The Ending Series: The Complete Series

by Lindsey Fairleigh

  I barked a laugh and felt a sudden, rush of relief. It always amazed me how laughter could wash misery away like a wave smoothing out footprints in sand. Smiling at Zoe, I fished a handkerchief out of my pocket and handed it to her. “You’ve got some wayward snot…”

  Her eyes went wide, and then she smacked my arm. “Smart-ass!” But she did take the hanky.

  I pursed my lips, suppressing a grin. “Go to bed, Zo. You look like crap.”

  She glared at me, but her Caribbean-blue eyes sparkled with laughter. “I feel like crap.” She stood shakily, almost falling back onto the bale of hay. “But I have to stop by the infirmary first—H’s orders.”

  I jumped up and supported her with an arm around her waist. “You’re not collapsing on my watch. Let’s get you into the house.”

  Zoe started to run her fingers through her hair and paused mid-action, her eyes fixed on the raw marks around her wrist, before she pulled a strand of hair out and stared at it. She sighed. “I think I need to wash up first,” she said and wrinkled her nose.

  “Well, I wasn’t going to mention it, but…”

  “Hey!” She feigned offense and nudged my shoulder.

  I laughed, a good, loud belly laugh. “Why don’t I hand you off to Jake?” I said, pointing toward the solemn man in question with my chin as he entered the stable carrying a saddle. “I love you, Zo, but I’m sure he’d appreciate seeing you all naked and soapy much more than I would.”

  Zoe rolled her eyes as I transferred her into Jake’s much more capable hands, trading him for the saddle. As I carried it back to the tack room, I heard Zoe call out, “Jason! Go rescue your wife! She’s carrying heavy things in the stable!”

  Shaking my head, I grinned. I was almost to the tack room when I heard the rush of footsteps as Jason jogged toward me. “Red…”

  “Jason,” I said, drawing out his name and continuing on my way. With a faint grunt, I hoisted the saddle onto its stand and turned to face my towering husband. He stood a few yards away, arms crossed over his broad chest. “What?” I mirrored his pose, leather creaking as I leaned back against the saddle.

  For seconds, we stood on either side of the small tack room, staring at each other. Slowly, Jason reached behind himself and shut the door, never taking his eyes off me.

  “Jason…” I drawled again.

  He started across the room, closing the distance between us slowly, like a predator stalking prey.

  My heartbeat thudded in my chest, my pulse suddenly racing. “We’re in the stable,” I said, swallowing roughly.

  “I don’t care.”

  “Anyone could walk in.” My mind wasn’t focused on much beyond Jason, but I managed a fleeting thought of gratitude that Carlos had moved Vanessa up into his room while we’d waited for the others to return.

  “They’ll understand.”

  Suddenly, Jason’s lips were on mine, his hips pressed against mine, and I no longer cared where we were or who walked in or what someone might see. I only cared about getting closer to him. In that moment, I only cared about loving him.

  36

  ZOE

  DECEMBER 16, 1AE

  The Farm, California

  What had only been a handful of hours since we left Sacramento felt like a never-ending, muddled day of obscure conversations and a rainstorm of emotions. The cool water of the outside shower was exactly what I needed to resuscitate my mind and body, despite the breezy, dusky morning. Complete exhaustion was one thing, but fuzzy senses were unsettling.

  Tugging on the water cord, I let the brisk waterfall run down my face, over my back, and down my legs, rinsing away what remained of that room, of that bed…of that not-so-distant nightmare. The fact that things could’ve been worse wasn’t lost upon me, but it still left me feeling uneasy in my own skin. Somehow the crisp water made me feel better, for once, and helped keep my emotions in check, despite my intermittent shivering.

  The sound of someone at the entrance to the shower startled me. “Christ!” I shrieked and attempted to cover the most private parts of my exposed body.

  “Just me,” Jake said. He took in my alarmed expression as he stepped inside, a towel draped over each shoulder. “Sorry,” he said with a barely there smirk. “You snuck out of the house pretty quickly. I thought you might need one of these”—he hung the towels over the fence—“and maybe some help.” His partial smile hardened and his eyes narrowed on my arms and wrists, then moved up my neck to the right side of my face…then the left.

