“It can mean you don’t get to leave.”
His hands stop again, this time for longer. “You can leave.”
The words are simple and matter-of-fact, which makes them harder to answer. I swallow. “I know.”
Locke resumes the braid.
I think I like that about him.
The thought arrives so clearly that my eyes open.
I like him.
The realization should probably feel more complicated than it does. I like his questions, his stubbornness, and the fact that he’s offended by our bear’s shoulders.
And I really like his hands in my hair.
“There.”
His voice comes from behind me. I turn too quickly and nearly undo whatever he has made. Locke catches the braid in one hand.
“Hold still.”
I laugh. “See? Perfect.”
He studies me as though he suspects another joke.
I hand him the hair elastic. Without direction he wraps it repeatedly around the end of the braid until it is tight. Then I reach behind my head. “Can I feel it?”
He puts the end into my hand.
The braid is thick and smooth, running diagonally from one side before joining the rest down my back. I bring it forward over my shoulder and look at the part I can see.
It’s beautiful.
It isn’t fancy enough for a wedding or anything ridiculous, just an intricate braid that looks deliberate and soft and a hundred times better than anything I could have done in the twelve minutes I now have left.
“Locke.”
He watches my face.
“You did this?”
“Yes.”
“I mean, I know you did. It’s really good.”
“Good?”
“Very.”
His gaze stays on my face, and I can tell the answer pleases him. I reach up to touch the braid near my temple and find one tiny green leaf caught between two strands. I pull it free and hold it up.
Locke looks at the leaf and then at the braid as if deciding whether it belongs there.
“You’re shedding.”
“Bad?”