Page 127 of My Summer Girl

“I want to take you somewhere, if you’re free,” I express, not wanting to assume she’d sacrifice her busy schedule for my whims. Between her eyebrows, anxiety is etched there. I understand that look. For every day of my life, I sacrificed each moment I could have enjoyment—no matter how miniscule—just to make my world spin for others.

“It’s no big deal if you can’t get away,” I tack on, feeling an ache build in my chest. Her expression softens as she sits down at her vanity, starting to brush her beautiful green hair.

“I’ll make time, princess.” The words aren’t forced, but I know how anxiety-inducing it is to say them, even if she means every word. I put out my palm, silently asking for her brush, and sigh in relief when she hands it to me.

There’s this part of me that’s a caregiver, a need to soothe and fix while also forcing others to enjoy things. I am aware that it is likely a coping mechanism due to the dysfunctional nature of my family, but regardless, I find myself unable to control the urge when it arises.

Parting her hair into sections, I take the brush, starting from the bottom of her hair and working my way upward. There aren’t many kinks or knots, but I’m still gentle. Much more than my mamá ever was for me. She broke several brushes on me and Di growing up, treating our curls like Val’s softer ones, not realizing his were much smoother and easier to contain.

When she starts to twist some floral pieces into her hair and onto one of her horns, I stop her, remembering what I wanted to ask her.

“Let me,” I suggest, reaching forward. Adoration sparkles in the greens of her eyes at me. My fingers hold onto the floral vines she has, twisting them around her horns. Each one has thorns and vines wrapped and I weave the little flowers through them.

When my fingers linger too long on the horn, she shudders, and I just know they have a keen sensitivity like Vex’s do. “So beautiful.”

Her cheeks darken with a flush. Seeing her soften for me is my favorite thing about her. “Thank you, princess.” Emotion fills her voice and I lean forward, reaching for her mouth. She doesn’t pull back, but closes the distance. Her palms slide to my chin, gripping with reverence. “The sweetest creature.” It’s a coo, soft and meaningful.

“Just wanted to help, mi reina,” I whisper, my breath coming in heavier pants. Something about how close we are and how her eyes are entirely focused on me makes me feel like goo. If she lets go, I’ll simply fall to the ground in a plop.

“You’re so good at it.”

The praise makes my heart hammer quicker. I know I need to ask her about the newfound flowers sprouting from her vines. She’s not mentioned them, but I think it’s more of realizing they’re there than anything else.

“Have you always had flowers on your vines?” I ask, breaking our little moment. As if just noticing for the first time, her eyes widen and she peers at her arms, spotting the yellow flowers. They’re a bit more unfurled than when we were in bed together.

“W-when did these show up?” she stumbles over the question, her breathing coming faster, almost shakily, reminding me of my own panic attacks.

“Ver?”

Her chest rises and falls more and more rapidly, her eyes blinking as tears escape. “How long, Dulce?”

I eye her, my gaze dancing over her panicked one. Pressing my hands to her shoulders, I try grounding her by holding her.

“They came the day we... you know,” I breathe out, not sure why I’m not saying the words. It’s not like I’m shy or a prude, but saying we simply fucked when it meant so much more to me seems to cheapen it.

“This is...” She pauses, touching the flowers as if they’re the answer to every question she’s ever had. “Something to deal with later. Where did you want to take me, princess?”

Her tone is suspiciously calm, almost like all her emotions have been shoved into a box. Standing up, she grabs my hand and leads me toward the door.

We weave through the hall and down several sets of stairs. Each area that leads us to the main entrance has me wanting to gnaw my hand off. Without Raev and Vex, I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed and lost. Are they having doubts?

When the main doors are opened by Alessand, Vera reaches for my palm. Possessively, she claims me in front of him and the other guard at the door. Outside in the middle of the field sits my dragon companion, like he knew I’d want to see him. He’d flown away days ago and I thought I may have seen the last of him.

Guess it’s good to be wrong.

“Is that Dormir from the legends?” she murmurs, awestruck. Her eyes are wide saucers and her hand clenches mine like she may faint.

I nod. “It is. He saved me.”

“Saved?” The word is full of exasperation. Turning her gaze away from the dragon, she peers at me. “What happened?” I run over the events in the lake: being dragged under, the connection to Dormir, and the way he protected me.

“He’s been with me since.”

“Raevar allowed you to get taken?”

I clench my jaw, wanting to de-escalate her anger. “You can’t blame him,” I implore, bringing her knuckles to my lips. Leaving a brief kiss, I hope my eyes convey my honesty. “He couldn’t have prepared for it.” She doesn’t seem convinced with those words. “Think of it this way, if the siren-lady didn’t drag me under, we wouldn’t have him.” I point at the dragon very attuned to the conversation we’re having.

Her attention goes back to my companion. He’s more poised, his neck extended as he trots toward us. I take the hand of hers I’m holding, reaching out to him. We leave our hands about a foot away, allowing him to choose whether he wants us to touch him or not. His head bows at her, the glint in his glowing eyes telling me he’s accepted her.

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