Finally, I hear the sirens, the paramedics rushing out of the ambulance a second later, peeling me away from Sebastian, leaving me sitting there, empty and dazed. They notice Elliot’s lifeless body next, one of them rushing over to check his pulse.
“What happened, here?” the frantic paramedic asks.
“Self-defense,” I say flatly, looking into Eros’ eyes.
“I’m here,” Sebastian says, pulling my face away from his chest, his thumbs wiping away my tears. “I’m here.”
I nod, sniffing.
We rewrote the stars. We made our own fate. We met two thousand miles from home, only to run in to each other again a year later. And a year after that. It wasn’t the carnival I was drawn to. It was Sebastian. That wasn’t a coincidence. If anything, that was fate.
The curse may not have been real, but the fear? God, the fear was.
Tres also survived that day, suffering three broken ribs and a punctured lung. Sebastian saw Elliot dragging me out of the tent and hesitated for half a second, causing
Tres to swerve out of the way. He fell in front of Lathan, but Lathan couldn’t avoid him. Tres has already returned to the globe, but Lathan isn’t ready, still. He doesn’t think he ever will be. I’m just glad everyone’s alive.
“Make a wish,” I say, reaching for the funnel cake and holding it out in front of him. Sebastian smirks, that moon-shaped scar winking with the movement, and leans over to blow out his candles.
Two months later
I stare at Evan’s sleeping form on the bed inside the RV we share. She insisted on putting off school, dead set on traveling with us for as long as she possibly could. But I was done sharing her with everyone else. Done with not having the privacy I wanted, so I bought us our own little bunkhouse.
We had a deal. I gave her until my twenty-fifth birthday, and then, regardless of what happened, she had to promise to enroll in college. I didn’t care where she went or what she did. I just didn’t want her throwing away more years of her life for me. She’d argue that she wasn’t throwing them away, but it was important to me that Evan live for Evan for once. Not her mom or her dad or her shitty friends. She ditched her political science major, instead opting for a film school in California, starting next summer. She makes trailers for The Sons of Eastlake on her computer, and I have to admit, she knows her shit.
The most surprising part of the past few years came from Evan’s dad, Gavin. When he heard Evan’s voicemail, he was facing prison time unless he went to court-ordered rehab. Hearing that she still cared about him was the push he needed. The first stint in rehab didn’t work, or the second, but the third time was a charm. He’s now part of the Jessup clan, working as a ride jock. Never saw it coming.
Their relationship isn’t perfect, by any means. Being sober means having to face all the shitty things you did while you weren’t. He’s guilty and ashamed, and she’s still full of resentment, but they’re a work in progress.
Evan’s mom eventually returned. With divorce papers. Turns out, her new boyfriend was also her divorce lawyer. Evan’s seen her a couple of times, and they talk on the phone regularly, but that’s the extent of their relationship.
Evan once asked me why everyone left her. Her dad, her mom, her friends…the truth is, she’s too fucking good for all of them. Me included.
Elliot—Isaac, whatever the fuck you want to call him—he died instantly. We found out later that he was wanted for arson. Sick fuck burned his house down with his own mother inside.
“Baby,” I rasp into Evan’s ear, lowering my body onto hers. She’s lying facedown in her short, silk nightdress. You can take the girl away from her castle, but you can’t take the princess out of the girl. I lift her dress, feeling the warmth of her ass against me. She moans a sleepy sound, and I’m already hard.
Evan flips over beneath me, peering up at me with lines on her face from the pillow. I pull my cock out of my boxers, guiding myself to her opening. She moans again, arching her back as I slide inside her wet heat. I lock our fingers together, sliding our hands above her head, giving her hand three squeezes as I thrust into her.
“I love you, too,” she breathes.
“Enough to marry me?” I ask, reaching behind her for the ring I slid under her pillow before I crawled into bed with her.
“What?” Sleepy eyes gaze up at mine.
I slide the antique rose gold ring onto her finger, and she stares at it in shock.
“Sebastian…”
“Fuck, I love you, Evan. Marry me.”
Tears pool in her eyes as she nods, smoothing her hands around my back to pull me closer. When she shudders beneath me, I spill inside her, pressing kisses to the side of her neck and down her chest.
I don’t know what I did to deserve Evan, but I’ll fight until death to keep her.
Turns out, she wasn’t the casualty after all. She was the cure.
First and foremost, to the readers, whether you’re just discovering me or have been there since the beginning, thank you. I’m so grateful that you’ve taken a chance on me.