Page 97 of Generation Omega: Revealed
Ethan thinks his girl is adorable, but his reaction to seeing the plentiful variety of docked boats and ships is the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.
He manages to restrain himself long enough to get us parked, before turning his boyish excitement in my direction. “A boat?”
Ipfft. “Who do you think I am? I don’t have aboat… I have ayachtand, until you came into my life, it was my favorite thing.” I spoke that last part without thinking—how does he do this to me, turning me into an impulsivehumanwho openly shares what’s always been private?
I can’t regret my outburst, not when I watch and feel Ethan’s fluttery relief mixed with a sense of adventure aboutus… and my yacht.
“A yacht? Really?”
“It’samazing. I want you to see it—no one ever has. I rarely come here because, each time I do, the chances increase that I’ll be followed and my best escape route will be discovered.” The tightness in my chest is odd but not debilitating now. “I want to share my version of heaven with you, Ethan.”
The openness in his sparkling blue eyes and in his warm heart take my breath away. I debate for a moment and then lean and grab the nearest duffel bag, yanking it toward me. I open the zipper just enough to reach inside and retrieve what I stowed there, bringing it out for Ethan to see.
His surprised amusement at the sight of his oven mitt is followed by confusion. “You kept this? Why?”
“You want to know why you made such an impression on the man who watched you through the scope of a rifle.”
He does, but he’s quiet both inside and out.
“I’ve never seen anything that convinced me that love is real, untilthis… untilyou.”
“It was just part of a silly costume.” He’s defensive, exposed even, attempting to shut me out of his feelings involving the oven mitt.
“No, it wasn’t. It’s tangible proof of the existence of love. I watched the footage from the venue—you wore it all day. Will you tell me why?”
Ethan turns away from me, staring at the boats and relaxing slightly thanks to the lovely view. His words are soft when he finally answers, as though speaking of something beyond sacred. I understand why discussing this is such a strain on him, and why asking him to share it with me is unconscionably cruel. But, proving my selfishness, I don’t stop him.
“It made her smile, and every one of Tillie’s smiles ismyversion of heaven.” When he looks at me, his eyes shimmer with unshed tears. His inner strength pulses before he reveals all that I don’t deserve to behold.
Ethan takes me on a journey through his shared history with the omega—just moments, but enough to create a picture I’ll never be able to forget. Her face is bright, a movie star in his mind, from childhood to adulthood. Years of memories lead to their flight to San Francisco, the rave where they first kissed, and a quirky apartment where they stayed the night before their lives changed.
Bears in colorful tutus, just like the one on the oven mitt.
A secret passage.
A nest.
“You made her anest? Why?”
Ethan chuckles like I’m a complete fool, and then I answer for him when I realize another facet of this mysterious thing called love. “You took dozens of trips to San Francisco to build that nest for her, just to make her happy. You weren’t forced by biology. You willingly surrendered to love and met her where she was, regardless of what you believed about the omegaverse. That’s extraordinary.”
“I wish it were normal.”
“Me too.” I can’t believe I said that, let alone meant it.
“If she survives, maybe the world will become a place where we’re all safe to open our hearts and love.”
“She’s going to live—we’regoing to live.” The fierceness in me is like a flag driven into the soil of an unclaimed land.
“You really think so?”
Now, I share the same condescending look he just gave me. “I was chosen for a reason, and it wasn’t my winning personality.”
Ethan blurts a laugh—I love that sound so much. “Shocker.”
The longer we remain here, the more I feel unfriendly eyes searching for us. “Let’s continue this chat on my yacht.”
Lassoed by reality, he’s all business. “What do we do?”
