Chapter 23 #2
"I like mine burned." Sawyer's voice was quiet, almost shy, his pale eyes on his own marshmallow, which was actively on fire, flames licking up the sides and turning it black, smoke curling up into the night air.
"That's because you're a heathen." Kol's voice was fond despite the words, his amber eyes crinkling at the corners with affection, a smile tugging at his lips. "But to each their own. The important thing is that Aster gets to try it the right way first."
My first attempt was a disaster—the marshmallow caught fire almost immediately, charring to a black crisp before I could pull it back. I stared at it in dismay, embarrassment heating my cheeks, my stomach sinking with disappointment.
"That's okay." Kol was already handing me another one, his amber eyes soft with encouragement, his smile gentle and patient, his fingers brushing mine as he pressed the fresh marshmallow into my hand. "Everyone burns their first one. It's practically a requirement."
"I didn't burn my first one." Nolan's voice was mild, his green eyes amused, a small smile playing at his lips, his freckled face smug in the firelight.
"You're an overachiever and you don't count." Kol waved a dismissive hand, not even looking at Nolan, his attention focused entirely on me, his amber eyes warm and patient. "Try again, Aster. This time, keep it a little higher."
The second attempt went better. I watched the marshmallow closely, rotating it when Kol reminded me, pulling it back when the edges started to brown. By the time it was done, it was golden and puffy, the outside slightly crispy while the inside had gone soft and gooey.
"Perfect." Kol's voice was reverent, almost a whisper, his amber eyes shining with pride, his whole face lighting up like I'd accomplished something miraculous. "Now comes the best part."
He walked me through the s'more assembly with the same careful attention—the graham cracker base, the square of chocolate (the "good" chocolate, he emphasized, not the waxy kind), the hot marshmallow pressed on top, another graham cracker to squish it all together.
"Now eat it before the chocolate melts too much." Kol urged, his amber eyes bright with anticipation, leaning forward slightly like he couldn't contain himself, his whole body practically vibrating with excitement. "Quick. While it's still perfect."
I took a bite.
The sweetness hit me first—sugar and chocolate and the caramelized taste of the toasted marshmallow. The textures were different than anything I'd had before—crunchy graham cracker, smooth chocolate, gooey marshmallow all melding together into something new. Something wonderful.
I must have made some kind of sound, because when I opened my eyes, all four of them were watching me with soft expressions—Kol leaning forward eagerly, his amber eyes bright; Reid's dark eyes warm and gentle; Nolan's smile soft and pleased; Sawyer's pale gaze intent and watchful.
"Good?" Kol's voice was hopeful, almost anxious, his hands clasped together in his lap, his amber eyes searching my face for a reaction.
"Really good." My voice came out rough, cracked with an emotion I couldn't quite name, my eyes suddenly stinging with unexpected tears. "I've never tasted anything like it."
Kol made a sound of pure joy and threw his arms around me, nearly knocking the rest of the s'more out of my hands, his scent enveloping me completely, warm and sweet.
"I knew you'd love it." His voice was muffled against my shoulder, his arms tight around me, his body warm and solid against mine. "I knew it."
"Let her finish eating before you suffocate her." Reid's voice was dry, but when I glanced at him over Kol's shoulder, his dark eyes were soft with something that made my chest ache, his weathered face gentle in the firelight.
The evening unfolded slowly after that, comfortable and warm.
We made more s'mores—Kol insisted I try all five types of chocolate so I could pick a favorite.
The milk chocolate was too sweet, the white chocolate too cloying, but the dark chocolate—rich and slightly bitter—balanced perfectly with the sweetness of the marshmallow.
"Dark chocolate." I announced after my fifth s'more, my fingers sticky with melted chocolate, a smile spreading across my face. "That's my favorite."
"That's my favorite too." Nolan smiled with quiet pleasure, his green eyes crinkling at the corners, something satisfied in his expression, his freckled face warm with shared connection as his gaze held mine across the flames.
We talked about nothing and everything as the fire crackled between us—Kol telling ridiculous stories about disastrous deliveries.
A goat that escaped from its crate and ate half his paperwork, a package that turned out to contain live bees.
Nolan sharing memories of his childhood on his parents' farm, Reid occasionally offering dry observations that made everyone laugh.
