“Nut cheese. Got it at a little shop in Wysteria. Maybe I could show you—”
Lyra’s eyes widen a bit, and I cut off the sentence before the rest of it can spill from my mouth.
Lyra made it very clear that she’s done with me, with us, with whateverthiswas. And I’ve spent these last weeks trying to drill that into my head, though I obviously haven’t done a very good job of it.
I clear my throat. “I could... tell you the name of the shop, if you want to go.”
The look in her eyes dims a bit, like a candle slowly losing its flame. She brushes a few bread crumbs from her lips—though Juniper is still nibbling around—then sits back in her chair and gives me a look that say it’s time to talk.
“What did you want to say to me?” I ask. Around my cup, my fingers tighten, and in my chest, my heart beats a little faster.
Don’t do it, I say to the little flicker of hope tickling the inside of my rib cage.Go away.
“I—” Lyra bites her lip. Then she takes a deep breath and tries again. “I’m sorry, Cairn.”
The little flicker of hope burns brighter at the sound of my name on her lips. Still, I say nothing, try not to betray anything I’m feeling.
“When I saw that letter, it felt like...” She holds up a hand, like she’s searching for the right words, trying to pull them out of the fire-warmed air. Then she sighs and lowers her hand to the tabletop, fingers curling into a fist. She averts her eyes. “It felt like I was losing you. And that’s why I started pushing you away, saying the things I said...”
I still feel the bite of her words, can still recall to memory the look in her gaze that day we shoveled snow together, when she told me we weren’t even friends.
“And that wasn’t fair to you. I should’ve told you how Iactuallyfeel.”
Her eyes are still averted, her gaze focused on the platter of snacks, where Juniper is sitting up on her hind legs, a little chunk of bread held between her front paws.
Lyra lapses into a long silence—long enough that I realize I should probably say something. But my tongue feels like it’s been tied in knots. What if I say the wrong thing? What if I inadvertently hurt her again and she leaves before I have the chance to make things right?
Just try. I can at least do that.
I take a deep breath, then force it out in a huff. “I’ve not been fair to you either, Lyra. I should have told you about the job, but...” I reach around to scratch the back of my neck. My muscles are tense, coiled and bunched up. “But I really didn’t think I would get the job. And when they did offer it to me, I told you as soon as I could.”
“I appreciate that,” Lyra says, voice soft. “And I’m happy for you.” This time when she meets my eyes, there’s a sad smile lingering behind them. “I really am. I think this job will be amazing. You’re going to love it.”
She’s saying one thing, but I still hear the hurt in her voice, still see the sadness in her eyes.
Finally, I’m able to push my fear away for long enough to reach across the table—being careful not to jostle the platter and Juniper—and take Lyra’s small hand in mine. Her skin is warm to the touch, though not as warm as I remember it being the last time I touched her.
“I’m not taking the job to get away from you, Lyra. I... I don’twantto be away from you. I should’ve said thatfirst thing, when you saw that letter. But I was scared.” I huff and shake my head, horns casting shadows over the table from the window at my back. “I’m not good at... atneedingpeople. I’ve been alone for a long time, and it’s made me scared to try anything new. But then you came along, with your fire and your snappy attitude”—that makes Lyra crack a smile—“and something changed for me. And it terrified me. Hell, it still does.”
Slowly, Lyra squeezes my fingers with hers. “It terrifies me too.” Her shoulders soften a bit, drooping down. “After my mom left, I stopped trusting people. And that’s probably not an excuse, I know. But it changed things for me, made me hesitant to connect with people when I knew they could leave me. And when I heard about the job, I just felt like it was happening all over again, like you were going to walk away and never look back. So I tried to pull away from you. Tried to act like it didn’t matter.” Tears start to well up along her lower lashes. “But itdoesmatter,” she whispers. “Youmatter.”
“Lyra, I—”
“Wait!” She holds up a hand to stop me, then uses it to scrub the tears from her eyes. “I’m not done.” She sniffles, then finally meets my gaze. Her red eyes are made more vibrant by the glassiness from her tears, and they burn right through me. “The way I acted was wrong. I should’ve just told you that I didn’t want you to leave. It’s still selfish, but at least it would’ve been the truth. The truth is that... that I’ll miss you, Cairn. And I don’t want to lose you.”
More tears slip from her eyes, and I abandon the warmth of my latte cup to reach out and wipe them from her flushedcheeks. Then I cup her face in my hand and say, “I’m going to miss you too. And I don’t want to lose you either. But the conservatory isn’t so far. And you know we couldn’t keep this up here. Moonhart already knows about us, and—”
Lyra jerks up. “What? Moonhart knows? Why didn’t she say anything?”
I shrug. “Probably because I’m taking the job. I won’t be an employee here anymore, so...”
A long silence settles between us. Juniper stops eating, and her eyes dart between me and Lyra like she’s watching an intense runeball match.
“So, you’re leaving,” Lyra says slowly, like she’s choosing each word carefully, “but you still want to...?”
With another deep sigh, I push up from my chair, then reach down and guide Lyra out of hers. She’s so small beside me that she has to tip her head way back as I reach down to cup her cheeks in both my hands. “I still want to be with you. Hell, I want toactuallybe with you, without having to sneak around and be worried that someone might see. I want to take you to that cheese shop I mentioned, and spend holidays with you, and not have to hide how I feel. I don’t know what this is, but I do know that I don’t want to give up on it. I want to keep trying.” I stroke her freckled cheeks with the wide pads of my thumbs, my brown hands a stark contrast against her pale face. “Do you?”
Lyra stares up at me. Her crimson eyes reflect the winter sunlight coming through the window, and this close up, I can see the bands of yellow and gold encircling her irises. Her lips part. I hold my breath. And for a moment, she saysnothing. Her gaze holds mine, and I swear I can almost see something softening in her eyes.
