TWENTY

“YOU FIX HER, GODDAMN IT, OR I SWEAR TO GOD—”

“Try harder.”

“She has no pulse.”

“She’s not dead, Jane. I can still feel her—”

“Crowe, I’m sorry. I’m not strong enough.”

“Take my blood. Just bring her back!”

“Come back to me, Jemmie.”

Light flashed behind my eyes. I could feel the distant pull of the ground beneath my legs and the grip of strong arms wrapped around me, the press of his face against mine. He was shaking. Shaking. And the earth trembled.

The roar of the nearby river was in my ears, and still he held me.

“Crowe,” I whispered.

He pulled back. “Jemmie?”

“Am I alive?”

A beautiful honeyed glow broke over the treetops on the other side of the river, casting a halo of light behind his head. The sunlight. I could taste it on the tip of my tongue.

I could hear the birds in the trees and the worms in the earth and the fast beating of Crowe’s heart.

I could sense every breath pulled in and pushed out. I could sense the world sighing.

A single tear streamed down Crowe’s face. It glittered in the light.

And then he kissed me and the earth stopped trembling, and held its breath.

I was alive.