CHAPTER TWELVE #2
Before I could think too much, her fingers brushed against mine, still resting on her arm.
“I think time’s up,” she whispered.
I blinked, forcing myself to remember why we were even sitting this close.
Right, the tattoo.
Carefully, I peeled the paper off, revealing the butterfly on her skin.
She looked down at it, and her face lit up with the brightest, most beautiful smile I’d ever seen. But then that happiness faded, replaced by something else.
She looked… confused.
“You don’t like it?” I asked, feeling a knot tighten in my chest.
“I love it,” she said after a beat, but her tone didn’t match the words. Then she added, “It’s just the things you do… I don’t understand. My dad always warned me to be careful with Outsiders.”
“Why?”
She turned to me, and the look she gave made me sit up straighter.
“Because Outsiders are extremely dangerous. They don’t follow rules. People used to say they could level whole cities if they wanted. Even gangs fear them.”
I bit my bottom lip, caught off guard. She wasn’t wrong. It was probably the most accurate definition of someone like me I’d ever heard.
Our eyes locked, and for a solid five minutes neither of us moved. I could see the conflict written all over her face. She trusted me, but there was this flicker of doubt. Something buried deep, probably drilled into her over the years.
She looked away first, then giggled, as if the tension had never even been there.
“You know, I’m a badass. I could pass as an Outsider.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”
“Yeah, I’m very dangerous.”
She smiled as she reached for another beer.
I stopped her with a hand on her arm. “You’ve had enough.”
“Just one more,” she pleaded, flashing me that sweet smile.
And I caved without a fight.
How the hell did this woman have so much control over me with just one look?
She took another sip of her beer before setting it down.
“I’ve got something for you too,” she said, grabbing her backpack off the ground. She unzipped it and started pulling stuff out—first a book, then her pocketknife, then a mug. Everything ended up in a little pile beside her.
She kept digging like she was on a mission until she pulled out a green blanket.
“Here,” she said, holding it out to me. “I know it’s summer, but nights still get cold. I just… I want you to feel safe. Protected, I guess. And yeah, it’s green. Hope that’s okay. All the others were pink, so I figured green was the least embarrassing option.”
Green. My favorite fucking color. Of course it fucked with my head even more.
Her green eyes caught mine, bright and almost glowing. Then my eyes dropped to her lips. They were pink and looked delicious.
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” I said, running my fingers over the fabric. Soft, warm, it smelled like her too.
She clasped her hands, fidgeting a little. “I just wanted to thank you. For what you did that night at the ranch. You saved me and my brother. You could’ve run, but you didn’t. You went back for us.”
“I went back for you.”
I didn’t even realize I’d said it out loud until I saw her cheeks redden and her eyes flick down to my mouth, just like I’d done to her a second ago.
From the next classroom, Nathan and his brothers played a song on his old battery-powered speaker. I recognized the beat right away, “A Bar Song (Tipsy)” by Shaboozey, and before I knew it, Sarah was on her feet, spinning around the small fire we’d built earlier from scraps of broken desks.
And I’d never seen her look more beautiful than she did right then.
My eyes followed her as she danced in front of the fire, and I knew I was the luckiest guy alive because I was the only one who got to see her like that.
My gaze drifted lower, taking in the way her long skirt hugged her thighs.
Every sway of her hips, every curve of her figure, had me gripping the edge of the blanket I was sitting on, trying to stop myself from grabbing her and pulling her into me.
I wanted to taste her, to trace every inch of her skin with my tongue.
“Do you know what else I dream of doing?” she asked suddenly, looking over her shoulder with a smile. “Living somewhere where it’s winter all year long.”
“All year?”
She twirled around again, her butterfly-print skirt flaring out. “Yeah! I love it. I know snow makes things a little complicated, but I still love it.”
“A little?”
She sighed. “Okay, fine. A lot. But it’s so beautiful… Did you know every snowflake is unique?”
“You’re unique.”
Mid-spin, her eyes snapped to mine. “What?”
The words clearly threw her off, and she stumbled, missing her step. Her balance wavered, and I saw it coming before she did. One foot caught the other, and she started falling backward.
I was up in a second, catching her in mid-air just in time. Her fingers curled into my shirt, and her braid brushed my cheek, soft and wild. My breathing was sharp, and judging by the way her chest rose and fell, so was hers.
