That the list wasn’t a pointless exercise. That he might want to use the knowledge I imparted in order to win my heart.
His chest heaves as his breaths come quicker, riding the waves of his frustration. I watch him struggle for words, waiting patiently for him to find them, the weight of this moment wrapping me in something akin to hope.
“The moment we agree to be friends,” he says, “that is all we will ever be. I do not want to be your stepping stone.”
I don’t know what being a “stepping stone” means, but the first part, that I understand. At least I think I do. “You don’t want to be friends because you want to be more.”
He shoves the list back into his pocket with a curse. “That is right. I want to be more.”
There they are, the cards flat on the table, the words I’ve been waiting for him to say hanging in the air between us like the fog between our worlds.
This man literally leapt into a canyon for me. He ate a potentially poisonous berry because I might like some for breakfast. He has kept me safe and warm, watched over me every single moment we’ve been in this terrible place.
As for me . . .
I’ve sought him out, craved his company and attention for far longer than even I realized. I’m scared to death of heights, and yet I ventured across the bloody bridge for him.
Yet it took being stuck here in this desolate place, without distractions or inhibitions, to tear the wool from my eyes and the hesitation from my heart. To give me the strength and confidence I need to step right up to him, the toes of my slippers brushing the tips of his homemade boots and say, “All right, then. Let’s be more.”
27
Maddox
“Let not your heart be governed by hope alone. For hope without action will end in disappointment.”
— A Seelie Proverb
Nia does not wish to be my friend either.
She would like to be more.
More. More. More.
This is not confirmation that she would consider me as a mate, but it is not a denial either. We are in the in-between. A place that I have been before and never managed to escape.
“What does ‘more’ mean to you?” I ask, desperate to know and too wrecked to hide my feelings any longer.
Her brows arch. “What would you like it to mean?”
Everything.“That I can keep holding your hand.” She was right to add this to her list. Holding hands is quite enjoyable. That connection is something I’ve begun to crave each morning and mourn the loss of each night.
“I would like that,” she says.
My heart pounds a little harder, my hands fisted at my sides growing damp with fear. “And if I would like to kiss you?”
“I wouldn’t say no.”
My heart is galloping now. I will have to work up to this. At least I know she is open to the idea. Perhaps for the first time in our acquaintance, our goals seem to be the same.
More. More. More.
Now. Now. Now.
I mustn’t rush and scare her away. There will be time . . .
I only hope that her mind does not change before we have had our chance.
The canyon widens, leading to more vegetation and different berries that Nia assures me are safe to eat. I am still breathing, so the last ones must not have been the poisonous kind. I do not think a tiny berry would be enough to fell me, but her fear is real, and I made her a promise, so I do not try any of the others until she tells me I am allowed.
