Duck Lake [m]Being born in a duck yard does not matter if hatched from a swan's egg

Their gaze met, and it was all Everett could do in the moment to keep himself from crashing into her. He felt that pull - reciprocated - where blue skies met a silvered sea.

He breathed. Exhaled.

Her warmth, a thousand fireflies, rippling through his skin like lightning on a rainy day. It came suddenly and all at once: electrifying, illuminating, intoxicating.

Everett pulled her closer, as close as he could, feeling her lean into him to seek the same. Like a dance. He had never been good at dancing - that was Evander's job, Reverie's - but this, this. It came like breathing, heart beating, as they pulled into place together. As though they were made for each other; as though this was made to be.

And hadn't the Singer made this to be?

It was as though she melted, too; she softened in his arms, and that made him want to hold her all the more. To protect her, to shield her, to guard her, to always, always, always make her feel this way. Safe. Wanted. Loved.

And she wanted this, too.

A do over.

With you.

His smile broke. A laugh. How strange, the circumstance, to be laughing! To find joy here! But what they both had lost seemed to have pushed them to the place where they realized what they had always wanted to find. I want to, he said simply, with you. Only you.