Chapter Fifteen
Sixtine
Slowly, I blink my eyes open.
It’s more difficult than I expected, like I’m fighting my way through molasses just to lift my eyelids, but eventually I get them opened.
I appear to be laying on my back, outside somewhere. The ground is soft and damp beneath me. Above me, I see a thick line of treetops.
The sun peeks out through the leaves, illuminating the ground with beautiful rays of light. A quiet, peaceful sort of calm sweeps over me.
Where am I?
Where’s Phoenix?
Last thing I remember, I was in the hospital, about to give birth to our baby.
Placing a hand on my stomach, I’m surprised to find that it’s flat. There’s a soreness in my belly and body that I can’t explain, but other than that I’m not outwardly pregnant.
I sit up with a groan, massaging the muscles in my neck. My gaze moves from the tops of the trees down to inspect the forest around me.
With one look I realize where I am. I know these woods. I know them like the back of my hand.
Looking around me, I find what I expected to — I’m lying at the base of the treehouse my dad had designed and built for me when I was a child.
I’m home.
I’m home and I’m more confused than ever because I know I shouldn’t be here. I’m supposed to be in the hospital.
Is this some kind of fever dream?
A rustling sound sends a scared shiver down my spine, raising the hairs on the back of my neck in the process. I jump to my feet and turn with my fists held up, ready to take on whoever is trying to sneak up on me.
I realize I look ridiculous, but I won’t be caught unawares. My husband taught me better than that.
A figure emerges from behind the trees and my gaze collides with the trespasser’s.
My arms fall back to my sides in shock.
A soft, disbelieving whimper leaves my lips and I cover my mouth to muffle it. Tears immediately pool in my eyes, blurring my vision until I can’t see him anymore. I blink them away hastily, not wanting to lose sight of him, and kind eyes meet mine once more.
“Hi, ladybug.”
My shoulders slump forward when he speaks, my body overcome with emotion. I drop my face in my hands and sob tears of grief and joy combined.
He waits patiently as I wipe the tears off my cheeks with the palms of my hand, blinking a few times to make sure he’s still there.
That it’s really him.
His name leaves my lips almost like a prayer.
“Astor.”
He’s standing less than ten meters from me, as real to me as anyone has ever felt. But I know he’s not.
He can’t be.
Part of my tears are because I grew up, but he didn’t. I stand before him as a twenty-four-year-old adult, but he looks back at me as the same ten year old boy I last saw.
The same boy I knew. The same brilliant blond hair, the same easy grin.
This is the second time I’ve seen him since he died. The first was in a dream, when I was eighteen. He came to me and spoke only briefly, yet I cherish that memory more than I do almost any other.
But this isn’t a dream, I know that.
It doesn’t feel like it did last time.
It feels real and that’s instantly more sobering, because if I’m not dreaming him, then how are we here together?
“It’s good to see you,” he says, flashing me his signature crooked grin.
“It’s good to see you too,” I answer, more tears streaming down my face. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
“You’re telling me.”
He says it like I shouldn’t be.
I look around me once more. This place looks like home, but it doesn’t feel right. It’s too quiet, the air too still, the colors around us almost muted.
“What are you doing here, ladybug?”
I look back at him, shaking my head gently. “I’m not sure,” I admit. “But this doesn’t feel like a dream.” Piecing together where I was before I woke up here, I ask the next obvious question. “Am I dead?”
I’m holding my breath for his answer, but then he ruffles his hair. He always used to do that when he was thinking through how to answer a complicated question. Seeing him do the same now sends a nostalgic pang to my stomach.
This may not actually be real, but it’s real to me in every way that matters.
“It isn’t a dream,” he confirms. “And you’re not dead. But you’re not amongst the living either.”
I blow out the breath I was holding. So, I was right. This isn’t a dream, this is my very own purgatory.
It all comes back to me, suddenly.
Pushing, the c-section, feeling so beyond weak.
Slipping into a deep sleep, oblivion beckoning to me with bewitching fingers.
Giving in and letting it take me.
The anesthesia explains why I’m having this hallucination. If I’m not dead, then the doctors must be working to save my life as we speak.
Surprisingly, I don’t freak out at the news that I’m dying. That same calm from earlier washes over me.
“I think I understand why I’m here, but why are you?” I ask. “How come I can see you and talk to you?”
He stares at me, his eyes lingering on mine.
“I’m here to take you to the next place, if you’re ready.”
The next place.
In a way, I realize my brain is recreating a modified version of what happened fifteen years ago — ride my bicycle into the street with Astor or fall behind and eventually find my way back to Phoenix.
Follow Astor into the next place and die or go back to Phoenix and live.
I start to cry again, a fresh wave of tears making its way down my face.
“Why are you crying?” he asks gently.
“I want to stay with you,” I say. My voice drops to a pained, raspy whisper with my next words. I wish I could take his hand and bring him back with me. “But I can’t.”
It’s an impossible thing to say and my tears are somewhat of guilt, because I need to get back to my husband. As much as I want to see Astor, Phoenix is the one that I can’t leave behind.
Astor’s smile broadens and brightens like I’ve just given him the best news he’s ever received.
