“And...” He trails off, glancing away.

  “And?” I hedge, wanting to hear more of his joy, but he only shakes his head and shuffles between his feet. Recognizing the signs of an impending shutdown, I shift the conversation back to where we started. “Do you want to harvest the garden with me?”

  “Yes, I want to help,” he says with a nod. My mouth opens, ready to tell him how happy I am to spend the day with him, or maybe how proud of him I am for stepping out of his comfort zone, but he speaks before I can give the words life. “Do I…” He gestures at the ground between us, and I furrow my brows as I try to interpret.

  “Do you what?” I finally ask.

  “Need shoes?” Fuck, my heart cracks again at his uncertainty.

  “Do you want to wear shoes, Nyx?”

  “No.”

  “Then don’t wear shoes.”

  His body language has shifted to wringing hands and slumped shoulders, shuffling and screaming his insecurities with every tiny movement. “Do you not think I am strange? Barefoot and quiet and, and…” His fingers move to his hair and push through the long strands as he shakes his head. “And damaged.”

  “We’re all a little damaged, Nyx,” I say carefully, fighting my urge to reach for him. “But if it makes you feel less alone, I have a simple solution.” He takes a series of deep breaths, hands still in his hair as I kick my shoes aside and peel off my socks.

  “What are you…”

  I crinkle my nose at the tickle of the grass touching my soles, and I flex my toes against the ground. They’re not the prettiest feet, not like his, and an annoying patch of black fuzz grows sporadically on my big toe… but right now, that doesn’t matter. “If you’re worried about being strange, then we’ll be strange together.”

  “To-together?” Crystal droplets build in his eyes as they land on mine and stick, staring at me for longer than he’s ever maintained eye contact.

  “Yeah, fuck it,” I say with a shaky grin that feigns nonchalance, pretending that my heart isn’t trying to beat its way straight out of my chest to fall at his sweet bare feet. “Let’s be weird together.”

  It happens then.

  Nyx smiles at me.

  Fragile, uncertain, and paper-thin, but it’s there. It’s there, and, gods, if it isn’t mine. Barely more than a lift of the corner of his lips, it crinkles his eyes and plumps his cheeks. Even the teardrop leaving an emerald trail along his skin doesn’t take away from the radiance that lights his face. “Okay,” he says in his quiet, breathy way.

  “Yeah?” I ask, my own smile spreading until my cheeks ache.

  “I think… I would like to be… weird with you.”

  “Alright then.” I give him room to secure his door, and the top of his head barely comes above my shoulder as he steps close to my side. An idea hits me as he glances up at me. “Stay here for just a second, okay? I have something for you.”

  He nods, and I dart into my house to unearth a few forgotten bags of things stuffed underneath my bed. The yellow-gold color snags my eye, and I grin, pulling it from the bag before jogging outside again. Nyx stands where I left him, watching me closely. Curious little thing. It makes me stifle another smile as I approach.

  His eyes dart to my hand before bouncing back to mine in silent question. The floppy straw hat is smashed from its travels in my bag, and I push the dents into place as best I can. “Can’t have you getting too much sun today, can we?” He watches me intently, and I almost fold under the weight of the trust in his stare. “May I?”

  He dips his chin for me to place it, and the brim is so wide, it sags until it nearly touches his narrow shoulders. His head tilts further than normal to peek at me from underneath. Dark shadows cover his face, but those eyes… those damn eyes sparkle in the darkness like they have their own light source.

  “You’re beautiful,” I whisper, and a shuttering breath pushes from his nose.

  “I have never been beautiful.”

  “You can’t possibly believe that.” I throw all my conviction into my voice as I shake my head. His hands tremble as they tuck his hair behind his ear, exposing that pointed tip. It’s so long it brushes the woven straw brim.

  “Beauty did not matter there,” he says, and I try not to be overwhelmed by his mention of that place. His hell on earth.

  “Of course it did,” I argue, and he blinks at me, once again silently asking the question. “Not the sort of beauty that comes from pretty faces and flowing hair. Some people are beautiful inside, where they do the best they can to make this awful world better.”

