EPILOGUE
THEA
8 Months Later
“How does it feel being back?” He asks cautiously. My eyes peek up at him and his gaze shifts away.
I don’t know how to answer that question. I’ve been gone for the last two months. It felt strange leaving Willow Hill, but it also felt good. I needed to escape after everything. I’m not quite sure I’m ready to be back yet.
My plane landed a few hours ago and this was the first place I wanted to come, surprisingly. I asked Adrian to close the shop for me. I wanted to do this alone. “It feels different. Almost like it isn’t home anymore. Like it’ll never feel the same again. But also… it feels like this is the only place that reminds me of him.” He doesn’t argue—I know he feels the same.
Things have changed so much over the last eight months. After the fire, Adrian was by my side constantly and for some reason there were days I only wanted him. Not like before. Not because I wanted to use him for my own selfish needs. We found comfort in each other—just tangled up and existing from moment to moment.
He touches the needle to my skin, continuing his work on the design I’ve been thinking about for months. I have a feeling it’ll be the first of many tattoos. Something about covering my body in ink makes me think I’ll feel closer to Wes somehow.
“I missed you,” he admits, avoiding my gaze. I missed him too—more than he knows. Flying halfway around the world was probably selfish of me, but I had a promise to keep. “Did it help? Taking the trip?” It’s a loaded question.
In so many ways, Wes’ trip to Greece that he’d planned for us was therapeutic and healed me more than I thought it would.
I couldn’t understand why he wanted me to go there. Then, it all made sense when I saw the blues. At first, I didn’t see what Wes did. The shade seemed too bright to match mine. About a month into our trip, Sutton explained it.
We’d just finished lunch when he pointed for me to look out over the city below us. “When Wes said he’d only seen your shade of blue once before, he wasn’t looking at the obvious, Thea.” Sutton’s words didn’t make sense at first. “See, he was looking beyond what everyone else saw. He was looking in the shadows. He was looking where other people wouldn’t because that’s where you find the most beautiful things.” Suddenly, as I looked over the city, I saw it.
In the shadows cast on the backsides of the bright blue roofs, I saw my blue. It was darker, more complex. It was hidden where most people wouldn’t care to look.
And then I realized, Wes didn’t just mean my eye color. “I’ve only seen this shade of blue once before.” He meant me. Us. He hadn’t met anyone like him before.
That trip should’ve been with him. I cried myself to sleep so many nights to that thought, wishing it was him lying next to me. There were days Sutton had to drag me out of bed to go see the things Wes planned for us. He’s the only reason I didn’t stay holed up in the hotel all summer.
I’m thankful it was him that joined me. He anticipated my every need and often those needs matched his. Some days, we wanted time alone. Other days, we’d talked for hours. We’d hold each other. Cry. Scream at the sky. And eventually we finally learned to let go of some of that pain from Wes’ passing. Not all of it, but enough. He was gentle and that’s what I needed.
I simply say, “Yes.” The details don’t matter, those are for me and Sutton. And I don’t want to get into it or get emotional. That’s going to happen later, anyway. Right now, I don’t want to feel much at all.
“How’s business been?” It’s a filler question. We both know it.
His dark eyes meet mine. “It’s been good. Busy, which has helped.” I know what he means.
None of us has grieved perfectly. We’ve all retreated, coped in unhealthy ways, and have taken it out on each other. I think that’s normal. I’m hoping that things will be easier now that I’m back, although this time of year is always going to be hard.
Next month marks one year since Cole kidnapped me. One year since everything changed. I don’t know how we’re going to handle it, but we have each other and that has to be enough.
My eyes scan the shop—it looks different from when it first opened. The artists who work here have decorated their workstations, each area showing off their different personalities. In Adrian’s, there are pictures of him with his brothers. I spot one of Wesley and fight the tears that prick my eyes. It’s one of him with his climbing gear scaling a mountain. God, I miss him.
Averting my gaze, I look over the pictures he has on the wall. Some are sketches, others are digital illustrations, and then some finished tattoos on his clients. His work is beautiful. The details and colors are all impressive—it makes me eager to see the one he’s working on right now. Then, I spot something. Two things actually.
The first picture is of a lighter with a wolf on it and the words let it burn. Adrian says it all the time, but I’ve never asked. Pointing to it, I finally question him. “Hey, who did you tattoo that on?” He looks up, pulling the needle from my skin.
“Oh, uh, I had Renatta do that one on me right after you left.” He immediately goes back to work on my design.
“What does it mean, Adrian?”
