Chapter 43
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Ash bullies me into a shower and then insists on going for a walk, stating that if I sit still I’m going to undo all the good that the yoga session did for me.
Or some such nonsense. Honestly, I was sulking after she declined to shower with me.
After the “on my knees” comment, I do have to concede that she had a point — if she had gotten in the shower with me, we wouldn’t have been leaving the apartment for the foreseeable future.
As a pseudo-apology for the truly atrocious smoothies, she had popped into a shop and come out with ice cream cones.
Now, we’re strolling along in the sunshine, enjoying our icy treats and watching the people.
And for once, just once, I let myself be in this moment with her.
The world smells like sugar and summer rain.
Ash’s strawberry ice cream is dripping down her fingers as she absentmindedly licks at it, trying to keep up.
I have to focus on my own chocolate deliciousness before I forget how to breathe or do something inappropriate in public.
“You’re staring,” she says, not even bothering to look my way.
“Am not.”
“Are so. You’ve got that face.”
“I do have a face. What face?”
“The one that says, ‘I’m pretending to look at the street but I’m really thinking about how she eats ice cream’. Or maybe ‘I can think of other things she could do with that tongue’.”
I grin, despite myself. “You’re imaging things.”
“Mhm.” She takes another slow lick, looking at me with a maddening glint in her eyes. “Sure I am.”
She’s impossible.
We follow the boardwalk into the heart of Willow Creek — small-town charm painted in fairy lights and wooden signs. It’s charming and reminds me of home. Kids run past with sticky fingers and melted cones. The smell of waffle cones, river air and jasmine is everywhere.
Ash drifts towards a shop window displaying handmade candles. She presses her nose to the glass like a child, fogging it slightly. “Look, they’ve got one that smells like thunderstorms.”
I arch a brow. “And how would they bottle that?”
“With sorcery, clearly.”
“Dangerous territory then.”
She tilts her head, smirking. “You sound like you’d know.”
“Maybe I do,” I deadpan.
“Another riddle.”
We pause on a bench under a willow tree. I can’t count the number of hours we’ve spent in our lives, basking under willow branches, talking, laughing. Loving. The breeze carries the faint buzz of summer music and laughter from across the square.
Ash leans back, tucking one foot under her knees. “So, big guy. Tell me something about yourself that isn’t related to punching, magick, brooding, or looking menacing.”
“That eliminates most of my personality.”
“Exactly.”
I think for a moment.
“At home, I take care of stray kittens.”
“You what?”
I can feel my face heating. “I, uh… I take care of stray kittens. Well, cats. But a lot of the stray cats have kittens so I take care of them too.” Before she can recover, I nudge her knee with mine. “Your turn.”
She hums, pretending to think, but we both know there’s no way she would have asked without having an answer of her own already prepared.
“I tried to learn French once because I thought it would make me sound romantic. It lasted three days.”
“I would have lasted two.”
“I just kept saying “Je suis fatiguée” because it sounded pretty.”
I grin. “And what does it actually mean?”
She smiles mischievously. “I’m tired.”
“Oddly fitting.”
She laughs again, genuinely, head resting against the bench. “You know, you’re not what I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“I don’t know. I figured you’d be louder, angrier. You have that look about you — like you’ve carried something heavy for a long time.”
“I have.”
She looks at me, not pressing for details. Just waiting.
“But lately, it’s lighter.”
“Because you’re here?”
“Because of you.”
Her breath catches. It’s subtle, but I feel it. The air between us thickens, full of things that neither of can give voice to yet.
Then she breaks the moment with a laugh, standing abruptly. “Okay. Enough heart-to-heart. I need more sugar. I’m pretty sure the candy shop is still open.”
I laugh on a groan. “Lead the way, you menace.”
She marches ahead, the hem of her dress fluttering around her knees. The shop’s doorbell jingles as we step inside — soft yellow light, jars of pastel sweets, the smell of caramel. Ash presses her palms to the glass display, eyes wide.
“Okay. Important questions: sour gummies or chocolate truffles?”
“Why not both?”
“Because I have self-control.”
I give her a look. “You just ate two scoops of ice cream.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “You’re judging me for that.”
“No, I’m impressed.”
She grins. “Good answer.”
After much debate, the shop owner bags her candy. As she fumbles in her bag for her wallet, I slide a bill across the counter first.
“Hey!” she protests. “You can’t just—”
“I just did.”
