45
Demi
The first thing I see when I open my eyes is Tristan.
“There you are,” I say with a smile.
“Hi,” he says. His hair has fallen over his eyes, so he takes one big hand and pushes it back. The wet trail of a tear glistens on his cheek in the firelight, disappearing into the scruff along his jaw.
My sweet man. He’s been crying.
Our hands are still bound together with that pretty blue fabric. I bring them to my lips and kiss his knuckles.
For the first time in a week, I feel normal. Human again. The crushing pain inside of me is gone, and I no longer feel like I’m tight-rope walking between two worlds.
“Tristan, am I—”?
“You’re alive,” he says.
The words hit me right in the chest, and it feels like taking a deep breath after being underwater too long. Relief is too small a word for what I feel. It’s as if everything that was wrong, everything that ailed me, has now been healed. All heaviness lifted.
I’m alive, and so is the man I love.
“This feels oddly familiar,” I say with a knowing smirk.
“Like when you brought me back?”
“Exactly like that. ”
“Except there’s one big difference this time.”
“What’s that?”
“I didn’t bring you back. Your sister did,” Tristan explains tenderly. The gratitude is open and plain on his face.
My heart cracks. My sister.
Tristan unties the fabric around our hands and sets it aside. He hesitates, almost imperceptibly, to let me go.
“I’m okay,” I tell him.
His chest expands with a deep breath, and he nods.
I can’t imagine what it was like for him to think I was leaving.
But then again, I experienced it myself, didn’t I?
There was a moment after I cast the spell to bring him back that I thought I’d failed, that he’d left me.
It was a dark type of moment I wouldn’t wish on anyone, let alone someone I love. I shudder at the memory.
Shifting, I sit up with ease, my body feeling loose and light, feeling like mine once again.
There she is. I’ve missed Blue so deeply that the sight of her there, kneeling next to Tristan, makes me gasp out loud.
It’s only been a few days, but it feels like an eternity since the last time I saw her.
I’d almost forgotten how pretty she is, even when she looks absolutely exhausted.
She’s dripping wet, and her expression is set in a hard, unreadable line.
All except her eyes, which are wide with relief as she looks at me.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey.”
“Still mad at me?”
Her mouth pinches like she’s trying not to smile. “Do I look mad?”
“You always look mad. ”
“Then, yes, I’m still mad.”
I reach for her hand, and mercifully, she lets me hold it. Her skin is as familiar as my own, the edges of her fingers slightly sharp from the calluses she’s developed from years of working with her hands. Her hand flexes around mine, as if weighing my grip to convince herself I’m flesh and blood.
She’s shivering.
“You came back for me,” I say.
When she walked away from me that day, it was one of the worst feelings I’d ever experienced. The absence of Blue in my life, even for just a few days, felt like I was missing a limb or part of my soul. She came back for me. When I needed her the most, she came back and saved me.
“I left for you, too,” Blue says, looking down at our hands, then back up at me.
“What do you mean?”
She nods at the aunts, who are wiping tears from their cheeks and leaning against each other while they watch us. “They went to New York, and I went to Salem. They have witch friends in both places, so we divided and conquered. I came back when they told me they found the spell.”
“Thank you,” I say, and she drops her gaze again. “And I’m sorry.”
Her responding smirk is a little mischievous, if a little petty. “For what?
“For casting a spell on my own. For hurting you.” Admittedly, I owe her a little humble pie.
Blue blinks a few times and clears her throat.
“One of these days you’ll learn that I’m pretty much always right. ”
“I don’t know if I’d go that far.”
“Name one time I’ve been wrong in the history of forever.”
I pull a face and pretend to think for a moment. “Ask me again when my brain isn’t fried from almost becoming a ghost.”
“That’s a shitty excuse.” She reaches forward and brushes the hair back from my face.
“Always taking care of me,” I say.
“Do you want me to stop?” She raises her eyebrow in a way that is just so very Blue, but beneath the bravado, all I can see is my sister’s love.
“Not today,” I say, squeezing her hand.
~
By the time my aunts and sister leave, it’s late. The storm has passed, leaving a chill hanging in its wake, but inside Beaumont Manor, it’s warm and perfect.
Mittens sits by the fire, opening one eye to check on me every so often before dozing off again.
I’m on the couch, freshly showered in a pair of sweatpants, a hoodie, and thick socks, watching as Tristan picks out a record and puts it on the turntable.
There’s a plate on my lap with a half-eaten sandwich that Tristan made for me.
It might be the best sandwich I’ve ever had, or maybe that's just because I can actually taste it.
The past week has been objectively bad; it feels nice just to sit, and rest, and eat, and look at my boyfriend without thinking about having to say goodbye to him .
A familiar melody lilts out from the speakers. My gaze snaps to Tristan, who is standing at the edge of the sofa with his hands in his pockets and a knowing, if almost shy, smile on his lips.
“‘Songbird’?” I ask, stomach full of butterflies.
His smile widens into a grin, and he holds out his hand as an invitation.
“Come here to me,” he says.
I take his hand, and he pulls me to my feet, circling his arm around my waist and holding me close. Tristan leans down and kisses me as we gently sway to the music. My whole body lights up with love, every inch of my skin tingling at the first touch of his lips.
I’m no stranger to falling in love, but Tristan’s love makes me think I’ve never actually experienced the real thing before. Until him. Until he showed me what devotion was, what it was like to be cherished for exactly the person I am.
“How are you feeling about… everything?” he asks after pulling back from our kiss. His eyes don’t leave my face, like he’s still convincing himself I’m real.
“Today was a lot,” I admit.
He nods. “It was. You scared the hell out of me.”
“I scared the hell out of myself.”
“I thought I was going to lose you.”
Pressing closer to him, I rest my head on his chest as he spins us in slow circles to the sound of the piano and guitar, the tender lyrics. He kisses the top of my head, and I feel him take a deep breath.
“I’m right here,” I say. “I don’t plan on going anywhere.”
“But you know you could if you wanted to, right?” he asks .
Pulling back enough to look at him, I knit my brows. “What do you mean?”
“The spell tied our fates together, but I don’t want that to make you feel obligated to stay with me. You always have a choice.”
“Tristan, I choose you.”
I swear he blushes.
“Forever is a long time.”
“This again?” I say with an eye roll.
He chuckles. “Fine, I’ll drop it. Just… tell me you know you have a choice.”
“I know I have a choice.”
“Good.”
“And my choice is, and always will be, you.”
“I don’t think I ever had a choice when it came to you. You walked through that door, and I was yours,” he says.
Tristan spins me under his arms, then pulls me back to him.
“Do you remember anything from when you were out?” he asks.
I shake my head. “It was like being asleep. One minute I was passing out, the next I was waking up in your arms.”
“Kitty and Mickey told me to talk to you to keep you grounded.”
“Oh, really?” I look up at him with a grin. “What did you say?”
“This moment. How I wanted to slow dance with you in the living room again.”
Everything inside me warms up. How did I get so lucky to stumble into this man’s orbit? How fortunate that we’ve been able to fight our way through these extraordinary circumstances and come out on the other side better for it.
Ours is my favorite love story—and I’ve read a lot of them.
“This time is better than our first dance,” I say.
“Because we can touch each other?” he asks, amused.
I laugh. “Because we can touch each other!”
Tristan spins me again, then dips me and holds me there. He’s so strong, so sturdy. I’ve never felt as safe as I do in his arms.
“You’re stuck with me, Tristan Beaumont.”
“I’m good with that,” he says. “I happen to like you.”
I smile. “More than like?”
His answering smile is everything I’ve ever wanted.
“Yes, Demi. More than like. So much more. ”