  I knew exactly what he was staring at; I could feel Randall’s handprints, still tender on my cheeks and jaw. I’d seen myself through Jake’s eyes—through everyone’s—enough to know the bruising looked pretty bad.

  “Thanks for the towel,” I said, trying to dissolve his quiet concern. “That will definitely come in handy.”

  Jake dipped his chin, his eyes fixed on mine, thoughtful. “Why didn’t you let Chris draw you a warm bath?”

  I lifted an indifferent shoulder and refocused on my shower. “It’s too crowded in the house right now,” I said. “I needed some space.” I pulled the handle again so I could splash water on my face and ran my fingers through my wet hair. I fought my teeth from chattering, but I was feeling more and more normal by the minute.

  Realizing Jake was still standing there, expectant, I glanced at him. The fixedness of his gaze had thawed and he lifted his eyebrow. “Mind if I join you?” He held up the body wash I’d forgotten, and a washcloth. “I’ll make it worth your while.” He offered me a small grin.

  I couldn’t refuse that smile, and I didn’t want to. Jake’s calm, steady demeanor was a welcome respite from the ebb and flow of overstimulated emotions in the house. “Worth my while? In that case,” I said with a soft chuckle. “Of course you can join me. But it’s freezing, just so ya know.”

  “Exactly why I wondered why you were out here.” Jake pulled his T-shirt off over his head, removed his shorts, and stepped toward the water. Briefly, I remembered our first semi-naked encounter in the locker room at Fort Knox.

  “Why are you smiling?” he asked, one eyebrow arched in question.

  My smile broadened. “No reason.” I splashed more water on my face and stepped aside so he could rinse off. Unlike Sanchez, my dad, Gabe, and Becca, who all had scrapes and some bruising, Jake’s body was unmarred. The only remnant of him being injured at all was the dried dirt and blood that caked certain areas of his skin. He set the body wash on the ground. “Feeling a little overwhelmed?” he asked, wiping water from his face.

  All the talking and questions and emotions had definitely been that—overwhelming—after days of mostly silence and solitude. My feelings and those of everyone else felt intensified, especially now that we were all together. “You could say that,” I said. I eyed the faintly pulsing aura around him.

  Leaning into the water, Jake scrubbed the top of his head. I watched as chills broke out over his skin, and when he noticed me watching him, he stopped mid-scrub. “What is it?”

  I shrugged. “You’re just glowing a tad,” I said, half-jokingly. Though I wasn’t sure glowing was the right word. “That’s all.”

  His eyes widened a smidge before narrowing on me again. “You never really did explain that to me.” Which was true; he’d been gone so much after Jason’s disappearance I had to wonder what other developments he might’ve missed, though nothing in particular came to mind.

  I crouched for the shampoo I’d actually remembered to bring, but Jake grabbed it before I could and shook his head. He stepped aside, guiding me back under the streaming water. “There’s not much to tell, really,” I began. He squirted some of the shampoo into his hand, and I tilted my head slightly back out of habit and shut my eyes. “I thought I saw it around you once, but now it seems pretty constant. I’m not sure how to turn it off yet.” I nearly groaned as Jake’s fingers massaged my head, and I wanted to melt. When I opened my eyes, he was listening intently. “Everyone has a color, except for Dani.” I smirked. “Sh
e has two. Becca doesn’t have one either, none of the Re-gens do.”

  “An aura, huh?” He maneuvered me back under the water and helped me rinse my hair.

  I shrugged again, meeting his gaze as he peered down at me. “That’s sort of what Gabe and I talked about. He thinks it has something to do with my Ability seeing emotions, not just feeling them. But it’s all theory at this point.”

  “What’s my color?” he asked, and his eyes sparkled. “Pink?”

  I couldn’t help the incredulous scrunch of my face as I shook my head. “No. Not pink,” I said. “Though that would be funny.”

  “Not really,” he said and furrowed his brow as he imagined it.

  My growing smile widened as I studied his aura for a moment. It was a slightly effervescent mixture of burnt orange and scarlet red. “Yours is sort of crimson,” I said, chewing my lip in contemplation.

