Page 65 of River & Rue

Uncurling stiff fingers from my fork, I smile brightly, blindly, across the table. “For sure. Thanks again for breakfast and, of course, for looking after me last night. I really appreciate it.”

River scrutinizes my expression with too-perceptive eyes, the corner of his mouth tight. I hate how my pathetic heart races under his attention. I hate that I can’t pretend I hate him anymore—or that he hates me. Most of all, I hate that I did this to myself.

After nine long years of heeding storm sirens, last night I walked right into his hurricane.

“Please tell me what’s wrong,” he says softly. “Are you feeling sick? Do you need to lie back down?”

I shake my head. “No, I just…” Something unblocks in my throat, and my voice firms. “I don’t want you to call me Princess.”

His brows draw together, his eyes clouding with confusion. Unable to hold his gaze, I look at the lumpy braid beside his face, at the hot-pink hair tie I picked specifically because it was ridiculous. That he hasn’t taken it out is a unique kind of pain, like peering at happiness through shatterproof glass.

“Okay. I’ll stop.” He pauses. “Do you know why?”

A glimmer of irritation gives me the strength to meet his stare. “Is that a joke?”

His eyes warm, creasing at the edges. “Not why you want me to stop. Why I started calling you Princess.”

My flight instinct, already primed, kicks into overdrive. My knees bounce under the table. My heart pounds like I’m already running. Even knowing I’m so weak I’d probably fall down the porch stairs, it’s a battle to stay seated.

“I assumed it was payback for calling you ‘your highness.’”

River shakes his head. His gaze drifts to the nearest window, but his eyes are slightly unfocused, like he’s seeing more than the sun-dappled trees.

“I can understand why you’d think that, but no. It was just a good excuse.” His jaw tenses and relaxes, and then he looks at me with a small smile. “I’ve called you Princess for years. Only to Ivy, though. I’m surprised she never told you.”

Hurt punches me, too unexpected for me to conceal the resulting flinch.

“Don’t be upset with her. I’m sure she didn’t say anything because she knew you’d take it as an insult.”

“I—I don’t understand.”

“Do you remember the day we met, at Wilder and Eva’s wedding?”

I nod.

“I’d escaped to the trees, hoping if I smoked a joint I wouldn’t feel so angry and bitter on my brother’s big day. Then there you were—an offended goddess of the forest with piercing blue eyes that saw all my flaws. I was a dick, and you told me to eat one.”

I want to ask why he was upset, why he took it out on me, why he’s telling me this now instead of years ago.

But I only say, “I remember.”

His mouth tips into a half smile. “What you don’t know is that right after you left, a bird took a crap on my head.”

My jaw drops. “What?”

He nods, his smile widening. “The whole following week, it was like the animal kingdom collectively decided I was a persona non grata. When I went on runs, dogs chased me, barking. I was stung by a wasp, a squirrel tried to scratch my eyes out, and two more birds used me as a toilet.”

My hands fly to my mouth, muffling a laugh.

River rolls his eyes indulgently. “A few days before I left Seattle, I was roped into babysitting Wilder’s goddaughter, Emma. She was four at the time and obsessed with…” He pauses meaningfully.

I whisper, “Princesses.”

The warmth in his eyes multiplies as he nods. “She wore a costume and tiara and everything. So naturally, when she asked why I was covered in scratches and welts, I told her I’d been a jerk to a magical princess in disguise, and all the animals of the world loved her so much they turned against me. At the time, I had no idea how true the story was.”

I shake my head helplessly. “That’s—I’m not…”

Bracing his elbows on the tiny table, River leans toward me. His nearness holds me hostage as much as the sincerity in his eyes. As much as his voice, low and slow, like a deep current over the gravel of a riverbed.