Chapter 29: Everly

Chapter

Twenty-Nine

EVERLY

"I'm here," I say, my voice embarrassingly squeaky. I clear my throat and try again. "Come in."

The tent flap parts, and Cenric steps into my tent. He wears his long hair tied back, accentuating those eyes that could melt glaciers. Yet, there's something different about them tonight—a shadow, a heaviness.

He holds up the terracotta jar for me to see better. "I thought we could share wine."

I wonder if I've fallen asleep, and this is some sort of fever dream. But no, he's still there, looking at me expectantly.

"Oh. Yes, of course." I scoot over on my bed to make room.

The mattress dips beneath his weight as he sits next to me, then offers me the jar first.

Maybe the wine will help me act normal around him. I grab the jar and take a long drink. As I lower the wine, I study his face—his clenched jaw, his creased brow.

What happened since I last spoke to him?

Part of me wants to reach out and smooth away the lines etched into his forehead. The more sensible part reminds me that I'd probably end up poking him in the eye.

"Rough day?" I ask as I pass the jar back to him.

He takes it from me and drinks some before answering. "Yes."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," he says as he rests the jar against his thigh.

I stare down at his strong legs, wishing I were that jar cradled against his lap. His thighs look so sturdy and warm and they seem like the perfect spot to nestle my backside.

My cheeks flush as I imagine sitting there, my long surcoat pooling around us. I'd trace my fingers along the hard lines of muscle on his chest.

He clears his throat, and it brings me back to the present, back to him and those shadows in his eyes.

"I'm a good listener," I begin. "Grandmother always says so."

He barely even looks at me, just takes another long pull from the jar.

I try to think of something to say that might ease the tension in his face. "Did you know," I start, my voice soft, "I once tried to make lavender honey cakes for the summer solstice festival. I was so excited to show off my baking skills, but I mixed up the salt and sugar."

A hint of curiosity breaks through his stony expression as his eyes flick to mine.

"My family tried to be polite, but their faces..." I laugh as I remember Kassandra running to spit out my cake.

A ghost of a smile flits across Cenric's mouth as we pass the jug back and forth, and I continue with my stories. I tell him about the time I got stuck in a tree trying to rescue my neighbor's cat, and how I accidentally dyed all of Kassandra's clothes pink when I was learning to use plant dyes.

With each tale, the lines around Cenric's eyes soften. The tension in his shoulders eases bit by bit. It's like watching ice melt—slow, but steady.

"I saw my mother today," he says suddenly. "She was alive and well."

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I know how long it's been and how much that must have shaken him.

"Oh, Cenric." Instinctively, I reach out to touch his arm, but I stop myself just short.

He doesn't elaborate, doesn't pour out his heart, but in those ten words, I hear a world of hurt, of longing, of confusion. I want to wrap my arms around him, to tell him it's all right to feel lost, to be angry or sad or whatever he needs to be. But I know that's not what he wants or needs from me right now.

So, I decide to keep talking about when we were younger. "I remember when you used to climb that sequoia tree near the river in Astarobane. You'd go higher than anyone else dared."

Surprise flashes in his blue eyes. "You remember that?"

"Of course." I smile. "I was always so impressed. And terrified you'd fall."

"I did fall once. Broke my arm."

"I remember that too. I brought you wildflowers while you were healing." Heat rises to my cheeks and flames across my face. "You probably don't remember."

"I do remember. They were purple and yellow."

My heart lurches. He remembers.

"What else do you remember?" I ask, curious about what he recalls.

"I remember you trying to walk on water with some limbs you created to look like snowshoes."

I groan. "Don't remind me of that."

Cenric's mouth twitches. "Why not? It was clever of you to try. Foolish, but clever."

"I was so embarrassed when I fell in the river." I shake my head. "Especially with you watching. You probably thought I was a silly little girl."

"On the contrary. I was impressed by your determination and spirit."

I never imagined he saw me as anything more than a nuisance.

"Remember when you tried to teach me how to skip stones?" I ask, smiling at the memory.

Humor lightens Cenric's eyes as he speaks. "How could I forget? You nearly took out half the fish population with your wild throws."

