Page 114 of Inked in Bloom
Lancing pain curls up through my ribs, and I blink at the burning sensation behind my eyes. I push up onto my tiptoes and search for Briar among the blossoms. When I finally spot him, which surprisingly takes some effort, he’s crouched, clipping back the branches of a raspberry bush. He sets down the shears and pinches the bridge of his nose. The twisted-up tension releases a smidge, but it’s not enough to negate the hurt emanating from him.
I step forward, my foot hitting a metal bucket. “Shit.”
His entire body stills. Wiping his face with the back of his hand, he slips them casually into his pockets, then clears his throat. “Anything else you need to do while we’re here?”
“I don’t think so. Do you need to get back?”
“Not for a few more hours. Cherri planned a movie night for everyone to watchThe Wizard of Oz.” A slight smile draws across his lips, and the ache lingering in the bond subsides a touch more. “Bedtime will be late tonight.”
I want to ask him what’s wrong, but I can’t bring myself to. I already have a pretty good idea why he’s upset. The longing mixed with pain… Things have been going well for us, and I want to give this a chance, but I’m not ready to accept the bond. Not until I can say with certainty the decision comes from me, not the connection manufactured by Fate. I’ve loved spending time with Briar, but it wouldn’t be fair if I claimed him while having doubts over the source of my feelings. I couldn’t do that to him or his girls.
“How is Juni doing?” I ask, latching on to his comment about bedtime.
“Better. The scar should disappear eventually. Faster thanif she were mortal, slower than it would for you or I.” He sighs. “Once she has magic, that won’t be a problem for her.”
“And the nightmares?” I haven’t stopped thinking about that night, and I know it’s affecting Briar. He’s scared to be away and something will happen again.
“She’s had a few tough nights but not nearly as bad as they were.”
Every night since, we’ve mainly been at his house, and if we go somewhere to work on things for the ceremony—like we are tonight—he always makes sure he’s home before the girls go to bed. I don’t blame him for being anxious. I just wish there was something more I could do to help.
“That’s great.” I gnaw at the inside of my cheek, wondering if I’m crossing some line. “How long has she had them?”
“Always.” His eyes drop to his boots and he sways on his heels. “As long as I’ve had her.”
“Does she ever say what they’re about?”
“Not really, though she doesn’t have to.” The words rattle, like it’s taking everything in him to speak them aloud. Rage simmers in the bond, and I rub my chest, trying to alleviate the unfamiliar burn. “I’m certain they’re about her death…and the events leading up to it.”
“Have you talked to her?”
“About her death?” He winces and shakes his head. “Not really. It seems cruel to bring up something that torments her.” His face finally draws up to meet my stare. “Is that horrible of me?”
Insecurity weaves through that last question.
“I’m not a parent, so I don’t have the same frame of reference,” I clarify, hating that he doubts even for a second that he’s not doing right by his daughter. She’s lucky to have him.
I would know.
As a child whose parents barely noticed her unless she was achieving something of worth to them, having a parent watch me with that glint of unconditional love Briar has for his girls, I would’ve given anything for that. “I can imagine not wanting to cause your child more pain or distress. Protecting them.”
His forehead crinkles above his glasses. “But?”
“Professionally speaking, if she never talks about it, how is she supposed to move forward?” My jaw tightens, feeling every bit a fraud doling out advice I’m not willing to take. Regardless, I want to help Briar and Juni, so I continue. “It doesn’t have to be you. It could be someone else more removed from the situation. She may even be more comfortable discussing it that way.”
“You think my daughter would rather talk to a stranger than her own father?” His lips flatten into a line, but it doesn’t hide the anger simmering along our connection.
“Sometimes it’s easier. It takes courage to share with the ones who matter.” My gaze flicks to the floor. “If a stranger judges or rejects you, you can simply tell them to fuck off. With someone you care about, there’s a cost. What if they turn you away? What if they never see you the same after learning the truth?”
“I see.” He takes his hands out of his pockets and grips the ledge of the table behind him, leaning back against it and tilting his head at me. It takes a moment, but that simmer settles, and I’m grateful it diffuses his defensiveness. “And that’s what you did in the mortal realm? Listened to strangers tell you about their problems?”
“It was.” I slide up beside him and hold his stare. “I’d be happy to talk to her if you’d like.”
“Of course.” He nods, his voice soft. “I’ll do anything if it’ll help her.”
“I know you will.” I press up on the balls of my feet, bringing my mouth to his, overcome by his tenderness. Threading my fingers through his lavender strands, I deepen the kiss, licking and swirling my tongue around his. He pulls me into his chest.
“It’s important you’re home. I get it.” I cradle the side of his head, hair still woven between my fingers. “Your girls need you.”
