Infinity Reaper by Adam Silvera (new books to read .TXT) 📕

out on the picnic blanket Abuelita sewed for us, eating arroz con gandules and tostones with garlic and playing Uno in the park until we couldn’t stand the bugs anymore.

Wind picks up behind me, and there’s a quiet thud. I turn, expecting to find a fallen apple, but there’s an obsidian phoenix staring at me with pitch-black eyes. His cabbage breath blows my way and I’m frozen in place until Wyatt dismounts Nox. Then I’m stuck for other reasons. Wyatt’s muscular thighs are tight against his shorts. His gray mesh crop top reveals abs that are paler than his toned arms; I guess his abs don’t get as much sun as the rest of his body. He’s sweating all over, and the white headband holding back his brown hair seems to have soaked up some of it.

“Snuck up on you,” Wyatt says.

“Yeah. Nox is quiet.”

“Crucial for a tracker.”

“Were you tracking me?”

Wyatt sits on the grass. “Nox and I always begin our days with a flight. The sun can be bloody blistering, but he’s a cranky bird if he doesn’t have it his way. I spotted you walking toward this here tree when returning, but I’d be more than pleased to personally seek you out next time.”

The way he can hold a gaze makes me so nervous.

“So is the heat why you’re wearing that?”

“You noticed, yeah?” Wyatt’s closed-lip smile is a turn-on even during questionable times, I can’t lie. “Here’s the business, love. Our signature cactus-leather jackets with phoenix feathers are beautiful, true works of art, I’d never deny that. But it’s absurd to wear them when the sun is high. The mesh tops are winners—they’re stylish, they’re flexible, they’re breezy. I’m thinking about getting some matching shorts so the lads can breathe.”

He looks down at his crotch proudly.

“I don’t see anything,” I say.

Wyatt’s jaw drops and he holds his hand to his heart. “Ah, sweet Emil has died and an arsehole rises from the ashes. Interesting, interesting. Perhaps I should strip down so you can see for yourself.”

I definitely walked right into that one. “Nah, you’re good.”

“You sure? I love being naked, and I wouldn’t mind seeing you wear my clothes. I bet you’d look bangin’ in all of this yourself.”

A mesh crop top is pretty high up on the list of clothes no one will catch me wearing. I’m not trying to make my bones and scars more visible. But Wyatt’s flirting takes me back to that art supplies room with Ness. I remember the smell of paint and paper, how hot I got when he said he believed my body would be as solid as my face, how safe I felt when his hands were roaming around me to clean my wounds, and how close I was to asking him to open his eyes so he could see me. And now he never will.

“Are you okay?” Wyatt asks.

“What? Yeah, yeah.”

“You seemed to be in a pretty sad trance. I’m sorry if I overstepped.”

“No, you’re fine.” I don’t want to get into it right now. I’m associated with enough death as it is. “I’m just taking in the Sanctuary while I can. I’m sure we’ll have to bounce once we fail at retrocycling.” He doesn’t deny it. The pressure to get it right so I can stay here longer has only grown. “It would no doubt be my favorite power if it worked for my own lifetime. I’d use it to see my parents together again, even one more time.”

Brighton’s got it good if his powers can carry him back to Dad’s life. He spent last night talking about how great it would be to see our parents when they first met and even experience all their highs and lows. He was very clear that he would avoid any moment that looked even slightly intimate because he doesn’t want to be scarred for life. Prudencia must’ve nudged him while my back was turned or something because he seemed to come to his senses and remember that I can’t witness anything from Ma and Dad.

“No one knows for sure whether you can go back through your present life,” Wyatt says. “But I agree it seems unlikely, since the purpose of that ability seems to be to hop back to a previous life.”

“Brighton swears that something being unlikely doesn’t make it impossible.”

“That’s the smartest thing to come out of his mouth. Well, his mouth through your mouth. That all sounds terribly awkward.”

“Yeah, go back in time and undo the hell out of that one, please,” I say with a laugh. “Actually, if you could go back in time, is there a particular moment you have in mind?”

“Ah. Love this question.”

Wyatt mutters different ideas, but he clearly won’t commit to any of them. I personally want to know more about his favorite book, which he wants to go back and witness himself finishing for the first time. “It feels like cheating, but I’m most keen on moments with Nox. I’m not even saying that because he’s right here,” he adds with a smile. Nox eats an apple off the tree, paying us no mind. “One possibility: I was struck for days after we first flew together. It was honestly better than sex, and let there be no doubts that I’ve had loads of great sex.”

It’s definitely not a plot twist that Wyatt has been busy. I wonder if he’s hinting at something with a committed partner or casual encounters. Maybe a combo of the two. He’s what, also eighteen? Nineteen? Twenty? He’s definitely living up his life more than I am. I can only imagine what my situation would look like if I had even a tenth of his confidence.

“That sounds like a great choice,” I say, skating past his sex comment.

“But if I had to choose one moment, I’d go back to when Nox finally chose me.”

“What do you mean?”

“What, do you think Halo Knights call dibs on a phoenix and fly off merrily? We have to prove ourselves worthy. We