Page 88 of Beast and Remedy
“Yes, you do,” they say in unison.
Jules looks for support, and I hold my tongue. Her mouth falls open. “Vi! YouknowI don’t snore. Tell them!”
I shrug. “Your snoresmayhave filled the acoustics of the library when we were kids.”
Jules huffs and crosses her arms. “Well, there goes my defense.” Seeing her partners gone down the hall, she runs after them, hollering, “Hey! Wait!”
A faint smile dances across my face, happy for the three of them, loving the dynamic and harmony each of them provides to the others.
But when a hand holds mine, the short-term amusement and distraction drains.
I jerk away from Beau’s grasp. “I need to get our supplies.”
I head for the door as a chair squeaks, footsteps shuffling and Beau’s beautiful voice hypnotic.
“I can help.” He trails after me, but I stop abruptly, causing him to bump into me. “Sorry!”
But I don’t let his apology move me. Remembering to keep him at a distance, I latch on to the lever.
“I can manage. Thank you, though.” Pushing the door open, I bolt, my wavy tresses masking my vision as I hurry to our horses.
I ignore Beau, whostillfollows me, approaching Marian’s steed and removing her packs. Ialsodisregard the relentless need and desire to watch him as I grab my own essentials.
A brush of wind blows the top cover of my satchel open, and I fumble for the piece of paper slipping loose from my journal as it escapes.
Oh fuck.Please, no.
I scramble after the letter, bending to catch it, until a foot stomps on the paper.
I almost fall face forward, gasping in embarrassment.
The person who filled the paper with promises and words of affection so many years ago now retrieves it. Beau turns it over, recognizing his penmanship faster than I can snag it.
I close my eyes in frustration, trying to muster the strength of indifference despite the heat blooming underneath my cheeks.
I wish more than anything in this world I had magic to stop and reverse time. Maybe then I’d be able to erase this mishap. And so much more.
“You…” The soft evening breeze swallows his word. “You kept them?”
I reach out my hand for him to return it, but when nothing lands in my grasp, I look up and answer. “Yes.”
“Rosebud,” he breathes, lowering the letter.
My heart stutters. The name I hated when he first mentioned it, forbidding him from ever using it again, only for him to explain its meaning and stir forth a silly crush.
My first crush, which he ruined faster than it formed.
The friendship we had fizzled when he entered his adolescence, thriving with his friends and siblings and ignoring me for years. It wasn’t hard to realize he didn’t want to talk to someone younger than him who wasn’t as fun and interested in hunting.
Still, during that time, I wished we could have been friends. We went seven years without talking to one another, and then we reunited, and everything changed.
Then another seven years separated us, and it broke me.
Beau stares as if he, too, is reliving the past.
“Vivienne,” he utters with such reverence, such adoration.
I hate when people use my full name, but when he uses it, Sweet Makers, it feeds the fire of my soul.
