Page 87 of Till Death

The crooked shutters, the weeds, and the cracked front door…

That’s when I realize what Hank had done and the truth of it punched me in the gut.

I knew this house.

It was the one from my last Trial. The one I’d shared with Cole in my heart’s deepest desire fantasy.

But why…

Heartbeat racing, I turned back to Hank. “I-I don’t understand.” My voice came out in a croak. “What is this?”

He encouraged me to keep looking at the house, so I spun again.

“This is your paradise, Jade,” he said in a low tone. “This is for everything you’ve done. The wonderful things you’ve managed to accomplish and how you never gave up fighting no matter the odds.”

As I stared in disbelief, a heaviness sunk in my chest. I never expected to be brought back here to the afterlife; I expected to be poofed into nothingness or whatever it was that happened to souls in the Void. I should be happy Hank had allowed me to come back, let alone gift me a house to live in, but it still didn’t feel like enough…

“What’s the matter, Jade?” Hank asked beside me. “You don’t like it?”

“No, no,” I replied quickly. “No, thank you. Really. It’s perfect—”

“But…” he goes on, “but something’s missing.”

Someone, yeah.

I sigh. “I’m sorry, Hank. I can’t except this. It’s…It’s not right.”

“Oh, I see.” The corners of Hank’s mouth tugged down into a frown. “Well, I think he’s going to be a bit disappointed to hear that.”

I paused, something in his words hitting my ear wrong.

Wait? He?

What?

“Jade?”

I froze.

That voice…

The pressure in my chest increased to the point where my breath stalled, but by some miracle, I managed to turn back to the house.

On the porch stood the half-demon of my dreams. Sandy blond hair, blue eyes, boyishly handsome face, tattered backpack and all…

Cole.

CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE

Igawked at him, stunned stupid.

It wasn’t possible.

How…how had this happened?

“It’s almost like our Trial, right?” he called with his usual cocky half-smile. “I had one request, though.” He hooked a thumb to the empty driveway. “No Corolla.”

That was Cole, alright.

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