Page 86 of May: Bloom & Bane

“But the clover…”

“Will also be fine.”

His chest shakes against my cheek in muffled laughter.

“Sage?”

“Mm.”

“I love our clover.”

A loud chuckle finally escapes him. It’s warm and low, and I love the way it wraps around my body.

“I know you do, Saevúra.” He presses his lips to the top of my head. “I know you do.”

* * *

“I want to play a game,” I announce from where I’m draped over the couch like a piece of laundry.

“What kind of game?”

“It’s called Twister.” I sit up too fast, and the whole living room spins around me. I giggle until the room stops moving. “You have a mat with different colored dots, and someone spins a wheel that tells you where to put your hand and feet, and you have to hold that position without falling.”

He waits patiently for me to elaborate.

“That’s it. That’s the whole game.”

He glances at the floor. “I can grow that.”

Ten minutes later, there is a Twister mat in the living room made entirely of spongy moss. Different flowers make up the colored dots: yellow buttercups, red roses, tiny blue forget-me-nots, and green hydrangeas. It’s the most beautiful Twister mat that has ever existed.

“It’s perfect.” I hiccup.

Droot stations himself at the spinner, which is a little petal wheel that Sage grew without being asked. Droot spins it once to test it.

“Droot,” Sage says. “We haven’t started yet.”

Droot ignores him and spins it again, pulsing a very bright neon yellow.

“Right foot, hydrangea,” Sage says, studying the spinner.

I step onto the mat, placing my right foot on a hydrangea. “Sage, hahaha. It’s tickling my foot.”

“I made it extra cushioned, in case you fall.” He chuckles. “Right hand, buttercup.”

Oh, that’s a bit of a stretch. That’s fine. I’m fine. I’m very good at this. Probably.

“Ready for this?” I stretch, and it’s not even close. The moss is very soft, I discover, as I meet it face-first.

“Did you fall?” Sage asks, setting the spinner down.

“I did not. The flower moved.”

Droot chitters, pulsing a flickering peach.

Sage kneels beside me on the moss. His enormous frame somehow folding itself down until he’s eye level with my face, pressed into the Twister mat.

“Do you want to try again?”