Holly felt Peter’s lips on hers. A delirious rush of hope, lust, and adolescent energy swept through her. She closed her eyes and reveled in the warmth of his embrace, reveled in the cool night sky whipping past them and setting everything a-tingle. The traumatic memory of killing his dog melted away, lost in the fullness of their moonlit kiss. For the first time since she’d been five years old, she was utterly at ease.
A dim part of her—the fragment of Holly that knew all she’d done and all she’d do—smiled faintly, then disappeared into the unexplored reaches of her incomplete self. A sense of relief resonated through her teenage psyche; she wasn’t ready to face the entirety of her being.
Not yet, at least.
But Peter was. He kissed the hell out of her as they shot like a comet across the Bay Area night, now painted with the first glimmers of the coming dawn. He, like Holly, felt relief flowing through him, but unlike her, he felt resolution as well. He accepted all that he’d done and took full responsibility. Not just all that he’d done, but all that she’d done as well. A great weight fell away from him, and he felt the truest peace a conscious being could ever know.
Their lips parted. As the first rind of sunlight crested the horizon, it splashed the clouds with blazing golds and searing pinks. Hands still on his wind-reddened cheeks, she drew him close and kissed him again.
Down below, Kor’Thank smiled joyously up at them.
Way to go, Peter.