Page 106 of A Silence So Divine

“Huh-uh. We tried to fish, though. I always wanted to come back some day and catch something, cook it up while it’s fresh. Thought it sounded good.” He exhales heavily through his nose. A half laugh.

Adjusting the blanket, it slips from my thigh. Before I can catch it, Cecil brings the fabric back up, his knuckles grazing the skin.

I clear my throat. His hand drops.

“Maybe you should leave the cooking to Creed.”

This time, when he laughs, it’s full and without restraint. “You’ve got quite the mouth for someone who doesn’t talk.”

My mouth? My cheeks flush for reasons I don’t understand. He glances at me.

“You’re ornery,” he amends. I shrug.

We sit in comfortable silence after that, the buzzing of my mind making it impossible to form a proper thought. His presence consumes me. We’re not touching, yet I feel him all around. I can even smell him, over the potency of ash and brine.

I’m losing my mind and finding it all at the same time.

Don’t hide from yourself.That’s what my mother said.

Turning my head over my shoulder, I push my hair behind my ear. Cecil was already looking at me.

“Do you think my father loved my mother?”If the question catches him off guard, he doesn’t show it. He does ponder it, though, eyes darting over the stars in contemplation.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if someone like that is capable of love.”

That’s what I thought, too. I was only too scared to admit it to myself.

“And me?”

Now he does look confused. He pushes himself up, angling his body so we’re facing each other.

“You?”

The words bounce around in my skull on a loop. They have been for months. For years.

“Can I love?”

The crease in his brow softens and he gnaws the inside of his cheek. The silence stretches long enough that I tear my gaze away.

“Of course you can.”

I dip my chin, considering leaving the conversation where it’s at. But if our time together is limited…

“Creed thinks…”I glance at him.“I might love you.”

Cecil stills, his expression unreadable. As far as I can tell, he’s stopped breathing. He’s a perfectly devastating statue.

Just a week ago, side by side in his bed, Creed said it. I’d been explaining a nightmare I’d had. A nightmare where Cecil disappeared into a rainstorm and never returned. Creed, as speculative as ever, had responded with, “Maybe because you love him.”

The words have haunted me since.

“Do you think that’s true?”I shouldn't ask. But I know that Cecil is brutal with his honesty.

He blinks, looks at the tent, looks at the fire, looks at me. His lips part several times before he’s able to respond. “I hardly think I deserve that from you, Eden.”

Of course he would say that. I disagree. So I tell him,“You do.”

His eyebrows raise a fraction of an inch, and he studies my face intently, like the answer to unspoken questions lie in the apples of my cheeks. For a solid minute, we watch one another.