Shadow and Stars

Thirty-Seven

I run to Julian's side, skidding to my knees and putting my hands on his shoulders. "Julian, are you okay?" He doesn't stir, and I shake him, calling his name over and over. "Julian, please. Please answer me. Wake up." His face is ashen, his eyes closed, dark hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. "Fuck," I mumble, tapping my palm against his cheek. "Julian, you have to wake up." My hands are shaking, but I press my first two fingers right under his jawbone, trying to get a pulse. I can't feel anything—no blood thumping in his veins, no movement in his chest.

He's perfectly still.

Tears seep from the corners of my eyes, and I raise my face to the ceiling, a howl escaping my lips.

She did it; she won. I may have trapped her and destroyed her, but before she took her last breath, she took my heart with her.

But I won't stop, won't give up until someone forces me to. I sling one leg over either side of his waist and push the heel of my hand into the center of his chest. I intertwine my fingers and begin chest compressions, pulling what little training I have from the depths of my memory.

It doesn't seem to be working, but I keep going. I lean down to breathe into his mouth when he gasps for air, his dual-tone eyes terrified, hands flying to his throat like he's trying to pull the breath from his body.

"Oh, thank God. Julian, baby, breathe. You're okay, just breathe," I order in a voice that is much stronger than I feel, my eyes running up and down his body, making sure he is whole and unharmed.

Finally, his breathing calms and when he can speak, he mutters something unintelligible. I give him a moment, then clearing his throat, he says, "I thought it was my turn to save you."

I start laughing and can't stop, leaning forward and burying my head in his chest. "Maybe next time," I whisper when I catch my breath, propping my chin on his chest and meeting his gaze.

Julian sits up and adjusts me on his lap, resting his forehead against mine. "I hope there won't be a next time. But if there is, you know I'll be here."

We sit that way for a long time, basking in the other's presence. Finally, he puts his hand on my cheek and brushes his thumb over my bottom lip. "What do we do now, Cam?"

"I guess we have to tell my dad. I mean, right? He deserves to know."

Julian nods. "Well, he's here in the hotel, so..."

With a sigh, I stand and hold my hand out to him. He takes it and rises to his feet, brushing off the back of his jeans.

"Are you all right?" I ask, squeezing his fingers.

"I'm good. Just a little shaken up and dusty, but it could definitely be worse," he says with a cheeky grin.

"Indeed." We walk out of the records room and take our time traveling the hallways of the Crescent, my heart pounding against my ribs at the prospect of telling my dad this unbelievable story. And even more scared to face him when he thinks I said such horrible things.

We're almost to my dad's office when Julian tugs on my hand. "Do you want me to wait outside?"

"No. I need you to hold my hand through this."

"Done."

With a deep breath, I tap on the heavy oak door and listen to my dad's footsteps as he crosses the room.

"Now you need to breathe," Julian whispers in my ear, and I can't help but chuckle.

The door swings open, and I look up into my dad's blue eyes, the dark circles underneath signifying the lack of sleep I know he's had since the argument with Luna.