Chapter 36 Monroe
MONROE
The twenty-minute drive takes us thirty. Every neon glow has Briar changing directions, sticking to the back roads until we reach a neighborhood I haven’t seen in ages.
“There.” I point over his shoulder at the third brick townhome in the row. It’s the only house with a royal-purple door—Charlotte’s favorite color. She painted it when we were in high school, and I’ve given it a fresh coat a few times since.
“It needs to be redone,” I say, frowning at the muted hue. I slowly move toward it, tracing over the cracks.
“You have no magic and I’m running on very little.
The home improvements will have to wait.
” Briar’s teeth chatter, his arms crossed, rubbing up and down the inked shoulder muscles peeking from his T-shirt.
My body’s still shaky, but swallowed up in his hefty jacket, enveloped by the scent of vanilla musk and rain-drenched cedar, the quivering is a manageable level.
I hate that he’s right. Neither time nor magic is on our side.
“I have to make sure they’re okay.” With Richard’s frequent hospital visits, he might not be here.
He may not be in this realm at all. It’s a fear I’ve been avoiding every time I’ve thought about them since becoming a Bloom.
Briar never saw his parents after they passed, what if I missed my chance to see him one last time?
We slide through the wall, like trudging through thick, sticky sludge rather than gliding through silk.
I sigh with relief when the interior comes into view, though I nearly topple over.
Briar catches me under my arm and leans me against him.
I wait for him to bring up our ticking clock and depleted magic, but he doesn’t.
He’s patient as Michelangelo painting the Sistine Chapel.
Rattling snaps our attention to the left where a metal pen takes up the corner. Briar frowns.
“That wasn’t there before,” I say, squinting to make out the moving shape in the darkness. When it passes through the slip of moonlight spilling into the room, white fur and a pair of floppy ears has me dropping to my knees and crawling across the floor.
“Jessica!”
She shuffles backward until she bumps into the wall, her cloudy eyes looking cornered.
There’s a long, definitely annoyed sigh that comes from behind me. I nod toward Briar, and Jessica cranes her tiny neck. “See, nothing to be scared of. It’s just me and Sir Thumps-A-Lot.”
Briar huffs and mutters something under his breath.
I shrug. “Sorry.”
“You aren’t,” he says, shaking his head.
The corner of my mouth lifts into a lopsided grin. “Not even a little bit.”
Jessica inches forward and stares up at me. I’m not sure if she can truly see me, but I’m certain she senses our presence. If only humans could be so aware. I’m honestly amazed she’s still alive and kicking. At least one of us is.
“Their bedroom is upstairs.”
Briar steps in front of me. At first, I think he’s trying to block me, but then he turns around and bends down as low as he can without kneeling. “Hop on.”
I cross my arms. “You can’t be serious.”
He glances over his shoulder. “You’re in pain. Weak. And you’ve barely been able to walk since I found you. There’s no way you’re getting up those stairs by yourself.”
I hiss a breath between clenched teeth. “Fine.”
Wrapping my quivering arms around his neck, he slides his hand under my thighs and counts to three. I barely have the strength to jump up. He releases a low grunt and adjusts us so I can cling to him.
“Prefer—not to—be—choked,” he growls, taking a few steps forward.
I loosen my elbows from pinning either side of his throat.
“How was I supposed to know you aren’t into that?” I tease as he starts up the stairs.
He makes a strangled sound, and I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t fill me with a heady sense of pride. Especially when it takes him a second to keep ascending.
The skin around his neck is clammy, and a chill skates down the nape of mine. “Are you okay?”
“Just dandy.”
“That is the first adjective that comes to mind when I think of you,” I grumble.
His teeth chatter, but he huffs out a laugh. “So you think of me?”
I ignore the question. The last thing I need to recall are my many thoughts about Briar Bloom.
I point at the open doorway ahead. “In there.”
Briar takes us over the threshold, and I suck in a breath, bracing myself for what I’ll find. If Beth’s alone, at least she has Jessica, I tell myself, preparing some preemptive solace.
Briar sets me down by the bed. It takes me a moment to get my bearings. Leaning over, I stare at the peacefully sleeping forms of Richard and Beth, his arm slung across her torso. I exhale a shaky breath.
They are both here. Happy.
My eyes burn, and I wipe my cheek, expecting to come away with tears, but there’s nothing.
My skin is dry and the pads of my fingertips scrape like sandpaper.
