Midwinter Magic by Ridley Erica

Author:Ridley, Erica [Ridley, Erica]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Itzy, Kickass.to
ISBN: 9781939713100
Publisher: Intrepid Reads
Published: 2013-11-28T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

SARAH STARED at the new community center without moving a muscle. Jack was on the roof, a power drill tucked into his waistband, as he teetered on the apex.

They hadn’t spoken in days. Not that there’d been time for speaking. Jack had been far too busy throwing himself in harm’s way at every possible opportunity. The projects were moving faster than ever, but if she so much as blinked, her stubbornly altruistic human was going to gore himself on his own drill. Or snap his spine falling off the roof. Or tumble headfirst into a pile of machetes. Or all of the above.

He’d been hard enough to protect when he hadn’t had the slightest notion of her existence. Now that he knew the truth, he was all but impossible. She felt like she was the one balanced at the edge of a precipice. She needed to do everything in her power to salvage as much of the situation as possible before meeting her superiors. And now that her cover was blown, she really ought to go back to being invisible.

But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not now. Not anymore. Why should she?

She was so fired at her end-of-month debriefing, it wasn’t even funny. This would not only be her last assignment, it was also the last time she’d be allowed on Earth. The clock was ticking. Every day closer to Christmas was another day closer to being stripped of all privileges, if not outright shackled to a cloud. There was no way she was spending her last days with Jack as nothing more than an invisible specter. Not when an eternity of being shunned was the only thing awaiting her back home.

Plus. . . she didn’t want to leave him like this. Hating her. Angry. Resentful.

If she could somehow save the whole world and him, she’d be all over it. But she couldn’t. So, here she was. Watching over him.

While she still could.

At the moment, he and most of the men from the village and the neighboring pueblos were hard at work patching up the death bridge with strips of wood and leftover roof bits and plenty of sun-bleached rope. He was currently hanging upside down, sinking counter-nails into the underside of the bridge.

Jack called it “pulling a MacGyver.” Sarah called it “madness.”

And God was she going to miss this man.

He was so hardheaded and softhearted that she could barely look at him without her throat closing up and her lips curving with pride. He was magnificent. What he wanted, he got. What he wanted to do, he did. And steamrolled anything that dared get in his way.

And he was right, Sarah realized with sudden clarity. He didn’t live according to the rules. He lived according to his heart. He was the angel.

In the centuries she’d spent on Earth, she’d watched over fourteen humans. Fourteen living, breathing miracles. She’d been glued to their sides from the moment of their births, and yet she couldn’t claim to have saved a single one of their lives.

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