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This is the sort of life I was meant for.
And that’s okay. It’s okay to be small and hidden away. Most gems are.
Self-affirmations.
Jericho claps his hands and our group assembles around him. He raises a fresh beer over his head. “Great job tonight, everyone. Now go enjoy the festival and stick with your partners. I’ll be doing a head count before we head back at midnight. If you want to leave before then, you need to come find me and I’ll mark you off.”
Lanston and Yelina saunter over to us. At least they look like they’ve cheered up a little. I’m not sure why Yelina isn’t interested in Lanston. He’s handsome, funny, and charming. Maybe she’s just into broody, dark-haired guys.
Aren’t we all?
“Well, the autumn dance starts in twenty—you guys want to check out the night market first and see what they have?” Liam asks. Yelina and I light up instantly.
She’s not so bad; I think she just feels outcast because the three of us are so close. I link arms with her, an act of good will, and her eyes widen with surprise. She doesn’t say anything, but a relieved and thankful smile crosses her lips.
“Come on, boys!” She flips her blonde hair and pulls me close like we’re sisters. “Wynn and I will need someone to hold our bags.”
Liam and Lanston both look perplexed by my sudden warmth toward Yelina. But they shake it fast and chase behind us with glimmers of excitement in their eyes.
The night market is wondrous.
Little booths line the street. Orange, yellow, and brown banners hang above wooden stands and fairy lights overhead cast enough light to redden the bricks of the buildings. Musicians play their ambient, heartfelt songs and the warmth of people’s laughter melts my cold heart.
My chest curls with nostalgic emotions as I look at the handmade jewelry and paintings, sweaters and blankets knitted by the sweetest elderly women in town. But my favorite stand is the one selling bundles of dried flowers. Yelina quickly loses interest and drags Lanston with her to look at some purses.
Liam lingers around the dried baby's-breath bundles. By the awed look on his face, I don’t think he’s seen dried bouquets before. The peonies have always been my favorite. They hold their faded colors so preciously.
“Why do you like these so much?” Liam asks, his chest pressed against my back, sending heat through my spine.
“It is a bit morbid, isn’t it?” I say as I caress one of the dry petals. “I think it’s because it makes me happy to see something that was once so beautiful in life be just as pretty, if not more so, in death. Forever beautiful.”
“You’re right. That is fucking morbid.” I turn to look at him and he catches my chin gently between his cold fingers. “But you wouldn’t be Wynn Coldfox if your mind wasn’t such a dark, lovely, wicked thing.”
27
Wynn
Liam Waters.
Who is he really? Outside of all this. He’s only sparingly mentioned things about his past. Corporate jobs, college, his broken family. But who are we once we’recured?
I don’t even know myself anymore.
But I’ve become comfortable with the idea of reacquainting with myself—listening to my innermost thoughts and taking care of the damaged and bruised part of me.
Liam carries a bundle of peonies and baby’s breath back to his car. They look tragically alluring together. He insisted on the pair. I’m pleased that my morbid love of dead flowers has captivated him as well.
We make beautiful things together.
“I could’ve carried them around tonight. We didn’t need to walk all the way back to the car.” Guilt tugs at my chest. It’s a few blocks out and the autumn dance is starting in a matter of minutes.
“No, you wouldn’t be able to dance holding these. And don’t forget about the maze. Knowing you, they’d get crushed in a matter of seconds,” he says nonchalantly as he opens the passenger door and tosses the bouquet in the back seat.
He looks past me and his eyes grow wide. He sits down in the passenger seat and pulls me in his lap before shutting the door and locking his car. His labored breaths instill fear in me.
“What’s wrong?” I swing my head to look out the window.
A lone man walks slowly down the sidewalk. He wears a baseball cap and a black coat. At first, I think it’s Lanston, but the hat is too dark and under the dim light of the street lamp I see that the man’s hair is blonde. It’s nothing particularly scary, but then I recall what Lanston told me about Crosby.
