Page 22 of Little Wing
She nodded. “Sure, if you’re okay with Kait watching you like a hawk. She seems to have warmed up to you, but…”
“I get it,” I chuckled. “Yeah, that’s fine with me.”
After packing up, I followed Lotus down the street that would lead us back to the center of Fairhaven where The Royal Nomad was already lively for a late afternoon. Since Lotus agreed to having a drink with me, I was fine going wherever she wanted. She offered more time with her, which was all I could have asked for. She was finally talking to me without me having to force a conversation with her. It was soft and calculated, but after that night when I kissed her, I’d take anything to know that I didn’t shatter any chance of a connection with her. Small talk at her job and even the bar was easy, but it felt like walking on thin ice.
I assumed she would want to unpack that night eventually. I only hoped that it would result in us getting closer, because I didn’t know how much longer I could keep myself from wanting to kiss her when she smiled at me.
The Royal Nomad was certainly busy for a late afternoon. Typically, the merriment wouldn’t pick up until the later hours, often once I was done with work, so this was a pleasant surprise. Kait was just starting her shift it seemed, because she looked just as startled to see me and Silas approach the bar.
“Well, isn’t this a nice surprise?” she grinned before she turned to Silas. “Assuming you’re not going to corner my best friend on the patio again?”
Silas rubbed the back of his head and turned to look at me. “You weren’t kidding.”
“Of course not,” Kait replied for me. “Buying Lo drinks is one thing, but chatting her up? You know I’ll do what I need.”
He nodded. “Understood. Then can we please order a round of drinks. AB negative for me and—” Silas looked down at me and smiled. “O positive for Lotus?”
“Yes, please,” I smiled.
With our drinks poured, I led Silas back to my usual booth. When we sat down, I couldn’t help but think that the last time we were seated there, our night got a quite heated.
“Thanks for coming, by the way,” Silas finally said, holding out his glass for me to clink against. “I know I really did come off a bit—”
“Stalker-ish?”
He rolled his eyes and chuckled. His laugh was soft and dark, and truly pleasant to my ears. A laugh I wouldn’t mind hearing more of. Perhaps our conversation would carry on in a more pleasant direction now that we were able to clear the air a little. That talk we had at Little Wing was a start. Hearing him open up about what he was working on and why he was doing it in the first place made me want to know more.
I admit I was hesitant about showing up after receiving his text messages. Yes, I was curious about him, but I didn’t know what to expect beyond the small talk we entertained when we had some time to spare for each other. His invitation insinuated an actual conversation. From the way our last conversation went, I worried it could have been another scheme to get me to admit things I wasn’t even hiding. Though I now believed that we were past that stage. What I did find when I accepted his invitation was a man waiting and dreaming of something that appeared to mean more to him than a mere business venture. He was seeking community, or rather a place where community could flourish. Much like the nest he told me about.
As we took our first sips of the sanguine liquid, I licked my lips and turned to look at him when I could have easily kept my head down. He shared something with me back at that lot. Something that tugged at him in a way that shattered the cool, calm, and collected persona I saw before.
His brows raised as my eyes didn’t leave his. Rather than speaking, he waited to see what I would do.
“I did not have a nest, but I had a brother. My twin, actually.”
I watched Silas’s shoulders relax as he allowed himself to sink back into the cushion of the booth, positioned to listen.
“He was my family. He made me.” I couldn’t meet Silas’s gaze anymore when the words left my lips. Luca’s story, his existence, was one I needed to take with me to whatever end, yet there I was wanting to share a slice of who I was. It was an equal exchange. While I could not share everything, I felt the need to offer something to the man seated beside me.
So I tapped my nail against the blood-stained glass and told him everything that I could. Starting as far back as I could remember:
We lived in the Carolina’s, or at least the territories that would eventually become the Carolina’s. It must have been the 1700’s. My memory is somewhat clear, but the true dates do grow fuzzy even now. My family owned a small farm complete with horses, livestock, and even a few barnyard cats. My brother helped my father manage it while I took care of the horses. I loved horseback riding back then.
We were not rich, but we managed to pay our taxes and keep our bellies full. The only time we faced true difficulty was when the rest of our community was hit with a sickness that wiped out nearly half the residents in our village. People would fall ill and disappear, some without a trace.
While sickness spread, I was forbidden from leaving our home while my brother and father continued to watch over our livestock. They went on long rides together to ensure everything continued to operate as intended. Their methods kept the sickness away from our property for months, yet as it swept through our community… it was never going to be a matter of if, but when the sickness would finally land on our doorstep. In one way or another.
After a long ride scouting the perimeters of our property, only one rider returned—my father.
I forced an exhale and took a sip of my drink. The beginning of this dark journey sent me on a path of memories that I could still recall vividly. I could smell them… taste them. When I braved a glance at the man beside me, I saw that he was seated with his back still relaxed into the booth’s cushion. His attention was fully on me. I continued:
My brother did not return that night. My mother was distraught while my father was barely able to utter a word as to what happened. Where was he? Where was my brother, my twin? I believed in the connection we shared, that if something tragic were to happen then I would feel it. I’d know it in my bones that I was the remaining half.
Yet, I felt nothing.
Days went by before my father began recounting what happened. His retelling was scattered, manic, and fragmented. It became a puzzle that I needed to solve. After a few weeks of staying huddled at home, living off the reserves we kept in our pantry, I was finally able to understand what happened.
My brother was only about a mile ahead of my father when a diseased animal tackled him to the ground. He didn’t see it happen, but heard the shouts of struggle from his direction. When he made it to him, the creature was gone, but my brother was wounded. A deep gash on his forearm and side that trailed blood behind him, even as he was mounted back on his horse.
