Page 3

Walking over, I stop just a few feet behind Cain. At sixteen, he already dwarfs me; he’s tall and looks lanky beneath his clothes. But I’ve seen him training with Dean, his frame is solid with distinct muscles. He’s sitting down in the wet grass, letting the rain wash over him, and the mud soaks his pants. His dark brown hair sticks to his forehead and drops just below his eyes. I shake my head as if to make the clouds go away. I shouldn’t let myself get lost in looking at him in a moment like this.

“Please don’t make me go.” There’s a lump so thick in his throat I fear he might be choking on himself. He must think I’m his dad, not just his best friend's little shadow. He sniffs, and his breathing sputters out. My heart bleeds out in a pool on the ground for him. What can I possibly do to help him? Me, of all people? He hates me.

I step up, tuck my dress skirt underneath me, and lower myself on the wet ground next to him, tucking my legs to the side. I slip my hand into his, lacing our fingers together. His hands are freezing; this fall rain is brutal. “I’m not going to make you go anywhere.” Cain's eyes dart up to meet mine, and he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. We stare at each other for a beat, and when I expect him to toss my hand aside and say he doesn’t want to see me, he does the opposite. Cain tightens his grip around my hand, rests his forehead on mine, and closes his eyes.

“Do you like the flowers? They were your mom’s favorite from my garden.” I nod to the low-lying bushes on either side of the headstone, thyme. They are dry now, but come summer, purple flowers will bloom, Aurora’s favorite color. It practically cares for itself and is incredibly fragrant. Cain follows my direction but stays silent. “Your Mom has been teaching me to sew for a while now; we have been working on a quilt for the past few months…” His gaze drops as he starts to rub his thumb over my hand. “It’s simple colors, but we were embroidering it to add hidden detail. I haven’t figured out the design yet, and she said she wouldn’t tell me unless I figured it out… I wish we could have finished it; she left the pattern folded inside a secret pouch within the quilt.” I’m not sure if talking about Aurora is helpful to him, but he seems to like it. His thumb continues with its rhythmic motion back and forth over the back of my hand.

“You still can,” his words are hushed. Shifting closer, I tuck myself right in the crook of Cain’s arm and press right into his side. We stay this way for what must be close to an hour; the rain has now thoroughly soaked through my clothes and hair. I love the rain, but this rain is bitterly cold, and my body has been trembling for some time now. “Come with me.”

“What?” I look up, and my breath hitches. How long has he been looking at me like that? “I thought you wanted to stay?”

“You’re freezing; your lips have been purple for 30 minutes. And while it’s my favorite color, it’s not good for you.”

Cain keeps me tucked under his arm and walks me to the greenhouse. Torches illuminate the dry plants left here from this past season in a warm glow, the heat barely reaching my skin in soft kisses. The rain taps aggressively against the glass rooftop, one of my favorite sounds.

Cain’s absence is too noticeable when he leaves my side. I suppose he was my only source of warmth and support, and without him, I’m shaking. He returns from the cabinets with two towels, wrapping one around my shoulders, and with the other, he starts… Drying me off? He watches me as he moves the towel over my face, my neck, and slowly kneads it through my hair. I put my hand over his, stopping his uncharacteristic care.

“I can do it.” his free hand wraps around the nape of my neck, and he continues working my wet hair.

“Let me, I want to take care of you.” I release him to do his work, clutching onto the fabric of his shirt to keep my fingers busy and attempt to hide how he makes me feel. I lean into his touch, the massage feeling so good I’m like a kitten begging for more. Only when he stops do I realize my eyes had closed. I look up to Cain, and he’s staring down at me.

“Wh—mm!” My question cut off as his lips crash to mine. His hand tightening around my nape, and his free hand snaking around my waist, holding me against his front. Cain’s lips are firm, claiming mine one kiss after the next. I try to return with the same energy, but I feel clumsy and just let him devour me. I thought first kisses were gentle and slow, but this… This is better. My stomach twists so tight I can’t tell if this is bringing me pain or pure pleasure.

“I’m sorry.” I smile, my lips brushing against his as I speak, “I’ve never done this before; I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Me too.” I’m his first kiss… And is he smiling as well? He captures my lips again, and I feel like I’m floating, truly on cloud 9.

“I’ll be right there! Going to take a look here first.” I jump back from the sound of Uncle’s voice, and Cain lets me go. I stumble backwards and duck down in the corner between the cabinets and the bags of soil. Cain turns to the door and leans back against a worktable, his legs crossed casually at the ankles. The door opens.

“Hey, you seen Violet?” Cain makes a small frown and shakes his head.

“Not since the service.”

“What are you doing in here?”

“Taking a moment alone before going to the ‘after party,’ what’s it to you?” Cain nearly snaps.

“If you see Violet, send her to the hall. Everyone else is already there.”

“Sure thing,” Cain almost sounds sarcastic; it’s just enough that Uncle won’t get after him for being ‘a little shit.’ And with that, the door closes. Cain remains there for a beat before pushing off the table and meeting me in the corner, crouching down on his haunches. He reaches out and cups my cheek in his hand, tilting me to meet his gaze.

“What does he do to you?” I blow a puff of air out of my nose and shake my head.

“Nothing… I’m nothing; why would he bother with me?” His thumb rubs back and forth along my jaw in the same rhythmic motion he did over my hand in the cemetery.

“I don’t believe that…”

“He hasn’t hit me since that night two years ago.”

“Does he say things to you? Things like, ‘you’re nothing?’” I swallow and lower my gaze.

“Yes.”

“Don’t believe a word he says. You’re not nothing.” With his free hand, he takes mine and helps me up, gathers the towels, and tosses them in the laundry bin by the door. “Let's get inside before you get in trouble.” But before I open the door, he grabs my nape and turns me to face him. His thumb moves up and down along my pulse point as he stares at me. “You’re so beautiful.” Cain leans in and captures my lips in a slow, long kiss. My stomach knots just as it did before. I guess slow kisses are good too. I wish I could stay here with him forever.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been meeting with Cain in Aurora’s sewing room. He sits and practices his knot tying while I work on the quilt we had been working on together. He’s quiet, but I enjoy his company, and he doesn’t seem to mind me talking his ear off. It’s funny, I’m generally a pretty quiet person, but when I’m with him, I want to talk.

Cain even helped with the sewing a few weeks ago when my fingers were sore. More like he told me I wasn’t allowed to sew until I was feeling better, but he didn’t want to stunt my progress. He seems to really care, and I kind of like doing what he tells me. Cain isn’t rude, but there is something in his voice, like gentle commands.