She wanted to say something quick-witted, but she said the simple truth. “Yes.”

“Me too,” he said, putting the blade away.

They sat, growing quiet as they let the fire warm them. Since they’d reached the magic cove, they hadn’t spoken about Hovers, or about Sable or the Still Blue. It was almost like being free. She realized the last time she’d been this relaxed, this happy, had also been with him.

Perry shifted beside her, sitting forward and draping his arms over his knees. The bruises on his forearms were fading, and his hair was drying in spirals.

She’d only meant to glance at him, but the lines that made him—the muscles along his arms and shoulders, the angle of his jaw, and the crook in his nose—were lines that mesmerized her.

He glanced over. Then he moved to her side and put his arm around her. “Are you trying to kill me with that look?” he whispered by her ear.

“I was trying to get you over here—and it worked.”

He brushed a kiss over her lips and then took her hand. “You know how Roar calls you Halfy and Ladybug?”

She nodded. Roar was always coming up with pet names for her.

“I want to call you something too. Something special. I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”

As he spoke, Perry absently pressed his hands around hers, wrapping them in a cocoon of warmth. He ran so hot. The chill melted out of her fingers in seconds.

This was them. Everything that passed between them felt easy and right.

“You have?” She’d always loved that he called her Aria. She had plenty of nicknames. Her mother had called her Songbird. Roar called her just about everything else. Perry—after the initial period of Mole and Dweller when they’d first come together—had taken to calling her, simply, Aria.

It wasn’t simple, though. Spoken in his unhurried, golden voice, the sound of her name became something beautiful. It became what it was. A song. But a nickname was what he wanted, so she said, “What have you come up with?”

“None of the usual things are good enough for you. So I started thinking about what you mean to me. How even the smallest things remind me of you. Last week, Talon was showing me his bait collection. He keeps this jar of night crawlers, and I wondered what you’d think of it. If you’d find them disgusting, or if you wouldn’t mind them.”

She smiled, seeing an opportunity she couldn’t resist. “Night crawlers, as in earthworms? You want to call me Earthworm?”

His laugh was a burst of surprise. “No.”

“I could get used to . . . Earth . . . worm.”

He shook his head at the sky. “I never say the right things to you, do I?”