Page 51 of Nyx
Nyx
It’sstrangewatchingReyeswalk into my cottage. He’s been here with me for days, but this is different somehow. Before, when I was unconscious, it was triage—a bandage on a wound to stop the bleeding. A necessity. Now, it’s a choice to invite him into this fresh version of my lifelong prison.
Mychoice, and another he’s allowed me.
Stay or go. Welcome him inside or block his entrance.
He gives me the authority to make my own rules, which is as novel as it is terrifying. As I glance over my shoulder at the light silhouetting his frame, I know I want to take these first steps. Things have changed—they’re different between the two of us. So much has shifted in so little time, and after a life of monotony, change is scary. My brain tells me I should be panicking, but ever since I woke up this evening, a strange calm has defied that voice. It soothes my nerves.
Now, as we step into my prison, my pulse fires in my chest once more. The fear of his judgement is almost crippling, and I have to force myself to look at him.
His eyes don’t dart around my barren home, or examine its empty spaces. Silent and observant, they shine amber in the streams of light as they watch me. My gaze drops to the bag on his shoulder, wondering what could be inside with its size and shape.
Reyes chuckles, and my attention is stolen again, this time moving to the soft pink skin of his lips as they form a grin. “Curious thing.”
“No one has ever brought me a gift,” I say, then bite my lip between my teeth to keep from saying anything else. It’s not that Reyes seems to mind my… strangeness. He doesn’t flinch at the reminders that my life was limited to four cell walls, and he never looks at me with pity.
The others do.
They don’t mean to, I know. But it shows when they look at my bare feet or ask questions I’m unable to answer. Every time my mouth moves faster than my brain, I worry I’ll get the same pity from Reyes. I’m not sure I could stand it.
He grins at me, a carefree smile that tilts one side of his lips higher than the other. No sympathy.
I breathe a heavy sigh of relief.
“Of course they have,” he says as he slides the bag off his shoulder and plops it onto the kitchen counter. “I bring you muffins all the time.”
I scoff, though I’m relieved by his teasing. “Food does not count.”
“Oh, it doesn’t, huh? I’ll be sure to remember that next time I’m bringing you a snack.”
My mouth drops open as I consider this, because losing my snacks would be a terrible thing, and I try to think of a response. Before I can come up with anything, Reyes laughs. It’s a loud, barking sound that’s full of happiness, and my entire chest fills with sunshine as a rush of air pushes from my nose. He freezes with a whole new expression on his face. It dances between wonder and pride, and I pinch my brows as he continues to stare.
“Did you…” He trails off, then shakes his head as I rub at the phantom sensation in my chest. The black hole where my heart has lived all this time still glows with that lightness as I glance at the bag, then the crumb-covered plate near the sink. Reyes is in a particularly smiley mood, so I make sure he knows where I stand on this matter.
“I still want my snacks,” I blurt, and he laughs again—richer, and with his entire chest forming the sound. Another burst of that lightness warms me, joined by a pleasant humming in my ears that tingles through my head.
Maybe this is the elusive happiness that has escaped me for so long.
“Don’t worry about that,” he says through the tail end of his chuckle. “I’m not taking away your snacks. You get those,andthese, too.” He unzips the backpack and removes a stack of fabric, and I inch closer as my curiosity gets the best of me. Delightful creases are still crinkled in the corners of his eyes as he places the pile on the counter.
“What is it?”
“It’s… well, they’re… clothes,” he explains, and his blissful happiness fades. Now, as I run my fingers over the top of the stack, he seems unsure of himself. “Things that will… fit you.” His cheeks have flushed a darker bronze, not pink like when he’s been in the sun for too long. Deeper, like it comes from inside his skin.
“Fit… me?”
His fingers rake through his curls, and he nods without meeting my eyes. “When we went back to my old camp, there was free time while Lillith was fixing the truck. I’d already loaded the supplies, and needed to keep myself busy so I wouldn’t lose my mind. There were several closets full of clothes in the hidden areas, and I went through them… searched for smaller things. These will fit you better than the oversized stuff you’ve had to wear.”
My gaze moves from his nervous fingers down to the shirt on my body. It’s his—the one that he put on me while I was unconscious. It’s closer to my size than my other items, but is still baggy and limp, and the fabric hangs off my thin frame.
But it also smells like him, and I like that.
“You don’t want me in your clothes?”
A sound leaves him, this hysterical, squawk-like thing that tries to be a laugh, before he clears his throat. “No, no, it’s definitely not that. You can wear any of my clothes… all my clothes. Nothing but…” He coughs again, and I tilt my head, amused at his rambling. “The point is, I thought you might like to have things that fit you.”
My fingers move to the stack of clothing and tighten around the black material of the top piece. I glance up at him for permission, and when he nods, I lift it from thepile. The shirt is much smaller than the few I have, and soft. The next one is blue, then gray, and several white ones follow. After I put those aside, I lift a heavy tan shirt with a fuzzy texture that’s completely foreign to me.
