I freeze. They? As in, her? I’m on my feet in an instant, my chest buzzing with excitement, my mind racing, feeling more adrenaline than if I was in a swordfight. She’s here!
I barely hear Ben say, “Just please set up the meetings, Morgan,” before he sprints from the room, with me right behind him.
“They’re in the first room to the right!” Ram growls after us.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Adele
The train ride was long and I didn’t get nearly as much sleep as I would have liked, but still I feel wired. I’ve never been to the Water City before, and I’m taken by its beauty. And the Dome, which we’ve just entered, is the most beautiful of all.
I’m shocked by the buzz of activity inside. Men and woman are moving frantically about, dressed in dark-colored jumpsuits, some brown, some black, some gray. They’re not uniforms, because, well, they’re not uniform, but they look somewhat coordinated, like they’re all on the same side.
The moment we enter I feel a shiver down my spine, although I’m not cold.
“The Resistance is here,” my mom explains.
“What do we do?” I ask.
“Look for your father.”
Dad! I think, as my head swivels through the crowd, trying to locate the grizzly man I left in subchapter 26.
“Excuse me,” a woman says, approaching from the side, “do you need hel—” She stops suddenly, her eyes ablaze with recognition. “Ms. Rose?”
“Yes?” my mother and I reply simultaneously.
The woman looks back and forth between us. Initially her eyebrows lower in confusion, but then they slowly lift as understanding flows into her mind. “Anna and Adele,” she says.
“And Tawni,” my friend says.
“And Trevor,” Trevor jokes. “I’ll be down on the platform area making sure everything is ready.” He walks off.
I laugh. “We’re all here,” I say. “Can you take us to my dad—I mean, to Ben Rose?”
“Of course, of course. Right this way.”
Shivers of excitement are rippling through my body as we follow the woman down some stairs, into a darkened hallway, through an archway and into a room. “Just a moment, wait here,” she says.
There are three beds and two benches. Tawni and my mother sit next to each other on one of the benches, facing the still-open door. I remain on my feet, unable to sit for fear that the energy coursing through me will be stifled.
A minute passes slowly. Then another.
Then he’s there, the man from my childhood. Not the unkempt, unshaven, bloodied fighter from before, but the clean-cut, handsome man who raised me. I rush to him, but I’m too late. My mom is already in his arms, clutching him to her like releasing him would mean death for all of us. Over her shoulder his eyes are closed, his chin buried in her neck. I feel tears well up in my eyes.
As if by magic, Elsey appears at their side, hugging them both around the waist. My mom’s arm curls around her and she says, “Oh, El. Sweet El.”
The tears are bubbling up faster than I can blink them away. My mom’s other arm reaches back blindly, beckons me into the fold. Two steps and I’m there, surrounded by the warmth of the family I love, the family who’s been ripped apart, convicted, abused, battered—but not beaten. Never beaten.
And then, abruptly, the tears stop. I’m complete again so there’s no need to cry. My body recognizes right away what my mind takes a few more seconds to understand. I’m home. Not at our puny house in subchapter 14, but in the place where home really lives. In the love of my family.
I pull away to see smiling faces, a circle of strength, of goodness, arms around each other protectively. I’ll never lose these people again.
Someone clears their throat behind me. I strain my head backwards and my eyes lock on him, just like they did they first time, with the power of rock crushers, and bulldozers, and lava flows. In this moment, Tristan’s dark blue eyes are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life. Perhaps it’s just crazy hormones, or the emotion of the reunion with my family, or some force greater than any of that, but I feel a physical pull and I rush to him, slam into his chest, wrap my arms around his torso—feeling muscle and bone and strength—in his body and in mine.
His face is surprised, and I know I’m not acting like the timid girl who was scared to hold his hand from before. Because I’m not. I’ve stared down death in the barrel of a gun in my face. There are only so many moments in one’s life, and then it’s over. And I’m determined to make the most of every moment from here on out.
I don’t wait for his chin to dip; rather, I lift up on my tiptoes and tilt my head back, jamming my lips to his. I don’t know what the heck I’m doing, but I’m not thinking, not anymore. I’m not worried about whether this will be our first and last kiss, or one of many. I’m just acting, listening to my heart.
I must be doing something right, because his hand moves behind my head, sifts through my hair, pulls me in even closer, if that’s possible. His lips are soft and tender and urgent as he moves them over mine. My mind is exploding and my heart is about to, but I keep kissing him.
Luckily, he has enough presence of mind to pull away from me, because I don’t know if I can. It’s a good thing for two reasons: One—I’m completely out of breath and I may have suffocated myself before I released us from the kiss; and two—my whole family is watching us, which is embarrassing regardless of the gravity of the situation. Elsey’s beaming, my mother’s smiling sheepishly, and my father’s wearing something between a grin and a grimace. The only ones not watching: Roc and Tawni, who are sitting side by side on one of the beds, talking quietly and smiling at each other.
I turn back to Tristan, and, realizing my arms are still around his back and his around mine, I twist to the side and grudgingly release him, sliding my hand down his arm until it intertwines in his fingers. “Tristan, I’d like you to meet my mom, Anna,” I say.
Mom steps forward and shakes his hand. “I’m so happy to finally meet you,” Tristan says, and I know I’m beaming ridiculously, more like Elsey than myself, but I can’t seem to stop.
“And you, Tristan,” Mom says. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for my family, and what you’re doing for the Tri-Realms.”
Her words stir the last remaining bits of emotion out of me and I put my arm around her, pull her in close.
Dad says, “I’ve got to go meet with the VPs. Enjoy yourselves until I get back.”
When the door closes I turn around to find Roc and Tawni back on the edge of one of the beds, whispering and laughing. It makes me smile.
Mom and Elsey are side by side on one of the other beds and Elsey’s telling her some funny story, using her hands as much as her voice.
At the foot of the third bed, Tristan’s watching me. The breath rushes from my lungs. I’d forgotten how handsome he is—seeing him through a video screen just doesn’t do him justice. His blond waves seem to fall perfectly atop his head, framing a face so stoic and strong that it’s almost as if he is a prince.
I go to him, sit down next to him on the bed. He takes my hand and I feel my heart rate increase as warm blood flows to my extremities. As usual, bats flutter ceaselessly in my stomach.
“I’m so happy,” Tristan says. It seems like such a funny thing to say considering we’re still in the middle of a potential war of epic proportions, but when he says it I know I feel the same way. In fact, I feel like I’ve never been happier.
“I am, too,” I admit.
He raises an eyebrow in a way that only looks cute on him. “What happened with Brody?” he asks, and my breath catches when I think he’s talking about the almost-kiss. “I mean, why do you think he wanted to hurt you?”