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LAVINIA

Everything seems to stop as I grab onto the window sill and gaze outside.

But it’s not in that numb way that shuts my system down.

It’s more like a swoosh that rips through me, so strong that nothing else works as the energy breathes life into my dead muscles and closed-off brain.

The girl at my side—my friend, Emma—leans in to open the window.

A gush of fresh air brings me the scent of pine and damp earth.

I’ve felt it from the bed—seen the sky and the treetops—but it doesn’t compare to being this close, tasting it and seeing the whole view.

Trees cover the ground below us, sloping with the terrain, and mountains rise in the distance.

The sun stands bright and round in the sky, casting its glowing light upon the landscape, and birds chirp a cheery sound.

I want to join them—sing an old folk tune to the forest, which my mother taught me, and let my voice soar into the open.

I’ll never be able to sing again.

The thought sends a sharp contraction into my muscles, making me gasp, and my throat closes as grief overcomes me.

I turn from the window, wanting to go back to the bed and let the numbness swallow me up again.

Anything beyond that emptiness hurts too much.

The world is already closing in, panic gripping my lungs, claustrophobia squeezing tight as I can’t get a word out.

Careful hands grab my arms.

“I’m here for you,” a soft voice says.

Facing Emma, I lift a finger to my throat and shake my head in utter defeat.

I can’t sing.

“I know,” Emma says, voice full of regret.

“I know. I’m so, so sorry.”

Tears well in my eyes, and my legs start shaking.

I dig my fingers into her arms, seeking purchase as the ground is about to fall away beneath me.

Casting my gaze to the side, I meet Dorin’s fierce, concerned expression, and that’s when everything crumbles.

Longing cuts through my insides as I remember how I lost him too—how he left me.

My legs cave in as a soundless sob tears through my throat, and I collapse.

Feet pound across the floor, a voice barks warnings, and then the soft hands are gone, replaced by rough, calloused ones that grip me tight and press me into a wide, strong, dangerous chest.

But despite the size and roughness, there’s no danger.

Only honest care.

There’s a bustling noise.

Feet shuffling, a soft, feminine voice protesting, and a door opening and closing.

Leaving, I think.

But all I can focus on is the man who won’t give me the thing I came to want the most—him—but who holds the power to give me the next best thing.

Please just kill me, please just kill me, I try to say as I grip his T-shirt, but no words come out, only a rough rush of air.

I cry harder, the sobs stealing my breath as they claw to come out of my throat in a continuous riptide of empty sound.

The tight grip around me loosens.

Hands grab my arms and pull me away from the firm body.

The loss makes the panic draw tighter.

Waves of dizziness flit through my brain, and nausea rises in my stomach.

“Look at me,” a rough voice demands.

I shake my head, and the hands shake me in turn, the voice deepening.

“Look at me, Lavinia.”

I snap my eyes open even as I keep shaking my head.

I can barely make out the man before me through the blinding haze.

I only see the outlines of rough features, a bald head, and the line of a scar.

“Breathe,” he says with such a steady force that it makes the haze retreat for a short moment.

His insistent eyes become clear, and so do his lips as he rounds them and draws a sharp breath.

Automatically, I follow, heaving so much air into my starved lungs that it’s painful.

But I can’t hold on to it.

The air crashes back out immediately and sends me back into hyperventilation.

The strong hands move me around, placing me against the bed.

Big palms cup my cheeks as a large figure crowds me.

But as Dorin’s voice filters through the haze again, the imposing figure doesn’t feel threatening.

“Breathe, Lavinia.” Tightening his hold on my face, he leans in and presses his lips to mine.

With a long exhale, he breathes air into me.

It doesn’t bring me the oxygen I need, but it prompts me to draw a slow, deep breath of my own when he disconnects our lips.

“Again,” he says, his lips hovering right before mine, the rush of air caressing them and sparking a desire to feel—something, anything.

Him.

I manage to draw several steady breaths.

The haze dissipates, my vision clears, and Dorin appears before me.

The sight nearly sends me straight back into a fit of panic, knowing it’s just temporary.

I’ve only regained him to lose him again.

But the words he speaks send the panic cowering.

“I’ll never—not ever—let you go again.” He says it with such ferocity I can’t doubt him.

“You’re the only person who has ever mattered to me, and I can’t bear to lose you.” Digging his fingers into my cheeks, he draws a shuddery breath and rests his forehead against mine.

“I’m so, so sorry I tried to sell you. Please believe me. Please forgive me. I had no idea what I was doing. I still don’t. But I know one thing. I need you.” Pulling back, he watches me with a startling plea in his eyes.

“Please don’t ask me to kill you. I can’t bear to live without you.”