He pauses again, but doesn’t speak right away. “It’s just something I started saying when I didn’t care anymore. Kinda like fuck it. Like what’s the worst that can happen?”
I know that’s not the whole story. Whether he likes it or not, I know him now, sometimes better than he knows himself. It’s not a coincidence that fire seems to be a theme with him. His uncle’s house. The tattoo. The cigarettes. Well, I guess I can take cigarettes off the table. He quit those a while ago and eventually admitted that I was reason. That was long before I thought he had feelings for me. I think both of us were falling before we ever knew it, but I didn’t make push him to confess to that. However, there is something I want to know.
“When did you start saying it?” Tension rolls off of him. I’ve hit a nerve and I’m about to say nevermind when he answers.
“When I was fourteen.”
I force the gasp that wants to come out back down. Fourteen. That’s when he lost control of everything. When he was at the mercy of others. My anger burns white hot for him, but there’s nowhere for it to go. He’s already gotten revenge and as we both know so well now, it doesn’t do anything to heal the pain and trauma you have to live with. It just feels good in the moment to destroy something.
My eyes move to the second thing that’s caught my eye. It’s a drawing that looks oddly familiar for a couple of reasons. I’ve seen this drawing before—it was in his sketchbook. The faceless woman. Except she’s no longer faceless.
Long dark waves frame a soft face. The woman has big eyes beneath heavy, inky lashes. Her full lips are slightly parted.
It’s me. I’m sure of it. I want to ask him, but I don’t. I think it makes sense now why he got so upset when I brought the book to him that day.
I can’t help but smile.
The sound of the tattoo gun lulls me into a light sleep, and then I hear my name. “Thea.” I stir, not exactly remembering where I’m at. “Thea, it’s all done.” I realize it’s Adrian calling to me and he’s talking about my tattoo.
A surge of adrenaline pushes through me. I’m nervous and excited to see how it turned out. He holds up a mirror so that I can see it.
My eyes take in the entire design. It’s stunning. Then I focus on the two most important parts, the ones I told Adrian had to be included.
In the reflection, the wolf on my shoulder stares back at me. Its deep brown eyes are the same as Wes’ and beneath him are the words Now and Forever. His promise. Our promise. Death be damned.
Stop number two.
I managed to track Linda down before I left, but couldn’t bring myself to see her until now. Adrian offered to take me. Normally, I would’ve declined, but I’m learning to be more open. Secrets have no place in the pact anymore. It’s too deadly.
“Want me to come with you?” He asks, squeezing my hand as he cuts the engine in front of Wes’ mom’s house.
I shake my head. “No. I need to do this alone. Thank you, though. I shouldn’t be long.” Before I can open the door, he grabs my hand and pulls me back to him. Adrian looks down, running his thumb over the blue-eyed wolf ring on my finger before meeting my gaze.
“I hate you, Havoc.” I smile at his words. It’s not what we mean, of course, but after everything we’ve been through, love doesn’t seem like the right word for us. I do love him, with all my heart, and we tried to say it. It just didn’t fit—it wasn’t us. “I’m here if you need me,” he adds.
“I hate you, too, Sparky.” I plant a sweet kiss on his lips and open the car door.
Wes’ mom is waiting for me on the porch, sitting in a rocking chair, nervously playing with her fingers. She stands as I approach.
“Thea,” she says tentatively, but empathetically. I hate it. I want to do this without breaking down. But when she pulls me in for a hug, I can’t keep a tear from slipping out. “How are you?”
Pulling away, I look at her. I don’t need to say anything—she can see it and she nods.
In my hands, I have two things. One is a small pouch and the other is the gift box she gave Wes on his birthday. I found it in the trunk of his BMW after the fire. The bow had been untied, so I think he opened it, but he never told me. I have no idea what’s inside, however; I think returning it back to Linda is the right thing to do.
I grab the pouch and hold it out to her. “I want you to have this.” I place it in her palm. “I have so much of Wes. You deserve something, too.”
Her fingers tremble as she opens it and tips it upside down. Into her hand falls a silver ring with two red eyes. Wes’ ring. “Thea, I can’t…”
Smiling, I insist. “You can. He was your son. I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. I couldn’t.” My voice cracks and I clear my throat, forcing the emotion away. “He wanted me to tell you something. That night, he wanted me to tell you that he forgave you.” I clench my jaw, trying to maintain my composure.
Linda’s eyes fall to the ring, then flick up to mine. They’re brimming with tears, but I think she knows that I don’t want to cry anymore. Maybe she doesn’t either. “You have no idea how much this means to me. I don’t deserve it.” I don’t know if she means the ring or his forgiveness. Perhaps both.
