Epilogue #2
By the time the elevator doors finally open onto the first floor, he’s practically vibrating. We step out into the atrium with me beside him, still covering his eyes.
I lower my hands.
Cason freezes again.
It’s not a lot. He wanted small, and that’s what he got. But it’s very Cason.
A few tables have been arranged beneath the rebuilt kinetic installation that rotates slowly overhead.
Bright green string lights are woven around sculptural supports and balcony railings.
Boxes of pizza cover one table. Mostly Hawaiian.
Because apparently he didn’t come back with better taste after he died.
A ridiculous balloon arrangement floats near the cake table. One of the balloons is green, and someone has drawn glasses on it. Another one has what I’m pretty sure is meant to be Felix’s face on it, but it’s not exactly a work of art.
Not like the cake, which is even more ridiculous. It’s covered by a frosting sheet printed with a tiny cartoon version of Cason being electrocuted while a shadow monster wraps around his leg. Across the top, it reads: HAPPY 30TH BIRTHDAY, MENACE.
Okay, the cake was my idea.
Fortunately, Rory is a pretty good artist.
Cason stares at it. Blinks. Then looks up at Rory on the other side of the table. He’s spent a little time with him over the past few months, so I’m sure he recognizes the art style.
“Thanks,” he says, his voice almost cracking. I swear his eyes look a little glassy.
Rory nods in my direction. “His idea.”
Cason looks at me and grins. “What, are you trying to make me happy or something?”
For the rest of our goddamn lives.
I just smile back.
Cason turns to Sebastian next. “You made a balloon Felix.”
Baz smiles proudly. “It’s my finest work.”
Even though everyone has moved out of the safehouse except me and Cason, Sebastian is still there a lot, and he and Felix have gotten quite attached to each other. It took Cason some time to accept it, but he’s finally come around.
Lane is already laughing from where he stands next to Harrison at the outer edge of our little circle. When Cason looks over at him, he asks, “Are you really wearing a Reese’s shirt?”
Cason turns his whole body and throws his arms out to his side so his best friend can get a good look.
Lane laughs even harder.
Beside him, Harrison sighs, definitely not amused by anything with my name on it. But he doesn’t like me only because I didn’t like him first. In fact, when he’s at the Institute, I try very hard not to be here.
His narrowed eyes find mine, and he says in a clipped tone, “Morgan.”
So I throw it right back at him. “Copeland.”
We continue glaring at each other, neither one of us willing to look away first.
“Jesus,” Cason groans. “Lane, go find them a measuring tape.”
Lane snorts, and the sound pulls Harrison’s attention to his husband.
I win.
Then a familiar voice I’ve only heard over the phone says, “Cason?”
He turns toward the front of the lobby where his mother just walked through the doors. For a moment, he just stares.
Then he’s crossing the room.
He’s so fast that she barely has time to open her arms before he reaches her. And, suddenly, it’s like he’s twelve years old again, wrapped up in his mother’s embrace. They hold each other tightly, and the sight hits me harder than I thought it would.
“I can’t believe you got me to come back here,” his mother says.
Cason laughs softly as he pulls back while grabbing her hand instead. “I’m still shocked you agreed.”
Her gaze lifts toward the installation above us. Toward the heart of the Institute. Toward all the ghosts this place used to hold. Then she looks back at her son with an easy smile. “You sounded happy. And if this place has anything to do with it, then maybe I can start forgiving it.”
He told his mother that Malcolm’s been giving him more responsibility around the Institute, that he’s practically helping to run the place now. As far as she knows, Malcolm is currently away on business.
Cason leans forward and whispers something to her that’s too low for me to hear, and her eyes immediately find me, causing my insides to squirm.
I’ve suggested to Cason that we both take a trip out to North Carolina before now, but he was surprisingly focused on the Institute, on putting out the fire that Malcolm had started and let burn for so long.
He’s introduced me over the phone, and he paid for her plane ticket here, though he had his doubts that she would actually show up.
If she hadn’t, I would’ve dragged him to North Carolina soon. I could tell he missed her.
Cason pulls his mother over toward me while the others start going at the pizza, having waited for us long enough apparently. Mia loudly threatens bodily harm if anyone touches the cake before photos.
“Mom, this is Reese.”
Her eyes settle on me, kind and warm. Observant. It’s the gaze of a mother who loves her son unconditionally, and I suddenly understand how Cason gets away with everything.
“It’s nice to finally meet you in person, Reese.”
I nod politely. “You too.”
She closes the distance between us and hugs me. I freeze for half a second in shock, and then I return her embrace. It’s one of the most comforting ones I’ve felt in a very long time.
“Thank you for making my son happy,” she whispers.
I look over at Cason whose eyes are looking a little wet again, and I feel a stinging pressure behind my own eyes.
“He makes me the happiest I’ve ever been,” I tell her honestly.
“Good.” She pulls back and smiles at me. “Then I know you’ll take care of him.”
“I will.”
It’s the most certain I’ve ever been about anything in my life. Because of all the promises I’ve ever made, all the vows and missions and contracts and lies, that one is the easiest.
I glance at Cason again. At his green hair, ridiculous shirt, bright eyes. He’s alive and happy. Mine.
And now, standing beneath the rebuilt heart of the Institute, surrounded by the people we fought and bled and survived for, I know that’s what I’m going to do for the rest of my life. Take care of Cason Bellrose.
Maybe Malcolm saw it in a hundred futures. Maybe he saw it in a thousand. But the thing is, I don’t care what was fate and what was choice.
I would choose him every single time.