Page 26 of Of Shadows and Blood

“And let me guess…” I start.

“I want you to come up here. Yes.”

My eyes widen at just how high up the platform is. And I’m in a dress.

“I’m not necessarily dressed for such an adventure,” I say, looking up at him with hands on my hips.

“Oh, I’ve never known a woman like you to decline such an adventure on the basis of wearing a dress.”

“All right, fine,” I say, grabbing onto the sides of the trunk.

To my luck, there are little crevices that have been carved on the sides for grip. My sandals scrape against the wood just as Sawyer’s did. My breath heavies as I continue to hoist myself up the pegs, not daring to look down.

As I near the top, my skirt catches on the edge of a bent nail.

“Damn,” I breathe, reaching down carefully to unsnag the fabric, not daring to pull it free in fear of a tear.

“Just rip it through,” Sawyer says, extending a hand.

“One more second,” I hiss, holding onto the platform with one hand, the other still working with the fabric.

My fingers slip from the wood and I tip backwards, only air behind me. I fling my arms back, unable to stop the fall but a firm hand grabs my arm, saving me. My body swings against the trunk before Sawyer finishes hoisting me up onto the platform.

My chest thuds on the planks as I pull my lower half onto the structure. I roll onto my back and stare up at the canopy of trees swaying above me. My breath catches back up to me and I begin laughing. Sawyer joins me on the floor, laughing too.

“I almost just died,” I manage to say in between laughter.

“And I saved you,” he barks, grabbing my hand and pressing it to his chest, beating wildly.

“And you saved me.”

“You remember that,” Sawyer teases, slowly rolling onto his side. Our eyes meet and he releases my hand to reach for my face. I meet his hand as it caresses my cheek, the coarseness of his knuckles a stark reminder of the work he slaves over daily.

“What was it you had in your hands?” I say, glancing down to his pockets.

Sawyer turns his head to the side, confused at first, and then widens his eyes, also remembering the reason he led me from the market.

“Right,” he says as he begins searching his pockets. He pats his front pockets first and then smiles as he feels whatever the object is in his back one. A grin spreads across his face as he slowly pulls out a silver necklace. On the chain is a small, oval-shaped locket with shallow designs etched into it.

“It’s gorgeous,” I breathe, unable to form a thought.

“Just accept it, please,” he says, gently placing it in my palm.

“But the money, it—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he states plainly, eyes still examining the necklace. His words sound like an order to enjoy a small life pleasure.

I roll onto my back and hold the necklace above my face, the locket dangling close to my eyes. The silver is a bit tarnished, a second-hand item, but this loving gesture, the simpleness of it, may very well have broken a piece of me.

“Now I feel bad. I don’t think I have ever given you a gift,” I realize, still examining the locket. The way the light catches certain spots of it is so delicate and beautiful.

“That’s beside the point, Liv.”

“You must really like me…” My words lose me as I catch something peeking out from the seam of the locket.

It takes a moment, but my fingers prove useful as I pry the clasp open.

Inside, a purple flower.