12. Lena

12

LENA

SIXTEEN YEARS OLD

Ten months later…

T he day I turn sixteen, I wake up to the familiar silence that has become the norm in the Wilson household. There are no cheerful birthday greetings, no presents waiting to be unwrapped, just the heavy weight of another year gone by, another milestone reached without my parents by my side. When Jamie was still here, he had given me a hand-drawn card each year, but he’s been at college now for a year and rarely visits.

I spend the morning going through the motions, doing my chores, and trying not to dwell on the ache in my chest. As evening falls, I retreat to my room, curling up on my bed and hugging my knees to my chest. A soft knock at the door startles me, and I quickly swipe at the tears on my cheeks.

“Come in,” I call out, my voice thick with emotion.

To my surprise, the door opens, and Talon enters the room. He’s graduated high school, yet he’s agreed to rent a room from Mr. Wilson at a ridiculous rate. Why he stays, I’ll never understand.

He looks as brooding as ever, but there’s something different in his expression, a flicker of hesitation that’s unusual for him.

“What do you want?” I ask, unable to keep the defensiveness from creeping into my tone.

Talon crosses the room and sits on the edge of my bed, his movements slow and deliberate. Finally, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small object, holding it out to me.

It’s a delicately carved bird, intricately detailed and clearly handmade. I stare at it, my breath catching in my throat.

“For your birthday,” Talon says gruffly, his gaze fixed on the ornament. “I made it.”

Slowly, I reach out and take the ornament from him. Our fingers brush together, and a spark shoots through me. It’s the same every time we accidentally touch, not that I see him very often.

Gazing down at the ornament, I realize that Talon crafted it himself, that he put time and effort into creating something for me, and I feel a warmth I haven’t felt in years.

Tears prick my eyes, and I blink rapidly, trying to hold them back. Talon’s jaw tightens, and he leans forward, eyes boring into mine.

“Don’t cry,” he says, his voice low and intense. “Be strong for me, Lena.”

His words should sound harsh, but an undercurrent of concern, maybe even affection, beneath them catches me off guard. I nod, swallowing hard and clutching the ornament tightly.

At that moment, despite the years of aloof detachment from him, I feel a deeper, more emotional connection with Talon that I haven’t experienced before. A shared understanding of what it means to be alone, to have suffered loss and hardship. And in his own way, he’s offering me a lifeline, a reminder that I’m not entirely alone in this world.

I meet his gaze, my heart pounding in my chest. “Thank you, Talon,” I whisper, pouring every ounce of sincerity into those two simple words.

He steps closer, and suddenly, it feels like all the air in the room is gone. My heart pounds harder and faster.

I stare at the intricately carved bird in my hand, marveling at the delicate details Talon managed to capture. It’s a testament to his skill and dedication, and the fact that he made this for my birthday sends a flutter through my chest.

I glance at him, taking in his appearance. In the past year, Talon has changed. He’s taller now, his shoulders broader, and his features have a roughness that wasn’t there before. But what catches my eye are the tattoos peeking out from beneath his shirt sleeves.

“When did you get those?” I ask, gesturing to the ink adorning his skin.

Talon shrugs, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “A while ago. The Wilsons don’t know.”

I can imagine their reaction if they found out. They’re strict and conservative, and tattoos don’t fit into their idea of proper behavior.

“They suit you,” I say, my cheeks heating.

Talon looks amused, and he leans in closer, his gaze intense. “You think so?”

I nod, my heart hammering in my chest. There’s a tension between us, a crackling energy that makes me clench my thighs together. For a while now, I’ve seen Talon in a light no foster sister should see her foster brother. Dreams haunt me of his touch on my skin, his lips on mine. It’s both thrilling and terrifying.

I feel my breath catch in my throat as Talon leans in even closer, his eyes dark and intense. The air between us is charged with a tension I can’t quite name. I’ve never been this close to him before, never noticed the flecks of gold in his blue eyes or the way his lips curve into a smirk.

It’s wrong; I know it is. Talon is my foster brother, someone I’ve grown up with since I was nine, someone I should see as family. But at this moment, with his gaze locked on mine and his presence overwhelming my senses, I can’t deny the attraction that simmers beneath the surface.

Talon reaches out, his fingers brushing against my cheek. His touch is electric, sending sparks through my veins. I know I should pull away and put some distance between us, but I find myself leaning into his touch instead.

“Lena,” he murmurs. “Do you feel it, too?”

I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. I know what he’s asking, what he’s implying. And as much as I want to deny it, to push him away and pretend this moment never happened, I can’t lie to myself any longer.

“Yes,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over my heart pounding. “I feel it.”

Talon’s eyes darken, and he leans in even closer, his breath ghosting over my lips. For a moment, I think he will kiss me, and a part of me wants him to. But instead, he pulls back, a small smile tugging at the edge of his mouth.

“Happy birthday, Lena,” he says softly before standing up and walking out of the room, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts and the lingering heat of his touch on my skin.

I look down at the little bird in my hand, tracing my finger over its smooth, polished surface. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, a tiny piece of art crafted just for me. And it came from Talon, the boy who has always been so cold and distant, who seems to hate the world and everyone in it.

But maybe he doesn’t hate me. Maybe, in his own way, he cares.