Page 59

Rai began to pull bits and pieces of clothing out of the air, helping Poppy dress and finally pulling on his own jeans.

By then, Poppy was beginning to see what he meant—the cloudscape that had been lush and fluffy around them was starting to wisp away, and the surface beneath her that had seemed so supportive was beginning to feel mushy.

Soggy, even. So she leaned into Rai’s arms, cuddling close to his chest, and he began to fly back south.

The sun had lowered some in the west, though sunset still seemed far away, and soon Rai kissed her forehead and dove back into the clouds, emerging below them into a shadowed drizzle.

She caught a glimpse over his shoulder of their grocery store, rapidly diminishing behind them. So they were almost home.

And he tensed. Almost imperceptibly, but she felt it.

“What’s wrong?” Poppy peered up at his face, his twitching jaw, then tried to crane her neck to see what he was looking at. Was there another storm rolling in? No, he’d smile if that were the case, offer to take her up for round two.

“It is all right,” he said. “It will be all right.” He embraced her tightly, his wings beating faster .

He landed beyond the oleander bush, setting his hands to Poppy’s cheeks and kissing her, hard and fast. She laughed, but nervously. Even his lips were tense. “What’s wrong?” she repeated, because clearly something was.

“I will fix it,” he said. And then he set his hands to her shoulders and slowly turned her to face her mother’s house.

Which had a tree on it.

It wasn’t a whole tree, she realized in the next second.

Half a tree, maybe, a middling piece of mesquite, a largeish branch.

But it was on her mother’s house , its splintered end hanging off the eaves, her mother’s eaves, and oh god had some of the tiles scraped off and her mother was in that house and she was running, splashing through puddles up the steps, slipping a bit on the concrete but then she was on the porch and inside and her mother was there, eyes wide, hands fluttering at her mouth as she paced and paced and paced.

Poppy ran to her, not trying to stop the pacing—that never helped—but joining in, taking her mother’s cold hands in hers—they were so cold, and her cotton dress was damp.

Had she gone outside in the storm? She matched her mother’s steps, murmuring low, comforting words that didn’t make any sense.

But they didn’t have to. They just needed to be words in the right tone of voice.

They turned at the doorway to the kitchen, and she saw Rai, standing stock still in the doorway. He’d slapped on his human guise again, tossed on his white shirt, but the expression on his face was…

What was it? Not confusion, not fear or compassion. She didn’t recognize that expression on his face, not one bit, and for a moment he looked completely alien, human-brown skin or not.

For a moment, she didn’t know him at all.

“Make some tea,” she said, continuing to pace with her mother, trying to slow the steps bit by bit. “Please.”

He nodded, and his face was Rai’s again, determined and fierce. “I will fix it,” he said again and slipped past her into the kitchen.

By the time he returned with two heavy mugsful of chamomile—how well he understood them now, that he knew not to use the fancy china when what was needed was a warm, solid anchor—she’d gotten the pacing to slow, and when Rai offered the tea, her mother stopped in her tracks, cupping the mug gratefully in her hands.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry. You weren’t there. I looked for you and you weren’t… ”

“We’re here now,” Poppy said. She didn’t apologize yet, though she would when her mother was calm again. Safety first. Tears and recriminations later.

Her mother settled into her chair unsteadily.

Poppy sat on the arm of the chair, leaning into a gentle half embrace.

Her mother’s shoulders were still shaking, but less so than before.

Out of the corner of her eye, Poppy saw Rai set the other mug on the coffee table.

He came around behind her, kissed the top of her head, then hesitantly touched Jen’s hair.

“I will fix it,” he said again, his voice low, and he went to the door and out into the dim drizzle.

Poppy watched him go, feeling vaguely sick, but then her mother shuddered again, and she turned her attention back to the soothing.

It took time, time and care, but the tea helped, and when the shudders had given way to occasional quivers, Poppy convinced her mother to change out of her damp dress into warm pajamas, and that helped more, and finally her mother was calm enough that Poppy felt she could start dinner.

Rai had returned in the middle of the process, but had remained silent, watching them with hooded eyes and offering an occasional pat of comfort. He joined her now in the kitchen, face grave.

“I have removed the branches,” he said quietly. “I did not know where to place them, but I broke them further and set them on the ground in the yard.”

Poppy gave him a swift, grateful hug. “Thank you. I’ll Google the next brush pickup later. How bad is the roof?”

“There are a few pieces that came off,” he said. “I tried to put them back in their place, but they will not stay. I cannot repair them.” He sounded bitter.

“Neither can I,” she said. “But I’ll call the roof guys in the morning. There may be some kind of insurance.” She leaned back against the stove, hands gripping the oven handle behind her, and took a deep breath. “Rai, did we do this?”

“We did not choose to throw a branch at your mother’s house,” he said carefully. He did not come closer, just stood stiffly in the center of the floor, watching her.

“No,” she replied, nausea roiling in her stomach again. “We just had crazy sky sex that made lightning and thunder go nuts. We were on the topside, where it was sunny and romantic. What was happening under us?”

He tilted his head at a defiant angle. “We did not cause it to storm. ”

“But we made it worse,” she whispered harshly. “That’s what you told me, that you can make the storm stronger, that the water obeys you.” She couldn’t raise her voice, not without sending her mom on another spiral, but her whisper felt like a scream.

“Mostly,” he replied. “It mostly obeys me. I did not tell it to cause harm. But that is what storms do.” He approached then, reached for her hands, hesitated when she gripped the oven handle tighter. “I would not bring harm to your mother.”

“Except we did. I did.” Poppy closed her eyes. “I didn’t tell her I was leaving. I didn’t even bring my phone. Did you?”

“It was with me, but…” He trailed off, shame on his face.

“Not where you’d hear it chime,” Poppy finished.

“No. It was in faerie.”

“She probably texted both of us. Over and over. That’s what she would have done first. And if I’d been paying attention, it never would have gotten this bad. We did do this. Even if we didn’t make the storm strong enough to damage the roof, we left Mom unprotected and alone. I left her alone.”

He set his hands to her stiff shoulders.

“Poppy, you must not blame yourself.” He kissed her forehead, then her lips, brushes that he must have meant for comfort.

Comfort she couldn’t take yet, and she could tell he knew it, because he took a step back, released her, his hands falling helplessly to his sides.

“Your mother is a fine, brave woman. She does not need your protection at all times.” There was an odd tone in his voice, one that sounded almost like desperation.

“Doesn’t she?” Poppy sighed and forced herself to relax.

“I’m sorry. I came in here to make dinner, not to be a drama queen.

” She took a step forward and let Rai encircle her in his arms, and okay, maybe she could take a little comfort.

Her mom wasn’t the only one to need soothing, and it was foolish to not accept it when offered.

She only had two weeks left with Rai. She should be taking every chance she got for cuddles and sweet words and unflinching support.

Just like the clouds, buoying her up against all reason.

“Thank you,” she murmured into his chest, wishing it didn’t sound like yet another apology. But this wasn’t the time to wallow.

So she started to cook, and a few minutes later, she was able to smile, and then Rai found a way to make her laugh, and by the time she went to let her mother know that dinner was ready, she was mostly fine.

Mostly ready to accept that while she could have made better choices, in the end, no real harm had been done.

Her mother was all right. The roof could be fixed. Everything was fine .

But later on, when she and Rai were cuddled in her bed, she couldn’t help but feel like she was in freefall, dropping like a stone from miles in the air.

And any minute now, she was going to hit the ground.