“They were good to you when you lived with them.”
“Yes.” I scrub at my hands even though they’re not really that dirty. Washing my hands at the hand pump with a rough little bar of soap back at the cabin might have been annoying, but it had done the job.
“Do you miss them?”
I dry my hands on the little hanging towel more vigorously than might be strictly necessary before swinging around to look at Layden. “Does it matter? They’re out there, wherever they are, and I’m here. They’re safe; that’s what matters.”
Layden just stares at me.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” he asks.
“Look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Like you’re sorry for me.”
“That is not what I was thinking at all.”
“Then what are you thinking?”
“That it must have been wonderful to have a mother and father that you cared for and who cared for you. You love them. They love you. And I’m sure they are unhappy wherever they are because you are not there.”
He says all this, so matter of fact. I love them, and they love me. I hadn’t thought about all these things in so long, but being back here after I briefly hoped I might be free of it, even briefly?—
I burst into stupid tears.
Layden immediately comes closer, and I turn away from him. I never cry.
“What is happening? Are you hurt? Did I do something wrong?”
I cry harder and wrench away from him when he puts a hand on my shoulder. I don’t cry. Why the fuck am I crying?
“Phoenix,” he says, and I hear his pain and confusion in the word.
I spin and throw myself against his chest. He just stands frozen for a long moment. But then his arms come around me. I melt against him, sobbing, and he holds me tighter.
How long has it been since anyone held me like this? I mean, sometimes Sabra and I hug hello, but it’s not like this. This absolute enveloping clench of safety while I just totally lose my shit. I continue sobbing, and Layden’s arms are so strong and sure as he holds me close, his chin notching over my head until I feel all but swallowed up in his embrace.
For the first time in forever, I feel safe. I realize the last time I felt this way was when I was a child and my mother hugged me when I was sick. Which only makes me sob harder.
Layden rubs my back and makes soothing noises until finally, hiccupping, my crying calms down.
I’m appalled at myself, but still, I don’t pull away from him.
We just stand there like that, me in his arms, my face sideways against his chest. I can hear his heartbeat, so sure andsteady. The extra-sensory part of me can feel his blood pumping through the four chambers of his heart and rushing out through all his veins through his body, filling him with life. He’s so strong and alive.
I’ve never felt so safe. It’s a dangerous high because I could chase this feeling forever.
Finally, I pull away and wipe at my eyes. “I’m sorry.” I look down. “I don’t know why I did that.”
“I have cried before,” Layden says. “When my brothers and Creator-Father were not looking. Sometimes, I felt better afterward.”
His admission makes more tears want to bubble up. How is he so…perfectis the word my mind conjures, but I know that’s not true. Then again, he is the closest thing I’ve ever met to an angel. It’s probably a girlish fancy to think an angel has come to save me. Though I wasn’t lying when I said I’ve never been young. No matter how much pink I put on the walls. If I ever was a girl, I’m certainly not one anymore.
“Thank you,” I say, stepping back from him. I make a useless gesture, still feeling embarrassed. “For listening. And… understanding.”
