Page 105 of Ly to Me
“Mostly. There’s a few other breeds—ones I saw you had in your collection, which has grown, by the way.” He pointed to a door on the other side of the sprawling, indoor garden. “It’s through there. I had to get the proper cases for them, since the ones you had—”
“Were shit,” I finished, and he laughed gently, being wary of the butterfly and the wings that spanned my palm.
“You did what you could,” he corrected. “Let’s just say, finding another entomologist who was willing to come to Alliston and do what you did was quite hard. But they get paid a lot to travel into town once a week to help out in that room. We also donate to museums, schools, libraries…really anywhere that needs orwants a specimen we have. I didn’t realize how rare these guys were, so we get a lot of requests for living ones, too.”
“They are.” The butterfly's wings shimmered under a stream of light. “Do you remember how I said you were most like an atala?”
“Course, I do.”
“Do you know why?”
“Not entirely. Is it my eyes?”
I smiled. “Somewhat. But mostly, it’s the way you are.”
“How so?”
“Atala’s act and look different to scare away predators. They also willingly ingest a toxin to taste bad as part of their defense mechanism. Not that uncommon with other butterfly species. ”
“So, why an atala, then?” He sounded genuinely curious.
“The day you almost beat up Noah at school reminded me of the way male atalas act around the females they plan to mate with.”
He snorted, then muttered a curse, probably worried about spooking the butterfly in our palms. “Not so common, then?”
“Not as common, no.” I shifted my hand, and I heard Car’s breath hitch behind me. “This one is a male—smaller, more green than blue.”
Car pressed his cheek to mine. “He must like you if he’s refusing to leave.”
“He’s just not easily scared away. The toxin he takes in makes him believe he has fewer predators to worry about. They know that most predators have learned to stay away or they’re as good as dead.”
He chuckled. “Cocky little things, huh?”
“Confident,” I corrected.
He laughed, and the butterfly flew away. I turned to face Carver, settling my hand over his cheek. He smiled down atme like I was his everything. “Thank you. For this. It’s all so…beautiful.”
His features turned serious. “It’s all yours, Ly. The Sanctuary, my house”—he took my hand and moved it to his chest, his heart beating as hard as mine was—“and me.”
I turned back to the rest of the room, pressing my back to his front so he wouldn’t see the water coating my eyes. “You could’ve moved on, you know. Had something meaningful, someone who could love you and be happy all the time. Someone perfect. Someone who stayed—unlike me.”
His fingers cupped my chin, drawing my gaze back to him, right over my shoulder. “I’d be lying if I said I’d tried to get you out of my head, because there was never any hope of that actually happening. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted, Lyra Roland, and I think you feel the same way.”
I swallowed past the growing lump in my throat and turned back to the flowers. His hand slid from my chin down to my throat right before he kissed the top of my head. “I hope one day soon you’ll tell me why you left me. But, until then, I’d like to try not to think about you bein’ gone.” He angled my head to the side, where he bent down and started brushing his lips up my neck. “If you’re still set on leaving, don’t tell me. Let me believe you’ll always be here until the day you aren’t anymore.”
It felt like claws were sliding over my lungs, making it hard to breathe. So, I just nodded and stepped away from his tender hold, following a rabble of atalas, monarchs, and orange-barred sulphurs down a winding path made of cobblestones. I kept my eyes on the scenery, taking in the flowerbeds labeled with metal plaques, the variety of host plants for each breed to lay their eggs on, and how not a single thing looked out of place or overgrown.
As I peered up, Carver’s voice came from directly behind me, making me jump. “The roof can open, but the entire room is well-ventilated and mimics any outdoor butterfly garden. Didn’tmean to scare you.” His hands fell to my arms, calming my racing heart a fraction.
“Didn’t know you were following me.”
“I can go, if you want.”
“No.” I reached for his hand. “Stay.”
I spent the next hour walking around, Carver trailing along with me as I marveled at every little detail—from the wooden benches made from the pines and oak trees right outside the facility, to the host plants with caterpillars and butterfly eggs waiting to hatch. Every detail had been so meticulously planned and maintained, but what made my chest hurt more was picturing him in this building, alone—thinking about when or if I was ever coming back.
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