Epilogue-After the Storm

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Thea

"I thought we'd never do this," Bel says as she gathers more paint on her brush.

"Right? When did we plan this Ladies Night? Like, months ago?" Everly replies, her volume raising with every sip of sparkling wine.

Caylin moves her brush across the canvas with practiced skill. "Well, when we discussed this social gathering, you were still a bachelorette, Evie. Now look at you — married and bonded."

Laughter bubbles out of Everly as she spins in her chair.

"Ok, no more vino for the missus," Bel announces, stopping Everly from falling onto the ground.

Seri leans toward me, examining my work. "Thea, what are you painting? It looks nothing like what we chose."

I sit back and take in the pops of color and swirls of black. "What are you talking about? I'm doing the same tree as all of you."

My friend gives me an accusing stare. "What?" I laugh. "Seri, it's fun art, not fine art."

The alarm on my cell chirps. "Girls, I hate to paint and run, but I gotta go. I have a healing session with Jack first thing in the morning." I finish the last few strokes of my brush before removing my apron.

Seri swishes her brush in the jar of muted-grey water. "How's that going? Has he made any progress?"

The topic of conversation has sobered Evie up a bit. "He's doing better. We're hoping that between his fast healing and Thea's gift, Jack will be walking on his own very soon."

Her words feel like a weight on my shoulders.

"I'm sure he will," Caylin supplies.

"Thea," Bel stands. "We're meeting the guys at Charlie's for a late-night bite. You sure you don't wanna join?"

"No thanks."

"Well then, I'll come with you," She responds, moving to untie her rainbow-speckled smock.

"Sis, you know I have to prepare. It's just a few blocks to the shop. I'll be fine. Bring my art home, please."

Seri snorts. "Art."

Ignoring her scoffing, I pull on my coat, adjust my messenger bag, and step out of Cross My Art. I am met by the frosty wind. Spring may be approaching, but the thermometer is stuck on winter. Pulling my green, wool hood up, I burrow into the fabric and quicken my pace.

What I wouldn't do for Caylin's heat right now.

Months after the altercation with the mutant monsters, our group has remained observant and prepared. But lately, the pressure to heal Jack has clouded my judgment. Quickening my pace to fight the cold, I almost miss the eerie tingle that flutters across my skin. Cursing my lack of vigilance tonight, I cross the vacant road and decide to cut through Basin Spring Park. The street lamps provide enough light to illuminate rouge snowflakes swirling through the air — it's winter's last stand.

My footsteps echo sharply around the deserted street, sounding overly loud in my own ears, like the booming heartbeat of a condemned prisoner. My heart slams against my ribs when I feel someone watching me.  I'm being followed and no sooner has the realization hit me that I'm grabbed from behind.

"Late night walk alone," a gruff voice breathes into my ear. "You're dead, Sunshine."

"What the hell, Trent?!"

"What did I say about going places by yourself? Especially at night." My feet dangle as he locks my arms in place and forces my back against his chest.  

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