I stood. “I do.”
“I think it best that you convey the outcome of the hearing to your Protector yourself.” Charles winked and handed me Alden’s USB drive before opening the door. “Be careful, Speaker 102. We don’t take second chances lightly, and neither should you.”
He nodded to Paul, who escorted me back to the lobby, where Race was wringing his hands and pacing.
When I gave him the news, he whooped so loud, hotel patrons stared. After kissing me and hugging me to the point I thought my ribs would break, he invited Paul to the bar in the hotel lobby for drinks.
I watched as Paul slid on a stool next to Race. Paul presented ID and the bartender gave him a beer. The fake ID didn’t surprise me. Nothing about the IC would surprise me. These guys lived in a world that would seem unreal to anyone who wasn’t inside it. A world of ghosts. A world where Heaven and Hell could be confirmed. A world that made a difference.
My
world.
Squinting, I stepped out of the lobby into the sunshine. I knew exactly where Alden would be. I ran down the drive of the Hotel Galvez, across Seawall Boulevard, and down the stairs that led to the Gulf.
This was the beach where the happy memory Alden had shown me took place. For the first time ever, the sound of the ocean brought peace instead of dread.
I paused when I stepped off the concrete step into the sand. I inhaled the salty sea air and faced into the wind, letting it blow through my hair. Dad’s death would always sting, but because of Alden, I understood it was beyond my control—just like Zak’s death was beyond my control. Alden had enabled me to help Zak find that shaft of white light he deserved. I could only hope another Speaker had done that for my dad if he needed help.
I brushed away my tears and struck out through the sand. The sun was brilliant, and even though it had been cool for several days, the temperature was in the seventies. I loved this place, and I loved Alden, who was leaning against the seawall staring at the surf. I knew he could feel the joy my soul was transmitting.
When I met Alden that first time at my dad’s grave, I was certain he was a figment of my imagination. Nothing could be more real than this.
He didn’t look at me as I approached; he continued staring out at the waves. This was the first time I’d ever seen him without a shirt. My throat tightened when I noticed a small tattoo of an origami rose on his upper arm. A smile pulled at the corners of his beautiful mouth as I placed the USB drive on his discarded shirt and brushed his hair away from his face.
“Hey, Lenzi,” he whispered, barely louder than the surf.
“Rose,” I said as our lips met. “My name is Rose.”