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You won’t.
He sighs, pursing his lips.You don’t need my permission to be let in.His eyes fall to my mouth.You’re already here, within me. You’ve been here, long before we ever even met.His voice swims through my mind, and I cave to them.
Our lips collide, and the hurricane of turmoil loses speed. The darkness that was chasing us fades away, and the longer I hold on to him, the more I feel myself opening—blossoming like a flower breaking through concrete.
A pressure builds at the center of my chest, but it’s not one of pain. It’s one filled to the brim with passion—a passion so profound I can feel it in the depths of my soul.
This connection is hard to explain. It can only be experienced. Never in my life have I felt so sure about something—orsomeone, rather. Yet this man in my arms, this man kissing me, holding me, filling my mind with his sweet, aching words—You’re in. We’re one. I’m yours. You’re mine.—well, I’m sure about this.
Apart and in denial, the Tether will kill us. But together, in truth and harmony, we can thrive if we fight for it. And here we are, choosing the latter.
Sixty-Five
WILLOW
The world is justas it was. Well,thisworld anyway. The trees hover just as high as they did before, only the air is much clearer. There’s a peace surrounding us that wasn’t here prior. The darkness that loomed is completely gone.
Daylight remains, and the frogs croak, birds tweeting carefree songs while the leaves rustle in the wind, like nothing ever happened—as if we weren’t almost swallowed whole by a hurricane of darkness.
Caz stands next to me, his head back and his face pointed up at the sky. His eyes are closed, and I watch as the youth slowly comes back to him. He inhales, and after exhaling, he drops his head and takes my hand.
“Come with me.” He leads the way through the trees, stepping over wet leaves and grass, until he pushes a bush out of the way, revealing a small cabin.
The cabin is one story and can’t be any bigger than an apartment. And that’s me being generous. It’s roped in green vines that wrap around every corner and even touch the roof.The front door is wide open; however, it’s dark inside and I can’t see much. Not too far from the cabin, tied to a tree, is a black stallion with a sleek black mane. It’s just like the horse in that portrait from his mansion. A beauty. It stomps its thick hooves, huffs, then bows its head.
“Wait here.” Caz leaves my side, walking ahead cautiously. I believe this is the first time I’ve seen him not carrying a gun. He approaches the door, takes a look inside, then turns to me and says, “Mournwrath was here.”
“What?” My heart beats a little faster.
“I think it left. But I saw it. That darkness that was chasing you…I think that was it.” Caz gestures for me to come. Sensing my hesitation, he says, “It’s not here. And even if it were, I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”
His words are enough for now. I walk ahead, taking his hand and walking up the stoop. He doesn’t have gloves on, which I find all too surprising, and I look at him to see if he’ll realize it. I think for a moment he’ll read my mind, notice our hands touching and take his away, but his eyes avert to the open door of the cabin again. I let the thought pass me, fighting a satisfied smile.
The inside of the cabin can’t be any bigger than my studio. A worn two-seater sofa is against the east wall, and on the west wall, a bed pressed against viny wood. A kitchen is straight ahead, equipped with a stove and sink, but I don’t see a fridge. A two-top table with black tiles for the surface is wedged between the kitchen space and living area. There’s bedding on the bed, a black sheet with a thick brown quilt folded at the bottom, and another quilt on the sofa, white with green threading.
I step deeper into the tiny cabin, and I’m not sure what it is about it, but it feels likehome. Like I belong here…or like I’ve been here before.
“Watch your step there,” he says, pointing at the floor. The floor is made of wood and one of the planks is splintered, as if someone stepped there before, creating the fracture.
“What is this place?” I ask.
Caz turns, then sighs. “It was me mum’s place.”
“Your mom?”
He nods, then walks across the cabin to the kitchen. “It’s wedged between Blackwater and Whisper Grove. Not very easy to find.” He swings open a cabinet above the stove and collects a silver flask, offering it to me.
“Water,” he says.
I take it, unscrewing the cap and chugging some down. The water has a minty aftertaste, like the youth water. It’s nice and cool, and I take a few more sips before giving the flask back to him. He drains it, then places it on the tile table.
“Why did you come here?” I ask as he stands by the table, his back to me.
“To get away.”
“From what?”
He side-eyes me. “Everything.”
