Grandfather, It’s Me

Aaron

I could hear her quick footsteps behind me, her sandals tapping on the stone pavers as she struggled to keep up. “Aaron!”

“What?!” 1 rounded on her and she stopped short, skidding to a stop a few feet from where I stood. She had followed me out of the garden and across the wide stone walkway that led from the castle to the outskirts of the village below. “What, Maeve?”

“Why did you just walk away? I was talking,”

“I don’t want to talk about that day, alright? I’m sorry I’m not-not practically deformed, like you assumed.”

Her mouth dropped open for a second, then she snapped it shut, her sapphire eyes narrowing into cat-like slits. “I never said you were deformed!”

“You thought I should have been. Your memory is lacking, Maeve. How old were you? Six? Seven?”

“I was ten, Aaron-”

Ah, see? How much could you possibly remember from back then?” Sweat was prickling on my brow. I dug my fingernails into the palm of my hands, waiting for her reply.

Oh, Maeve was an open book. Every emotion danced across her face. She had no control of the furious red blush that spread across her cheeks and neck. She was a vision in the cream-colored set she was wearing, the loose fabric trembling in the breeze. Her hair was falling over her shoulders, long and bleached a vibrant golden color that reminded me of the vivid sunsets back home, when the sun turned the ocean a warm, pinkish orange as it dipped below the horizon.

She was beautiful. I couldn’t deny it. I wanted to reach out and touch the half-moon scar on her chest as she stood in front of me, slicing into my soul with her gaze. She had freckles all along her collarbones, surrounding the scar like constellations in a

cloudless sky.

I would draw her like this, standing in the field with the sun behind her and golden blades of grass at her feet, just like I had drawn her the night after I met her for the first time in the market, drawing her with her mouth stretched into a wide, full smile and her

eyes creased with laughter.

“What are you staring at?” she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. Oh, there it was the one part of her I couldn’t capture with my pencil. That look behind her eyes whenever she was vexed, something like excitement. Something that told me she would always have the last word.

“You look like a scarecrow,” I said flatly, knowing my comment would send a fresh ripple of emotion through her features. She did, in my defense, have on a ridiculous wide-brim straw hat.

She closed the distance between us, her chin jutted forward, and her eyes narrowed into slits as she looked up at me. “I’m being serious!”

“So am I, I caught her by the wrist as she attempted to swing at me, my mouth twitching into a smile as she struggled against my grip. Maeve had every attribute of someone who had grown up with boys, especially brothers. She wasn’t the meek, submissive type of female so prevalent across the pack lands. No, Maeve was a powerhouse. But so was I.

So when she attempted to knee me in the groin, I caught her by the thigh, tossing her sideways into the tall grass.

She scoffed as she stood, picking pieces of grass from her hair and securing the hat snuggly on her head. Oh, she was seething. I knew this was exactly what she wanted.

She had been avoiding me since the night she came into my room, sliding into my bed the day after the storm. It had been totally innocent, of course, but the kiss hadn’t been, and I knew she felt the same way. I only ever saw her during dinner, and even then her conversation was short and directed at Gemma rather than myself.

Seeing today in the garden had just been chance, and I could tell by the look in her eye that she had mischief on her mind. She wanted a fight, for whatever reason, and I had never turned down a fight in my life.

“Is that all you got?” I said, balling my hands into fists and crouching, egging her on.

She inhaled, nostrils flaring.copy right hot novel pub