Chapter 30 Loving Me #7
He took the book and started reading, his voice altered the space without disrupting it.
It was steady and low, unembellished but not flat, each sentence shaped clearly as it left him, carrying through the clearing without effort.
It did not push against the silence so much as move with it, and after a moment I found myself sitting more fully, letting my shoulders ease, the tension I had been holding without noticing beginning to loosen as I listened.
I stretched out against the ground, the stone beneath me still carrying the last traces of warmth from the day, and closed my eyes while he kept talking. The steady rhythm of his voice remained strangely soothing.
Chapter 24: Until Yours Returns
Bramwell : I have been instructed by several civic entities to invite you somewhere against your natural instincts.
Me : No.
Bramwell: Strong opening. Unfortunately incomplete.
Bramwell: County wildfire preparedness fundraiser next Friday. Cross-department event. Rangers, fire services, emergency response, environmental planning, geological survey. Mildly terrible canapés expected.
I read the messages twice before setting my phone face down on the desk and closing my eyes.
The county held one every year before peak season, a formal gathering meant to bring departments together before the months became harder.
Rangers, fire crews, search and rescue teams, and local officials were all expected to attend.
It meant speeches, donors, photographs, and crowded rooms filled with people trying to appear more relaxed than they actually were.
It also meant firefighters, which meant Ellis.
By the time I got home, the old heaviness had already settled over me. It was never only Ellis that made me avoid those rooms. It was the noise, the lights, the awareness of being looked at, the strange expectation that women should appear effortless while feeling anything but.
There was a knock not long after sunset. Bramwell stood outside with a paper bag tucked beneath one arm and the expression of a man who had arrived prepared for resistance.
"I suspected texting would fail," he said as I opened the door. "So I escalated to soup."
I stepped aside and let him in.
He moved through my kitchen with the growing ease of someone who had been there often enough to know where things were but still respected the space enough to ask before opening cupboards.
He unpacked containers of soup, bread wrapped in paper, and two slices of cake that had partially collapsed into one another during transport.
"They were separate when I acquired them," he said, examining the container with mild disappointment. "Circumstances have altered them."
I leaned against the counter while he arranged everything with unnecessary concentration, the domestic familiarity of it doing something unsettlingly gentle to the atmosphere of the room.
"You are not coming," he said after a while, not as accusation but observation.
I looked down, forcing the words out in a few, careful pieces. “Many people… and Ellis.” Saying it cost more than it should have, but I reminded myself this was a safe place, and kept going.
“They know what happened,” I added quickly, the rest slipping out before I could stop it. “I’m… embarrassed.”
Then he inhaled slowly through his nose and said, with deliberate calm, "I see." After a brief pause, he asked quietly, "This is because of what he said before, isn't it?"
I could not answer. I had never told him exactly what Ellis had said, only what it had done to me afterward. He stepped a little closer, though not enough to crowd me.
''You speak as though you are the one who must fit into the world," he murmured. "Personally, I think the world should be trying harder to deserve you. You have the kind of beauty people used to turn into legends."
I kept my eyes lowered, but he continued anyway, his voice calm and matter-of-fact, as though he were simply explaining something obvious.
''You are tall in the way trees are tall, in the way statues are tall, something carved to outlast centuries.
You occupy space with the effortless cathedral-like majesty, as though time itself pauses to make room for you.
You have hair of fire and a face of a goddess, as if both were made to be remembered. ''
My throat tightened a little at that, though I said nothing.
"I know you do not believe me yet," he added softly.
I stayed silent.
His expression gentled almost imperceptibly. "So borrow my belief until yours returns."
My eyes lifted to his again. I stared at him, unable to move.
"And for practical purposes," he said lightly, "if you ever attended something like that with me, you should know I would handle the room."
I blinked at him.
He looked up from the counter, entirely calm. "I would identify exits, assess social threats, intercept tedious conversations before they reached you, and secure food that is actually edible. I would also remain nearby enough that nobody mistakes you for unattended."
