Page 59 of Luck Be a Genie

“I think so? It feels like... caged lightning. Like raw power.”

“Storm,” he said quietly.

I thought about that for a moment, and then nodded. Yeah, that felt right. “Yeah, I think so.”

“There are no elementals with dual elements.”

I shrugged. “Maybe my chaos magic did it as one final blow before it got erased, I don’t know.”

He pulled me on top of him again and wrapped his arms around me, kissing my neck. “I don’t care,” he whispered. “I don’t care. You’re here, you’re alive. That’s all I care about. I love you. Thank you for fighting for us.”

After a long while, I spoke again. “Almost dying is exhausting. Can we nap now?” I asked hopefully.

I could feel his silent laughter as his body shook beneath mine. Then he kissed my neck one more time before he adjusted my body so I was lying next to him again and curled himself around me protectively “Yeah, sunshine. Let’s nap.”

Epilogue

Two Years Later

Lucky

The Florida sun beat down on me as I watched my husband shred waves on his surfboard.

“He’s gotten good,” Dice said, sipping an ice cold Sprite next to me. I’d have to cut her off soon because a tipsy Dice was a handful.

I nodded, shielding my eyes. “It’s this stupid thing called natural athleticism. It’s basically a four-letter word.”

Dice laughed. Her phone beeped, and she pulled it out, then rolled her eyes as she put it away again.

“Rhys?” I guessed.

“He keeps sending me pictures,” she said, blushing.

My eyebrows shot up, and I pulled my sunglasses down to give her a look, before my gaze went back to Nick in the distance. He was swimming out again. “What kind of pictures are we talking here?”

She busted out laughing. “Not those! Just—here, look.” She showed me her screen and it was an image of an empty bed with an emoji of a broken heart.

I laughed. “Aww, he misses you.”

“I’ve only been gone two days!”

I shrugged. “I miss Nick after just a few hours.”

She finished her Sprite and was reaching for a new one in the cooler before I slammed the lid down, nearly taking her hand with it. She scowled at me.

“You’re officially cut off. How buzzed are you?”

“Not at all!”

“Uh huh. Friends don’t let friends get slobbery drunk.”

“It’s soda, not vodka.”

She was full-on pouting now, with her arms folded across her chest, and her flashing eyes promising vengeance.

“You’re a pixie. Sugar is basically like vodka to you; you can’t fool me.”

She stuck her nose up in the air. “I could wrestle it away from you. I’m just choosing not to.”