Lynette Noni

“You don’t know,” she said hoarsely. “I can’t lose him.”
Jaren reached for her face, gently wiping away her tears. “Sweetheart, I know.”

“So,” Kiva said, “most men are pigs.”

’m allocating him to you for orientation.”

“Take off your shirt and lie down.”
“I’m flattered, but we barely know each other.”

“Jaren can help you,” Naari told Tipp. “He’s good with his hands.”

Tilda, of course, didn’t answer

But, Papa, the endings are the best part.

Sometimes, sweetheart. But other times, the beginnings are.

It was only when she’d cried her last that sleep finally found her, and she drifted off wrapped in Jaren’s embrace, feeling safe and protected for the first time in years.

“We should get back in there,” she said, pointing to the infirmary. “I just . . . I just needed a minute.” She made herself meet Jaren’s eyes. “Thank you. For being here.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Kiva,” he said softly. “You’re not in this alone. Any of it.”

Jaren held her tighter, rubbing her back soothingly. “Shhh. I’ve got you.”

Tear after tear fell from Kiva, all her fear and sorrow flooding out of her, until finally her sobbing eased, giving way to exhaustion.

In a rasping whisper of a voice, her words full of anguish, Kiva repeated, “I can’t lose him, Jaren.”

“I know,” he whispered back, still holding her close, his arms curled tightly around her.

She pulled away just enough to look up at him, meeting his concerned blue-gold gaze.

“You don’t know,” she said hoarsely. “I can’t lose him.”

Jaren reached for her face, gently wiping away her tears. “Sweetheart, I know.”