Page 33 of Growing Memories (Valley of Sylveren #2)

Chapter Nineteen

The next morning dawned gray and misty, as was standard for deep fall in the Valley of Sylveren.

Or any time for the region, the notable chill in the air being the only way to differentiate seasons.

Unlike the day before, Eunny woke feeling lighter, more determined not to overthink but simply enjoy.

She banished the dark cloud that always seemed to linger after an encounter with her mother—only fun allowed.

Nothing serious in any regard. No dwelling on likelihoods or what-ifs.

That wasn’t her way; Eunny didn’t look back.

Forward only and leave the shit behind. It was a mindset that had been working out well for her so far.

In her experience, people were happy to follow her lead.

No one liked confronting uncomfortable truths if given an escape route.

Thinking she’d pop by the storage greenhouse while the main sheds were busy with Initiate classes, Eunny opened her door and nearly smacked into Gransen.

“Gremlin. Hello,” she said once she’d recovered from her shock. “Can I help you?”

Gransen held up the sheaf of papers containing the estimates and options for renovating Song’s Scrap. His untidy scrawl covered the pages in blue ink. “Got a moment to go over this?”

“Walk and talk.” Eunny sidestepped him out onto the road. Gransen scrambled after her, shielding the papers from the light mist.

“Top page is the proposed schedule for structured fixes. Walls, roof, floors. Woodworkers’ Guild thinks the floors are mostly salvageable, and they can repurpose bits from the other parts since we don’t care about matching.

Most of the roof and wall that came down are goners, and winter coming isn’t great for repairs.

It’s doable, but we can get a better deal if we just go small and temporary for now and save the full job for early next year.

” Gransen spoke in rapid-fire sentences.

“Cost is reasonable, and I’ve already talked with a rep at the bank about a loan. ”

“Gransen.”

“Really reasonable rates!” He flipped a few pages. “I’ve drawn up some possible work schedules and new price structures to fund everything. Already got a lot of new jobs willing to pay an advance, too.”

“You’re already lining up work?” Eunny cried. “Gransen, I can’t even start— The café is full of shit right now. It has a piece of waxed canvas for a roof! You can’t go?—”

“When was the last time you looked at the café?” he asked, brows raised.

“I was just…”

But she hadn’t checked on Song’s Scrap, only the Mighty Leaf and her auntie. Eunny all but averted her eyes when it came to her café. Still, she’d have noticed if it had grown a stable rooftop overnight. Right?

She glared at him. “It’s not fit for habitation.”

“Maybe not,” Gransen said, “but we’re not asking anyone to live there.”

“You keep saying ‘we,’ I notice.”

“You did tell me to manage. Delegated, as I recall, so, I did my job.” He flipped another page with more drama than such movement required. “Now, ancillary expenses.”

Eunny eyed the crude sketch in one corner. “Didn’t I say no to curtains already?”

“Hear me out. The Weavers’ Guild wants to do a whole workshop around them. Fluff to bolts to fabric, or whatever. Fundraise and involve the town in the process. Might even get some of the Renstownies to come over, though of course we’d charge them double.”

“I don’t know. This sounds like?—”

“It’s communal, Eun. It’ll be good. Have some faith in me.”

Gransen’s enthusiasm, far from catching, only served to deepen the pit forming in Eunny’s stomach.

His ideas had merit, probably, but resistance reared its head.

Filled her with a sense of refusal. Because renovations, while needed, had a ring of permanence that left her itchy with a nameless guilt.

When the café had been held together with little more than waxed canvas drapes and baling twine it was easy to convince herself that she could’ve packed up and moved on whenever she wanted.

Because Song’s Scrap was a glorified popup, not a place that had put down roots and gathered a community.

Those were things she didn’t—couldn’t—want anymore.

Second chances were nice and all, but there were limits.

Healers who caused egregious harm to their patients…

“I’ll think about it,” she said at last.

“Ok, but we— you —need to make some decisions soon,” Gransen said. “At least let me finish with the temporary weather-sealing. The Mighty Leaf needs it so they can finish repairing the loft.”

Auntie Yerina hadn’t said anything about that. Eunny bit back a sigh, nodding wearily instead. “Fine, but that’s it. The rest has to wait. I’m busy with this plant stuff.”

Gransen gave her a sidelong glance. “How are things with my boy?”

