Unspoken

It was getting late, and the stars were shining brightly overhead.

“This has been the best wedding ever,” she said.

“Totally unbiased opinion there,” Matt said behind her, and everyone laughed.

Everyone she loved most had come to Bonnie’s wedding. When they’d slipped out of the tent, Mrs. Flowers had been deep in conversation with friendly, freckled Alysia, who’d worked with Bonnie to help her reach her full magical potential. Bonnie’s older sisters, Mary and Nora, shared a slice of cake at the same table, Bonnie’s baby nephew peacefully asleep in Nora’s lap.

The whole Pack had been there, and the High Wolf Council had come to give Zander their blessing. Rick, Marilise, and Poppy, whom Bonnie had practiced magic with in Chicago, had come. Friends of both Bonnie and Zander’s from college whom they hadn’t seen for ages. Sue Carson from high school. Bonnie’s parents had danced to Motown, and her Scottish grandmother had read Bonnie’s palm, promising her a long and happy married life.

Almost everyone she loved. Her heart ached a little for Stefan, who should have been with them, but she knew he would have rejoiced for her, too.

“We got married,” she told Zander, her voice full of awe.

“I know,” he said solemnly. “Crazy, huh?”

“Do you feel any different, Bonnie?” Elena asked, amused.

“Sort of,” Bonnie said, tipping her head back to look up at the stars. Her hair had come mostly out of its French braid and long strands tickled her shoulders. “Happier.”

“Me too,” Zander said softly.

There was a magnolia tree near them, its heavy waxy white blossoms hanging overhead, filling the air with their sweet, heady scent. Bonnie considered the tree for a moment. She reached for the Power inherent in the earth, wiggling her toes into the cold damp grass, feeling the soil beneath.

Every kind of life was connected. Everything in the universe had its own Power. If there was one truth Bonnie had learned, it was that. Cupping her hands into the shape of a magnolia blossom, she curled her toes against the soil, thought of the distant stars, and lifted.

On the tree branch above, a magnolia blossom slowly began to fill with light. Another one lit, and then another, until the whole tree was gently glowing. Alaric let out a low sound of appreciation.

Bonnie flicked a finger, and a blossom detached itself from the tree. Borne up as if on a breeze, it floated gently into the sky. Another followed, then more, until a trail of glowing blossoms, like little lanterns, floated up above the trees. They hovered and dispersed, sailing off in all directions.

“Wow,” Matt said. Bonnie looked at him, looked at them all, their faces upturned and gently lit by the glowing blossoms and the stars.

“I’m going to miss you guys,” she said softly. But she smiled. Zander’s arms went around her waist, and he gently kissed her cheek.

It was all going to work out. No matter where Bonnie went, no matter what new danger threatened, she and her friends would never lose each other. Somehow, in that moment, Bonnie was sure of it.

Chapter 33

Still in her bridesmaid’s gown, Elena turned onto Maple Street and stopped the car in front of her childhood home. Her house, she reminded herself. Stefan had bought it for her.

Stefan. She curled into herself for a moment, pressing her forehead against the cool window as she looked at the house.

She had always intended to marry Stefan. She had felt like she was already married to him really, bonded together in all the ways that mattered. But she’d wanted the celebration, too. She’d thought about it idly: herself in an elegantly simple, flowing gown, her baby sister Margaret in the periwinkle-blue that brought out her eyes. Stefan, handsome and strong, his often melancholy eyes glowing with joy.

She’d counted on that wedding. But when you knew you had forever, there wasn’t a lot of impetus to do everything right away.

Then Stefan had died, and forever was over.

Elena straightened up and wiped at her eyes with both hands. They’d gotten their vengeance, she and Damon. They killed Stefan’s murderer. Jack had died in terrible pain, and at their hands.

It didn’t make any difference, though, not to the way Elena felt. They’d come home from Zurich, and the wound left by Stefan’s death was still raw inside her, a constant gnawing ache. After they’d killed Jack, she’d expected to feel better, to feel like she’d given Stefan something. But it hadn’t helped.

She’d never gotten to say good-bye to Stefan. Bonnie had tried so hard, but they hadn’t been able to find him.

And today, standing with the bridesmaids at Bonnie’s wedding, listening to the minister, she’d suddenly been flooded with thoughts of Damon. Damon, who’d looked up at her from the ground in that Swiss courtyard, blood streaming from his wounds, and told her he loved her. Damon, with whom she’d always had a special bond, even before the Guardians had made it literal. Gorgeous, sardonic, clever Damon.

Stefan’s brother.

She couldn’t love him back. Not the way he wanted her to, the way that maybe she wanted to, as well. Not while Stefan was still waiting for her, somewhere out of reach.

She sat perfectly still in the driver’s seat for a minute, just staring at the house where she’d grown up.

When she thought of home, her true home, it wasn’t the apartment she and Stefan had lived in together, where Damon now slept on the couch. It was here, the house she’d lived in for the first part of her life, until after the Salvatore brothers had come to Fell’s Church and everything had changed.

When this is over, we’re going to go everywhere, she remembered Stefan saying. I’ll show you all the places I’ve been, and we’ll find new parts of the world together. But we’ll have your house, the place you grew up in, to come home to. We’ll have a home together.

She had cried then, full of joy and tenderness, and now her eyes filled with tears again. It was all such a waste.

They’d never had a chance to come here together, not as the house’s owners. She didn’t know if she was going to keep the house now, or sell it. Maybe she would lock it up and leave it just the way it was. Let it be drowned in cobwebs, like Miss Havisham’s wedding cake.