She glares with fake indignation. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re slow,” I say, taking the bag and holding it out of her reach.
“Flint.”
“Casie.”
She reaches for it, and I hold it higher, smirking. “Say please.”
Her eyes narrow. “Please.”
“Nicely.”
Her voice drops into that faux-sweet tone that serves as a warning. “Please, oh mighty yoga survivor, may I have my candy?”
I grin and hand it over. “That’s more like it.”
She snatches it, smacking my arm lightly. “You’re infuriating.”
“You love me."
She doesn’t reply and that, I think, is a definite point for me.
The sky is pink with sunset, the last light brushing against the tops of the trees as we wander near the dense trees in the park. The air is full of the chatter of cicadas and the distant sound of water moving over stones. It’s the kind of summer evening that feels like it should last forever.
Ash kicks off her sandals half way down the path, dangling from one hand as we walk. The grass is thick under her bare feet.
“You know, for someone who claims to be in peak warrior shape…”
“I did fine!”
“You nearly passed out.”
“Maybe I was meditating.”
“That’s what we’re going with?” She considers. “Sure. That puddle of sweat looked spiritual to me.”
“I was releasing toxins.”
“Through suffering?”
“That’s one way to look at it.”
She bumps her shoulder against my arm as we walk, the contact brief. “Wait until Annemarie decides to host goat yoga.”
“Goat yoga?”
“Yeah, the one with baby goats that climb on your back.”
I blink at her. “That’s… a thing?”
“Oh, yes.” Her grin widens. “And I think you’d look good covered in goats.”
We continue to meander through the park and to a walking path that leads to the clearing she’s been practicing in. For a long time, we don’t speak. The world feels… quiet. Safe, even. Like maybe Willow Creek itself is holding its breath.
She breaks the silence first. “You ever think about how small moments like this don’t feel real? Like we’re inside something that’s going to fade when we blink?”
“Then don’t blink.”
She smiles. “You can’t hold on to everything forever, Flint.”
“No, but I can hold this one.” I reach out and take her hand. For just a second, I wonder if she’s remembering more. The way her pupils seem to flare, her eyes wide, lips parting… it’s like recognition is trembling at the edge.
“Sometimes you say things and it feels like deja vu.”
“Doesn’t everyone get that?”
She doesn’t answer.
There’s a little bridge where the trail curves, wood worn smooth from years of footsteps. Ash leans against the railing, looking down at the water. Fireflies have started to appear, tiny sparks decorating the trees.
“It’s so peaceful here,” she murmurs. “Feels like the world has forgotten to be cruel for five minutes.”
“That’s probably why you like it.”
She glances up at me, eyes soft. “You think I need peace that badly?”
“I think you deserve it that badly.”
The teasing expression fades from her face, replaced by something quiet. Vulnerable. For a moment, neither of us speak. Just the sound of the creek and of night things coming awake.
Then she sighs, breaking the silence. “You always say things like that.”
“Like what? Didn’t we just have a cryptic conversation like this?”
“We did.” She grins, but it doesn’t last long. “Like you’ve known me forever.”
“Maybe I have.” My heart begins to race in my chest.
She studies me for a heartbeat too long. “You always do that, too.”
“Do what?”
“Say things that sound like riddles and then act like you didn’t mean anything by them.”
Shit. Maybe the moment is finally here. “Maybe I mean everything by them.”
Her expression flickers between confusion and curiosity. Then she shakes her head, pushing away from the railing. “You’re strange, Flint.”
“Another odd compliment. I’ll take it. It’s much better than boring.”
She pinches my ass then darts out of reach. Her mood seems to change, becoming more playful, less pensive.
“You know earlier, when you were all sweaty and hot, I really wanted to sink my teeth into you.”
I take step towards her. She backs away.
“So, what stopped you?”
“Well, we were in public at the time.” She responds primly.
“We’re in public now.” I gesture to the park, but as the sun has set, more and more people have disappeared.
“Well then,” she says, tossing me her bag of candy. “I guess we should find somewhere less populated, huh?”
Oh, she wants to play.
I stalk closer to her, as she backs further down the trail.
“Run.”
The moon hangs low in the sky, casting a seductive glow through the towering trees.
I run, rainbow hair flowing free, amongst them.
My heart races with anticipation, knowing that Flint is following me.
The air feels thick with the scent of pine and wild things, the promise of passion, a heady mixture that makes my skin tingle with anticipation.