Page 76 of River & Rue

“Has Ivy told you my real name? The name I was born with?”

River’s gaze lifts, curious yet cautious. There’s a hint of stiffness in his shoulders. Perhaps, like me, he senses impending impact.

“Your name isn’t Rue?”

I smile slightly. “It is now. I legally changed it to Rue St. James when I was nineteen. But I was born Prudence Baker.”

Shock flares in his eyes. “Really?”

I nod, my gaze drifting to a nearby tree. A bird watches us from a low branch, black-crested head angled inquisitively.

“Ironic, right? My parents, the respectable Chasity and Robert Baker, were hoping for a sensible, modest daughter. They got me instead—a girl who climbed trees and skinned her knees and befriended the neighborhood raccoons.”

River’s silence is a tilted cup, expectant but not demanding. I pause, waiting for that clench in my stomach, the warning that I’ve already said too much. But it doesn’t come.

The bird sidesteps on the branch, then settles.

“When Teddy started talking, he couldn’t say Prudence. He called me Poo for a while.” My lips twitch at the memory. “Prue stuck for a bit, but then I became Rue. Always Rue. Our mother hated it. It probably reinforced her fear that no matter how hard she tried to mold me into Prudence, I’d never be that girl. Rue became a secret between Teddy and me. My true identity, only safe in our bedroom or in the trees. I chose St. James because of Teddy too. He…”

My throat closes. River’s hand covers my clenched one, surprising me into a swift inhale. He guides our palms together, then threads his fingers through mine. When he squeezes gently, I feel it all over. A hug of comfort and support that reminds me I’m not alone.

“You can stop if you want,” he says. “I think that more than qualifies.”

I lick my lips, considering his offer. Then I shake my head. I’m mid-fall, after all. There’s no thwarting gravity.

“Teddy and I shared a bedroom growing up. He had trouble falling asleep when he was little, so he’d crawl into bed with me. I’d read to him by flashlight, the comforter over our heads so our parents wouldn’t see the light. That lasted a few years before we were caught. Part of our punishment was losing the privilege of books in our bedroom.

“That’s when I started telling stories. We had a few that evolved over the years, but Teddy’s all-time favorite was about an intrepid teenager named Lucky St. James. He was an interdimensional traveler whose planet had been destroyed, so he zipped around the universe, exploring and searching for a place to call home. So there you have it—Rue St. James.”

Our avian listener tilts his black-crested head and blinks. Wings flutter and stretch wide. He hops off the branch, trusting he’ll survive the fall. And he does—he flies.

“Thank you for telling me,” River says softly.

I glance at him from the corner of my eye. He’s staring into the middle distance, a faint frown creasing his brow. My hand is still in his. I know he’d release me if I pulled away, but I don’t.

“If you ever call me Prudence, I’ll tie you down and pluck out your eyelashes.”

Aureate eyes flash my way, glinting with amusement, but his expression is solemn. “I’d never. I can’t think of any name less suited to you.”

My lips curl the tiniest bit. “Are you calling me reckless?”

“I wouldn’t go that far. You’re spontaneous. Whimsical.”

I laugh. “All right, Thesaurus. Your turn.”

River nods, his gaze dropping to his lap. The change in him is subtle—a slow-growing stillness, tightness that isn’t quite tension. I see it for what it is. Armor.

His fingers flex against mine.

“A secret never spoken, huh?”

“Same rules apply, so it can be something I don’t know.”

He nods. “You probably know I moved overseas at twenty. Did Ivy tell you why?”

I hesitate, thinking. “All I remember is that you had a big opportunity.”

He nods. “A street art agency based in London reached out. Courted me. They offered living accommodations, supplies, a monthly stipend. They already had a waiting list of clients and contracts. It was a huge break.”