Page 145 of Almost Ravaged

He had said he wanted to wrap the new hive in tar paper as a precaution. That idea never stood a chance once I took off in the corn maze.

He grunts. “Don’t apologize. I wouldn’t change a thing about it.”

My chest warms. Noah is so reserved with his feelings and his words. He’s the opposite of Mercer in that sense. But when he does open up to me, I hang on every word.

Our knuckles brush again as we take the slope toward the apiary. This time, he laces his fingers with mine.

When he squeezes once, a sense of security rises inside me. I really am okay with taking it slow with him.

Mercer’s directness and his ease with communication means that with him, I’m never left wondering or worrying. His affection and predictability allow me the stability I need to let this connection with Noah grow at a slower pace. What we are and what we’re doing aren’t clear or defined, but it’s real.

As we reach our destination, we’re surrounded by light buzzing.

The bees are already hard at work.

Noah sighs beside me, his face set in a look of genuine contentment. Like here, among the bees, he can finally, fully exhale.

“Let’s see how they’re doing.”

He guides me to the new hive, distinguished by its color and newer appearance among the other twenty or so structures.

I cup a hand over my eyes, shielding them from the sun—immediately missing its warmth on my face—and scan the box and the surrounding area. Everything looks okay to my untrained eye. Until I discover one bee lying on the lip of the hive entrance.

Eyes stinging, I blink away tears. The pit in my stomach grows bigger, darker, deeper as I take two more steps and sink to my knees.

“Oh no.”

She’s lifeless. Dead. Because I distracted him.

He was going to come out here last night. He knew they needed to be wrapped. But then I had to go and—

“Sawyer.”

I force my head up and suck in a shuddering breath.

He’s on his knees beside me, his expression tender, eyebrows pulled together in concern.

Tentatively, he smooths my hair away from my face and cups my jaw, sweeping his thumb over the apple of my cheek, brushing away a tear I didn’t realize had fallen.

“Don’t worry, honey. Not all hope is lost. It never is.”

Sniffling, I look away. She’s dead. I know it’s a she because she was a worker bee. She survived the transition to the orchard and has been working hard to set up the new hive. She did everything right, but it didn’t matter in the end, because—

Noah growls, his grip tightening on my face. “Sawyer.” This time, my name is a command.

He licks his lips and lowers his mouth to mine in the sweetest, most tender kiss.

I’m wound too tight to respond right away. But as the seconds tick by and his kisses become more insistent, I open for him. Relax for him. Surrender to him.

Eventually, I kiss him back.

My heart hammers hard against my chest, but not out of anguish anymore.

“Good girl.” He shifts back slightly without dropping his hands from my face.

I open my mouth to argue, but when he gives me a stern shake of his head, I snap it shut again.

“You have to be calm out here, honey. They can sense your distress.” He swallows, making his Adam’s apple bob. “I can sense it, too. I hate it. Talk to me. What’s wrong?”