“You’ve made the right decision, ladybug.” I didn’t realize it was mine alone to make. “It isn’t your time. He needs you.”
He doesn’t need to specify who he’s talking about. We both know who he means. Despair claws at that thundering organ in my chest because I need Phoenix as much as he needs me.
“It’s not the first time you’ve said that.”
He closes the distance between us until he’s standing so close I could reach out and touch him. “My death almost killed him,” he tells me. “But yours would put him in his own grave and nail the coffin shut. He can’t survive without you. He’s barely hanging on right now.” He pauses, his eyes closing and a frown pulling at his brow like he’s seeing something in his mind that he doesn’t like. When they reopen, he says, “You need to get back, I don’t want to have to see him here next.”
It yanks at my own sanity to hear that Phoenix isn’t doing well. I know that I stabilize him, that I bring quiet to the madness inside him. Hearing that he’s going off the deep end while I’m hovering between life and death is awful.
As much as I know I need to go back, I can’t bring myself to end this just yet. Whatever connection exists between us that brings Astor to me when I need him most, it’s rare and I want to make best use of the time I do have with him.
“And my niece wants to meet you.”
My eyes fly to his. I find them shining with tears. Happy tears that he’s shedding for me, for our family.
I bring my palms together and up to my lips. “Niece?”
He smiles that brilliant smile of his. “Yeah, my niece. Phoenix is going to spoil her rotten. You did good, Six.”
I make a sound that’s half-laugh, half-cry but entirely delighted. So Phoenix was right.
We have a daughter.
“She’s okay?” I ask. “She’s healthy?”
“She’s perfectly healthy. But she needs her mum, don’t you think?”
I nod, clamping my hands over my mouth as if they can physically restrain all the emotion from pouring out of me.
We have a daughter.
Fifteen years ago, the three of us would run through these very same woods, laughing and screaming and playing and fighting and loving each other, and today, Phoenix and I brought a daughter into the world.
Today, I saw Astor again.
Now I know that this was fate. That she was always meant to be born today and in this way so that her uncle could make sure I made my way back to her.
“Time to go, ladybug,” he informs me. “But I can’t take you back this way. This journey you have to make all by yourself.”
My breath falters in my lungs.
He extends a hand towards me.
I stare at it, at his small hand that’s only about half the size of mine, letting his words sink in.
He says them with a finality that tells me he doesn’t expect to see me again. I realize with a sick feeling of dread in my stomach that he gives me his hand like it’s goodbye.
I slip my fingers through his, surprised by the contact, surprised by how strongly his ten-year-old hand grips mine in return. He squeezes it in a way that carries all the emotion in the world.
“Where will you go?”
“Back to the next place.” He smiles. “I only came here for you, ladybug. This isn’t where I belong.”
“Is it… is it okay for you there?”
“It’s paradise.” His smile broadens. “I told you, you don’t need to worry about me. I’m at peace.”
We stare at each other for a long, quiet moment.
“Thank you for meeting me here,” I tell him. “You saved me.”
He shakes his head, those dimples flashing once more. “You saved yourself.”
Time comes to a standstill, the only movement the leaves as they fall from the trees and flutter slowly down to the ground around us.
Finally, I whisper the truth. “I’m not ready to say goodbye.”
He understands that I don’t just mean right now.
He tilts his head to the side and grins. “It’s not goodbye, bug. I’ll always be here for you if you need me.” He squeezes my hand once more. “But you don’t. Not anymore.”
I feel something pull at me, something telling me to give in.
But I can’t release his hand.
I can’t be the one to let go.
“Give Phoenix a hug from me. Tell him I miss him. Tell him—” His words catch in his throat, emotion working its way into his voice. “Tell him I’m proud of who he grew up to be.”
Those words break me. It’s unfair that I should see Astor again when Phoenix hasn’t. I know he also needs his brother.
But there’s a reason it’s me. The thing with Phoenix is, given the choice, he would always choose me over everyone else, even his brother.
“I will,” I promise.
The pulling gets more insistent.
I blink, my eyelids getting heavy again.
They open with difficulty and close easily.
“Don’t fight it,” Astor tells me.
I open them one final time, for one last look at my friend.
“You’ll keep an eye on us?” I ask.
It’s a selfish request.
But he smiles. Again.
Always.
My eyes close and I let his hand go.
Right before I drift off, I hear my guardian angel answer, “What do you think I’ve been doing these past fifteen years?”
***
When my eyes open again, I’m back where I expected to be. I see white walls and a TV in the corner, the hallmarks of any good hospital room. There’s the same soreness in my stomach except when I look down, I see my bump.
And I see Phoenix bent over my body, his head resting on my thigh, his hand clutching mine in a death grip as he sleeps. He looks tortured, his expression tormented.
I’m back .
Gently, I reach for him with my free hand and run my nails through his buzzed hair like I always do.
Except the second I touch him, he jolts awake.
Troubled, agonized eyes immediately find mine. Shock seems to freeze him in place, his voice turning disbelieving.
“Six?”
“Hi, baby,” I murmur, my voice hoarse from lack of use.
