I lean closer to Blaze. “Why does she scream?”
“Shut up,” Blaze hisses, chin cutting my way. “Look at her.”
“I am. She’s beautiful. What do you want?—”
“I will bury your head in the sand like I did a century ago, and this time, I’ll make you swallow,” Blaze practically growls, eyes meeting mine. “Shut up andlook. At. Her.”
The force behind his voice is enough to grasp my undivided attention. I haven’t heard it in so long, it catches me off guard, only affirming what I’m thinking.
I clear my throat as I try to turn my sights entirely on the woman standing before us. As we watch, she screams again, and this time, I hear it. The catch in her throat. The hiccup at the end as if she’s mourning the sunrise itself.
My feet move out of curiosity, and I eventually find myself standing in front of her. Her brown eyes catch the amber glow, and behind the glisten, flecks of gold ripple in her irises. Those eyes… the anguish behind them. The grief for something she’s holding tightly onto.
“Why is she so sad?” I ask, unable to look away.
“I don’t know,” Blaze answers in a hoarse voice. “I don’t…” He swallows as Juniper turns to regard the spot he happens to be standing in, and my chest tightens when Blaze reaches up as if he means to swipe away the tear rolling down her cheek.
Wind catches the droplet instead of his thumb.
Juniper sinks to the ground, takes out her phone, and snaps a photo. Her head hangs as she stares at the colors on the screen.
“I’m sorry you can’t see this,” I hear her whisper. “I’m sorry I wasn’t enough.”
“Who is she talking about?” I ask Blaze.
He shakes his head, his knees nearly touching hers as he settles in front of her.
I don’t know what makes me do it, but I take a seat at her side and lean myself against her shoulder. Whether she knows it’s someone holding her up, I don’t know. But she leans into the weight and swipes to her messages.
Blaze’s phone lights up in his pocket.
He takes it out, and I turn so I’m hovering over her shoulder, one hand at her back, the other toying with her hoodie sleeve.
“Nick? Really?” I ask, seeing the name she has him saved as.
“I didn’t realize I’d be meetingherwhen I decided on it this year,” he says as he stares at the phone.
She sent him the picture of the sunrise.
“The anticipation of your reply is killing me as much as it is her,” I tell him.
“Shut up,” he hisses, staring at the device, thumbs hovering on the keyboard. “Can you stop staring over her shoulder?”
“Why? Does it unnerve you?”
“Yes. I want to text her without you judging me.”
I sigh vexingly. “Still not as smooth as me, I see. Fine. I’ll go play with the dog, shall I?”
“Her name is Pack,” Blaze tells me when I stand.
My nose curls. “Pack?”
“Juniper went to North Carolina State,” he explains.
“Ah. Well. We all make mistakes,” I joke.
Blaze lets out the first huff of amusement I’ve heard from him in years. It delights me so much that I leave him to talk with her without another peep.
