The observation is too accurate to deny. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re annoyingly perceptive?”
“Once or twice.” He stretches his arm along the back of the bench, not quite touching me but close enough that I can feel his warmth. “Usually right before they tell me to mind my own business.”
“And do you? Mind your own business?”
“Almost never.” His grin is unrepentant. “Curiosity is both my greatest strength and my worst flaw, according to most people who know me.”
“I can believe that.” I lean back slightly, allowing myself to relax into the space near his arm without quite admitting I’m seeking his touch. “It’s probably what made you a good tracker.”
“That, and stubbornness.” His fingers brush against my shoulder, a touch so light it could be accidental. “Once I set my mind on something, I don’t give up easily.”
“I’ve noticed.”
We sit in comfortable silence for a while, listening to the night sounds of the forest and the distant music from the hall. It’s nice, this peaceful moment away from prying eyes and pack expectations. Just the two of us, the moon, and the quiet garden.
“Thank you,” I say eventually.
“For what?”
“For knowing I needed this space to breathe.” I turn to look at him, finding his golden eyes already watching me. “And for being patient with me, even when I’ve been… difficult.”
“You, difficult?” He places a hand over his heart in mock shock. “I don’t believe it.”
I laugh, shoving his shoulder lightly. “You know what I mean.”
“I do.” His expression sobers, though warmth remains inhis eyes. “And you don’t need to thank me, Lithia. I understand why this is hard for you.”
I cock an eyebrow in question.
He shifts, turning to face me more fully. “You’ve lost people you love. Your parents died protecting you and Dane. That kind of trauma leaves scars that don’t heal easily.”
I swallow, the familiar ache of old grief tightening my throat. “I watched them die. Did I tell you that? I was hiding in a hollow tree with Dane, and I saw the hunters kill them. They died because of us, because they were trying to keep us safe.”
“That’s what parents do,” Kier says gently. “They protect their children, no matter the cost.”
“But the cost was too high.” I look away, unable to meet his gaze as I voice the thought that’s haunted me for years. “Sometimes I think it would have been better if they’d just run, saved themselves. Dane and I would have figured something out.”
“Or you would have died too.” His voice is firm but not unkind. “Your parents made a choice, Lithia. They chose your lives over their own. That’s not something to feel guilty about—it’s something to honor.”
“By what? Hiding behind walls so thick no one can reach me? Pushing away anyone who tries to get close?” I laugh bitterly. “I don’t think that’s what they would have wanted for me.”
“No,” he agrees. “I think they would have wanted you to be happy. To live fully, not just survive.”
“I don’t know if I remember how.”
His hand finds mine on the bench between us, his fingers intertwining with mine. “Maybe that’s something we could figure out together.”
The simple offer—not a demand, not a declaration, just a possibility—breaks something open inside me. A tear slides down my cheek before I can stop it, followed by another.
“Hey,” Kier murmurs, his free hand coming up to brush away the tears. “It’s okay.”
“Is it?” I ask, my voice cracking. “Because it doesn’t feel okay. It feels terrifying.”
He pulls me closer, and I let myself be drawn into his embrace, my head resting against his chest where I can hear the steady beat of his heart. “You don’t have to figure it all out tonight. There’s time.”
I close my eyes, absorbing the comfort of his arms around me, the security of his strength. “What if there isn’t? What if something happens during the rescue mission? What if?—”
“What if we focus on right now instead of all the what-ifs?” He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “Right now, you’re here with me. The moon is full, the night is beautiful, and for once, neither of us is bleeding or being shot at.”