  Jake opened the body wash to squirt some into the washcloth in his hand. “That’s got to be weird, seeing people glowing all the time.”

  “I’m definitely still getting used to it,” I admitted. “But if it’s anything like emotions and memories, I can probably turn it off, eventually.” The moment his sudsy hands began to lather soap on my shoulders, back, and arms, my eyes closed again of their own accord, and I felt the tension in my muscles disperse. “That feels…so…good…” I groaned.

  Jake chuckled. “Good.” His hands were strong but gentle, and soft despite the roughness of his fingertips. And like the cleansing, frigid water that cascaded down my skin, his touch was soothing.

  “I’m surprised you’re not shrieking and wiggling around,” he said with a hint of laughter. I knew he was thinking about when he’d dunked me in the Arkansas River back in Colorado. I didn’t have to see him to know he was smiling.

  “Why? Because the water’s cool and you wish you could taunt me some more?” I said dryly. “Not this time. This is just what I needed.”

  We were quiet for a moment, the sound of the water rushing over my ears and the feeling of Jake’s hands on my body keeping me distracted and my mind still. “How’s Sam?” I finally asked. “Is he doing any better?” I’d left him alone in his room per his request.

  “I’m sure he’ll be okay, Zoe,” Jake said. “It helps that he has all of us. He knows he’s not alone.”

  Jake’s gentle, attentive, methodical scrubbing on my back stopped, and he picked up my hand to scrub my arm. He studied the angry, red wound on my bicep. I hadn’t re-bandaged it since Harper had examined it, wanting to clean it off before I covered it back up.

  “What did Harper say?” Jake asked, eyeing the pink, irritated skin around it. It was difficult for him to see wounds on me, on any of us, really, because it was so easy for him to heal.

  “He said I’ll be fine. It’s a deep cut, something in the van—when it rolled—but I’m okay. I promise.” I squeezed his hand. “I’m not going to break. It’s not infected. I’m fine.”

  Jake squirted more body wash onto the washcloth and slowly began to massage my hand, then the skin around my raw wrists and up my eggplant-colored arm. “I don’t think this is a good color for me,” I teased, but Jake ignored me.

  “Are you sure you don’t want a transfusion?”

  I shook my head. “Not unless there’s something really wrong with me. You’re not a damn blood machine.”

  He didn’t look away from my arm as he gently cleaned around the cut.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, knowing it bothered him that he couldn’t help me, only because I wouldn’t let him. “But you know how I feel about this. I just spent the last four days hooked up to machines that were sucking the life right out of me. Why would I want to do that to you, especially when it’s not necessary?”

  “You know it’s not the same,” he said, his voice flat. He was frustrated with me, and I couldn’t blame him. If our roles were reversed, I’d want to help him, too, but I just wanted to heal on my own.

  I scoured his body, knowing I wouldn’t find a bullet wound, but wondering where he’d been shot all the same.

  “The chest,” he said, eyeing me sideways. “I’m fine.”

  “I know,” I said. I couldn’t help but worry, no matter how perfect he looked.

  “Like I said,” he grumbled. “It’s not the same.”

  “If my cut gets worse,” I said, “or I don’t start feeling better soon, I’ll let you know, okay? I promise.”

  Jake’s eyes cut to mine, then he pulled the shower lever. “It’s your choice.”

  With a final, shivering rinse, I pivoted around, needing to break the tension between us. “Your turn,” I said, eyebrows dancing. “You know you want me to scrub your baaack,” I sang. “And fast, because I’m starting to freeze, I think.”

  Jake conceded. His mouth quirked in a sultry smile, and he quickly turned around. I lathered up a handful of body wash on the washcloth.

  “Apricot, my favorite,” he drawled, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

  Rising on tiptoes, I gripped his shoulders and kissed the side of his face. “What’s wrong, you don’t like smelling fruity?”

  “Oh, I love it.” He dropped his head so I could scrub around his neck and down his back. “I didn’t see any soap in your stash,” he said, “so Dani lent that to me before she and Jason shut themselves up in the cottage. Don’t use it all, it might be her favorite one or something.”