I place a hand on her shoulder. “You do. Everyone deserves a second chance.”
Then, I hold out the gift box to her. When she realizes what it is, her face scrunches in confusion. “I found this after… you should have it,” I explain and push the box toward her, but she shakes her head.
“Thea, you should have that.” I don’t understand why. “Open it,” Linda urges. I don’t want to. I don’t know what’s inside and clearly Wes didn’t want to talk about it. He opened it and kept it to himself for a reason. I’m so scared that what’s inside might break me. I’ve worked so hard on piecing myself back together and I can’t start all over. She patiently waits and I don’t know how to tell her no, so I don’t.
My fingers shake as I lift the top. Inside, all I see is blue. Soft, but worn blue material. Linda reaches inside and pulls out a small baby blanket. “It was Wesley’s. The one thing I kept when I had to give him up. Some days, it was the only thing that kept me alive.” Fuck.
Tears spring free—I can’t keep them in. My fingers grasp at the satin edges. I want to pull it to my face to see if it somehow smells like him. I know it won’t, but it’s something that has touched him and I just want him close to me again. In the corner of the blanket, in delicate cursive, I see his name. Wesley Oliver.
I barely keep it together, so I’m thankful when she places the blanket back into the box. “He loved you so much, Thea. I’ve never seen anyone talk about another person with such admiration and tenderness. That’s what we’d talk about mostly. You. He was so lucky to have you and his brothers in his life. Thank you for giving him what I couldn’t.”
Fuck.
We talk a few moments longer and I tell her I’ll visit again soon. I’m not sure when, but I’ll try to come back when I’ve had time to settle in.
The new house will probably need a lot of work and I have to get back to the studio, eventually. Cass has been holding down the fort, even hiring a temporary boudoir photographer to take my place this summer.
She’s been amazing, despite being incredibly angry with me for going rogue. But we’ve moved past that. I finally told her everything. I’ve told everyone everything. That was hard. Probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done, yet it felt so good to not sit alone in my pain.
Everyone was there for me. For the first time in my life, I felt like I had a true support system. And I could’ve had it so much sooner if I’d just been honest.
After I came clean, Sutton insisted that I see a therapist. I resisted. Baring my pain to those closest to me was almost impossible, how would I tell a stranger my darkest thoughts and secrets? It took months of silent appointments before I finally opened up. I’m not going to say it’s easy now or that I’m fully healed. I probably won’t ever be. But I’m better than I was.
Sliding into the passenger seat, I look over at Adrian. I know he was watching and I’m sure my eyes are red. He doesn’t ask—I’m thankful for it. “You ready?”
“Yes,” I lie.
We pull up to the house just as the sun’s setting. I half expect to see my truck in the driveway, but it’s not there. After the fire, my attachment to things doesn’t seem all that important. It was a reminder of a past I want to forget, so I had Damian sell it while I was away.
He tried to give me BMW, but I couldn’t take it. So Damian took it for himself and gave me the Audi. I don’t know why driving Wes’ car feels too overwhelming for me. It just is.
I force my attention to the new home. It’s scary how much it looks like the previous one. Damian still had the plans and he made sure that nearly every detail was replicated. It’s like it never burned down at all.
Standing with their backs to us, I take in Sutton and Damian standing in the fading light.
Nervousness takes hold of me. Damian’s the one I’ve been worried about seeing again. After Wes died, he dove into getting the house rebuilt. I didn’t see him cry after that first day. He was even distant up until I left for Greece. And we hardly spoke while I was gone.
We’d made so much progress just to be back to square one. I can’t say I’m not a little bitter about it.
Part of me thinks that he blames me for both of his brothers dying that day. I blame myself, too. If they hadn’t met me, they’d all be alive. But I don’t need anyone else making me feel worse than I already do. I have to live with that guilt for the rest of my life.
My door opens, Adrian slipped out while I was lost in my thoughts. “It’s time. Remember, we’re all in this together.” He’s right. I take his hand and step out of the car.
Neither Sutton nor Damian turn around, so we join them. Standing… Staring at the front door. I wonder if all of us are hesitant to go inside. Too many memories. Too much death. Too much pain. This was a bad idea. We should’ve sold the land and bought something new.
“Let’s do this,” Damian says to no one in particular. He leads the pack and we follow.
I hold my breath as he opens the door and we step inside. It looks exactly the same. Like nothing ever happened.
My eyes scan the dining room. It’s the same table and chairs. I walk to the living room. The couches and coffee table are the same too. It’s eerie.