Sawyer was quiet, but his quiet felt different than it used to. Less like a wall and more like a presence. Sometimes I'd catch his pale eyes on me across the fire, soft and watchful, and something would flutter in my chest.
At some point, I ended up leaning against Reid's side, his arm draped loosely around my shoulders, his warmth seeping into me.
Kol had migrated to sit at my feet, his head resting against my knee, his amber eyes half-closed with contentment, his honey-blond hair soft against my leg.
Nolan and Sawyer had shifted closer too, the five of us forming a loose circle around the fire, connected by proximity and warmth.
"Can I ask you something?" Nolan's voice was gentle, his green eyes reflecting the firelight, his freckled face soft with careful concern, his body angled toward me with open attention.
I tensed slightly, an automatic reaction I couldn't quite suppress.
Reid's arm tightened around me, a silent reassurance, his thumb stroking my shoulder in slow, soothing circles.
"You don't have to answer." Nolan added quickly, his green eyes earnest, his hands spreading in a gesture of openness, his voice soft with understanding. "I just wondered—you mentioned foster care once. What was that like? Growing up that way?"
The question hung in the air, heavy and fragile.
I could feel all of them watching me, waiting, giving me space to answer or not.
For years, I'd kept this part of myself locked away.
Hidden. Protected by walls so high and thick that even I couldn't see past them most days.
But sitting here, surrounded by their warmth and their scents and the gentle crackle of the fire, something in me wanted to let them in.
"It was..." I started, then stopped, my throat tight, my voice catching on the word. I tried again, staring into the flames. "It depends on the house."
Kol's hand found my ankle, his fingers warm through my sock, grounding me with gentle pressure, his thumb stroking small circles against my skin.
"Some were okay." My voice came out rough, halting, the words dragged up from somewhere deep and buried.
"The first few, when I was really little.
I don't remember much from before I was five or six, but I remember.
.. warmth, sometimes. People who tried." I paused, staring into the fire, watching the flames dance and flicker.
"But those never lasted. Good foster parents are rare, and there are always more kids who need them.
I'd be there for a few months, start to feel safe, and then I'd get moved. "
"Why?" Kol's voice was soft, barely more than a whisper, his amber eyes bright with concern when I looked down at him, his fingers tightening on my ankle, his face open and vulnerable in the firelight.
"Different reasons." I shrugged, trying to make the movement casual and knowing I was failing, my shoulders tense beneath Reid's arm.
"Sometimes the family moved. Sometimes they couldn't handle a kid with 'behavioral issues.
'" I made air quotes with my fingers, bitterness creeping into my voice.
"Sometimes they had a baby of their own and didn't need me anymore.
Sometimes—" I stopped, swallowed hard, my throat closing up around the words. "Sometimes there were other reasons."
Reid's arm tightened around me, pulling me closer against his side, his scent surrounding me like a protective wall. Sawyer had gone very still across the fire, his pale eyes intense and watchful, his jaw tight, his scarred hands clenched on his knees.
"You don't have to—" Nolan started, his voice gentle, his green eyes concerned, his body leaning forward with careful attention.
"The worst ones were the farms." The words came out before I could stop them, tumbling free like they'd been waiting years for permission, rushing out in a flood I couldn't control.
"A lot of foster kids get placed on farms. Free labor, basically.
Work from dawn to dusk, sleep in the barn or a back room, eat whatever scraps were left over.
" I laughed, and the sound was bitter, sharp-edged like broken glass.
"Those placements paid well. The state subsidized them, and the families got free workers. Everyone won except the kids."
"Aster." Kol's voice cracked on my name, his amber eyes shining with unshed tears, his hand tightening on my ankle like he needed to hold onto me, his lower lip trembling.
"I was on four different farms between eight and fourteen.
" I kept going, unable to stop now that I'd started, the words pouring out like water through a broken dam.
"Learned a lot. How to work cattle, mend fences, deliver calves.
How to be invisible. How to not complain, not ask for anything, not take up space.
" My voice dropped to barely a whisper, rough and scraped raw. "How to survive."
"And after that?" Nolan's voice was gentle, but I could hear the controlled anger underneath it, his green eyes bright with fierce emotion, his jaw tight with suppressed rage.