I’m nearly knocked flat as Percy wraps the entirety of his long limbs around me. “Dear Lord, Felicity Montague,” he says, and somehow he holds me even tighter. “I’ve been sick over you.” I don’t say anything, just press my face into his chest and let myself at last be held. Behind me, I feel Monty’s arms wrap around the pair of us, the long-ago threatened Monty-Percy sandwich manifested, and I don’t mind it. It feels safe, and good to have been missed after so long thinking I had no one to return to.
