Iris blinked, surprised at this change in topics. “Uh, no. Why?”
“Because you’d be a natural at something called Tetris. We’ll have to get a copy.”
“I’m never going to get tired of it being easy and okay to just ... try new things, even if it’s just for fun.”
“You deserve all the fun and happiness you can get,” Keith said. “And then some.”
“As long as I have you, the happiness isn’t going to be a problem. But look at this.”
The front box wasn’t made out of cardboard. Instead, it was a durable, heavy-duty plastic with a lid that clamped down on opposite sides. Iris opened it up, and Keith peered inside, squinting to see through the U-Haul shadows.
She’d rescued all her old tools from her abandoned workshop. The toolbox was there, looking grimy but friendly, and so were some polishing cloths and even a few pieces of driftwood. He was guessing the paper-wrapped blobs were small, half-completed projects that she’d decided to salvage. The box wafted a pleasant smell of warm sawdust into the air.
The scent felt like it was part of Iris, like some kind of sexy signature perfume. He couldn’t believe he was going to get to spend the rest of his life with her, noticing all the little things that made herher.
“I thought I’d get back into it,” Iris said shyly. “It felt like it was time. If I keep feeling skittish and guilty about doing something I love, Blake wins, doesn’t he?”
“I want you to get to do what you’re passionate about,” Keith said. “But don’t be hard on yourself if it takes some time to shake all that.” He shook his head ruefully. “I’ve spent yearsknowingthat the Silver Council’s rules are mostly ridiculous, and I still have trouble taking vacation days because it feels like I’m being lazy and self-indulgent.”
“Well, you deserve the chance to be lazy and self-indulgentsometimes.” She threaded her fingers through his hair. “We’re absolutely going on vacations. And I’m going to help you out by making sure you sleep in some mornings.”
Keith smiled. “It’s a lot easier to wake somebody up than to get them to sleep.”
“I know, but I figured that if I tired you out the night before ....”
This time, the mischief in her eyes wasn’t a sparkle but more of a glow, or the crackle of a warm fire.
“I think I’m going to like sleeping in,” he said, a little dazed by the erotic heat she could kindle in him so easily. “Speaking of which, maybe once we get your new workshop set up, you could make us a bed.”
“I’d love that. It’ll be the most important thing I ever made.” She closed the box of tools and half-completed projects and took a deep breath. “Of course, I’ll have to get back in practice first. And in the meantime, there’s something else I have to get used to doing again: driving. Or at least riding shotgun.”
Keith couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to have to get back in a car after a car accident—or “accident,” in this case—had nearly killed you.
If it had been at all feasible for him to drive and her to follow, shifted and invisible, he would have suggested it. He could make the drive in an afternoon, and he wasn’t used to thinking of it as intimidatingly long, but that was the advantage cars had over horses—even unicorns. If Iris tried to go on foot, it would be a long and exhausting journey. And since she couldn’t safely trot along the highway, it would be hard for her to know where she was going.
“I wish I could do something to make this easier on you,” he said.
Iris shook her head. “It’ll be easier because you’re there. Riding beside you is going to be a lot different from driving alone, and I think that’ll help.”
She gave him one more kiss, this one firm and decisive, like she was putting a stamp on her decision.
“Okay. I’ve been waiting to say this for years.” She collected herself and proclaimed, very solemnly, “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”
“Consider it blown,” Keith said.
Iris was a little tense as she settled in and buckled her seatbelt, but only in a way Keith recognized from his recent hospital stay: it was the slow, careful, cautious way you moved when you werepreparedfor something to hurt, because you knew itcould. Her features softened as he started the car.
“This is better than I was expecting,” she admitted.
He squeezed her hand. “I’m glad. You’ll let me know if you need me to pull over or anything, right?”
She nodded. “I know I don’t have to be perfect and invulnerable aroundyou.”
“Or anybody, anymore,” Keith said.
He pulled away from the cottage and turned them towards the barrier that was—he hoped—starting to become more of a doorway, something that could swing both ways and let in new ideas.
“That reminds me: we should knock off some road trip clichés while we’re at it, all the things you didn’t get to do when you were only driving to Polis.”