I could’ve done with a few minor changes, although my focus was on one specific request and I’m eager to see if it was granted. At the end of the day, I don’t care about the rest of the house. There’s only one room I want to see. Wesley’s.
Before I left, I told Damian that I wanted his room to look exactly the same. I wanted the same bedspread, the same dresser, and even his colognes in the bathroom. I know it won’t bring him back. Logically, I know that. But I need some piece of him to still exist.
Maybe that’s why Damian insisted on rebuilding the house this way. Maybe he needed his brother to still exist in the place some of their best memories were created.
Heading downstairs, I make my way to his door and pause. Glancing behind me, I find Damian staring at me. His gaze isn’t icy, not like it was before I left. Instead, I find softness and love. He tips his chin toward the door, urging me inside.
“Hold on, before we go in,” Sutton interjects. He comes around to stand next to me. One hand’s behind his back. I’m nervous. “I’ve been working on this for a while and I wanted you to be the first person who sees it.” He pulls out a rectangular wrapped package and hands it to me.
I don’t want to know what it is. I’ve already opened one thing today and it nearly undid all the progress I’ve made. But he stands there, waiting with an excited smile on his face. I can’t tell him no.
My fingers pull at the edges and the tape pops. As I peel away the wrapping, I notice it’s a book. I let out a sigh of relief. That is until I see the author’s name. Sutton Wolfe. My fingers trace over his last name. Our last name. And then, I see the title. The Stars Will Be Watching Us.
It may seem insignificant, but it’s not. My memory flashes back to the first night Sutton took me for a ride on his motorcycle. We laid out under the stars and he read me poems. One in particular by Jalal al-Din Rumi stood out. I’ve read it so many times since that night that I’ve memorized it.
A moment of happiness, you and I sitting on the verandah, apparently two, but one in soul, you and I. We feel the flowing water of life here, you and I, with the garden's beauty and the birds singing. The stars will be watching us, and we will show them what it is to be a thin crescent moon. You and I unselfed, will be together, indifferent to idle speculation, you and I. The parrots of heaven will be cracking sugar as we laugh together, you and I. In one form upon this earth, and in another form in a timeless sweet land.
“What is this, Sutton?” I whisper the question, searching his amber eyes as I wait.
His fingers brush lightly over my jaw until his thumb skims my bottom lip. “This is our story, baby. You inspired me to write it when you asked me to channel my emotions into something. And I’ve never felt more fulfilled. I want you to be the first one to read it, and I want to thank you for being my muse.”
I don’t know what to say. My eyes fall to the dark blue cover that’s reminiscent of the night sky. Among the white dotted stars, I think I see something—a constellation. It’s subtle, but I make out the letter T. Then, I spot the S. Our initials.
I look back up at him.
“Don’t worry. I changed the names in the book and I took some liberties to protect our identities. But it’s our story, Thea.”
My heart feels fuller than it should. I feel ashamed for feeling happy, at least right now. I can’t help it. This might be one of the most beautiful things that anyone’s ever done for me. Sutton immortalized me in a book and he’s found inspiration in our love. How could I ask for more?
Leaning in, I kiss him, slow and steady. “Thank you,” I mouth against his lips.
We’ve stalled enough. It’s time to face what we’re all here for.
I turn the knob and push open the door. The scent of pine and leather hits me hard, so hard that my eyes sting from the memory of when he first kissed me, when I thought he wanted me gone. His smell felt like home—it still does.
Mornings waking up in his bed. Blasting loud screaming music and dancing around his room. Long steamy showers together. I swear I can picture him now, leaning against the door frame of the bathroom, his towel hanging low on his hips. He’d run his fingers through his messy hair and smile wide. “Like what you see, blue eyes?” My eyes water at the vision and I don’t hold it back. The first tear falls.
Looking around, I find that Damian’s thought of everything. There’s not one item that looks out of place. I’ll have plenty of time to reminisce. Right now, I’m tired. It’s been a long day. A long summer. A long year.
I’m ready to rest.
Kicking off my shoes, I walk to Wes’ bed and pull back the covers. I slide in, curl up, and I’m soon joined by Sutton, Damian, and Adrian.
Somehow, it feels like he’s right here with us. I think I’m going to be spending many nights sleeping in here.
I try not to think about the night he died, but some memories are hard to get rid of. I made a promise to Wes. I told him I would live a beautiful life. That I would make his brothers happy. I’m committed to doing that. Not just for him, but for me. I deserve happiness. As much as I can find beauty in the darkness, I can’t sit in it forever. The light is just as beautiful and I deserve that, too.