Licia started laughing, that wild kind of laughter that only comes after you’ve cried too hard for too long.
Then wedidfall over.
Someone leaned the wrong way. Kalani yelped. Will cursed. I landed half on top of Licia, and Aran’s knee ended up somewhere in Will’s back.
It was awful. And it was perfect.
Will rolled up, grabbed my face with both hands, and kissed me, my forehead, my cheeks, my lips, like he was still trying to convince himself I was real.
”I’m okay.” I said, trying to sound convincing.
“Don’t ever leave me again,” Will breathed.
Aran groaned from the bottom of the heap. “Wait—wait—let me get out of here before you two start slobbering on each other.”
Licia laughed again and leaned in to kiss my cheek, just to provoke him.
I looked at all of them. We were all there. And suddenly, I realized I had no ideawherewe were. Or how Kalani got there. How much time had passed? I didn’t know how long I’d been out. Hours? Days?
“Where are we?” I asked.
“Come on,” Kalani said. “My family’s been wanting to meet my savior.”
----- ?⋅?⋅? -----
Meeting Kalani’s family was strange. Everything still felt like a dream I hadn’t quite woken from. They owned a vineyard in the eastern part of Alevé, where most farms were surrounded by lavender fields. She’d been gone almost three years, and still her family had never stopped searching for her. But after she disappeared while visiting relatives in the capital, the trail had gone cold quickly. Kalani told them parts of her story—the cleaner parts. Mostly, they just wanted to hear about her rescue, and thank me by kissing my cheeks and calling me brave.
Their words made something in my chest ache. I wasn’t used to that, gratitude without expectation. It made me feel warm and unsteady, like I didn’t know where to put my hands or how to stand. And their home was lovely too, all soft colors and sunlit corners. The food was rich and sweet, and they even prepared warm beds for all of us. Real ones. Not mats on the floor. Not cold dirt or straw. Real beds with clean sheets.
They told us we could stay as long as we needed. And for a moment, I let myself imagine it. A life there. And the baker in me—the part I thought I’d lost—stirred again. I caught myself dreaming of citrus cakes and sticky glazes. Of orange tarts and grape pies.
Maybe I could’ve opened a bakery someday.
Maybe.
But by the time the day ended, it had all become too much for me. So I slipped out the back door, past the kitchen, down the creaking porch steps.
Everywhere I looked, I was surrounded by beauty. Rows and rows of grapevines stretched across the hills, neat and endless, their twisting trunks rising just high enough to look like tiny trees. Lavender spilled along the edges of the fields, and warm sunlight draped over everything like it had nowhere better to be.
It didn’t feel real.
I didn’t hear the door open behind me, only the soft scuff of footsteps. Then Licia’s shoulder brushed mine, her eyes fixed on the horizon, the fading sunlight warm across her face.
“Are you sure this is real?” I asked.
She looked over, her brows drawn as she studied my face.
“You’re not?”
“It’s too beautiful to be,” I said.
She didn’t argue, just looked down, her gaze falling to the space between our feet. The wind tugged gently at her dress, at the loose strands of her hair. When she looked up, her eyes had glossed over.
“It was reckless,” she said. “What you did.”
I’d never hear the end of that.
“I didn’t have a choice,” I said, shame rising to my cheeks.
