Page 173 of Walking in Darkness
The swing faced the back of our little house, and I stared out over the yard.
This sweet, perfect place where we had made our home in Albany.
Pax had asked me where it was that I wanted us to be together forever.
The beach had been nice.
Once the dust had settled, after we’d mourned with the members of our Laven family, we spent four enchanted weeks at a secluded resort in the Caribbean.
But this place?
It’d called me back.
I’d once believed that I would be separated from my family forever. That I had to run. To start a new life because there was no way I could go on under the judgment and scrutiny, even though I knew doing it would break my heart.
But I was no longer misunderstood. Now they saw. And I’d long forgiven what they hadn’t had the capacity to see.
“Yeah. Have to admit, these are my favorite kind of days,” Pax rumbled quietly.
It was amazing to see my husband this way. At peace and surrounded by the people who loved him. By people who recognized him, too.
Maybe he still bore the scars of his childhood. Of his own judgment and rejection. But I knew sometimes when you went without love and support for so long—when you believed it impossible—once you had it, it was so much sweeter.
Truthfully, life was sweet for all of us.
Even my father had found his redemption. I wasn’t sure if it was because of what he’d seen and experienced, or simply because many of the evils of the world had been wiped away.
Stricken down on that day we’d faced Kreed through Ambrose.
I thought the former, since he watched the world with caution. As if he were terrified he might succumb again, ensuring he had a pure heart and a firm mind to fight off any attacks that might come.
But those voices—those voices had been silenced.
Yes, there were still crimes and betrayals. I supposed it was intrinsic, human nature, though there was no longer the badgering of human minds and souls. That thing that tripped them over the edge and sent them toppling into wickedness and degeneracy.
Now there was a new peace that echoed over the land. In our hearts and in our homes. It extended out, traversing all borders and boundaries.
“We should definitely do it every week,” I said with a soft smile pulling at the edges of my mouth.
Pax huffed out a teasing sound that echoed with tenderness. “You want to have everyone over every week, huh? I think it’s just so you can watch me do all the work.”
I shifted so I could slant him a grin. My chest squeezed in a fit of joy. Buzzed with the energy that would forever pull between us. “Really? Says the man who shooed me out of the kitchen and told me to go put up my feet.”
“Well, I can’t have my princess overexerting herself, can I?” Then he smoothed his palm over my protruding belly, and his voice went rough. “Neither of them.”
That joy billowed, gliding through me on a fluttering of wings. Our little girl kicked against his hand. The laugh Pax emitted was nothing but awe and devotion.
“It seems she doesn’t think we need the rest,” I whispered, the words clogged with the adoration I felt.
Pax’s mouth tipped up at the side. “Nah, she’s just agreeing with her daddy.”
“Is that so?”
“Oh, yeah.”
I bit down on my bottom lip, and I turned back to the drawing pad and started sketching again. The charcoal pencil swished in rhythmic strokes over the thick, textured paper.
Coming to life with the imaginings in my head.