  He considers this with a conceding nod. “Like you,” he says, then ducks his head to shield himself behind the hat. I’m second-guessing my decision to give it to him, since it makes it easier for him to hide. But I don’t have to see his face to know how his cheeks burn.

  “Like you, too,” I finally say, before my lips pull up in a slight grin. “Though you’re cute on the outside too.” His head whips up with his eyes wide and his mouth dropped open, and his adorable surprise makes me chuckle. “Come on, Nyx. The plants are waiting for us.”

  Another hint of those tiny smiles flickers on his lips, and we set off towards the gardens side-by-side and barefoot.

  Nyx

  Harvest day is one I enjoy very much. The entire village comes out to help, and everything is a little chaotic. There are more people than I’m used to, but aside from the occasional smile and wave, they keep their distance. A few times they look as if they might try to strike up a conversation, but a cough and glare from Reyes makes them change their minds. I suspect he spoke to them in advance, and the gesture causes more of those flutters to form in my chest.

  Reyes and I work behind the barrier of the wooden fence, and the semi-private space allows me to focus on the plants. The giant hat hides me easily with its wide brim. I appreciate the obscurity, although I can’t help but worry it makes me look like an animal wearing blinders. Skittish and spooked, only able to handle the tunnel vision in front of me.

  I peek around the brim and watch the clumsily synchronized movements of those around us. Elas and Lillith carry woven baskets of vegetables to Ronan and Taryn, who determine the destination of the produce. Some is put aside for immediate use, while the rest is for drying or canning. Xeni is situated away from the others with a long table and knives, chopping vegetables into small enough pieces to can. Once he’s finished, Cameron and August heat jars filled with colorful foods in the giant iron cauldron.

  There’s bickering and teasing—and a lot of complaining from Ronan about how things should be done to his standards—but mostly, everyone works in harmony.

  Reyes speaks to me often, telling me about the plants and what they’re called. He softly corrects me and tries to hide a smile as I struggle to pronounce zucchini, but I still notice it. I think I notice everything about him. I say little, but listen intently as he explains what sorts of dishes we might make with their fruits, and which ones he thinks I’ll enjoy the most.

  My mind stays engaged, and his constant chatter keeps me from retreating into myself. He checks on me often, and not as discreetly as he believes. It doesn’t feel invasive, though. If he saw signs of me needing to run, he’d be the first to open the gates and grant me my freedom. There would be no questions, no need for explanation, just support. Empowerment to make my own decisions, even if he doesn’t agree with them.

  It’s a novelty I’ve never experienced.

  “These have to be pulled harder.” Reyes yanks a long, skinny section from a thick, rigid stem. It’s wrapped in bright green leaves with strange threads sticking from one end, and, like he can read my mind, he peels them back. I lean in to examine the yellow bumps underneath.

  “What is it?” I inch even closer to sniff the sweet earthiness of the plant.

  “Corn,” he says as he hands me the vegetable that remained after the leaves were shed. “This is the part we eat, and it’s called the cob.” I wrinkle my nose at the funny word and run my fingertips over the bumps, turning it to inspect every piece.

  “There are so many.” My eyes roam the plants. They’re large—much taller than me—and take up almost a third of the garden. They grow dense like a small forest, so thick you could disappear in their depths.

  “There are,” he agrees as he sits an enormous basket between us and starts picking the cobs. “They’re delicious fresh when they’re cooked, but they can also be dried for cornmeal. It’s like flour.”

  “Flower?” I ask, my brows knitting as I search the plants for blooms.

  Reyes chuckles, and I tilt my head up to give him an impatient scowl because I want my answer, but it only makes him laugh harder. “Someone’s sassy today,” he teases, and my cheeks heat as he taps the brim of my hat. “Who knew giving you a diva hat would turn you into an actual diva?”

  “What is this dee-vuh?”

  His smile spreads as he puts his hands on his hips. “Someone who always wants their way, and wants it fast.” I scrunch my nose again and gesture at Ronan barking orders at the others, and Reyes’s laugh is louder this time. “We call Ronan a drama queen, because he makes everything more serious than it needs to be.”

