Page 33 of Gathered Sparkle

CHAPTER EIGHT

Novalee

He thinks…

… he thinks I’m her.

The girl who was supposed to have the world, who shone brighter than anyone I’ve ever known. She’s gone. She’s been gone for eight years. But he doesn’t know that. He thinks she’s right here in front of him, in my skin.

Everything feels frozen, suspended in some kind of surreal nightmare. And then, somehow, all motion comes rushing back in, all at once. A hysterical laugh bubbles up, unbidden, rising from somewhere deep inside me. It’s a hollow, empty sound that feels foreign like it belongs to someone else.

He’s alive.

And he thinks I’m Rosalee.

I laugh harder, the sound cracking, breaking. It feels wrong, all of it—like my chest is splintering open. Sylus’s arms tighten around me, and I can feel his concern and confusion, but I can’t stop. The laughter keeps spilling out.

Ace.

Rosalee.

I laugh until I feel tears in my eyes, until my ribs ache, until my vision blurs. It’s all too much—the shock, the confusion, the sheer impossibility of what I’m seeing. My entire body feels as if it’s breaking into a thousand pieces. The room blurs, my head spinning, and all I can do is laugh.

“Sparkle?” Sylus asks cautiously. He’s trying to bring me back, to ground me, but I can’t stop. I can’t because it hurts too much, and the only thing that seems to keep me from completely losing my mind is this laughter that sounds more like a scream.

Ace is here.Alive. Standing right in front of me.

I force myself up, pushing out of Sylus’s lap, my laughter morphing into a choked sound. Pain shoots through my arm, reminding me that this isn’t a dream. This is real.

He’s really here.

I stagger to my feet, the pain almost knocking me back down, but I ignore it. Sylus stands, too, and his hands are on my hips in an instant, trying to steady me, but I barely register his touch. Nothing feels real—nothing buthim.

The laughter dies completely, replaced by a sob that tears through me.

All this time.

I mourned him. I hated myself for him. I loved him through all of it. And now, somehow, he’s standing here, alive, and looking at me like I’m someone else.

I can’t breathe.

“Little Thief, you okay?”

“Sparkle, baby. You’ve probably lost too much blood.”

“Rosie, sit down.”

The room, the people, the voices, all of it fades away until it’s just Ace and me.

Just us and all the years of pain, longing, and guilt between us.

“No… no,Ace.” I shake my head, a strangled sound escaping my lips. “I’m Novalee.”

The black suitcase he’s holding falls to the floor, and I watch as his face shifts through emotions—shock, confusion, then a shadow of realization, and a flicker of anguish twisted by pain.

“What?” He blinks, his gaze searching my face as if he’s trying to find a trace of familiarity, a hint of recognition. It’s like he’s desperate to piece together who’s standing in front of him.

He won’t find anything, though.

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