The grief draws back as I stare at him, shocked at his honest confession.

I don’t know what I’d say even if I could speak.

I have no idea how to live without my voice, but leaving Dorin doesn’t seem like an option either.

As much as he has hurt me, I’m still eternally grateful for him and the things he’s done for me—the spark he awoke in me, no matter how briefly it shone.

I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get that will to live back, but for now, I need him to know one thing.

I forgive him.

Trying to convey my sincerity through my eyes, I lift my hand and press it to his chest.

I make a slow nod, mouthing the words, I forgive you.

A lost look descends over his features, and his eyes become shiny with tears as he watches my lips like he can’t believe it.

Mirroring his grip on me, I reach up to cup his cheeks as I look him deep in the eyes and mouth the words again.

I forgive you.

It’s like the weight of the world drops from his shoulders as he falls forward, burying his head into my neck.

He pulls my body against his, supporting us in an awkward position with a hand gripping the bed.

His breaths come in shuddery gusts against my neck as he holds me so close I can barely breathe.

I band my arms around him, holding on for dear life.

And I guess it does.

He’s the only thing keeping me here, making me not beg him for death.

Making me want to stay.

Slowly, his ragged breaths calm, his furious grip on me loosens, and he scoots into a more comfortable position, sitting beside me, head still hidden in the crook of my neck.

It’s not until a clipped bark sounds from across the room that he lifts his head.

Uncertainty flickers across his face as he glances behind him to the dog at the door, then to me.

His voice is tentative as he speaks.

“I’d like to introduce you to someone. If that’s okay with you?”

I glance back at the dog.

I’ve felt its presence—heard its sounds—continuously while being here, but have been too numb to see or truly notice the dog.

It’s big and alert but looks friendly enough.

And I trust Dorin to protect me.

So I nod.

“Rex, come here,” Dorin calls, and paws scrape against the floor as the big German Shepherd rushes into the room and rounds the bed.

“Sit,” Dorin orders, just before the dog reaches me.

It drops onto its butt even as it sticks it snout out, sniffing toward me.

“Lavinia, this is Rex. He’s been living with me since he was a small pup, too young to leave his mother.” A hint of sadness crosses his features as he reaches out to stroke the dog’s thick fur.

“I found him in an abandoned house. He was lost and alone, so I took him in.” His eyes roam my face meaningfully as if he realizes that he found me the same way.

Alone and lost.

He took me in.

I feel the resemblance too, and a sense of connection makes me reach for the dog.

“Let him smell your hand first.” Dorin takes my hand and guides it up to Rex’s nose, and he sniffs away eagerly.

I jerk when Rex gives my fingers a big lick, but it’s more out of surprise than fear.

“Easy now, buddy,” Dorin says.

“We don’t want to scare her.” Turning to me, he says, “Rex is very protective of you. He’s sensed that you needed it. He’s been standing at the bedroom door every waking hour and sleeping there to watch over you.”

I look from Dorin to the big dog, almost unable to believe it.

I haven’t done anything to earn their protection, yet somehow, I’ve called upon the protectiveness in both of these two mighty, dangerous creatures.

Leaning into Dorin, I reach out to touch Rex’s fur.

He reacts by sticking his tongue out of his mouth, and his tail sweeps eagerly across the floor as I start stroking.

“Is it okay if he comes closer?” Dorin asks.

I nod.

“Free,” Dorin tells Rex, and he jumps to his feet and scuttles closer, sniffing at my arms and all but climbing into my lap to smell my hair.

I draw back a bit but continue stroking, nonetheless, enjoying his eager exploration and the feeling of his soft fur brushing my skin.

I want to burrow my head into it and give the dog a big hug.

When he keeps sniffing, poking his snout at me and swishing his tail happily, I end up doing it.

I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my head in his fur, feeling a rush of…

life—desire to go on—as I soak up the happy, exuberant energy of the big dog.

He proves to be surprisingly cuddly, angling his head to the side, almost like a cat, when I scratch behind his ear.

He crowds me in return, pressing his head into me in a hug of its own.

When I glance at Dorin, he’s watching us with a stunned expression, full of awe.

A big smile lights up his eyes and makes his lips widen as he holds my gaze, and that’s when I realize I’m smiling.

Hope blooms in my chest.

It’s a careful kernel, but it’s there, and for once, it doesn’t just feel like a small glimmer in the darkness, but a full bright ray of sunshine that might shine upon me.

I don’t dare to believe it might be real, but the feeling remains as Dorin lifts me onto the bed and lies down behind me, stroking me gently while Rex lies before me and I fall asleep with my hands nestled in his fur.