  “Human words are confusing,” I mutter, and Reyes’s humor dissolves as he recognizes my shift to discomfort. His eyes burn gold and chestnut in the mid-morning sun, and I focus on them as he speaks.

  “They really are. Most humans don’t have a good grasp of their own language, if it makes you feel any better.” It doesn’t, and I fight against that fresh kernel of panic that flares in my gut. It’s silly how quickly the fear of never belonging can overtake me, and I take a few breaths to steady myself. “Nyx? Are you alright?” he asks, leaning closer but never crowding.

  I nod, running my hand over the stiff leaves of the corn stalk beside me to soothe myself. He waits patiently, always so patiently, and just as my heart rate is settling, Ronan barks another loud order at Xeni from across the path.

  “This looks like someone tried to use a fucking rock instead of a knife. Learn to chop evenly!” Ronan shouts, glaring at a bucket of green vegetables cut into pieces.

  “Oh, my gods,” Xeni groans, waving the pointed tip of his knife at Ronan. “Does the pretty princess need it to be perfectly bite-sized for those tiny teeth to handle it?”

  Cameron covers his mouth with his elbow and coughs, though it sounds suspiciously like a laugh. Elas doesn’t hide his laughter, and throws his head back in a bellow. Ronan’s eyes twitch, but they stay on Xeni.

  “If you are going to do a job, do it right,” he snarls, but Xeni just shakes his head and returns to cutting vegetables.

  “Maybe Reyes should be the one chopping,” Xeni says with a smirk. The single eye not covered by his black leather patch darts in our direction. “Rumor has it he’s getting good with that knife, and you could stand to lose a little more hair.”

  “Not cool, man,” Reyes hisses through his teeth. “We’re trying to make him forget about that!” Xeni’s irritated smirk turns into a genuine smile for a moment, and it warms his entire face. Ronan carries on, muttering under his breath before stomping away to find someone else to criticize.

  “This is drama queen?” I ask Reyes, gesturing to where Ronan stands with his arms crossed.

  “It is, yes. Major drama queen. You know, I’d actually do a lot of questionable things to see you call him that to his face.”

  “And I am… diva?” I glance down at my dirty, baggy clothes. The wide straw brim of the hat shadows half my body as I stare at my bare feet, toes digging into the soil.

  “No, Nyx, you’re not a diva. I was just teasing.” A warm rush of gratitude fills my chest. It’s such a ridiculous thing to be thankful for, but if he’s talking to me in this way, if he’s teasing, he isn’t worried I’ll shatter at his words. It means he believes I’m strong enough to handle it, or at the very least, that he’s willing to stand by and help me reassemble myself if I break.

  I peek up at him to find him watching me, and my pulse knocks in my chest at the intensity of his eyes. “If I am not this diva, what am I?”

  “You’re… Nyx,” he says, one side of his lip tilting up again in a sweet, lopsided grin.

  “That is all?”

  A surprised, breathy huff of a laugh leaves him as that grin spreads to both sides of his mouth. “That is more than enough, sweetheart.” Nervous breaths shutter from my lungs as my pulse speeds up even more, and the swirl of emotions low in my stomach is overwhelming. I lick my lips, and my fingers squeeze the corn in my hand.

  He thinks I’m enough.

  Scared, awkward Nyx.

  Strange words and cluttered mind.

  Broken, broken, broken.

  Enough.

  Golden tan fingers grip the same corn cob I’m holding, mere inches from mine, and another confused wave of emotions wraps me in its fog. “Nyx?” he prompts, and I release the plant as my hand falls to my side. “Do you need a break?”

  “No, I…” I trail off, forcing a swallow and resting my palm over my stomach. Millions of butterflies flap inside my belly, trying to steal me away into the clouds, or at least that’s what it feels like. I’m not convinced they won’t take me airborne even as I anchor my feet to the ground.

