Page 35 of Red

“She seems like your type,” I admitted. “If you mean Red and his granny.”

“Devan Reddy. But I think he’ll be Red for far longer than he was Devan.”

I shrugged. Then stood, as I realized what she’d said at first. “What do you mean, he passed his test?”

“He was willing to sacrifice himself to protect others. It’s a rare quality in their type. I can’t let just anyone live here, after all.”

I looked away. “He doesn’t live here.”

She came nearer, the smell of soft white flowers, like the sleepy ones Red hated, all around her. She touched one finger to my chin, lifting it so I had to meet her gaze. “Doesn’t he?”

I wanted to shake my head but found I couldn’t move. Could only stare into her eyes, the exact color of oak leaves in summer.

She let me go, and I heaved a great breath, as if I’d forgotten all about air while she held me. She stepped back and waved a hand dismissively. “Looks like he put you back together again, darling,” she said, in that strange way of hers. “Found a few of your missing pieces, anyhow.”

That was one way to put it. I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”

“You’re the best keeper this forest ever had, Jack. Of course it matters. To me.”

I shook my head. But when I looked for her again, she was gone.

For a few days after that, everything irritated me. It hadn’t felt like a century to me, but it had been out there in the world I’d escaped. A century, and I’d barely had a glimpse of Ma Greenwood since she let me leave her potting shed a new man, since she gave me a home and a purpose and a place to feel safe.

I hadn’t missed her. Not exactly. But I did have questions, if she was going to stop by. For her to just look me over and traipse off again seemed obnoxiously imperious.

But slowly, I fell back into my routine with the sheep and the forest, and preparing for winter.

And then, one morning, two crows fluttered around my head, cawing delightedly. I took off running so fast, I forgot my axe.

I heard him before I saw him, cursing at a fallen tree as he clambered over it, his awkward rectangular bag throwing him off balance. I’d cut through the thicket but burst onto the deer path just before him, so abruptly that he screamed and clutched at his chest.

“Sorry!” I held out both hands, flushing. “Sorry. I just. Welcome back.”

“Jack!” He sighed and gave a nervous giggle, sliding off the fallen tree.

I took two steps toward him. Then hesitated.

He didn’t have much with him. Just the one bag. And surely, if he meant to stay, he’d have more… things? People usually did, right?

“What?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder. “Is something wrong? Is he back?”

“What?” I shook my head. “No! No, he’s not back. He’s still gone. I just…” I couldn’t help sighing. “You’re here.”

He smiled brightly and started toward me. “I said I’d be back. Amma will follow eventually; she’s just wrapping things up at the university. I didn’t have as much to take care of—which I thought was a little bit sad, until I realized it was actually a good thing. I won’t miss it.”

I hesitated. Surely, I was hearing wrong. Surely… “Won’t miss… what?”

“The…” Red frowned, dark eyebrows drawing together tight. “I thought. I mean. If you don’t want me to…”

“To what?” I insisted. I couldn’t stand it if I said it and he said no. If I was wrong. If I was hearing what I wanted to hear.

“To stay,” he said quietly.

I closed the gap between us, took the bag off his shoulder, dropped it on the ground, and put my arms around him. When he wrapped his around my neck, I picked him up, and he laughed, hot little puffs of air against my skin. “Stay,” I whispered into his hair. “Please, stay with me.”

He tightened his arm around my neck and I lifted him a little higher, so he could wrap his legs tight around my middle. His weight, though easy enough to carry, set me off-balance. Carefully, as if he might still be bruised and half broken, I settled his back against the nearest sturdy tree. Before I had him securely situated, he pressed his lips into the soft spot in my neck, beneath the crook of my jaw. Then my cheek. And then my mouth slid into place against his, and I pressed him into the tree as we kissed.

He buried his fingers in my hair, twisting it up and scraping my scalp. He squeezed me with his thighs, warm and tight and promising, and hummed into my lips as they slid against his. If not for the tree, I would’ve fallen over with him; I was so weak, all of a sudden, so desperate for him to be real. But he was here, and he was warm, and his tongue slipped into my mouth and over the ridge of my teeth, inside me. I locked my arms under his pert backside, squeezing it with my free hand, and kissed and kissed and then kissed some more.