We walked further, down to the bridge that arched over the half-frozen stream just before the edge of town, and I paused, my hand brushing the railing.
The moment was still as light glistened off the water’s edge, and behind us, the students were laughing, clinking cups, and debating whether or not enchanted soap would ruin the Academy’s plumbing.
“I love it here,” I whispered.
Keegan didn’t say anything for a moment.
“I know.”
I turned to face him, and there it was again…that look.
The one he never tried to disguise but didn’t rush to explain.
Like he was waiting for me to be ready.
“I keep thinking,” I said slowly, “that this might be taken away. That it’stoogood, so something has to crack it open and ruin it.”
His brow furrowed. “You think joy needs a reason to last?”
“No,” I said. “I just… have a habit of watching joy turn into loss and of bracing for the moment it does.”
“Then let’s stand in the joy,” he said simply. “For as long as it lets us.”
My breath caught as I looked into Keegan’s eyes, as something felt like roots growing in the right place.
He stepped closer, and our arms brushed, and suddenly the cold didn’t bite.
And the shadows didn’t press in.
And the circle, bent or not, was quiet and connected.
Just for now.
“Do you ever wonder about the future?” I asked, feeling his gaze on me.
“Always.”
“And?”
“I hope it always includes you.”
His words hit me in a way that I hadn’t felt in years.
“Do you always know what to say?”
“If I did, I probably wouldn’t have said that,” he said, laughing.
“Why’s that?”
He shrugged. “Because…”
“Because why?”
He shook his head and let out a sigh. “No reason.”
“You always show up saying the right thing when I’m convincing myself I don’t need to wonder.”
“About?”
