoulder, nuzzles into my neck. “I love you.”
“There’s no out with me, Bells. You’re it. Endgame. My final battle. Do you get that?”
“Yes,” she whispers.
“Fucking finally.” I hold the woman I love as the man who’s finally found the last page of a story he thought the world had burned.
I’m here, with the girl in the red coat who captured me with a look, did unforgettably inappropriate things with a cinnamon roll, and healed me with a knock on the goddamn door.
Pressing a kiss to her temple, I breathe her in, the scent of her shampoo wafting up my nostrils: Jasmine and sandalwood.
“I’m so happy you’re in my arms again. Merry Christmas, Bells,” I murmur. “I love you.”
“Merry Christmas,” she whispers back, then pops up to look at me. “By the way, I have a present for you.”
Surprise wraps around me. “You—you do?”
Eyes twinkling, she nods. “It’s not wrapped. But I think you’ll approve.”
For a second, I can’t answer. Christmas gifts have never really been a thing for me. My childhood sure as hell wasn’t filled with anything from Santa. After that, the only ones that came my way were obligatory—publishers sending corporate baskets, fans sending things that belonged behind a paywall.
I go wonderstruck. “Bells, no one’s ever really given me a Christmas present before. Not one I actually wanted.”
Ava wriggles to stand, a devilish smile curving her lips. “Then you’re overdue.”
With careful fingers, she unbuttons her coat.
One.
Button.
At.
A.
Time.
My heart flatlines when the coat slips from her shoulders and puddles at her feet.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
She dressed as my main character—the one inspired by her. Only… sexier. And more scandalous than anything my cover designer ever approved.
What’s standing before me should absolutely be banned in these United States of America, along with several high-fantasy realms with strict morality codes.
There’s leather—deep forest green and scandalously fitted—laced tight through a corseted bodice that pushes her tits way up. Silver filigree vines curl along the boning, glinting in the firelight.
Ava’s magic, ready to be whispered. Her waist nips in, hips flaring into barely-there high-cut bottoms that leave nothing to the imagination.
The thigh-high boots are laced up the front with slivers of iridescent ribbon and etched with runes that I’m eighty percent sure translate to “your doom is imminent... and you’ll enjoy every second of it. ”
A sheer panel runs up the center, and every inch of revealed skin scrambles my not-so-polite thoughts, sending a rush of blood due south.
Then—then—she reaches down, slips two fingers into the valley of her cleavage, and pulls out a pair of sparkly elf ears.
“Can’t forget the ears,” she teases, her voice pure sin and jingle bells.
My jaw? On the floor.
My soul? Ascending.
My dick? Leading the way.
I can’t speak. Can’t breathe. Every nerve ending in my body is screaming Mate.
One brow arches. “Still breathing over there, Pembry?”
“No,” I manage, my voice an octave higher and very much sounding like middle school me. “Absolutely not.”
Ava steps backward, toward the fireplace, boots clicking on the hardwood, sounding like a countdown to my total ruin.
So yeah—this is happening. And I’m one elf-ear away from proposing with my entire body.
“Your boobs must hurt,” is what I croak, still stunned.
“Worth it,” she says.
“How—how did you even—between the ShelfSpace chaos and vanishing off the grid—when did you make this happen?”
“I have resources.”
My eyes narrow. “Do those resources include Emily and a dark underworld of insatiably horny fandom crafters?”
She shrugs innocently. “Maybe.”
“I forgive her for lying.” Standing, I close the distance between us and wrap an arm around Ava’s waist. “And bless every single elf-loving seamstress in her contact list.”
Ava bats her lashes. “So… Do you like your present?”
“Bells, I’m about to write a ten-book saga in your honor, complete with the same number of orgasms. Or more. Let’s go for more.”
Swooping her up in my arms, she yelps, giggling, and I carry her across my loft as the battle-worn fantasy warrior who conquered the final war, claimed the crown, and is about to plunder this elven woman’s pussy because it holds the key to the entire goddamn realm.
“Soren!”
“Shhh,” I growl, already halfway to the bedroom. “I’m in character.”
“What character?”
“The one who’s going to spend the next several hours worshipping the elven goddess who saved his soul with a knock on Christmas Eve.”