NINE #4
Smoky and I had spoken a lot on the walk back to Drake's ancestral land, had found an odd sort of connection given how different we were.
I think both of us were craving a connection with other women, had been starved of one that was genuine and friendly all our lives.
It made it easier to look past our very different outlooks on life.
She needed a friend.
And even though I was quickly acquiring ones in my new home, I wanted to keep her as close as I possibly could, I wanted to be for her what these men and women were starting to become to me. Something like a makeshift family. Something Smoky had never had for herself.
I hoped Sal was looking out for her as he said he would.
I hoped he didn't give up, that he would be able to someday get her to see why they could and would work as a pair, that he had no interest in taming her, just enjoying her.
That she could trust someone else, learn to love someone, maybe start a family of her own, give the next generation something she hadn't been able to have.
I made my way to a clearing lined with rocks situated in a way that made it clear this was a gathering space when the weather allowed for it. Not too far off, I could hear the icy crash of the waterfall I was longing to see.
Sitting down, I pulled out my notepad, staring at the blank page, unsure what to say.
I had written a note already about how I left home, about why, about living in the human realm, about Cass almost finding me there, what his real plans for me were.
Then I had sat down one of the nights on the journey to Drake's land to explain that plan as well.
It was a messy couple of pages full of scribbled out words, my worry and insecurity clear in every sentence.
But how was I supposed to describe this? This feeling of family? Of love? Of - dare I even think it - happiness? How does one put that into words.
I took a deep breath, deciding not to overthink it, that anything happy would be a welcome passage after so many negative ones. Jasper and Jade would be glad to know I had managed to find something good after a long, hard winter.
The crocuses are breaking through the half-frozen dirt. I can't help but think of them as a sign, some harbinger of a new beginning, a fresh start, a chance for happiness...
"Sorry," Drake's voice called when a snap of a twig jolted me out of my own mind, making me lift my head, feeling a crick in the back of my neck from hunching over for so long.
"I've never seen you write that fervently before," he added, head tipped to the side as my gaze went back down, flipping through what I had written, realizing I had somehow fleshed out four pages - front and back - with my thoughts and hopes and dreams for this new life.
I felt my lips tip up as he moved closer, taking the seat right beside me as I folded the cover closed.
"It is easier to write about the good things, it seems, than the bad."
"Am I part of the good things?" he asked, nudging my arm with his elbow.
"No," I said, shaking my head, enjoying the stricken look on his face for the barest of seconds before putting him out of his misery.
"You are the best thing," I clarified, leaning my head into his arm, finding he smelled heavily of pine and sap and wood shavings, with just a hint of musk underneath it all.
"Even if you kicked me out of building my own home," I added, not letting that slide.
"Honey, you nearly beheaded a man."
"Oh, please. Like I have the strength to hit anyone that hard."
"I dunno," he said, reaching out to give my bicep a squeeze. "I think you are getting some muscles here."
I actually was. I had noticed when I was washing up that morning, in fact.
Parts of me that had always simply been flat had started to concave.
Not like Smoky's stomach, made that way from a harsh winter without enough rations.
But the way Drake's stomach dipped in and out of the spaces between muscles.
My thighs, too, were getting stronger, fleshier, from all the walking, the cleaning, the laundering, the chasing after the village children who liked to make me be the bad guy in all their games.
And, given that I understood there was no maliciousness meant, I was happy to play along.
It was no surprise that my arms were maybe bulking up a bit as well.
Especially given how sedentary my life had always been, never having to do anything for myself.
And now, I had a hand in everything. I went to bed most nights with muscles I didn't even know I had - made weak from misuse - screaming in a way that would have made sleep impossible if not for Drake's constant closeness, his warmth, his hands sifting through my hair or up and down my spine.
"And just think, I have a whole season of planting, harvesting, and preserving ahead of me. I might be able to beat you in an arm wrestle by this time next year."
