Chapter 24 Something I Never Expected
Something I Never Expected
Jas
Iwalk between the market stands, the sunshine spills across everything after a morning of grey clouds and steady rain.
I can smell the cinnamon-dusted pastries of Garruk’s bakery stand and the fresh herbs hang nearby in bundles near Flora.
Seren is bouncing between Dominik’s stand and the honey stand run by Aaryn’s parents.
Earlier, we exhausted what few carnival rides would accept someone her size—not many, though it didn’t matter.
The festival compensated instead with games, shopping, snacks, and plenty of other diversions for short attention spans.
Twin gnomes, Hazel with her lavender hair and Lark with her crooked smile, even decorated Seren's cheeks with tiny, delicate bees at their face painting station.
She and Dominik practiced her routine last night, and it went great.
We ordered dinner, and the three of us spent time together.
I didn’t feel awkward around him, but why is it starting now?
The magic simmers within me, breathing with the quiet pull.
His nearness temporarily soothes this persistent ache clawing at my insides.
Proximity intensifies the sensation as much as distance does. Ain’t that a bitch.
My skin prickles. His gaze is a physical weight pressing into my back.
I find myself absently rubbing at the spot on my chest where a silver thread is pulled taut by Moiraya as she plays a melody only our souls can dance to.
My body feels like a damn dog in heat, and I may not know quite what it feels like, but it’s like I’ve come into my sexual awakening.
I’m horny all the time. And shamefully, I savor the hunger in his eyes.
“I feel it too,” he confessed last night after he had left. We were texting one another, and it turned into a phone call. The bond amplifies every emotion he feels from me.
The intensity remains undeniable—a magnetic force drawing me toward him.
Regardless of our busy surroundings, I don’t miss the way his eyes catch mine, gold flecks radiant against the warm brown, senses heightened as if he can smell and taste every molecule of desire my body gives off.
We’re locked in this tug-of-war until we decide whether we’re going to fall into the temptation of lust wrapped in tangled sheets, skin on skin.
To keep my mind occupied, I weave between the booths, pausing occasionally to look at the little treasures. I run my fingers over hand-carved wooden trinkets and delicate jewels. I bought two beautiful leather bookmarks, one engraved with a ‘J’ and one with an ‘S’.
“Hello, Elowen.” I take the place of the elderly customer who shuffles away from the Groves Bee Farm stand, her bag of honey clutched against her denim jacket.
She looks up from rearranging jars of honey, restocking other side items. Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes, though the lines at their corners crinkle.
“Hello, Jasmira.”
“How are you?” The air between us feels fragile. I’m scared to shatter it. I miss the time we shared before. Sunday dinners and spontaneous afternoon teas on the weekend with Seren playing nearby.
I lost my husband, she lost her only son—her baby boy, she calls him. I wonder if that’s who she pictures when memories surface, and not the man who died, but the adventurous little boy who loved to climb the trees.
"I’m doing well today, thank you. Seren is at Dominik’s booth before the event starts.” She lifts her chin towards his booth. I follow her gaze to see Seren carefully arranging bouquets into buckets of water.
I spin away before Dom notices me, my heart beating erratically.
Traitor.
“No worries, I’ll grab her in a moment. In the meantime, can I get two jars of honey, please, and do you have a moment…to talk?”
“Yes, and I’ll get your honey.”
She rings me up for two jars, slipping an extra into the bag.
I take a deep breath. “I’ve missed you. I know every morning you wake up you have to remember you’re living in a world without your son here.
But you still have me. You have your grandbaby.
I love you, and Lorien. I am always going to be here for you both, no matter what.
I am here for you, whenever you need to talk. ”
“I’m sorry, Jas. I’m terribly sorry.” Elowen grips the edge of the table as if she needs it to hold her up.
“I have been drowning in my own grief, and I thank the heavens for Lucien, but I know it has been hard on him, too. You lost your husband, Seren lost her father, and Dominik lost his best friend, someone he considered a brother.”
My chest aches.
Her withering stare fills with tears. “You lost your husband, and I disappeared.” She shakes her head like she’s in disbelief that she let this go on for years.
I’m not mad at her. I felt alone, yes, but she had to bury a child, and I understand her wanting to close herself off to the world. If I didn’t have Seren, I probably would have done the same.
“I want to be there more for you. I know you probably hate me, and I hope you can forgive me, but I am working on my grief and my depression. It’s a daily battle.
It still takes the air from my lungs. I still love you.
You’re still my family. I hope you know that.
