A sadness flashes in her eyes, a heaviness I know very well. But I hate seeing it on her. She should only ever smile, feel joy and happiness. I—no, we—will rid this world of anything that causes her distress.
My gaze flicks up to Dean, who’s playing with his mask in his hand, a shit-eating grin on his face. He’s replaying their kiss—I can practically see the movie in his eyes.
Princess follows my gaze, turning her head and looking up at Dean.
She sucks in a sharp breath, her entire body turning to stone.
Does she recognize him?
Her eyes flick back to me, shock and terror in her blue orbs. She looks back to Dean, who’s now staring at her with concern and furrowed brows.
She scurries off my lap as fast as she can, backing up until her back hits the other side of the gazebo, muttering something under her breath.
“What’s wrong?” Dean asks, his face contorted with worry. “Are you okay?”
Her blush pales, and her eyes widen like she’s seen a ghost. “Y-you’re Dean Kensington.”
“Yeah?” he stammers.
Her gaze falls to me. “And that would make you … Asher Kensington.Shit.”
I nod, standing to my feet. “Is that o-okay?”
Her hands fly to her face. “Oh God.”
Slowly, like I’m approaching a wild animal, I walk over to her with Dean beside me until only a couple of feet remain between her and us.
I try to console her, unsure of why our identities are freaking her out so much. Honestly, I think we assumed she knew already. “Hey, it’s okay. Just talk to us.”
The heaviest sigh I’ve ever heard draws out of her.
“I-I can’t,” she whispers painfully, her hands dragging down her mask and face, now contorted in anguish.
“We can help. What’s wrong? You just have to tell us,” Dean assures her, reaching out and taking her hand. “We’ll help you.”
She smiles sorrowfully up at him, her eyes welling with tears. “You really, truly can’t. No matter how much I wish you could.” She pauses, taking my hand in her empty one. “I’m sorry. I should go.” When she glances up at me, sadness fills her eyes.
Her heartbreak strikes my heart more painfully than I’d have expected, cutting deep into my chest.
“Wait, you can’t just leave,” I beg her.
The bubble around the three of us bursts at once when a deep, angry voice cuts through the safety of our private moment.
“Dean! Asher! Where the hell are you?”
Our father.
“Wait here. We can talk,” Dean tells her, quickly kissing the back of her fingers. “We just have to get rid of him. But we’ll be back.”
She nods slowly, a war brewing behind her eyes. “O-okay.”
“Okay? Good! Stay here. It’ll just be a minute.” I lean in and kiss her forehead, breathing her in deeply. Her scent floods me, notes of freesia and honey.
Dean kisses her hand once more before turning on his heel and running out of the gazebo. I trail right behind him, wanting to avoid drawing attention to her from our father.
We meet him around the hedge corner, royally pissed off to an entirely new level.
“You missed dinner. Missed photos. We’ll discuss thatlater.” Disappointment rolls off of him. “Fireworks are in less than five minutes. Do not—I swear to God, boys—donotbe late. Do you understand me?”