By the grace of the Goddess, Eunny’s step didn’t falter. She didn’t skip like some giddy fool, either. No looking back. Forward only. Plenty of time for some lighthearted fun before any of the mess that came with labels and decisions.

She returned Gransen’s look with a sly smile. “Oh, you know. Has he really not said anything?”

A long-suffering groan came in answer. “No, because he’s a gentleman.” His lips quirked up. “Olly has been very chipper of late, though. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

Eunny hummed innocently in response.

“Making Papa Granse proud.” They stopped at a crossroads in the university’s courtyard. “My two favorite people make a beautiful couple. I do good work.”

“We aren’t— Wait, what do you think you did?”

“Please. We both know?—”

“We aren’t a couple. It’s not that serious, okay? We’re friends .”

“No, Olly wouldn’t just— He’s way too far gone to see this as a friends-with-benefits thing. You do know that, right?” Gransen eyed her with something akin to reproach.

“Yeah, well, we haven’t talked about it.” A flush rose in her cheeks. “We’re having fun. Can’t ask for more than that.”

Trunk came into view, a familiar, curly-haired head moving around just outside. Ollas looked up as the sound of their voices reached him.

“You could, if you wanted. Something holding you back?” A mischievous grin split Gransen’s face. “Want me to ask? Olly might be embarrassed, but I have no shame.”

“Get away from me.” Eunny shoved him. In a louder voice, she called out, “Hey, Nev!”

Gransen laughed, waving to the two of them before wandering off toward the Grove.

Ollas faced her, pleasure lighting his face. “Eunny.”

She stopped next to the wheelbarrow he’d parked alongside the now-empty patch that had held the delegation plants. A few carefully dug up plants lined the wheelbarrow’s bed.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Zhen was right, we don’t have much time left to work with these. Half the patch was already brown this morning. Propagating’s not enough. If we don’t figure out how to get them to flower and collect seed, they’re gone.”

Eunny held the door open so he could push the wheelbarrow inside.

A row of the specialty terrarium boxes were arranged along the counter, already planted with cuttings from the delegation plants that had finished converting from grass to leaf.

Over a dozen more that had shriveled and died filled a separate bin.

Eunny whistled. “You’ve been busy. Should’ve told me, Nev, I’d have come help.”

“I know.” He smiled at her. “I figured I’d see you in here soon enough.”

Once the wheelbarrow was stowed next to the potting bench, Ollas went to her, hands reaching to skim her shoulders. “Is everything okay? I went by last night, but?—”

She kissed him. “I’m fine. Went into town to see my aunt.”

Relief filled his face, making a fresh spur of guilt poke at her insides. But no, that wasn’t allowed. Not now, not at all. Only fun and light and nothing serious.

“Your mother is sweet. Promised to share all sorts of embarrassing stories about you,” Eunny teased.

Ollas groaned. “Earthen take me, she would.” His fingers played with the ends of her hair. “Eunny, should we maybe talk about…this? Us.”

Eunny stilled.

“Not— I don’t mean anything bad.” He huffed softly to himself and took her hand in his. “I mean…I’m in. For whatever this is. What you want. I’m here for whatever you’ll give me.”

Eunny felt her mouth drop open, but no response came to her lips.

Emotions galloped through her head, the tenor changing with each blink of her eyes.

Shock. Pleasure. A small amount of something cold that felt alarmingly like primordial fear.

The way he laid himself out for her, the earnest way he held her gaze—on some level it both appealed to and terrified her.

Unnerved her for a reason she couldn’t comprehend.

A sliver of guilt was there, too. A hint of doubt that managed to pierce the other feelings.

“I’m here for all of it,” he murmured. His eyes traveled over the trays of cuttings, then back to her face. “For everything we’re going to do, it’s…it’s with you, and I’m happy.”

He spoke so earnestly. From the heart, of a future, with hope and excitement that a part of her wanted to echo back to him.

A rather large part. But that side of Eunny lived in ignorant bliss, too enamored with her forward-only view.

It delighted in Ollas’s declaration, content to be wrapped up in his words and think of them in simple, narrow terms. That side of her took his quiet words for all of it and everything we’re going to do as glib.

Pretended they weren’t declarations from Ollas’s mouth.

But those were the kind of thoughts that led to the future and commitments.

Planning, which implied Eunny making space for herself in his life.

And him in hers. A form of permanence she didn’t deserve, could only ruin if given an amount of time.

“What were you and Gransen talking about?—?”