Page 72 of The Sun and the Moon
And my mind begins plotting our escape.
Chapter Thirty-One
Cadence
Sydney looks like she’s about to pounce on me when I step down from the platform. I should feel impressed with myself that I can still do it, no instruction needed. I shouldn’t care that now Moira is recounting the original axe-throwing tale to Pam and Greg, emphasizing her role in it. I shouldn’t be embarrassed by the attention, the cheers offuck yeah, good throwcoming from onlookers as they pass by.
As soon as I near Sydney, all of that drifts away. The noise in my head gets quieter, shifting into a single palpable feeling instead.
Want.
I don’t care that I met her at Kismet all because of my mother.
It doesn’t matter that she could be my soulmate, and that must mean fate isn’t a fallacy.
Because like Kit said when she pulled that Ten of Cups, the catalyst isn’t what decides a lifetime of love. It’s not the thing that makes a soulmate a partner. Not even the Universe has the power to do that, not without the help of the querent.
“We should make ourselves scarce,” Sydney says in a low voiceas we turn to watch Lola take the platform. She’s trying to mimic my stance and almost nailing it.
“Wanna get food?” I ask, but my eyes saybedroom.
“I could definitely eat,” she replies, a naughty uptick to her lips.
Lola lifts the axe into position with hesitance. “Why don’t you head over to the garden?”
Leaving together at the same time will warrant an explanation. May get us tagalongs. If she skips out ahead of me, I can just feign needing to go lie down or something. They won’t know we’re together, and we won’t have to make an excuse as to why we left at the same time.
She gives me a wink, taking her lip hostage between her teeth. I force my focus to Lola and let Sydney slip away. I ignore when she is stopped by Rick asking where she’s off to and she says, “Need some air.” Lola releases the axe with just the right amount of force, I can tell as soon as it starts to spin. The blade makes contact with the wood right at the edge of the target, but it sticks. She flies up, clapping, and whips around to look at me.
She searches for my approval like I’m an older sibling, someone whose opinion matters. I’m surprised by the ache in my chest when our eyes meet. She hops down from the platform, and I extend my hand for a fist bump.
“Almost in the target,” she says in a self-deprecating tone.
“Better than most of the guys in the place.” I mean specifically Hawthorne, and she knows it. She grins at my slight of him. The shelf life of that relationship just got a hell of a lot shorter.
“Where’s Sydney?” Lola asks, looking around me like she expects her to be right at my side.
I see an opportunity to pull her into this for some amity,something I think she’d appreciate and also something that could genuinely get me out of here faster. I lean in, lowering my voice.
“She bailed, and I’m about to follow her.” Lola gets my drift immediately. Her smile is bright and easy.
“I’m glad you’re letting her in, Cade. With how you met her and everything,” she says, not saying the why of it out loud. I’m grateful she doesn’t, but a small part of me tugs toward her, wanting to spill my feelings. Wanting the connection I never valued before.
“I’m scared,” I whisper, giving in to the moment even though it’s just as scary as anything else happening. Her eyes shine, and she grips me by the hand.
“Good,” she says. “That means you care.” I watch as her attention shifts behind me and then her eyes widen pointedly. Moira and the rest of the crew must be edging closer. She pulls me to the side and whispers, “Go” and “Good luck,” and I bolt without looking back.
Whatever they all think is happening, I do expect that Lola will be able to deter them. She’s always been clever, and it’s likely that skill has only improved over time. I shoot out through the exit of the tent and into the cool night air. It hits my skin with a burst, drawing goose bumps to the skin. I yank on my jacket and search the space for the hot blonde of my dreams.
I catch sight of her across the cobblestone, standing in the light of one of the firelit torches. Wind catches her hair. Her skin glows a warm gold. I’m tugged toward her as if the string tying our souls is being reeled in to draw us together. She catches me with her eyes, turning her body my way. A smile cuts her features, awakening the butterflies in my stomach.
She likes me.
She wants me.
“Hey,” she says, her voice dropping into a low, raspy tone.
“Hey,” I say, unable to contain my grin.
