I pushed myself up out of the water in one smooth move and joined her on the ledge. She backed away from me, bumping into the rock wall until she could go no farther. “Tamsyn,” I said with gentle slowness.
“I—I didn’t know … I thought you gone. I am sorry, Fell.”
She was the picture of remorse. Her lovely face still pale and screwed tight as though she were battling tears.
I took her face in both hands, speaking earnestly, the words wrenching from some place deep inside myself. “You don’t need to tell me you’re sorry. I left you to fend for yourself.I’msorry for that. I understand, and I don’t blame you for doing whatever you needed to make it through, to survive, to make your days less … shit … so that you can be here now, alive.”
She looked at me with an incredulous expression on her face. “You …understand?”
I nodded, smiling, and swept my thumb up and down her cheek. “Of course I understand.”
“But how—”
“Because you safe and well matters more than anything. Because hating you would feel like hating myself. We’re a part of each other. Caring for each other means acceptance and understanding. It means I want you to always do whatever you need to do to live a better life, because that is what you deserve.”
Leaning down, I kissed her.
Both her hands settled on my chest and pushed me back. “Really?” she demanded breathlessly. “You say all that and then you kiss me so I can’t say anything?”
My body tightened, muscles tensing. I stepped back, putting space between us. “Forgive me. Please, speak. Say what’s on your mind.”
Perhaps she was right.
Perhaps I wanted to kiss her because I was afraid of what she would say. Or what she wouldnotsay.
Her fingers flexed against my bare skin, like a cat kneading its claws, and then she smiled up at me like she harbored a painful little secret. “When I lost you,” she began in a low voice, “it broke my heart. It brokeme.” She lifted her shoulders and dropped them in a helpless shrug. “That’s when I knew … you can still go on living even broken, and—”
I held my breath, waiting.
“I never want to lose you again.”
“You never will,” I vowed.
She flushed and closed the gap between us, dropping her face into the crook of my neck as though struck with a wave of bashfulness. “What now?” she murmured against my skin, her warm breath raising goose bumps on me.
“Well. I suppose we should go home, then.”
“Home,” she repeated in all solemnity, her fingertips flexing lightly over my skin again. “And where is home, Fell?”
“So we are in agreement?” I asked, as though we had spoken the words out loud.
She nodded, hearing what was not said between us. “Tomorrow we go back to Penterra.”
I nodded. Home. Penterra. The Borg.
Decision made, we remained in the cave throughout the next day, recovering from our wounds, resting, eating, andbeingtogether.Enjoyingeach other. Making up for lost time. Not that one day together could completely do that, but we could try.
We could begin.
Begin again.
It seemed beginnings were all we ever had. Starts followed by hard, jarring stops.
This time, I vowed, there would be no more stops. This time would be different.
When nightfall descended, we were ready.
We stood at the opening of the cave, bare toes curling into dirt and rock as we turned our faces up to the kiss of deepening night. Then, in a burst of light and an explosion of bones and skin, we were off.
