Page 53 of Where We Began

- Chapter 22 -

Dominic

The sky overhead isslate gray greased with black splotches. Storm clouds are rolling in. The air has an electric charge to it. “We should hurry,” I say, noting the clouds.

She's ahead of me by a few feet—has been since we left the ballroom. It's the most polite running away anyone has ever performed. “This shouldn't take long,” she says as we approach the tall fence.

“How do you normally get in?” I ask, watching her as she hands the plastic garbage bag to me.

“Normally? Wyatt just lets me in. But I have an old shortcut that will work.” To my amazement, she grips the chain-link fence and begins to climb in her sneakers. I've seen her sprint like a pro, but she's just as good at climbing.

The tights clinging to her long legs leave nothing to the imagination. I'm grateful for my angle, I'm able to watch her muscles flex; her perfect, round ass looks amazing in those tights. She ascends the fence in seconds, her braid spinning behind her. When she crests the top she crouches, and my heart drops as she jumps to the grass below. She rolls gracefully, coming up like a circus performer. There's pride in her eyes and her smile when she looks at me through the metal wires.

I'm incredibly turned on by her athleticism. She opens the fence, letting me through. “That was amazing,” I say, and I mean it.

She smiles shyly, tucking some loose strands of hair behind her ear. “It's nothing. When I was little, my sister and I used to race to see who could climb trees the fastest.”

We walk through the preserve with Laiken leading the way. “It's only my second time ever being inside. The first time was because I'd been tossing a ball around by myself. It ended up getting over the fence. I met Wyatt that day, and he'd kindly let me inside, handed me the ball, and allowed me to look around.

I'd wanted to return after that. But then my mother had seen me leaving through the fence, meeting me in the front room of the house. She'd warned me to never dirty the preserve with my presence again. I'd taken her words to heart and kept my distance. Though she was never violent to me, Annie has always been intimidating.

Laiken scoops up a fat pinecone, tossing it to me. I catch it and put it in the bag. Mellie was right, there are tons of pinecones all over the ground. It doesn't take us long to fill the bag halfway. As we work, Laiken's long hair brushes over bushes, rubbing through patches of moss on rocks. She has to pick leaves out of it every time she bends down.

“Doesn't that bother you?” I ask. “It's got to get in the way constantly. I've never seen someone let their hair grow as long as you have. Especially someone who likes to spend so much time in the middle of a forest.”

She avoids my eyes, scooping up another pinecone. Turning it in her hand, she traces the gaps between the hard brown knobs. “On the day that I was taken away, I promised my sister I wouldn't cut my hair until we met again.”

I'm taken aback by her honest answer.

Laiken smiles fondly at the pinecone. “You must be thinking how ridiculous a promise that is. Well, even if it sounds silly, it means the world to me. Picturing Kara all grown up like me, as we stand head-to-head to see whose braid is longer? It keeps me going.”

The plastic bag crinkles as I crush it in my hand. The promise was surprising, but my reaction is more than that. What she's told me makes me understand something about the seed of our beginning; the day when I first met her and saved her from the maids with their pair of scissors.

I'd made my oath to her, that no one would touch her hair, because of a childish sense of heroism. I didn't know that I was helping her keep a promise - especially one to hersister.

Black guilt makes my bones heavy. The bag of pinecones pulls my arm towards the ground. Overhead, the clouds rumble. A gust of wind comes, bringing the smell of rain a split second before the leaves on the trees above start to rattle. “We finished just in time,” Laiken says. “We should head back.”

“Wait,” I say, and the word has a thousand meanings behind it. “How can you do it? How is it possible to keep your promise to someone for so long, with nothing to show for it? If anything, your promise is making your lifeharder.That hair of yours would be easier to deal with if you just cut it. So why? How can you be so fucking strong?” I furrow my eyebrows, my forehead joining it. Every part of me wants to fold in on itself. “You don't even know if your sister is alive.”

The words come out all wrong. I realize it, and so does she.

Raindrops make their way through the branches, slowed by the foliage, but still connecting with us. The water comes quicker and before she answers me, both of us are soaked. “Being strong is all I have,” she whispers. “I have to trust that this is all going to pay off. If I don't, what do I have left?”

“It doesn't scare you?” I ask, and there's a part of me that's upset that she can be so confident. “For all your hope, what if you're wrong? What if you never see her again, won't you feel awful? Like everything you did wasn't worth it?”

“Of course it's worth it!” She whips her head side to side. Water flings off of her hair from the motion. “Maybe you don't know me the way I thought you did. But you definitely don't know my mom, or my sister, or my dad. If you did, you'd realize thatallof us are strong. Not just me. None of us give up. When we make a promise, we keep it.”

---