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It couldn’t be.
Gods, the ticking was so loud!
I thrust my hands into my hair and backed out the door. “I’m sorry. I didn’t… know.”
He closed his eyes and sighed, and that was all I saw. I couldn’t look at him. I didn’t want to see. My friend, he wasn’t… real. Like Rochefort wasn’t real. People died, and then weren’t dead. Were my parents dead? Was that real? Was I real?
I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t… take a second more of it.
I stumbled against the display of puzzles, knocking them all to the floor. A box flew open, scattering all the jagged pieces. I laughed at all those tiny fragments. What else was I supposed to do but laugh?
The clocks. Chiming and ticking. “Why is it so loud?”
“Val, stop…”
“Stop?” I laughed again. Maybe I hadn’t stopped laughing. “You were the one thing, the one good thing in my life. I was scared, Devere. So scared. I wanted to be normal, my parents wanted me to be normal, the whole world wanted me to be normal, and then I kissed you and I was scared it would ruin everything, and so I told them, and they beat you. Gods, they beat you…” I panted, breathing around a pain in my chest. “I watched. And my heart broke. I hated you, and myself. I hated this fuckin’ town, so I left, and for a while, everything was right with the world. But every night, I dreamed of you and what I’d done. I was always going to come back.”
He stood at the counter, head bowed, listening because he had no choice.
“I loved you. Do you have any idea what that means? They locked me under the stairs, Dev. They locked me away and told me I was wrong for hearing voices, for talking to people who weren’t there. Love wasn’t a thing I deserved. Then there was you! The boy who rarely smiled, but when he did for me, it was as though I’d been set free. You didn’t think me mad. You saw me, and I loved you for it, and I fucked up and hated myself for that. For all of it. But… none of this is real, is it? The whole world is a lie. And I’m trapped here, like I was stuck under the stairs. I’m trapped, and I feel it trying to choke me.” Gods, I couldn’t breathe. I clutched at my chest and my aching, damaged heart. “I had you, just you. I love you. But you’re not real. Now I don’t know anything.”
It hurt. It hurt as though the whole world were crushing my heart.
I sank to my knees among the puzzle pieces. This was insanity, wasn’t it? This was madness. I was no better than the lunatics I studied.
Hush, Valentine. It will all be over soon.
There is no truth, only that of his making.
Was I still that boy trapped under the stairs? Had I ever escaped?
“Val…” Devere’s hand settled on my shoulder.
I looked up into his beautiful eyes. Too beautiful to be real. Everything was a lie.
He skimmed his hand down my arm and took my fingers in his. “You feel this? This is real.”
Was it? How could I know? I shook my head and pulled my hand back, but then he touched my face, my cheek, and he lifted my chin.
“This is real.” He took my hand again and placed it on his firm chest. His heart patted a rhythm through his shirt.
I wished I could believe him.
Worry pained his face. He almost smiled, but then he let my hand drop and touched my face again. “This is real,” he said and leaned close. “This wasalwaysreal,” he whispered, mouth parted against mine, seeking careful permission and gentle acceptance. I tasted cinnamon and toffee, tasted him, and by God, it felt like freedom.
Wrapping my arms around him, I dragged him down to his knees with me, and threw everything I had left into him, needing it to bring me back to life, back to a reality in which I kissed a boy who wasn’t real. But it didn’t matter, because he was right. The kisswasreal and warm and alive. He clutched me close, and we rocked, mouths and bodies aligned in desperation. He’d never felt so warm, so solid, so perfect.
He pulled free but clutched my hair and bowed his head, and when he looked up, his eyes shone with unshed tears. “I wish I were real for you.”
I clutched his face, dislodging his tears. “Tell me everything.”
ChapterTwenty-Five
Devere
On my knees, with Valentine in my arms and the tingling of his kiss still on my lips, I feared that saying another word would further shatter his mind. But it was too late to undo the damage. Perhaps it was already too late for the both of us.
“You are Valentine Anzio,” I told him. “You escaped this town, its people, and me—that was real. You had a life in Massalia—until he lured you back.”