From the next room, the music changed to “Ho Hey” by The Lumineers. Her eyes met mine, and for a breathless moment, neither of us moved. We just stayed like that, frozen in place, our eyes holding onto something unspoken.
“Now I get the little accidents,” I said.
“So, it’s true, huh? You’re always ending up hurt one way or another?
” I nodded at her knee, even though the bandage was hidden under her long skirt.
I knew exactly where it was. A damn souvenir from when she’d run off and hidden in that fucking cave, scared and alone, while we searched for hours.
I already knew about the accidents. At the ranch, she had a new wound almost every week, but I’d never brought it up until now.
She looked down, a little embarrassed. “Yeah, unfortunately, it’s not the first time. And it won’t be the last.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. Her face was red, eyes glassy. “I break easily. I don’t know why. I just do. It’s been like that since I was little.”
She looked so sad, like it was somehow her fault.
“You’re still little,” I said, trying to ease the mood just a bit.
Her smile came back, and it was enough to knock the wind out of my lungs.
“I meant when I was a kid,” she added. “But hey, at least nothing’s broken this time because you were there to catch me.”
I gently settled her back on her feet and sat back down in front of the fire, reaching out my hand to help her. The moment her fingers slipped into mine, I didn’t want to let go.
She eased down beside me, really close, still wobbling a little. “I’m very good at dancing,” she said proudly. “It’s just… the world is spinning right now for some stupid reason.”
I shook my head, biting back a smile. She wasn’t drunk, but the tipsy edge in her voice was unmistakable.
She looked at me, scratching her chin like I was some kind of riddle.
“You’re so serious, James.” She leaned in closer. Too close. “Why don’t you ever smile?”
“I’m smiling,” I said, and I meant it, even if it didn’t show on my face.
“Where?” she demanded, touching my cheek with her hand.
Her fingers were warm against my skin, and the heat of her touch spread through me like wildfire. It took every ounce of control I had not to close the space between us and kiss her.
Gently, I took her hand and lowered it from my face.
“I think it’s time for you to stop drinking.” I grabbed her beer bottle before she could take another sip.
“Nope!”
She gripped my wrist with both hands and tried to wrestle it back. She didn’t stand a chance, but watching her try was the funniest thing I’d seen in ages.
Her eyes widened as she stared at my arm. “Dear God, are you made of stone?”
I finally laughed—really laughed—and it felt strange in the best way. She was hilarious without even trying, and I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had made me laugh like that.
When I looked at her, she wasn’t just smiling. She was staring at me, fascinated, like she was seeing something she’d always wanted but never thought she’d actually get.
“Okay, last beer. I promise,” she said, batting her eyelashes and trying to look innocent.
It wasn’t working.
“You said that two beers ago.”
“I didn’t! You drank those beers.” She scrunched her face in fake offense, looking so ridiculous I had to choke back a laugh.
“You can say that as many times as you want, little danger.” I playfully booped her nose. “But that’s not gonna make it true.”
She laughed at that, and the sound did something to me.
It made me feel lighter, like the weight of everything I’d done, everything I carried, didn’t matter when I was with her.
No one else had ever made me feel this way.
Not even close. My world had always been fire, destruction, and survival.
And here she was, probably thinking about chocolate or wondering if Santa is real, and somehow, that made me happy.
Real happiness, the kind I’d forgotten even existed.
“James, you’re such a mystery. Why don’t you tell me one secret about yourself?”
I ran a hand through my hair, the smile fading. I hated talking about myself. Always had.
She must’ve read my thoughts, because instead of pressing, she just said, “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me. I’ll figure it out myself.”
“Oh yeah? Why don’t you tell me something I don’t know about you?”
She grinned. “That’s easy. I’m a ballerina.”
I blinked at her.
“You’re a ballerina?” It wasn’t even a question, it just came out that way.
“Yep, trained pretty much my whole life.”
“I’ve never seen you dance ballet. Not once at the ranch.”
“That’s why it’s a secret. Yeah, I danced at parties and around the ranch, but I never did a real ballet performance. Only Dad and Michael ever saw me practice.” She gave me that proud little smile of hers. “Told you I was good at dancing.”
“Yeah, but… why ballet?”
“Because there aren’t any ballerinas left. We’ve got cooks, farmers, hunters, mechanics, thieves, but no dreamers. Nobody wants to be something different. I think it’s time we bring those things back.”