Page 73 of Far From Sherwood Forest
The others all look at me again, but I don’t take my eyes off Will.
What would it say about me if I could forgive Henry for killing my father but I couldn’t forgive my own kin for this? For this horrible mistake that he clearly regrets. One that he crossed realms to make up for.
I force my feet to move, rounding the fire in Will’s direction. He straightens, and his eyes go wide with caution while his jaw sets with acceptance of his fate.
Stopping in front of him, I stare into his face, making an easy decision.
I hold my hand out toward him. He peers down at it and hesitates for only a brief moment before he takes my hand in his. Pulling him close, I wrap my other arm around him and embrace him.
“You’re my family, Will.”
He sobs into my shoulder as he holds onto me tight.
“None of us are perfect. What matters is what’s in our heart.” I pull back until he lifts his head and looks at me through his tears. “What’s in your heart, cousin?”
“Whatever is in yours. I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth, Robin.”
“Then that’s good enough for me.”
He sobs again and buries his face in my chest. I let him cry, his tears dampening my shirt, until I feel that some of his own burden that he’s been carrying around has been eased.
“I’m so sorry to all of you too,” Will says, his voice breaking as he steps back from me and looks around at the others. “Robin’s right. I betrayed you all as well.”
John, Alan, and Tuck all rise from their seats and approach us. Will looks at them as wearily as he did me.
Alan looks from me to Will, and I can sense some of thetension that John mentioned had been between them before. But then Alan says, “If Robin forgives you, then so do we.”
John and Tuck both nod in agreement.
We all end up in one big group hug with Will still weeping weakly between us. If I hadn’t slept as long as I had earlier, I’d probably be just as exhausted as he is after all of this. Even with the sleep I got, I’m still drained.
But when John pulls out the beer, we leave it all behind.
The rest of the night, we sit around the fire, drink, and exchange memories, both old and new, of Sherwood Forest and of this world. We laugh. We cry a little more. Even after the way it started, it’s still one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time.
Reunited with my family.
Dealing with whatever the Spirit has planned is a problem for another day.
The next day, I show up at Henry’s cabin just after sunrise before he’s had a chance to leave for work. I don’t exactly have a plan. I have no idea what I’m going to say to him. All I know is that we need to talk.
And I’m sure he’ll hate every minute of it.
Taking the steps up to the porch of the cabin, I stop in front of the door. I give myself five seconds to hesitate and no more than that. I raise my fist and knock.
It takes about twenty seconds more before the door opens. And, with my dumb luck, Henry stands there in nothing but a pair of tight jeans and his boots, his bare torso tempting me to run my tongue through the hairy valleys of his abs.
Fuck me, he’s hot.
“What are you doing here?” he asks after I fail to speak.
For a moment, I completely forget why I’m there and struggle to come up with an answer. I may as well have been staring at him with drool dripping down my chin.
Finally, I clear my throat and say, “We need to talk.”
He rolls his eyes. “Of fucking course.”
Called it.