Briar spins me to face him, his brows pinched beneath his glasses.
“Richard and Beth are safe. Jessica is downstairs. It’s time to go. We need to get you back before—”
I hold up a hand, stopping him, and turn toward the two people who raised my best friend and treated me like an extra daughter. My chin wobbles.
Whenever I imagined immortals, reading about them in stories, I envisioned fearless, powerful beings who never felt pain.
The reality of being an immortal is the opposite.
Yes, we’re gifted powers, but a lifespan doesn’t change one’s ability to experience regret, hurt, or guilt.
We just carry those burdens with us beyond the veil and into the afterlife.
Maybe they’d fade over time, but emotional wounds still bled through immortality.
Even though I’d been paralyzed by my grief, the world didn’t stop when Charlotte died. It didn’t stop for my death either. And much as I don’t want to leave, I don’t belong here.
Not anymore.
“I’m so sorry, Monroe, but we need to go.” Briar’s voice drags the present into focus. He glances at the clock and his lips flatten. “I’m worried we won’t have enough time or magic to transport back.”
Swallowing the realization that time has officially outpaced us, I bend and place a kiss on Beth’s and Richard’s cheeks. “I promise I’ll be back to fix the door.”
I turn and nod to Briar. Without hesitation, he lifts me into his arms, cradling me to him. Our bodies shake as he carefully descends the steps. He inhales then pushes through the wall to the home’s exterior.
I gesture for him to set me down, and we cross to the wooded area at the end of the row of houses.
“Do you have enough magic to return to Florezca?” I ask him, not missing how he staggers a bit through the rain.
“I do, but you’re too depleted to shift. Here.” He pulls out his flask and hands it to me. I swirl it, only hearing the slosh of a small amount of water, scanning over the cracks along his skin. I try to push it toward him, but he won’t budge.
“You should go without me before you get sick again.” I stumble a step, plopping down on the wet grass. “There’s no reason for both of us to stay here if you can go, and it’s not like I’m going anywhere.”
Brows knitting together, he wipes rain off his spectacles, then waits for me to hand him mine. I do, and he slips them into his pocket. “You think I’d leave you here, alone?”
A chestnut tail disappearing into the shrubs and a bright-orange bus replay in my mind…
He winces like I’ve struck him.
“Monroe, I’ll regret running across that street for the rest of my immortal life.” Dropping to the ground, he sidles up next to me and leans against the peeling bark of a tree, tenderly pulling me into his lap.
I nuzzle into his shirt, stuffing my nose full of the scent of rich vanilla and damp cedar. His chest vibrates against my cheek as he unscrews the flask again and puts it to my lips until I sip once. It takes so much effort to swallow.
“Do you want to go back?” Another sip. This one empties the flask, and it disappears.
“You didn’t have a choice last time, but I’m giving you one now.
I know you want to stay and help the people you care about, but you can’t help anyone if you don’t help yourself.
Don’t you see how much you’ve given them already? ”
“Yes,” I admit, though it hurts.
Painting Hope still thrives, and its members continue to provide support and community for one another.
Richard and Beth are together, reunited with Charlotte’s pet, Jessica.
When my friend died, it broke me. I missed her every day that followed, but I carried her impact with me.
Her death didn’t dissolve what she’d given to me, and my death didn’t negate the work I’d done.
“I eventually found my way after losing my mom in the accident… Those you love will too… I learned that from you.”
Even after her own death, Jolie had wanted to see me to tell me how I’d helped her. Maybe our actions were finite, but the impact of the care we put out into the world was boundless.
My body tingles everywhere, and I weakly reach for his cheek. “We should go back.”
He nods, focus going next to us. His nose barely twitches, and it takes him a few tries before the ground spills outward and our way back appears. Getting to his knees, he hooks his arms under my elbows. “Okay then, let’s—”
Searing pain shoots up my spine and a desperate whimper escapes my raw throat.
Briar stiffens. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t,” I rasp, shaking my head. “There’s not enough magic in me to get back. You should just g—”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” he commands. “If you think I’d leave you here in pain, then I hope you’re ready to watch me wither right alongside you.”
“Why would you do that?” I ask through my trembling.
“You know why.”
The corner of my mouth lifts, but I can’t stop staring at his. “Because you’re a Rescue Rider?”
“If that’s what you need to believe, then yes, Monroe. That’s why I came for you. That’s why I’ll always come for you.” He sighs. “It has nothing to do with our—”