But she had needed to come here once. It would be, somehow, rude and wrong to not accept Stefan’s last gift.

Damon had offered to come with her. But she couldn’t bring him on her first visit to the home Stefan had bought for them both. This was something she had to do alone.

If she was ever going to move forward, she had to face the future she and Stefan would have had together. She had to let it go.

Elena got out of the car and walked quickly across the lawn, her heels leaving little holes in the grass. She passed the big quince tree and climbed the steps to the front porch.

The key turned in the lock, but when Elena flicked the light switch, nothing happened. Of course, the electricity must have been turned off. It had been months. That would be the first thing she’d have to get settled.

Pausing for a moment, she realized that she had decided: This was her house. She was keeping it.

Aunt Judith, Robert, and Margaret had taken the furniture with them to their new apartment in Richmond, but there was a candle on the window ledge by the front door.

She lit the candle with the matches she found beside it and tucked the matches into the tiny purse, matching her bridesmaid’s dress, which she carried over one shoulder.

The flickering flame of the candle sent shadows sliding wildly across the walls. Climbing the stairs, Elena automatically skipped over the squeaky fifth step. She remembered skipping the same step when she had snuck out at night to cruise the quiet, darkened streets of Fell’s Church in Meredith’s car, when they were high school juniors.

She could still see the unfaded patches of wallpaper where picture frames had hung. She could imagine each in her mind’s eye: her parents, Margaret as a baby, prom, Aunt Judith and Robert’s wedding, Stefan and Elena, their arms around each other.

Her heart ached. They should have come here together.

At the end of the upstairs hall was the door to her old bedroom. Part of Elena didn’t even want to go in. She remembered lying there with Stefan, how he would speed away when Aunt Judith approached so she wouldn’t get into trouble. It had been a more innocent time.

There were also the windows she’d peered out every morning, where she’d seen Stefan striding across the lawn. The secret space beneath her closet floor where she had hidden her diary. A hundred slumber parties, when she and Meredith and Bonnie, and Caroline, who had been her friend then, had giggled and shared secrets, a score of evenings before high school dances when they’d done their makeup together and talked about boys.

Memories of Damon landing on her bedroom window as a crow, more than once. He’d laid beside her on the bed, after escaping the Dark Dimension, when she’d been so happy just to realize that he was still alive.

Ready for a flood of memories, Elena turned the knob and went inside.

“Elena,” the voice was soft but unmistakable, full of love and longing.

“Stefan,” she said, and dropped the candle. The flame went out and left her in total darkness.

Strong arms circled her, and Elena let herself fall into them. She was surrounded by the familiar smell that meant Stefan—something green and growing, and just a touch of exotic spice. Tears ran down her cheeks. “Stefan,” she sobbed, and buried her head in his shoulder, wrapping her arms around him. He was shaking, crying, too, a gentle hand running through her hair.

“You’re not really here,” she whispered, clutching his strong, well-remembered arms, reaching up to touch his face.

And even though she had just been thinking about how Damon had been dead and returned and come back to her alive again, she knew that what she said was true. Stefan was solid in her arms, but no matter how hard she clutched at him, something in her, something she could feel was true told her: No. Not yours. Not anymore.

Stefan let out a long breath, and he held her tightly against him for one more moment, and then he let her go. “No,” he said softly, sorrowfully. “I’m only visiting, and we don’t have long.”

Elena knelt and felt around on the floor for the candle. When her hands finally closed around it, she stood and dug the matches out of her purse to relight the flame.

When the candle was lit once more, she could see Stefan. He was there, watching her with his leaf-green eyes. She’d never thought she’d see them again.

“We tried,” she said, gasping. It seemed important that he know this. “Bonnie and I, we tried to reach you. And you weren’t anywhere. Do you mean to tell me that all I had to do was come here?”

Stefan had been watching her gravely, his eyes sad, his perfect mouth with its little sensual curve, turned down. “I guess so,” he said. “Or rather, when you were ready to come here, I could, too.”

Not wasting another moment, Elena stepped forward and caught him in a kiss. “I’ve missed you so much,” she said, half-laughing, half-crying against his lips. “This—to see that you’re okay, that you’re not just… gone.”

Stefan pressed his lips against hers and Elena fell into the kiss, feeling his love and longing, the sorrow he felt at having left her and the joy that she had survived, that she was turning her face back toward the sun, finding pleasure in life again.

When they broke the kiss, he held her close. “I’m all right,” he said. “I’ve gone on, but it’s okay. I’ll always love you.” Elena gave a half-sob, reaching up to stroke his cheek, touch his hair, reassure herself that he was there.

Stefan caught her hand and kissed it. “Listen, Elena,” he said softly. “I don’t want you to stop because of me. You’re going to live forever, Elena, you have to live. You can’t pretend I’m coming back.”

Elena opened her mouth to speak, but Stefan shook his head. “If it’s Damon… We were all tangled up when I was alive, but now…” He shrugged. “He’s always understood parts of you that I didn’t, and he loves like he does everything else. With all he has.”

Elena shook her head. It felt wrong to think about this, talk about this, with Stefan in her arms. “I want you,” she said. “I didn’t stop loving you. I won’t.”

Stefan pulled her closer, dropped a kiss on the crown of her head. “You don’t have to. But you don’t have to mourn me forever, either.”

He was already fading. She tried to hold onto him, but it was like holding onto a shadow. He lowered his mouth and kissed her one last time, sweet but barely there. “It’s up to you,” he told her. “But know I’m all right. And tell Damon I’m sorry for all the bad blood between us. We were brothers again, by the end.” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">