Savor It

Chapter 28. Sage

Three days after the migraine, the winds finally begin to shift. It looks as if it will be clear enough next week to resume training, but it also means the fire continues to spread in another direction and that Silas and Ellis are among the hundreds of crews being called out to assist. The night before they have to leave, during the second-to-last week of July, I make dinner at my house for the two of them and Fisher. Indy chooses to stay home, and Sam stays at Wren’s. And while the night passes in relative cheer, with only a few complaints from Silas about Fisher not being the chef again, when it’s time for them to leave, a surge of foreboding grips me.

“Be careful,” I say, beseeching Silas. “Please.”

His brow comes together when he hears the catch in my voice, and he crushes me into a hug. “You okay?” he asks me quietly. “He’s being good to you, right?” He shields me conspicuously from Ellis and Fisher on the porch.

“Yeah, Si,” I say, trying to swallow the sudden lump in my throat. “He’s really great to me.” I’m in so far over my head. Even when everything seems to be going wrong—a migraine and my flowers struggling in the polluted air, the restaurant taking way longer than anyone hoped, all our training delays… I am deliriously enamored. He is silly in private in the sublimest ways—with the funny voices he does with the animals and in how he plays with me. This morning, he joined me in the shower and began tracing shapes over all the places I have freckles.

“God, Sage,” he said, sounding spellbound. “I want to count every single one.”

I’d snorted, disbelieving and self-effacing. Turned the water off and swiftly covered up with a towel. “That,” I said, “would waste a whole day.”

“That’s it,” he replied. “On your knees.”

My mouth fell open with a shocked laugh, even as a thrill zipped through me. He’d kept me under his steady, penetrative gaze, wet and powerful and so handsome it hurt.

“Why?” I asked. “Because I admitted I’m worried about my oral game? Trying to see if I’m cursed with false modesty?” I’ve divulged all kinds of things to him I never thought I would—namely, how stunted my sexual relationship with Ian had been. How I always felt like something was wrong with me when I couldn’t get there quickly enough, how I’d be self-conscious about communicating what I wanted and would get shy anytime I tried. How everything else other than sex always felt like an afterthought. Fisher, I’ve learned, treats everything like its own special course.

“No,” he replied, gripping my chin. “I already know your modesty is—misplaced,” he said. “I just have a lot more nice things I’d like to say to you right now, and I think I’d like your mouth full while I say them.” He smiled full-out at the look in my eyes. “Then you’ll have to listen without brushing me off.”

I jump when I realize where my thoughts have traveled, with my brother at my front, a quizzical look on his face.

“Just don’t do anything stupid,” I tell him before we send them on their way.

When he sticks half his body out of the car window to wave from the end of the driveway, I realize he, once again, never agreed.

Late during the night, I spot the first visible star I’ve seen in weeks. I text Fisher to see if he’s awake and jokingly tell him to bring me a midnight snack. He sneaks over at 12:01.

When he walks through my sunroom door, he finds me on the bedroll waiting. I sigh audibly at the sight of him drawn in moonlight, and his face crumples, sliding the sandwich onto an end table before his hand goes to his chest like he’s been struck.

“What is it?” I ask.

He leans against the door, too far away. “I think,” he says, then coughs to clear his throat. “I’m wondering if we should start to pull back.”

Now I’m the one who feels like they’ve been pelted. My heart does something that cannot be healthy inside my chest. “I’m confused,” I say. “Why?”

He looks at me with unfiltered agony. “I think you know why.”

Oh. Of course he knows. Of course he sees that I’m too far gone and wants to spare me whatever he can. My throat gives a nasty pull, like soft hands on tough rope. I toss my head back and implore gravity to make the tears slow to rise.

He comes to kneel before me. “I’m in too deep, Sage,” he rasps, voice thick. My head snaps back down. “I—I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I’m trying to do all the right things. I promised Indy, and she has no one. I’ve let her down before, and I think she needs someone to prioritize her, and… I’m sorry. She still thinks that a bigger life means a better one, and I have to let her learn and support her, anyway. And I do want my star back. I don’t want to let Carlie down again, either, but mostly I want to see if I could do it again, you know? And I’m so sorry, Sage, I know you didn’t ask for this. I know we were supposed to accept the impermanence of this thing with you and me, and enjoy it in the meantime, but I just keep digging in, and now I’m drowning in you, Sage.” His eyes are swimming with tears.

“Fisher,” I say, the first tear escaping, more following each of my unsteady strokes along his face. “It’s too late for me. I’ve been too far dug,” I confess. His trembling hand comes around to cradle the back of my neck. “Just love me until then, anyway,” I say. “Please.”

He dives for me, desperately tender and so perfect it stings. And I’m sunk a little more for it.