Chapter 20
Avery
I keep my eyes closed and pretend to sleep against Sparkle.
What a liar I am.
"It doesn't hurt as much anymore."
What a joke.
The words tasted bitter even as they left my mouth. And now, sitting here in the oppressive silence of the jungle, I feel them rotting on my tongue. It does hurt. Every damn day. Sometimes it's a dull ache, sometimes it's sharp enough to make me want to rip my own chest open just to get it out. Tonight, with him sitting across the fire—his broad shoulders casting shadows against the flames, the ring on his hand glinting—I feel like my heart is being carved out piece by piece.
I wish he didn't look so much like my Jace.
This Jace is a commander, a leader, with a hard edge carved by battles and blood. My Jace was light, laughter, warmth—like the sun breaking through storm clouds.
This one broods, clenches his jaw too much, hides behind walls so thick even bullets would ricochet. My Jace tore down my walls, made me believe I could be loved exactly as I was. This Jace builds walls around himself so high I sometimes wonder if he's already buried alive inside them.
And still… my traitorous heart doesn't care.
It races when he looks at me.
It aches when he talks about memories he's lost.
It bleeds when he fiddles with that ring, not knowing where it came from.
The universe must be laughing at me. Out of billions, out of every possibility, it gave me him again. Same face. Same eyes. But no memory of us. It's like a cruel joke, dangling hope in front of me only to rip it away.
Sparkle rumbles beneath me, sensing the storm in my chest. Her massive body shifts, and I press my hand against her fur. She's warmth, grounding, constant. If not for her, I might have drowned in grief years ago. I bury my face in her fur for a moment, inhaling the faint metallic scent of mana that clings to her.
"You're all I've got, Spark," I whisper, too softly for even the night to catch.
The fire crackles. Across from me, Jace moves, adjusting his posture. I hear the faint clink of his ring against the hilt of his gun. My breath hitches despite myself. I want to look at him. I want to let my eyes trace his profile, the stubborn slope of his nose, the familiar line of his jaw that I used to kiss—
No.
I can't.
That way lies madness.
I squeeze my necklace instead, feeling the shape of the ring and the small metal box pressed against my chest. They're heavy tonight, heavier than usual, like anchors dragging me back to memories I've spent years trying to bury.
If I open that box again, I'll see the photos, the scraps of us I tried so desperately to preserve when everything fell apart. Photos of a boy with curls and dimples, smiling at me like I was his whole world. Photos of us, tangled in each other, too young to know how fragile forever really was.
I want to scream at him. To shake him until he remembers.
It's me, Jace. Your Avery. Your best friend. Your first love. The boy you promised the world to. But he's not him.
So I keep my eyes shut. Pretend to sleep. Pretend I'm strong. Pretend I haven't been bleeding out since the day I realized the boy I loved was gone, even if his body wasn't.
The universe loves to torture me. And I—I'm too weak to stop it.
***
Jace
I look at him openly now that he's asleep against Sparkle.
Or maybe he's not really asleep. Maybe he's just pretending like I am most nights, eyes shut but mind awake and full of things we'll never say out loud. Either way, I take the chance.
The firelight paints his pale skin in warm tones, and for a moment I wonder—would it feel as soft as it looks if I reached out and touched it? My fingers twitch, but I don't move.
As if reading my thoughts, Sparkle's massive tail curls around him protectively, her glowing eyes sliding toward me. A low rumble escapes her throat—less a growl, more a warning. Mine. Stay away.
I look away, ashamed of myself, but my gaze betrays me and drifts back. The faint rise and fall of his chest. The way his hair, loose from its tie, falls across his cheek. The necklace around his neck, catching the firelight—the chain, the ring, the little box. Symbols I don't understand but feel jealous of anyway.
Sparkle's eyes narrow, and I force myself to look away again.
"I get it," I mutter under my breath. "He's yours."