Chapter Twelve — The Space Between Leaving and Wanting to Stay
771 Words
They lingered on the blanket long after the food was gone, sunlight drifting through the branches in lazy gold ribbons. Anwen plucked a blade of grass and twisted it between her fingers, her smile soft and unguarded.
“I can’t remember the last time I laughed this much,” she said.
Silas swallowed, pretending the warmth in his chest wasn’t spreading. “Me neither.”
Ink strutted across the blanket like he owned it, pecking at the last crumb of cookie. Silas reached for it, but Ink hopped back triumphantly.
“He’s impossible,” Anwen said, laughing.
“He’s a menace,” Silas corrected.
Ink cawed, deeply offended.
They fell into a comfortable quiet, the kind that didn’t need filling. The forest hummed around them, leaves whispering overhead like they were part of the conversation. A soft breeze curled around the blanket, carrying the scent of pine and warm earth.
Anwen brushed crumbs from her skirt—then winced. Just a flicker. Her hand drifted to her stomach before she caught herself.
Silas noticed. “You okay?”
She straightened quickly. “Oh—yes. I just ate too fast.” She waved it off with a small smile. “I always do that when I’m happy.”
Silas frowned, unconvinced. “Or maybe you worked too hard today. We did fix all the shutters.”
“That’s true,” she admitted. “I’m not used to doing so much in one morning.”
“I can come back tomorrow,” he said before he could stop himself. “For the stove. You shouldn’t push yourself.”
Her eyes softened. “You’d really come back again?”
He looked away, ears warming. “Yeah. I… don’t mind helping.”
Ink tapped his head once, like finally.
Anwen laughed, softer this time. “Then I’d like that. Very much.”
The sun had shifted, shadows stretching long across the clearing. Anwen glanced toward the treeline.
“You should probably get home before your dad worries.”
Silas didn’t move.
He didn’t want to.
But she was right.
“Yeah,” he said, reluctant. “He’ll… probably ask how it went.”
Anwen’s smile brightened. “Tell him thank you. For the lunch.”
“I will.”
They stood together, neither stepping away at first. The air between them felt warm, charged, like the forest itself was holding its breath. Anwen tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, shy in a way that made Silas’s heart thud once, hard.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said.
“You will,” he answered, certain.
Ink fluttered to her shoulder, watching him go with a knowing tilt of his head.
The forest parted for Silas again as he walked home, branches lifting like they knew he’d be back.
The path felt shorter this time. Lighter. He kept replaying her laugh—the soft one, the bright one, the one she tried to hide when Ink stole the cookie. He replayed the way her eyes warmed when she said she’d like him to come back. The way her breath hitched when their hands brushed. The way she said his name like it meant something.
He didn’t know what any of it meant.
He just knew he wanted more of it.
The forest seemed to hum with him, branches swaying overhead like they approved of whatever was happening inside his chest.
His dad was waiting on the porch, wiping his hands on a rag like he’d been standing there for a while.
“Well?” his dad asked, trying and failing to sound casual.
Silas set the lunch box down, cheeks warming. “It was… good.”
His dad raised an eyebrow. “Just good?”
Silas groaned. “Don’t start.”
His dad laughed—soft, knowing—and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You did good today, kid.”
Silas didn’t argue.
Not this time.
Later, lying in bed, Silas stared at the ceiling while the forest wind whispered outside his window.
He replayed everything:
Anwen’s smile when he arrived. Her laugh when Ink tapped his head. The way she said his name. The tiny wince she tried to hide. The warmth in her voice when she said she’d like him to come back. The way the forest felt different around her—softer, brighter, alive.
He pressed a hand over his chest, feeling that strange, blooming ache again. It wasn’t unpleasant. Just… new. Unfamiliar. A warmth that lingered long after the moment had passed.
He didn’t know what was happening.
But he knew he wanted tomorrow to come faster.
- Writer
