Of another person.
For some reason, that makes my heart settle.
“You’re not the only one,” I say.
“I’m sorry. It’s hard.”
“Yeah.” I tilt my head against his body, let the steady rhythm of his breaths coax me away from the adrenaline rush his nearness causes. “It’s the worst, not knowing what you’re missing, just knowing thatsomethingis definitely not right.”
“Knowing that someone understands means a lot to me, Lemonade. I’m so glad you’re my friend.”
Friend.
I would be so much more than hisfriendif he wanted me to, but if being his friend means sharing moments like these where we both feel safe without anything else, that’s enough. That is, actually, so much more than enough.
Because friends—or at least the friends in the kinds of friendships I have always wanted to have—love each other.So much.The friendships that always entranced me growing up were the ludicrous ones in stories about kids who would die for one another. The stupid blood oaths of brothership in the woods. The silent moments ofwe are forever. The enchantment of overcoming anything, together.
I have always,always, wanted someone who I could be myself around. I’ve craved someone who loves all my ugliest pieces so much they think even my scars are beautiful.
Slowly, I turn more into Samson’s embrace, lifting my hand to the puckered flesh on his chest as I do.
He shudders, holding me tighter.
Secure there, I close my eyes and sleep.
Chapter 26
♥♥♥♥♥♥♥
Did I forget to mention something important about my puppies?Mayyybeee…
It’s very hard to appreciate Samson in full armor when he’s scowling at me. Nevertheless, I do my darnedest, soaking him in from his breastplate to his greaves as though I haven’t had the opportunity all morning.
In my defense, the light just hits different up here.
“What?” I ask once I’ve managed to pull my attention off his shoulders.
“I am standing,” he begins, tone extremely level, “on a cloud.”
I tip my attention down, down, down the marvelous expanse of him, to the cloud that he does appear to be standing on. I am, for the record, also standing on a surface resembling a cloud.
It’s not acloudcloud, of course, because people can’t stand on clouds—they’re just mist, and mist could not hope to hold the some odd three hundred pounds of man before me.
“Samson.” I tilt my head. “What did you think I meant when I said we were going to aSkyDungeon?”
He takes a deep breath. “I do not rightly know.” Pulling his hand off the hilt of his sword, he juts his thumb behind him, at a swirling vortex. “Not unlocking a secret passage behind a waterfall with your magic sword, locating that thing, and getting spit out of it onto a cloud five hundred feet off the ground.”
I do not have the heart to tell him that five hundred feet off the ground isn’t all that high at all. Even low-hanging clouds rest around six thousand feet up.
“Oh, come on, shoulders. Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“In a cave. Behind a waterfall. Five hundred feet down.”
Six thousand-ish feet down. But I don’t say that.
Smiling, I take his hand and coax him forward. Puffs of fluffy substance waft around our feet, dissipating into the air. “Focus,” I tell him. “We are here for puppies. Which means conquering the Sky Dungeon and saving them.”
Breath leaves him in a heavy sigh. “I’ve only heard legends of places like these, built by the hands of the ones who craft worlds.” Squeezing my hand, he peers at the maw of the cloud cave opening before us. “But why would there bepuppiesup here? How would they survive what must be centuries of neglect?”
