Page 95 of Grim Tidings

I’m not sure we do. There’s no guarantee that Gideon won’t show up tomorrow and demand I return to the department. I’m still looking for a way out of this situation, where I get to keep everything I so desperately want. My newfound freedom. A fresh start. The dog currently chewing on a strawberry in the corner like it’s a delicacy and the man sitting on the other side of the table looking at me like he can’t decide between amusement and admonishment.

A beautiful, ordinary life.

“If he comes here, we’ll deal with it.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I’ve got bigger concerns than an ancient Reaper with an attitude problem.”

“I hate to point this out to you,” I say. “But I am also a Reaper with an attitude problem.”

A smile hitches across Gabriel’s mouth. “My favorite one.”

I snort. “Cute.”

I’m working hard to pretend I’m not charmed, but Gabriel isn’t fooled.

He drags my strawberry bowl across the table and starts poking around. “What’s left on your list?”

“This is not what you should be focused on.”

“You said you wanted to cross them off, yeah? How’re we going to do that by sitting around and moping about some immortal being that may or may not appear?”

Something warm and glowing flares to life in my chest. Close to where I keep my magic, but—different. A different sort, maybe. Or maybe something all its own.

“The list was a ploy,” I confess. “I was using it to distract you.”

He shrugs. “I figured as much. But it was also stuff you wanted to do, right? That part wasn’t fake.”

“No,” I answer slowly. “That part wasn’t fake.”

“Then we should do it.” He keeps his eyes on mine, his face open. “I told you, Darcy. I want to give you the things you want.”

“Is this some sort of Guardian thing, because—”

He shakes his head. “Nah. This is a Gabriel thing. A Darcy thing.” His voice is patient. Calm. Achingly reassuring. “C’mon. What’s next? Got a pickleball tournament on there? Bet I could dink.”

It feels like something thick is lodged in the base of my throat. I can’t swallow around it. I watch him carefully, looking for the lie.

“What are we doing, Gabriel?”

He smirks. “I mean, hopefully we’re playing pickleball. There’s a YMCA down the road I think we could—”

“No. What are we doing? There is no—there’s no future for this.” I’m too afraid to say us. I pick at the wood grain in the table, dragging the pad of my finger one way, and then the other. “I can’t run from this forever. I’ll have to go back at some point.”

He nods, thoughtful, then reaches for my hand with his. I let him toy with my fingers, his ink-stained skin a beautiful contrast to mine.

“What were you planning to do with the time you’ve got left? Before Gideon comes?” he asks.

“Um, I don’t know. Panic, probably. Prepare, as best I can.”

He shakes his head. “I want it,” he says quietly. “However long you’re here—whatever time you have left—I want it to be with me. I want all your minutes, Darcy. Every last one.”

Pressure burns across the bridge of my nose. Immortal beings know the precious value of time. What a gift it is for him to want what’s left of mine. To offer his own in exchange.

“Okay,” I say, my voice a tight warble. I clear my throat and try again. “Okay.”

Gabriel nods, his face so, so serious. I bet in a thousand years more, when I think of him, it’ll be exactly like this. With the sun pouring over his shoulders, a strawberry between his fingertips and his eyes right on me. Tattoos and dark curls and the sleeve of his T-shirt twisted up over the curve of his strong arm. Bed wrinkled and perfect.