Page 88 of Gift from the Tree

I growl my irritation at his stupid fucking three-word response, with no explanation. I hate it when he does this. It’s either silence or a couple words here and there. He’s not one for pointless words or pretty compliments, and it drives me up the wall.

We start down the running trail like normal, but to the right, about halfway around the lap, there’s a very narrow path that we’ve never taken, and that’s the route he veers off on.

On each side, just a few feet away from us, are huge trees that conceal the forest and all its inhabitants behind them. They’re larger than any redwood I’ve ever seen, and that speaks volumes about their ancient age. Finally, the path opens about half a mile down to a clearing, and the sight takes my breath away.

The clearing isn’t as large as the one that surrounds my willow, but it’s still large enough that the enormous tree that stands just as tall as the others has plenty of room for its branches to spread out. Craning my neck, I can barely make out the tree house that’s hidden behind the canopy of leaves at the top.

“Tillman, what is this place?” I ask in awe.

“If you can make it to the top, I’ll let you see. You can use your air to help you climb, but you can’t propel yourself up.” He challenges and it lights a fire in my veins, flooding my blood with curiosity that isn’t going to be sated until I give it what it wants.

I don’t waste another second before I launch myself on the lowest branch, hauling my legs up and repeating the process over and over. I’m only halfway up, and my arms are already burning, but the excitement in my chest burns brighter. Pausing to look around for Tillman, I find him bending the limbs to his will, walking up them casually like we’re on a stroll through the park.

“Hey, not fair,” I teasingly complain.

A sound that seems to defy the brooding persona he carefully carries around me momentarily steals my attention. The timbre of Tillman’s laughter, deep, resonant, is like uncovering an unknown magical territory, a secret hidden away so well, only few have the privilege of ever finding it. The vulnerable, unguarded look on his face knocks me off my feet. Literally.

Before I can catch myself, I slip off the branch, arms flailing around, trying to grab on to something to save myself from this fall. There’s nothing and I’m about to start colliding with branches the whole way down when strong arms wrap around my waist, hoisting me back up, holding on tight while I get my balance.

“I’ve got you, little one. Keep going. Don’t give up,” he whispers in my ear, causing a shiver to ripple down my spine. For some reason, other than turning me on, his words fill me with a determination to get to the top. A need to prove to him I can do this.

After what feels like ages, I finally crest the top, heaving myself over onto the treehouse’s landing, jumping up and down, pumping my fist, and doing a little happy dance.

“I did it. Fuck yes, how about that shit.” I turn, searching Tillman out with a huge smile on my face.

“You did. You only almost fell to your death once.” He graces me with a small smirk.

Not the enthusiasm I was looking for, but I’ll take it. Turning my back to him, I take my first look around, and I’m immediately struck by the most stunning view of the forest. We’re just high enough that I can see the tops of all the other trees that stretch on for miles and miles. It’s like looking over a rippling sea of green, flowing with the currents of the wind.

Walking over to the door, I try pushing my way through, only for it to shove my ass right back. I would’ve hit the floor if Tillman’s body hadn’t blocked my fall. Our difference in size has never been so stark as it is right now. It’s no wonder he called me little one. His forearm nearly stretches from the underside of my breast to my belly button, and two of me could easily cuddle up on his chest.

“You’re gonna get yourself in trouble, Will, entering places without permission.” His tone falls short on being stern and comes across as more of a heated dare.

“May I see inside?” I ask breathlessly.

Reaching around me, he places his hand on the door, and I can feel his magic flowing across my skin in a gentle, protective caress. Tugging in my chest, I assume my own magic, tries its hardest to break free and caress his back, but I shove that shit down as deep as I possibly can, not willing to embarrass myself on the top of a damn four-hundred-foot tree.

Focusing on what’s happening in front of me, I stare amazed as the door shimmers out of sight, leaving an opening for us to walk through. His soft push is the only permission I need before I rush forward to finally sate the insistent need to know what he’s hiding all the way up here.

In the center of the completely open space, the tree continues to grow through the roof, its branches extending to form the canopy above. The roomy area has large windows that provide panoramic views of the surrounding forest and a huge bed, suspended in the air by vines, is situated perfectly to capture either the rising or setting sun. The walls are constructed from a combination of vines, greenery, and stones, seamlessly mixing the elements of the earth to create this beautiful haven.

“What is this place, Tillman?” I don’t turn to look at him, allowing my eyes to absorb everything I can.

“This is where I come when the thoughts get to be too much, too overwhelming. I’ve always run, climbed trees, done whatever I could to escape the never-ending noise when it became too much. It didn’t take me long to figure out how to block it all out, but before that happened, I’d already created this place, and over the years, I’ve continued to just make it my own. My hideaway,” he admits quietly.

Tears burn in the back of my eyes. When I told him the other day about how I would run and climb trees to escape the estate and Donald, I figured he just ignored me, and that hurt more than admitting it in the first place. But he didn’t ignore me, he listened.

“Why are you showing me your hideaway?” I slowly turn toward him, emotions clogging my throat.

“I figured you may need a place to hide away every now and then. I could bring you here when you need that.” His words are said with complete surety, but I can see the vulnerability behind his eyes, like he’s afraid I’ll reject his kind gesture.

“I’d love that. Thank you, Tillman,” I say genuinely, holding his eyes so he can see and hear the appreciation I have for this in my mind. It feels like a monumental moment for us, and I want him to know I truly am thankful.

He lets me wander around, never correcting me or fussing at me for touching and going through all his things. The only thing I don’t bother with is the bed. It feels a little too personal to just curl up and make myself at home in a bed he uses to relax in.

After a while, he ushers me out the door, and instead of making me climb down the limbs, he creates a stairway out of the branches, and we walk our way down and jog back to the house in silence, comfortably basking in the afternoon glow.

“I need to go meet with the guys about some developments from the team that’s scouting the camp. Corentin said you can head on up to the lounge and we can all have dinner there,” Tillman says as he pushes his communicator back into his pocket.

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