so.”
Stiles thought of those people: Rebecca, Jimmy, Wyatt. All gone now. And others…Harry and his family, Rebecca’s other children and their families, Josephine, Dylan.
Dylan.
By habit, he searched the faces of those around him for hers. She wasn’t there and he had already suspected she wouldn’t be, but it was ingrained in him to look for her anyway. He’d devoted his life to protecting her for the last sixty years. It was instinct now. And, as much as he hated to admit it, today he resented it.
For months now she’d been free, and she knew it was important that she make a connection with a new soul mate. Yet, she continued to resist the idea. He didn’t understand. It was his instinct, as an angel, to desire that connection. He had sorely missed it these past forty-three years. The only thing that got him through it, besides Rebecca’s presence in his life all those amazing years, was the knowledge that Dylan would eventually choose him. But now…he wasn’t as convinced as he once was. And he was beginning to wonder if it was time for him to choose another, an angel who wasn’t special, who didn’t have the same oddities that made Dylan who she was. But when those thoughts crossed his mind, he felt disloyal to his mission—to everything he’d given up and all the terrible things he’d done to be here—to watch over Dylan and make sure she fulfilled her purpose.
The thing was, though, he never felt the disapproval of heaven. He expected to. Whenever an angel tries to go against their purpose, there is this overwhelming sense of disapproval that came from heaven. Granted, Stiles had been cut off from parts of heaven for a long time, but he still felt that basic connection. It was like animal instinct in a human—the flight or fight instinct. It was always there no matter the angel’s situation. But he didn’t feel it. And he didn’t understand what that meant. He had always assumed that becoming Dylan’s soul mate was part of her purpose—part of her destiny—and, therefore, it was part of his. Now…he wasn’t so sure anymore.
“She worries about you,” Rachel said.
Stiles glanced at her. “Who?”
She gave him a look that made it clear she knew he knew who she was talking about. “She’s just struggling right now. Wyatt’s death, Josephine’s new baby—it’s all been a hard adjustment for her.”
Stiles paused in his step, watching a young mother soothe her toddler over an injured knee. “There are decisions she needs to make. And I’m not sure how much longer everyone can wait for her to make them.”
“Or how long you can wait.”
Stiles shrugged. “I’m not an impatient man, but forty years is a long time for anyone to wait. Even an angel.”
Rachel nodded, a sadness coming into her eyes. “I know you’ve sacrificed a lot for Dylan.”
“That’s my purpose.”
“Yes. But you’ve been among the humans for a very long time, Stiles. You’ve developed a strong sense of our emotions. And, as they used to say, even a saint has his limits.”
Stiles turned away and began walking again. “What about you?” he asked. “What about this flirtation that’s been going on between you and Raphael?”
Rachel didn’t answer right away. Instead, she distracted herself tugging at a string that hung from the bottom hem of Stiles’ shirtsleeve. He pulled away as he spotted Raphael himself watching them from the far side of the park.
“Don’t let him break your heart, Rachel,” he said softly.
She smiled. “I’ve lived a remarkable life, Stiles. But I’ve never made time for a romantic relationship. My books were always my lovers, always the only thing I really wanted or needed. But now…”
“Just don’t forget that he’s an angel. He doesn’t have the freewill to remain with you at his leisure. He could be called back to heaven at any time, or ordered to leave you and go watch over some important human thousands of miles away.”
“I know,” Rachel
Stiles thought of those people: Rebecca, Jimmy, Wyatt. All gone now. And others…Harry and his family, Rebecca’s other children and their families, Josephine, Dylan.
Dylan.
By habit, he searched the faces of those around him for hers. She wasn’t there and he had already suspected she wouldn’t be, but it was ingrained in him to look for her anyway. He’d devoted his life to protecting her for the last sixty years. It was instinct now. And, as much as he hated to admit it, today he resented it.
For months now she’d been free, and she knew it was important that she make a connection with a new soul mate. Yet, she continued to resist the idea. He didn’t understand. It was his instinct, as an angel, to desire that connection. He had sorely missed it these past forty-three years. The only thing that got him through it, besides Rebecca’s presence in his life all those amazing years, was the knowledge that Dylan would eventually choose him. But now…he wasn’t as convinced as he once was. And he was beginning to wonder if it was time for him to choose another, an angel who wasn’t special, who didn’t have the same oddities that made Dylan who she was. But when those thoughts crossed his mind, he felt disloyal to his mission—to everything he’d given up and all the terrible things he’d done to be here—to watch over Dylan and make sure she fulfilled her purpose.
The thing was, though, he never felt the disapproval of heaven. He expected to. Whenever an angel tries to go against their purpose, there is this overwhelming sense of disapproval that came from heaven. Granted, Stiles had been cut off from parts of heaven for a long time, but he still felt that basic connection. It was like animal instinct in a human—the flight or fight instinct. It was always there no matter the angel’s situation. But he didn’t feel it. And he didn’t understand what that meant. He had always assumed that becoming Dylan’s soul mate was part of her purpose—part of her destiny—and, therefore, it was part of his. Now…he wasn’t so sure anymore.
“She worries about you,” Rachel said.
Stiles glanced at her. “Who?”
She gave him a look that made it clear she knew he knew who she was talking about. “She’s just struggling right now. Wyatt’s death, Josephine’s new baby—it’s all been a hard adjustment for her.”
Stiles paused in his step, watching a young mother soothe her toddler over an injured knee. “There are decisions she needs to make. And I’m not sure how much longer everyone can wait for her to make them.”
“Or how long you can wait.”
Stiles shrugged. “I’m not an impatient man, but forty years is a long time for anyone to wait. Even an angel.”
Rachel nodded, a sadness coming into her eyes. “I know you’ve sacrificed a lot for Dylan.”
“That’s my purpose.”
“Yes. But you’ve been among the humans for a very long time, Stiles. You’ve developed a strong sense of our emotions. And, as they used to say, even a saint has his limits.”
Stiles turned away and began walking again. “What about you?” he asked. “What about this flirtation that’s been going on between you and Raphael?”
Rachel didn’t answer right away. Instead, she distracted herself tugging at a string that hung from the bottom hem of Stiles’ shirtsleeve. He pulled away as he spotted Raphael himself watching them from the far side of the park.
“Don’t let him break your heart, Rachel,” he said softly.
She smiled. “I’ve lived a remarkable life, Stiles. But I’ve never made time for a romantic relationship. My books were always my lovers, always the only thing I really wanted or needed. But now…”
“Just don’t forget that he’s an angel. He doesn’t have the freewill to remain with you at his leisure. He could be called back to heaven at any time, or ordered to leave you and go watch over some important human thousands of miles away.”
“I know,” Rachel
Similar Books