A laugh slipped out of me before I could stop it.
"I am also exceptionally skilled at strategic compliments," he continued with quiet seriousness. "And I possess a highly reliable instinct for extracting people from situations moments before they become unbearable."
I shook my head, smiling despite myself now. "Like a military operation."
"In fairness," he said, setting the bowl in front of me with measured satisfaction, "most social gatherings are."
I laughed again, softer this time. He rested one hand briefly against the counter and glanced at me. "So if you ever say yes, understand that you would not have to manage any of it alone. I got this."
Something in my chest loosened quietly at the certainty in his voice.
We ate in easy quiet afterward while he explained why public fundraisers inevitably contained at least three dangerous personalities and one deeply suspicious cheese tray.
By the time he stood to leave, the dread attached to the event had become smaller, less absolute than before.
******
July started texting me before I had even finished getting ready for the night.
July : You're going.
I stared at the message for a moment. Apparently Bramwell updated people with alarming efficiency. The idea of the two of them discussing me behind my back was strangely endearing though, enough to make me smile faintly.
Me : No.
July : That was incredibly unconvincing.
Me : I do not belong at events like that.
The typing bubble appeared immediately.
July : April. July : Listen to me. You are wonderful, you are safe, and you are not trapped there. If you want to leave, he will take one look at your face and leave with you immediately.
I rolled my eyes despite myself.
Me : I will look awkward.
A second later three images appeared beneath her reply. Black dresses. One sleek and minimal, one softer with flowing fabric, and one black tailored jumpsuit with sharp lines and an open back.
July : Counterargument. July : You would look devastating in all of these. July : Especially the jumpsuit.
I laughed quietly under my breath.
Me : I hate you.
July : I love you too.
I stared at the screen for a long moment.
Me : Okay.
In the morning, I finally texted Bramwell.
Me : I'm going.
His reply came less than a minute later.
Bramwell : Thank you for trusting me with this.
Chapter 25: Night Air and Forest Green
When he arrived that Friday evening, I almost did not open the door.
The jumpsuit had taken me longer than I wanted to admit to choose, because nothing ever seemed designed for a body like mine.
In the end I settled on something that did not try to erase me.
A deep green, the colour of dark forests, cut in clean, confident lines that fell straight from my shoulders without clinging or softening anything it should not. It fit, but it did not hide.
I looked at myself once more before I moved, hands still at my sides. I still thought I looked wrong. Bramwell, however, looked stunned. For a full second he just stared at me from the doorway like he had forgotten how conversations worked.
Then, very carefully, "Oh."
Heat climbed immediately into my face.
"You look..." He stopped, blinking once like he was reorganizing his thoughts. "You look majestic."
I looked down at the floor.
"Objectively," he added quickly. "This is not a matter of opinion. I'm fairly certain several people there are about to become dangerously annoying about it."
I swallowed hard around something nervous and awkward and warm all at once.
The fundraiser was worse the moment we entered.
Light fractured across towering glass walls and polished marble, too bright and too sharp, while conversations folded into one another until the room became a single mass of noise pressing insistently against my skull.
Somewhere behind the crowd, a string quartet played something elegant and forgettable.
Perfume lingered heavily in the air. Laughter erupted too loudly from every direction.
I regretted coming almost immediately.
Bramwell seemed to notice before I said anything at all. He stayed beside me as we moved through the room, close enough to ground me without touching me.
"You can leave whenever you want," he said quietly as someone brushed past us with a champagne tray.
I nodded at Bramwell, but the moment I lifted my eyes again, I saw Ellis.
The sound in the room dropped away beneath the rush in my ears.
He stood a few feet away, this time beside a man in a dark suit rather than anyone from the field teams. The man looked like someone from administration or civic coordination.
He was listening to something being said to him when Ellis’s attention shifted.
His gaze found mine with unsettling ease.
My chest tightened so sharply it almost stole my breath.