His arm slid around my back, pulling me up until I was situated on his lap, then wrapping me up with both of the tree limbs he called arms, silently proving my boast would never be anything more than that.
His lips pressed sweetly into my temple.
"It's done."
"What's done?"
"Your house, honey," he clarified. "Save for all your finishing touches, it is done.
Drayven and his brothers even came over to help build some basic furniture, so you can settle in as soon as you feel ready.
There's a kitchen table. Only two chairs for now, but there will be more coming.
A functioning kitchen area, of course, with your own root cellar to keep fresh vegetables and fruits after harvest. You can even grow some potatoes there if you set your mind to it.
There is a chest for you to store your things and the base for what will be a living room couch once the right materials are found to make soft cushions. We were running low."
I took a slow breath, letting the words - and even the meaning behind them - fall out.
"Is there a bed?"
Behind me, Drake's body tightened, then relaxed, clearly knowing my reasons for asking.
"Yes, there's a bed. All that was left of the hay and cotton and scrap fabric went into the mattress. We will find more once summer starts, make it a bit more padded. But it is slightly better than Nesta's bed already."
Nesta's bed.
In his parents' home.
Where we had been sleeping together - and nothing else - for what felt like forever now, even though I knew it had only been a couple weeks.
It was difficult, it seemed, to be so close, but not be able to be closer.
"Will you show me?" I asked, trying to calm the thrill in my belly, the one that said there may finally be an end to the relentless aching need inside me.
"You want to go now, or wait until after dinner?"
"Now," I decided at once, already jumping off his lap, tucking my notebook under my arm, grabbing his hand, and practically pulling him with me back down the path, skirting past the common square, taking another much less worn path toward the spot I had chosen after what had felt like an endless debate.
Did I want a house near town? So I had friends around all the time? Or near Aya's house, so I could pop in whenever I had a question, knowing I would have many when spring and summer were in full swing?
In the end, I had decided on a mostly secluded little alcove of trees with only one other house around, belonging to a young couple who were friendly enough, but also liked their time alone.
I had gotten to see the outline for the building, and a few of the trees being felled before I was banned.
I could have snuck over and seen it when the men weren't working. But I had decided that if I couldn't be a part of it, then I would rather it be a complete surprise.
I could put my own finishing touches on it when they were all done, a thought that definitely excited me. Enough so that I had caught myself gushing about it for an entire day.
She's nesting, Rayna had said to her mother and sister who both smiled knowingly.
Maybe I was.
Nesting.
I liked that term.
Building something warm and cozy to create a future in.
I would gladly start nesting as soon as I could.
"Oh, Drake," I exhaled as we moved down the path. "It's perfect," I added, my heart swelling at seeing the place that was to be my home. Hopefully, someday, our home.
It was much like all the others, wooden, strong, weather-resistant. But Drake had left the shutters open, knowing, I imagined, that I would want to see it as soon as possible, so not worrying about letting critters or too much cold air in.
My name was carved into the door, as was traditional.
Window boxes were under each window, and there were raised beds lining the house, just waiting to have herbs and spices planted as soon as the weather would allow for it.
There would also be a giant garden off to the empty space at the side where I knew I would spend many mornings pulling weeds, caring for seedlings before obligation would bring me to the common farmlands to do more work.
But, somehow, the idea of that work filled me with excitement, not dread.
After a life of doing nothing, the idea of doing everything was thrilling.
"You haven't even seen anything yet," Drake said, but the warmth in his eyes said he was basking in the praise.
"Then show it to me," I suggested, pulling him with me toward the door.
Inside, the set up was much like everyone else's with a kitchen area to the left with a large hearth that would keep the main space cozy warm even in the worst of weather.
There was a small table with the two chairs, as promised.
They weren't as simple as I had been expecting.
The legs of the table and chairs were whittled to resemble flowers and trees, a sweet, somewhat feminine touch I was thrilled about.
The couch was a few feet from the table, more toward the right of the room, just a base with an almost paper-thin cushion on the seat and back. But mine. It was all mine.