Page 83 of Escape from the Green

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.