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As we come out onto the dark lawn, we all stand awkwardly in a group, hesitant to part ways after a solid week in each other’s company.
Leo, warm and affectionate as ever, pulls Rafe into a hug.
“What should we call you now?” he says. “Is it still Ares while you’re here? Or just Rafe?”
Rafe smiles, his face more relaxed than I’ve ever seen it.
“I don’t care what you call me,” he says. “As long as you call me.”
Anna hugs him, too. “You can count on that,” she says.
“Oh, get the fuck over here,” Rafe says, pulling Dean into a hug too, and then Hedeon. I think he holds onto Hedeon the longest of anyone.
“Come see us in the summer,” Rafe says.
“I will,” Hedeon promises.
Then, finally, we’re all walking to our respective dorms. Kade and Hedeon split off in the direction of the Octagon Tower. Dean headsto the Undercroft to grovel for forgiveness with Cat—I assume he’ll be successful, as I’ve been told he has some experience with that.
Leo is walking Anna to the Solar, strolling along a few yards ahead of us. Sabrina stays on Anna’s other side, trying to avoid Leo’s teasing on the subject of Adrik Petrov.
Rafe likewise escorts me, his arm around my waist. I lean against his shoulder, looking up at the stars.
“Do you think you and I ever looked at the same star at the same time?” I ask him.
“I’m sure we looked at the moon at the same time.”
I laugh. “It’s funny to think that the Oregon moon and the Kyiv moon are the same.”
“The wind that touched your skin might have blown all the way across the world to me,” Rafe says. “Maybe that’s why you smelled so good to me, the moment I got near you.”
We stop on the grass so he can kiss me.
When we break apart I say, “You know . . . I kind of like the way we met. It will be something to tell our kids someday.”
“Yes,” Rafe says. “Only we’ll tell them all of it, the whole thing. The good, the bad, and everything in between.”
“That’s right,” I nod. “The truth is always the best story.”
EPILOGUE
Nix Moroz
Cannon Beach, Oregon
September
Rafe and I collect the real Ares Cirillo from the Portland airport.
I wait in the pickup lane while Rafe runs in to get him.
The two young men walk out together—both tall, tan, blue-eyed and dark-haired. My heart gives a lurch at the bizarre mirror effect: as if I’m looking at the old Ares and the new one simultaneously. One dressed in worn blue jeans and a plain wool sweater, a gentle expression on his face. The other in a new leather jacket and a fresh haircut, grinning happily at the sight of his friend.
I jump out of the car to greet them.
Ares shakes my hand, giving me a lopsided smile.
“I’ve heard so much about you,” he says.
