CHAPTER NINETY FIVE

Veil had just had dinner with her family, and they were in the living room seeing a show. She was smudged in between her parents, a huge bowl of popcorn in her hands. Her father laughed at something one of the characters said, and Veil found herself focusing on the sound rather than the show.

She had missed that deep sound that echoed through the walls almost every day while growing up. It had seemed so normal that, at some point, she just got used to it. Maybe overly used to it. But suddenly, that voice was gone, replaced by gloom and quiet.

Now, Veil wanted to appreciate every waking moment she still had him around—both of them around. She pulled them into her suddenly, sighing as their warmth met her skin.

Her mother knew what she had been thinking about, and she pressed her lips against her hair. “It’s all right now,” she whispered. “We’ll be here for as long as you want.”

If she could have forever, Veil would eagerly take it. Her father laughed again, and she pulled her eyes