And I am happy you’re not like me because you’re young, beautiful, and radiant—you deserve happiness, my sweet girl. ”
“I don’t hate you,” I whisper.
Her face crumples completely, and I let out a sob as she pulls me into her arms. And for the first time in years, Aaryn’s absence doesn’t feel like something separating us. It’s bringing us together.
The amphitheater is filling up. It rests beneath a vaulted canopy of living leaves, where curved branches twist and intertwine to create a beautiful natural dome.
There is a garden bursting with bright new spring growth.
Ribbons of sunlight pierce through the gaps of the leaves, illuminating the stage in golden light.
Stone seats curve around the stage, filling with residents and visitors. Every spring, the school has a special performance. This year, Seren's Kindergarten class is performing. I’m a proud mama.
At center stage stands a large papier-mache beehive, which is the size of an outdoor playhouse.
Its surface is painted with spiraling yellow and deep amber stripes.
It has a large doorway opening and a branch attached at the top, making it look as though it’s dangling from a strong, sturdy faux branch.
Behind the velvet curtain, tiny fingers and wide eyes appear and disappear.
A game of peek-a-boo from excitement or nerves.
Maybe a little bit of both. The butterfly wings for a costume are upside down on one child, and another little boy waves enthusiastically to the audience with both hands.
A deep voice cuts through the noise. “Sorry, I’m a little late.”
Dominik settles beside me on the stone bench, taking the aisle seat. His large thigh presses hard against mine. The crowd has packed us in tightly, like a can of sardines. Honestly, for a kindergarten play that can't last more than ten minutes, the turnout seems excessive.
"Don't worry about it," I manage, slipping off the extra layer I’m wearing as heat crawls up my neck and floods my face. I keep my arms tucked in, careful not to allow another part of my body to brush against him—that I might actually want it to. I’m not ready for the consequences, though.
“Are you okay?” he asks, brows knitting together. “You don’t have to be nervous, she’ll be okay. I saw Elowen and Lorien, too, in the back.”
It’s not nerves for this play that’s making my heart hammer against my ribs.
The crowd quiets down as the music comes on. It’s soft at first. A light melody meant to sound like sunshine and the new beginnings of spring, with the notes of chimes and flutes.
Seren steps out of the beehive. She’s adorable.
I braided her hair this morning into French braids, and they lay over her shoulders with yellow ribbons tied to the ends.
She’s wearing her black leggings and boots, her long-sleeve shirt a soft shade of buttery yellow.
Her glittering wings fan out behind her, shimmering in the sunlight as she moves.
Her eyes sweep the crowd. She looks frozen with fear as the color begins to drain from her little face. Her hands curl at her sides, tugging at the ends of her shirt. It’s like a sharp pull in my chest, screaming at me to run and scoop her up, hold her in my arms, and carry her home.
Her teacher hovers near the curtain, clipboard in one hand, the other pressed flat against her heart as if she’s willing to calm the air with her magic.
I start to stand, but Dominik places a hand on my thigh. The look he gives me immediately has me whispering for him to go ahead. He steps into the aisle and moves toward the stage with long strides, quickly speaking to the teacher, who nods her head and steps aside.
Hey, my Star, I read on his lips as Seren snaps out of her stage fright trance to the sound of his voice. Tears running down her face. She wipes a few bees off her cheeks with the swipe of the back of her hand.
Dom kneels in front of her, right on the polished oak stage, not giving a damn about anyone but who is in front of him right now.
He’s patient and understanding when he talks to her, and she nods along, sniffling and wiping her nose.
She smiles, and he kisses her cheek and gives a big hug.
I can tell his knees are fighting to fully stand and carry her off the damn stage.
But some days, we have to overcome our fears. Today is one of them.
She recenters herself—tall and brave—with a shaky but adorable grin, reciting her poem, her eyes are slightly angled at a focal point of her choosing, but it’s okay. Baby steps.
The music swells, and the curtain parts further.
The rest of the children spill onto the stage—in colorful costumes of vibrant flowers, cerulean butterflies, big cotton clouds, silver-sequined raindrops, and other buzzing bees dancing in pure, happy, clumsy circles.
The little bee is ready to explore the world of spring.
And my heart? My heart races. It skips like a horse, beating from a steady trot to a gallop in a meadow of flowers.
Dom positions himself back beside me. He lays his hand on my thigh, giving it a light rub and a squeeze. My eyes move from his hand to his eyes, and the world opens beneath me. I fall, tumbling headfirst into something I never expected to feel again. Love.