Page 88 of Shattered Hate

“Why did you name that picture Mystic Tealglow?” he whispers. I smile, turning my gaze to where he looks.

“Imagine eyes that capture nature itself, a mix of forest green, peaceful ocean blue, and the glow of light… So intense and captivating. A gaze you can’t tear away from.” I smile, his eyes so clear in my head like they always have been. “They were a complete mystery, yet so calming and electrifying. It’s like the universe mixed its most beautiful colors into one stunning sight.”

Tray shifts slightly, and I look up at him. He’s staring at me, confusion creasing his brow.

“Eyes?” he asks softly.

“Yes, eyes. Your eyes,” I reply.

He blinks rapidly, then gazes at me with an awe that makes my heart skip. “You drew a picture and named it Mystic Tealglow because it reminded you of my eyes?”

I nod, smirking, and gesture toward the water, the trees, and the bright light reflecting from the lighthouse. “It’s always reminded me of your eyes. It’s my refuge. As much as I hated to admit it, your eyes were a blissful escape, Tray. They light up my life more than you know. That, and your smile.”

“I love you.” Trayton’s voice is raw, emotions spilling over. “So much, Dax, and I’m sorry it took me so long to realize that. My soul knew, but my mind and heart were just a bit behind.” He moves closer, and my entire body relaxes instantly. I hadn’t realized how tense I was, but the moment his warmth envelops me, everything is okay.

I’m safe. I’m free.

Trayton gently tugs up the sleeve on my arm, and I instinctively tense, pulling my right arm around to cover it again. “Don’t,” he murmurs softly. “I love every single inch of you, scars and all.” I manage a smile, though a wince escapes as his hand tenderly brushes over my healed but forever-marked skin. BothTray and I bear these scars on our arms and backs from the fire, reminders of what we endured. We’ve had numerous skin grafts. Tray carries his scars with pride, as if they are a badge of honor, and rightfully so. In my eyes, he will always be my hero. I, however, am still fighting with mine, despite Trayton kissing them every night when I’m with him. They always bring back memories of two men I wish I could forget.

Though I can’t bring myself to mourn my dad’s passing, a twisted part of me feels a twinge of pity for him and the path he chose. He was once just a little brother trying to impress his older sibling. But look where that led him.

Trayton leans down, his lips trailing gentle kisses along my scars. “Mine,” he mumbles against my skin. “Mine always.” A single tear escapes. I’ve longed for the day Trayton would claim me as his. It feels surreal, like a dream I might awaken from at any moment.

Trayton lifts my hand, stopping me from rolling my sleeve back down. He loves seeing our scars together. The scars tell the story of a fire that couldn’t break us. They remind us every day that we faced the flames together and came out stronger, side by side.

Trayton grabs my finger, and I feel a jolt of surprise. “What-what are you doing?” I stammer, my heart racing. Trayton just gives a playful smirk that melts my confusion. He slides a black ring onto my finger, the one marked by the black smoke, and it takes my breath away. “It’s beautiful, Tray,” I say, mesmerized by its perfection, before finally tearing my gaze away to look at him.

“But what is it? What does it mean?” I ask, curiosity bubbling inside me. He smiles as if he’s been eagerly waiting for this moment.

“Whatever you want it to mean, Dax,” he replies, echoing the words I once said to him ten years ago. I laugh, feeling a rush of nostalgia, and stare back down at the ring.

“It’s perfect,” I whisper, reluctantly pulling my hand away even though it’s clear that Trayton doesn’t want to let go. I examine the ring closely, and Trayton urges me to take it off. When I do, he tells me to look inside.

“06.29.2012.”

“Happy ten-year tenth anniversary, Dax,” he utters tenderly, taking the ring from me and carefully sliding it back onto my finger. He lifts my hand to his lips, kissing it softly.

I raise my arm, revealing the fresh tattoo I got this morning. While Tray was out with the guys, I seized the chance to have it done. My drawing from the tattoo shop of the tree, the lake, and the light. It has Mystic Tealglow written above it and then a quote that I feel fits us perfectly. “Like the stars, we may fade from sight, but we always find our way back to each other.” Trayton’s eyes shimmer with emotion as he gazes at it, eventually meeting my eyes.

“Happy twenty-first Birthday, Tray,” I say, feeling full of every bit of love there is out there.

Epilogue

Trayton

Ihold Daxton’s hand, feeling the pressure as he squeezes it so tightly that I fear it’s going to break. Just ten minutes ago, I asked him to loosen his grip, and he did—for a few fleeting seconds. It’s Dax’s first time on a plane, and it’s clear he won’t be eager to repeat the experience. Beads of sweat roll down his forehead, showing just how nervous he is.

“It’s nearly over,” I murmur, gently tracing soothing circles on the back of his hand. He lifts his head, eyes wide with panic, and gives me a strained smile as I pull his hood down. His expression screams internal meltdown, and I hate that I can’t do anything to help him. And he hasn’t even faced the roughest part yet.

The landing.

“Just close your eyes; we’ll be on the ground soon,” I say, wrapping an arm awkwardly around his shoulders despite the armrest between us. He pulls his hood up again, resting his head on my chest, one hand clutching my shirt while the other remains locked around mine. I glance to my right at Kal, whoremains fixed on the same spot he’s been staring at since takeoff, his leg bouncing restlessly.

“Psst,” I mutter to get his attention. His head jerks toward me, then down at Daxton’s hooded head, and back up with a frown. “You’re not scared of flying, so what’s up with you?” I shift my gaze to his jittery leg. He places a hand on it, freezing the movement.

“I’m good,” he insists, nodding toward Dax.

“Never flown before. Not a fan.”

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