Chapter 7
The crack in the world sealed itself behind them. Justin, with a familiar if somewhat faraway smile, pulled coffee out of someplace else in the universe and into existence here in their kitchen—the steam from the mug kissed his eyelashes—and took a sip. “Mmm. Home.”
“Justin,” Kris said.
“I love you,” Justin said. His hair twirled and spun and wove the longest strands into a short upright braid and then undid itself. His eyes were garnet and topaz and honey and paprika. He still had on his leather jacket, and his boots, and Kris’s shirt.
“You want this,” Kris echoed aloud, hearing it.
“And you can feel that,” Justin said. “And I can feel you. Loving me. I…I’ll be like this for a week or so, it sounds like. And then back to normal, more or less. Is that…that’s okay, right? You
