Page 52 of Black Castle

She tries to wrestle herself back to the present, because a trip to the past only does more damage to her than good. But she can’t, because all of a sudden, her late mom, her dad, and her are in the community park. They have just finished the sandwich and orange juice her mom parked.

She had come along with a copy of the little red riding hood that she’s currently clutching in her hand. Her mom proceeds to read it to her like she has done a thousand times since she got the book. Her dad has decided to make it more fun, so he’s offering to play the role of the big bad wolf, and mom, the grandmother. The basket she used to pack their snacks now holds the invisible cookies.

As this girl runs around the park with her dad, so is Vivienne running away from her dad as he makes monstrous noises. She’s screaming, pretending to be scared, but deep inside, she’s happy. Her Dad is the best in the whole wide world. He loves her endlessly. She’s his little butterfly, after all.

His rosette.

“Are you alright?” Lucan’s deep yet gentle voice pulls her out of the treacherous dream.

“Huh?” She stares up at those luminous eyes, the fire licking at her skin.

“You’re about to cry, aren’t you?” he asks. “Why?”

“Because I’m sad,” she confesses, blinking away the tears settling on her lower lid.

He studies her, his brows furrowed, a torn look settling on his features. Vivienne can tell from the struggle within the confinement of his mind. He wants to do something. He wants to help her. But he doesn’t know how.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says, his voice low and defeated.

“For what?”

“I’m really not used to comforting people.” There’s genuineness and helplessness in his tone. “All these are new to me.”

“It’s fine,” she beams, her heart content because at least he cares. “You can just hold my hand.”

His eyes drop to her hand that she has stretched before him. He hesitates, only for a brief moment. Then gently, he raises his hand, clasping it around hers.

There’s a slow movement of his jaw, a fleeting dilation of his pupils while a low gasp, barely audible, escapes his lips.

He feels it too. Their skin connection is like live wire, a powerful jolt of electricity spreading to the nerves and ending at the fingertips. He feels the same thing she’s feeling.

And she wonders, as he watches her, if he can see it, her flushed cheeks as everything that feels numb comes to life within her. Her heart pounds like a hummingbird’s wings.

This is the first time they’re officially holding hands.

“Better?” he asks below breath.

“Yes, better.” She nods, beaming. “Thank you.”

“Shane!” A chirpy voice full of life and excitement slices through the air. “I found a suitable spot.”

Vivienne’s head slightly turns. It’s a girl, probably the same age as her, waving a boy over to a flower bush up ahead.

The boy who’s putting on blue jeans, with strands of blonde hair tucking out of his black hoodie, jogs across the trimmed grass in the park to the girl, a Camon camera held in his hand. On reaching her, he pulls her to the side, pressing a kiss to her cheek and raising the camera mid air to capture the moment.

“Snow white?” she whispers, not tearing her gaze away from the couple.

“Yes?”

Her gaze returns to him. He’s watching her.

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?” Before she can even think, the words slip out of her mouth.

She snaps her eyes shut immediately as his hold on her suddenly tightens. But there’s no point crying over spilled milk. The question is out there in the wind. She can still feel the echo in her ears.

“So…?” she trails off, her expectant gaze on him, her heart in her mouth.

“Will you?” she asks again.

---