The sound that rips from deep in Phoenix’s chest is unlike anything I’ve ever heard. It’s reminiscent of the sound an animal makes when it’s in excruciating pain.
He rises to his feet and clutches my face in his hands.
“Wild girl,” he whispers, his voice cracking. I grip his forearms, lending him support. He’s shaking beneath my palms. “Six…You came back to me.”
Try as he might, he can’t seem to get any words out. Tears shine in his eyes as he pushes the hair from my face, as he stares at me like he can’t quite believe I’m awake.
“I’m okay, Nix. I’m okay.”
He shakes his head, the movement making tears fall down his cheeks.
“You don’t understand…,” he whimpers. “I can’t lose you. I can’t.”
“You won’t,” I vow, squeezing his arms. “I’m right here. I’m okay, I promise I’m okay.”
“You’re my whole world, Six. My entire world. You’re it for me. Don’t ever try dying again. You can’t ever do that to me again. I went mad with grief for those hours I thought I lost you.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“ Don’t apologize. I’m the one who’s sorry,” he replies vehemently. “We’re not doing this again. If you want any more children, we’ll adopt, but I’m not getting you pregnant again.”
His tone makes it clear that he’s not leaving this one up to discussion. The decision has been made and it’s done.
That’s okay with me. I’m not in a rush to put myself through this terrifying ordeal again, plus I’m an only child myself.
If, down the road, we want another child, I’m certainly open to adopting.
But that’s a topic for a later day.
For now, we have a brand new baby to focus on.
“How is our daughter?” I ask. My gaze roams around the room until it lands on a crib just off to the side of the foot of my bed. Inside, there’s a small bundle that sleeps quietly.
Phoenix stiffens. He doesn’t look over at her.
I know my husband, I know him like I know every inch of myself. And I know what his reaction means.
“Phoenix. You’ve held our daughter, right?”
His jaw sets, his shoulders turning rigid. I understand that what he just lived through was traumatic, but he needs to prioritize the baby over me right now.
Gently, I move my hand to cover his where it’s still on my cheek. “Baby,” I say. “Go get our daughter. That’s our little girl.”
“I couldn’t… Not when I didn’t know if you’d be okay. Not when I didn’t know if she’d cost me you.”
“I understand, but now she needs her daddy.”
He hesitates for a moment, then presses a long, closed-mouth kiss to my lips. He pulls away and turns, going over to her crib. When he picks her up, she almost completely disappears in his arms.
“She’s so small,” he notes, wonder tinging his voice. “I don’t know if I’m holding her correctly.” His eyes lift back up to mine, softened by affection. “She’s as beautiful as her mother.”
Phoenix walks back to my side and gently places her in my arms. He stays braced above us as I stare down into her little face, looking at her perfect nose and tiny mouth. At the strawberry blonde tuft of hair crowning her head. At her ten fingers and their minuscule nails.
“Hi…” I say, my voice catching. We had already picked out names, but none of them feel right anymore.
I caress her cheek softly with the tips of my fingers. I know her name. I know it in my soul.
“Hi, Astra.”
A soft noise tumbles from Phoenix’s lips. When I look up at him, emotion shines brightly in his eyes as his gaze moves from me to her.
“Astra,” he whispers, his voice thick with unspoken feeling. “I love it.”
It’s only fitting that our daughter would be named after the other most important person in our lives. Wherever he is, I hope her uncle is smiling as he watches over us.
“Do you know what else it means?” I ask him.
He nods, bending towards me.
“Star,” he breathes, his lips finding mine. “It means star. Our very own little star.” He kisses her forehead next. “It’s perfect.”
***
Later, Phoenix will ask me how I knew it was a girl. I’ll say that Astor told me and I’ll tell him everything else he said. He’ll go quiet before pulling me in for an emotional hug.
Later, he’ll show me texts my dad sent him.
Callum: A little girl. Congratulations. You know what mine means to me.
Callum: Looking forward to her future husband putting you through even one tenth of the shit you pulled with me. I know I’m going to enjoy the show.
Later, the crew will burst into my hospital room, crowd around my bed, fuss over me, and coo over Astra.
Rogue will lean in and whisper with a teasing smile, “Almost dying. A little dramatic of you, don’t you think?”
I’ll shove him off with a playful smile and he’ll kiss the top of my head, whispering that he’s happy I’m okay.
Rhys will hug me with one arm and warn Bellamy to keep Rhodes away from Ivy with the other. She’ll point out that he’s only four months old and he’ll say that it’s never too early to start distrusting a Royal.
Nera will cry when she sees me and a doctor will appear thirty seconds later and wrap a blood pressure cuff around her arm. She’ll be confused and Tristan will say that all this emotion can’t be good for her or their baby and he wants to make sure they’re both safe and healthy.
Later, my husband will take me and my daughter home. We’ll spend our first night on either side of her crib watching her sleep and commenting on every perfect little piece of her. In that one night, the trauma of Astra’s birth will be quickly forgotten and we’ll be deliriously happy.
But that’s later.
For now, I bask in the fact that I saw Astor. That I made it back to Phoenix.
That I lived .
***