  I barked a laugh. “It’s not, and even if it was, she and Jason will probably never emerge from their little haven again anyway. She won’t miss it.” Remembering Jason’s expression when Dani told him about the baby—the pure joy and excitement that lit up his face—I wasn’t sure he would ever let her out of his sight again. “I wonder what they’re going to name her,” I thought aloud. I guided Jake back a couple steps into the falling water.

  “Her?”

  “Yeah, Dani says it’s a girl.” I washed the suds from his back. “Do you think she’ll name her after Grams, or maybe Callie?”

  “Who’s Callie?” Jake asked, but I waved his question away, too busy wondering.

  “Her old roommate. Maybe she’ll name her after her mom, Ceara.”

  “Maybe,” Jake said. He shook out the water from his hair and scooted over so I could rinse off one final time. The water stopped just as I finished. “Or,” Jake continued, “maybe they’ll want to start a family without being tied to painful memories of the past. Maybe they’ll pick a new name.”

  I nodded. “It’s possible. That’s what I would do.”

  I wrung the excess water from my hair, still thinking, when blurred images of children—our children—flooded my mind. My eyes widened, and I looked at Jake.

  He handed me my towel, but I was frozen. He frowned. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

  “You—” I pointed at him. “You want to have kids.” I’m not sure why, but I was shocked. There was always a chance it could happen, but we were careful; I guess I assumed it was for a reason.

  Jake’s expression softened. “Of course I do,” he said, catching me a little off guard. We hadn’t talked about kids, ever. In fact, we never really talked about us and our future, let alone a family. We just sort of…were. His expression tensed again. “Don’t you?”

  I let out a nervous laugh. “I don’t know. I mean, I like kids, other people’s kids…”

  Jake was confused. Images of me and the twins and Annie and Sam flashing in his mind, of his plea for us to settle down and start a new life here. He was revisiting memories of me, like he was making sure he hadn’t missed something—a conversation or a look, a sign, anything.

  Though Jake’s expression was calm and thoughtful, I felt a spike of nervousness in him, too. It was the most surprisingly endearing thing I’d ever experienced before. He really wanted a family…with me. And suddenly I felt a little nervous and even a tad giddy.

  Wrapping my towel around me, I stepped into him. I studied his face, his shrewd copper-colored eyes and how they searched mine. “I did
n’t realize a family was so important to you. I mean, I should have. I think you’d be a wonderful father.” His eyes held mine, still unsure what to think. “I’ve just been living so much in the present I sort of forgot that we get to have a future together, too.”

  The small furrow in his brow lessened.

  Brushing a light kiss against his lips, I said, “Just because I haven’t really thought about it, that doesn’t mean I don’t want to, Jake. It’s just—”

  Everett, I thought it was by the sound of his hiccupped wails, began crying inside the farmhouse. I squeezed my eyes shut, forgetting the “perks” to having baby twins around, plus Dani’s baby girl on the way.

  “It’s just,” I said, starting again, “that there’s a lot going on right now, and I think we have enough babies in the house for the time being, don’t you?”

  Jake let out a steadying breath, wincing a bit as Everett’s crying grew louder. “Yes,” he said. “Staggering them a bit would be good.”

  We both laughed, and Jake wrapped his arms around me, pressing a long, gentle kiss against my lips before he let go.

  “Hey,” I said, as he was about to step away. “I’m serious. You and me”—I peered down at my nonexistent watch like I often did—“a year or two from now.” I pointed up to our bedroom window and lifted my eyebrows playfully.

  Jake smiled and kissed me again before we began to dress in our clean clothes.

  “I can see it now,” I said. “Me waddling around with a giant white belly.” I tugged my sweatpants on, suppressing a groan at the comfort of having my own clothes, soft and clean against my skin.

  “That’ll be a sight to behold,” Jake joked, and I playfully smacked his arm.

  “That’s right. And you better learn how to make ice cream…and pickles.”

  37

  DANI

  DECEMBER 16, 1AE

  The Farm, California

  We slept late into the afternoon, having finally crawled into bed sometime after four in the morning, and I woke feeling like I’d been asleep for weeks. I lay in bed, snuggled against Jason and warm and cozy under Grams’s quilt, utterly content. Sharing my bed with Jason was something I’d doubted I would ever experience again. But there he was, right where he belonged.