“Are you okay?” Aurelia asked, brows curving upward as she hurried to help me up. My heart swelled at the care and concern in her pale eyes.
“I don’t know, I may have to go put this hand on ice.” I flexed the hand in question.
“I told you, Aurelia. You’ve gotta be careful. You’re too strong for your own good,” Barrett teased, ruffling her black hair. Her giggles spilled out as her nose wrinkled, and she pushed Barrett’s hand off her head.
“Come on, Aurelia. Training’s done for the day,” Lydia said, her loving gaze shining down on the sweet child.
“Awe, but I wanted to see Barrett shoot fireballs!” Aurelia whined.
“Tomorrow,Mikros,” Barrett said, patting her head once more. “Be a good girl and listen to your mom.”
Her tiny shoulders slumped, her lower lip jutting out as she pouted. “Alright.”
Lydia hoisted Aurelia into her arms. “We’ll see you all tomorrow. Come on, let’s go make some hot cocoa.”
Aurelia’s cheers quickly replaced her previous disappointment at the promise of hot cocoa. I shifted my gaze to Cassie, who’d stepped away to return her baton to its stand.
“How’s she been?” Thalia asked in a hushed tone as I pushed myself to my feet.
I sighed. “Too well.”
Barrett ran his fingers through his short blond hair, his concern thick in the air. “I still can’t believe she burned the house down.”
I couldn’t either, but she’d been right. Too much of her remained in that place. There would’ve been no way to remove her from the portraits decorating the home, to ensure there were no photos or documents tucked away somewhere. It was too great a risk.
I let slip a heavy sigh. “She didn’t really have a choice.”
I slowly opened our bedroom door later that evening. Cassie sat on our bed; the small picture frame she’d taken from her parents’ lay in her hands as she gazed down at it. She stiffened when she realized I’d entered, her hands frantically brushing aside the few tears lingering in her eyes.
“Hey,” I said.
She set the picture down on her nightstand, her hand lingering a moment on the frame before withdrawing. “Hey.”
I hesitated in the doorway, unsure of what to say, unsure of how I might be able to help her. Nothing would help ease the pain, nothing would soothe the sorrow she felt.
“Thank you.”
My attention snapped to her, confused. “I—” I’d done nothing. What was she thanking me for? “I’m sorry, I’m... not sure what I did.”
“For giving me time.” She drew a deep breath. “I just… needed to process everything.”
My heart twisted; I understood that more than I could put into words. I approached her, lifting my hand to brush a stray curl from her face. “How’re you holding up?”
“I’m—” Her gaze left mine, and I wondered what she was thinking. Would she put up a front? Tell me some bullshit that she was okay? Her lips pressed into a grim line, hesitation clear on her face. “I’ve been better.”
Relief washed over me when she didn’t try to hide it, but it wasn’t enough. She still held something back.
Don’t hide it away. Please, just open up to me.
“It hurts.” Her voice was thick. “I miss them so much already.”
I eased onto the bed beside her, brushing my hand along her back. Her gaze fell to her lap. The silence stretched on, but I didn’t speak.
“I don’t regret it, though,” she finally managed to say.
“You made the right choice. They’ll be safe,mea luna.”
“I know,” she whispered, and her weight shifted as she leaned into me. “I just… need time to adjust.”
