“She told me houses as nice as ours don’t just pay for themselves,” I say. “That everyone has a job to do, and this would be mine. I was lucky, she said, because it was aspecialjob—one I was going to really love. And if I didn’t love it, well… I’d be keeping the critiques to myself. Unless I wanted to be out on the street, and for my brother to be executed.”
She’s silent as I tell her the story—every sick and twisted thing that bitch ever said to me, every night she crept through the shadows, every night I spent crying myself to sleep.
Beneath my touch, Stevie’s body trembles. With rage, with sadness, with frustration, with shock… All of it, all at once. She wants to turn around. I can feel the tension in her muscles, spring-loaded and ready to hold me close.
But I can’t let her see me like this.
“For so long I blamed myself,” I continue, “even after I left that horrible house and came to the Academy. At Iron and Bone, I finally had my own space, doors that locked, a bed I didn’t have to share with anyone I didn’t invite. But I still couldn’t escape her. Night after night, I relived her torment, berating myself for not figuring out a way to save myself. For not asking for help. For not setting up cameras or some other way to catch her in the act. I should’ve been smarter, stronger, braver. I should’ve known better. So many ‘shoulds’ I started to wonder if maybe Ididwant it, just like she said. That maybe Iwassick and broken. Maybe I was the reason my parents left, the reason my brother went mad, the reason Janelle had to keep punishing me. But I wasn’t broken. Just a little lost. Scared. Fucked up in more ways than I could count. And she preyed on it.”
By the time I get all the words out and put them together in some kind of order that makes sense outside my own crazy fucking head, the sky is streaked orange with the last rays of the sunset, my throat hurts from talking, and my whole body feels like it was run over by a freight train.
But somehow, I feel light. Clear. Like I can fucking breathe for the first time in years.
I let out a deep sigh, all out of words. There’s nothing left. Just the breeze and the crickets, the soft sound of her breath, the steady beat of her heart.
Finally, I release my arms, letting her know she can turn around. But I haven’t looked at her since I started talking, and now that I’m done, I still can’t force my eyes to meet her gaze.
The last time I saw those blue eyes, she was looking at me with joy and wonder, marveling at the magick I’d just taught her. I’d rather remember her that way.
I keep my gaze firmly on the dirt.
“Look at me, Baz,” she says softly.
“I can’t. Not yet.”
“Then listen to me instead. Can you do that?”
I pull her close and rest my forehead on her shoulder, my hands on her hips. “As long as you’re not gonna tell me how sorry you are.”
“No sorries,” she promises, sliding her hands up my arms. “Only this. You’re the same man I knew an hour ago. The same man I knew last week. The same man I first met outside Iron and Bone, acting like a total dickhead but making me laugh anyway. And most importantly, you’re the same one I fell in love with. Nothing about your past can ever change that. So we can talk about this as much or as little as you want, but please believe me when I tell you thatnothingyou say will change how I feel about you.”
“I never wanted to talk about it atall—that’s the thing. I never wanted you to see my ghosts. But all the stuff going on with me lately—the blackouts and the disappearing act—it’s all part of this. It’s like Judgment’s in my head constantly, digging through the worst memories and bringing them to life. I can’t control when it happens. One minute I’m here, and then there’s this ice-cold dread washing through me, and I’m gone. That’s what happened the night you and Kirin and I were together. And again after Harvest Eve.”
“And with Janelle?” she asks gently.
“Janelle… that was different. When I got to the house this morning, all I wanted to do was see you. But then I heard Janelle downstairs, and that was it. It unlocked the monster inside my mind again—but no, not Judgment. It was like something in me suddenly just…decided. I had to end it. If Carly hadn’t come down when she did, I know I would’ve killed her.”
“Carly sensed as much.”
“Fucked up, right? Even though some part of me knew it was wrong, a bigger part of me didn’t care. In that moment, the bigger part almost won out.”
“And now?” she asks, but there’s no judgment in her voice. Only softness. Only compassion.
“I wish Janelle Kirkpatrick was dead,” I say. “I won’t lie to you about that. But… no. I don’t want her fucking blood on my hands. She doesn’t deserve to take up any more space in my headormy life.”
“That’s probably the right call.”
“She makes me feel weak.” I tighten my hands on Stevie’s hips, still unable to lift my head to look at her. “I feel like she’s got this hold over me, and no matter what I say or do, she’ll always be there. I can talk all the shit I want, threaten her when she’s practically in a coma. Yeah, real big man, right? But when it comes down to it, I’ll never be whole—that’s how it feels. And not evenyoucan fix that, Stevie.”
“Baz, I don’t…Goddess. I know you guys think I want to fix you—like maybe I have all this Star magick to make everything okay again. But the truth is, I can’t take away your pain. I can’t go back in time and undo all the horrible things Janelle did to you, or the things your parents did before that. And I’m damn well not going to tell you how to feel about it. But I will tell you this.” She steps back and cups my face, gently tilting it up toward hers, and even though I keep my eyes closed, I feel her gaze on me, warm and kind, full of love.
“When I look at you,” she says softly, “when I feel your heartbeat, when I taste your kiss, when you hold me close, when I see you fight for your brothers, when I think ofeverythingwe’ve shared together… I don’t see weakness. The man standing before me now? He’s a fucking warrior, Baz Redgrave. And if you don’t believe that yet, I’m just going to have to keep the faith for the both of us.”
Behind my closed lids, tears gather, my throat tight, my heart damn near exploding. Stevie’s the empath here, but at her words, her touch, I feel her love wrap around me and sink in deep, filling all the cold and empty spaces inside me.
Sharing this story, making this confession… It hollowed me out inside. But by some miracle, she’s managed to fill me back up again, just by being Stevie. Just by being the woman I love. Just by being my Little Bird.
And here, beneath the blaze-orange Arizona sky, I finally find the strength to look at her. Hell, maybe it’s not evenmystrength—maybe it’s all hers, borrowed by a broken man who may never fully heal. But maybe some part of that warrior she sees is still here too. Maybe we can co-exist, he and I. Starting right now.
