Page 29 of The Silversmith

“They should never have kept me in the dark.”

“One of many things,” he sighed, squatting down to build a campfire from the dried leaves, pine needles, twigs, thin sticks, and a few larger pieces of wood he’d gathered, “that you and I very much agree on.”

I took note of how he placed the kindling in a center pile with slightly larger sticks crisscrossed over the top, just in case I ever had to do it myself. He lit the fire with a match and discarded it into the flames. When he noticed me watching, he instructed, “Keep the fire small, controlled, and any additional fuel upwind, away from the flames.”

I nodded and memorized his instructions. “I don’t remember much at all from before the accident,” I rushed out, unsure why I felt the need to explain myself to him. “But at least I should have plenty of room in my memory for all you teach me.”

I stared, waiting for his reaction without a clue what I was looking for. Praise, perhaps. Confidence that I could become something. He gave me nothing. His features were like stone, but I thought I saw his knuckles strain against his skin from the grip of his folded hands. Frowning, I focused my gaze on the dancing flames and absorbed the heat that soothed my aching muscles.

“Is Smyth your real name?” I asked, unable to stand the silence. The name seemed to fit him: direct, strong, unembellished. And yet, a name so simple didn’t sit right with me. He was… more.

He glanced up from the other side of the campfire, his dark brow lifted. “Does it not sound like my real name?”

“I just think if you’re going to call me whatever variations of my name that you want, like Ella, I should have other options too.”

He assessed me, jaw pulsing. “It’s Gavin.”

It was a softer name than I had expected. A testament, maybe, to a warmer, gentler man hidden behind that cold, gruff exterior.

“Gavin.” His lips twitched when I said his name. “You know, I never really agreed to keep training with you. You just demanded that you be the one I learn from.”

“And?” He rose to his feet without denying my claim.

“And I’ll keep training with you if you allow me to call you by your first name—your real name—Gavin.”

He chuckled. “Happy to see your negotiation skills are developing.”

I arched an eyebrow, not backing down.

The corner of his mouth curled into a smile before he leaned back against the nearest tree, crossed his arms, and resigned with a single nod, “Fair enough.”

It was a futile effort to suppress my grin.

“What is it?” he asked.

I bit my lip and shrugged. “I just hadn’t seen you smile much until we left Warrich, and you’re smiling. It’s… nice.” I groaned internally. Nice was such a stupid, empty word for the way his smile made me feel.

Smyth—Gavin—gritted his teeth, cocked his head in thought, and replied, “It’s easier to smile when there’s finally something to smile about.”

A flutter loosened the tension in my belly, and I had to endure a few minutes of silence just to gain back my good sense. Endure watching him withdraw the cover from an axe-head and prepare a few logs to be split.

“So your name is Gavin.” I crossed my legs and folded my thinly gloved hands in my lap. “Can I ask you another question?”

He drew in a long, contemplative breath while he studied me with narrowed eyes. Finally, he gave a non-committal grunt. All the approval I needed to proceed.

“What’s your favorite color?”

To my surprise, he laughed, and for the first time, I noticed the dimples poking out of the edges of his beard, his warm smile, and the faint laugh lines in the corners of his eyes.

A comforting heat flushed through me, chasing away the nagging fears of the present. He was so handsome, and his ruggedness gave him an edge that stole my breath.

“Green,” he finally answered, removing his worn black leather jacket. “Yours?”

“Blue,” I answered, which was my normal answer, but I did love the way the navy cloth of his shirt gripped his intimidatingly corded biceps and rippling forearms, so I specified, “Navy blue. Though there’s nothing quite like the orange and pinks of a sunrise too.”

“Tough decision.” He eyed me warmly.

I shrugged. “When’s your birthday?”