Guilt slammed into me. I’d watched her storm through fires, but this single doubt from me had her shrinking like she expected the world to take from her again.
I hated it. Hated that I’d caused that.
But fear coiled tight inside me. Not only the potential of Zaicha, but the hold she already had on Finley. The way Finley spoke the goddess’s name like it was a lifeline rather than a warning.
I drew in an unsteady breath, not wanting to be the reason she withdrew even an inch but needing her to see this. Really see it. Not through awe or hope. “At the cliff . . .” The words scraped across my throat.
Her head snapped up, her eyes sharp with hurt and anger. I almost stopped. Almost told her none of it mattered. Almost let her keep that fragile spark of belief untouched. But I couldn’t. Losing her to a lie could mean losing her entirely.
“Lolli . . .” Her name left me on a plea.
Her expression flickered, pain and defiance tangling together.
“I’m not trying to take hope from you,” I said.
Tears welled in her pretty silver eyes, and I trailed a trembling hand across her cheek in a featherlight touch, afraid she’d flinch away. She didn’t, but her breath broke.
“She wouldn’t do that to me,” she whispered, her voice strong despite the break. “You didn’t feel her magic when she helped me. You don’t—” She lifted her chin, that stubborn, unbreakable spark igniting even as her bottom lip shook. “At the cliff . . .” Her voice faltered. She swallowed, her gaze drifting past me to the memory. “My magic felt like it was being torn from me.” Her eyes drifted past me, to the memory. “It happened after I told you I might want to keep my magic.”
I didn’t move or speak. Just let her think. Process. Let her see it on her own.
Her brows knit together. “But that doesn’t mean—” She shook her head. “No. That doesn’t mean she caused it.” She dragged in a breath, her eyes flicking across my face. “It can’t be her, Brenton.” The words rushed out faster, desperate to be true. “It can’t.”
Her attention stayed on me, waiting. I couldn’t give her what she wanted. Her expression faltered as my silence stretched between us. Her breath quickened as if she could outrun the thoughts slamming in her head.
“She can strip my magic from me.” She held a hand to her stomach. “Why would she come to me, offer to help me, give me a choice in something she could simply take?”
“Maybe she isn’t strong enough to take it all at once,” I said. “Maybe it’s easier to absorb if the magic is offered instead of stolen. I don’t know, Finley. I don’t know, but we’ll figure this out together. Who knows? Maybe I’m wrong.”
Her bottom lip trembled. “I don’t think you’re wrong. I think I was too desperate to want someone who understands my magic, too stupid to see her for who she is.”
“There’s nothing wrong or stupid with wanting to be understood,” I said, my voice gentle while my hand roamed over her arm. “We all want someone who understands us.”
“I didn’t realize it before, but you’re that person for me,” she said, her eyes slowly shifting back to their natural color. “You may not understand my magic, but you understand me. You know how to take care of me in ways I didn’t know I needed. You see me, Squishy, and you’ve never feared or cowered to me.”
“While you are fierce, you’re still my Lolli,” I said.
As I hoped, my words coaxed the smallest smile on her face. It wasn’t much, and I wanted more. So I dug into my bag untilmy fingers brushed against the stash of lollipops Everly had given me.
When I pulled one free, the bright red wrapper gleamed in the sunlight. I knew that shade well. It was her favorite.
Her eyes widened, her whole body perking up as she sat. “Is that a lollipop?”
Since she was little, she loved them. It was one of the few, small treats her parents could afford. She used to carry them everywhere, her pockets always bulging with sugar and color.
Her fingers drummed excitedly on her leg, the heaviness of today momentarily forgotten.
I tore through its wrapper and held it out to her, grinning when she leaned closer. “A lollipop for my Lolli.”
Her laugh broke free, and she twirled the lollipop between her fingers before she popped it in her mouth.
I couldn’t stop staring at the way she hollowed her cheeks while she sucked the candy. She noticed, and her lips curled slyly around the thin stick.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she teased, her voice suddenly husky.
I grinned. “Can’t help it.”
She pulled out the lollipop with an exaggerated pop. Her gaze darted to my pack, and before I could stop her, she started digging through it. “What other flavors do you have in here?”