I give his shoulder a light shove. "I wasn't that bad."

"You're right. You were worse. Especially when you gave me this." He lifts his hand to the scar on his eyebrow.

More heat flares to my face. "I'm so sorry about that. "

"Why? It was a long time ago."

"It was seven summers ago," I blurt out.

His brow lifts.

"I remember everything." Stop talking. Please stop talking.

"What do you remember?"

How do I explain that I remember every excruciating detail of that day without sounding like a lovesick fool?

"It was during the fall festival. You were showing off your stone-skipping skills to impress Leah." I try not to let bitterness seep into my tone as I continue. "I thought I'd give it a try. I picked up what I hoped was a nice stone. But it was actually a jagged rock. When I threw it..." I trail off, gesturing vaguely at his eyebrow.

"When you threw it, you nearly took my eye out," he finishes.

A groan escapes me as I bury my face in my hands. "I was mortified. I ran away crying, convinced you'd hate me forever."

"Is that why you avoided me for weeks after?"

I peek through my fingers. "You noticed?"

"Of course. I thought you were angry with me."

If he only knew I was avoiding him, because every time I saw that bandage on his forehead, I was ashamed for what I had done to him.

"Well," I say, trying for a light tone, "at least it gave you a dashing scar."

Cenric's lips quirk up. "And here I thought you were trying to make me more handsome."

I snort, hoping it masks how true that statement feels. "As if you needed the help. "

Did I just say that out loud?

Instead of seeming dismayed by my slip, he shifts until he's fully facing me and leans closer. My heart races, pounding against my ribcage, as if it might burst free at any moment.

Just as I feel the barest brush of his lips against mine, a deafening clap of thunder rips through the air.

"By the gods!" My hands fly to my chest. "Was that thunder, or did the sky try to devour us?"

He cups my face in his strong hands and brings my mouth back toward his. Then, he does something I have dreamed about. He kisses me. It's not a fleeting peck or a teasing brush of his mouth against mine. No, this is something else entirely. It's a devouring, all-consuming kiss.

I kiss him back, pouring out everything I've yearned to give him for so many summers—my true self, my adoration, all the feelings I've kept locked away.

He doesn't realize it yet, but my heart has always belonged to him and him alone. Through childhood games and adolescent longings, through tears and laughter.

His hands move to the back of my head, holding me in place, as if he cannot bear to free me. I take it as my cue to open my mouth, to deepen the kiss. His tongue slides past my parted lips, tangling with mine.

I wonder if I've somehow slipped into a different world—one where the guy I've been pining after for summers is actually kissing me senseless. Then, Cenric's teeth graze my bottom lip, and I decide that if this is a different world, I never want to go back to where I was before.

I run my hands up Cenric's arms, marveling at the feel of his muscles beneath my fingertips. Truly, does this man do nothing but train all day? Not that I'm complaining.

Another crack of thunder shakes the tent, and I jump. Cenric draws back, concern etched on his face.

"Are you all right?" he asks, his voice husky.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak, especially when my brain is busy doing cartwheels and shouting, He kissed me! He actually kissed me! to form coherent sentences.

"The storm..." he starts, glancing toward the tent flap.

Oh no, you don't.

I tug him back to me, my lips crashing against his in a fierce, passionate kiss. Boldly, I stake my claim, declaring that he is mine and mine alone.

For once, I'm not the timid girl trailing after him. I'm a woman who knows what she wants and isn't afraid to take it.

And what I want is Cenric.

All of him.

His mind, his body, his heart.

I pour all that longing and desire into the way my lips claim his.

Then, he does the unthinkable. He stiffens and draws back. "We shouldn't be doing this."

"Cenric." I try to bring his mouth back to mine, but he shakes his head.

I sit there, my cheeks burning hotter than a blacksmith's forge. What in the name of all the gods was I thinking? I've never been so bold in my entire life.

Now look where it's gotten me .

Cenric stands, his face an unreadable mask. "I should go."

I want to reach out, grab his hand, and beg him to stay, but I don't.

The tent flap falls shut behind him, leaving me with nothing but the memory of his lips against mine.