  “I’m sorry.” Reyes is quiet, and I can’t read the emotion on his face as he steps back. What is he apologizing for, when I’m the one who can’t find my words? The one who can’t make sense of anything at the moment, and can’t explain why. “That was… I shouldn’t have… I’ll give you space.” An apology is written in his pained smile as he takes another step backward. He turns as if he’s walking away.

  I don’t want him to leave.

  Don’t know if I can handle him staying.

  “Wait,” I beg in a whisper, reaching to grab the hem of his shirt. It’s a replay of a moment that repeats in my mind. We’ve been here before—done this same dance outside my door the first time he brought his muffins. We stood in this same position, and I held his shirt and pleaded, but despite the familiarity, somehow it’s still new and strange. It’s confusing because I don’t know what I want.

  I just know I don’t want him to go.

  Emboldened and terrified, I tug the fabric in my hand and try to pull him back towards me. For a few seconds, he doesn’t move, only stares off into the woods with a distant expression on his face.

  “Reyes, please,” I whisper, and when he finally looks at me, the world ceases to exist beyond the two of us in this garden. I want to cry, to fall to my knees and weep, and I want to run and hide from the intensity in his eyes as much as I want to bask in their warmth. Voices become muffled and lights grow halos, and I can sense myself retreating into that safe space. For the first time, I don’t want to go. I don’t want to take solace in the quiet of my mind.

  My ringing ears grow louder. “Keep me here,” I plead in a breath, and his entire face crumples for a moment. My fingers slacken on his shirt as he moves closer.

  “Do you trust me?” he asks, and I nod as tears blur my vision. “Take a step back.” My feet move like they’re puppets under command of his strings, and I step back by a stride, and he follows. “That’s it. Now, a few more.” Shadows fall over my shoulders as one of the tall corn plants brushes my shoulder, and the next few steps bring us deeper between them.

  Further and further, I inch backward. He mirrors each movement until we’re surrounded by green stalks and bursts of yellow, with the blue sky serving as a backdrop. The earthy, rich smell of the soil is thicker here as it moves under our bare feet. We’re removed from the rest of the world, if only by a flimsy veil.

  “Breathe.” His command is firm, but his tone is gentle. The ringing in my ears fades a notch as I force a shaky inhale, and his smile is brilliant. “That’s good. You’re doing so good, Nyx.”

  Another rush of gratitude and something more potent swirls in my belly as I take a deeper breath, then one more. I close my eyes as the distant murmur of voices and cheerful twitter of the birds return. Anxiety clenches my gut, replacing the warmth.

  My brokenness is on full display. I’ve given him a close-up view of the tangled thoughts that live in the fragile corners of my mind. The impulses that rarely heed my command and too often sweep me away in their tides.

  I’ve reminded him what a mess I really am.

  Part of me wants to hide behind my eyelids. Clamp them shut until he takes the hint and leaves, and he would. He’d give me space even if I didn’t use my words to ask for it, but I’m so tired of letting the world move while I stand still.

  My eyes inch open, finding only serene patience waiting for me on his face. “Are you with me?” he asks, and a wavering inhale fills my lungs. Words are too much work, too distant to find, but I nod, and his brilliant smile turns radiant. “Good. That’s really good. Do you need to stop, or would you rather keep working?” I nod faster as soon as he gives me the second option, desperate for something to focus on.

  “Thank you for telling me, and for letting me help. We’ll keep working, okay? I have an idea. Stay here, I’ll be right back.” He weaves through the stalks and disappears for a moment, though I follow the shadow of his silhouette as he moves nearby. When he returns, he carries two baskets that are smaller than what we were using earlier. They fit in these tight quarters, and he places them on the ground between us.

  “There, that’s better.” He dusts off his hands with a sweet smile. “We’ll work here where they can’t see us.”

  Gratitude swells inside me until I’m convinced it might burst my heart straight out of my chest, and he pretends not to notice as a tear slips loose. “Thank you.” The words are barely more than a breath, but as his face softens, I know he heard them.

  He heard them, and all the others I don’t know how to say.

  Reyes

  We’re all covered head to toe in filth, and everyone is so exhausted, I doubt anything will get done tomorrow, but today?