Page 14 of In Love With the Leshy

“What kind of jam would you like? I have blueberry, raspberry, and brimberry. I suggest the brimberry.”

“What is that?” I ask, forgetting that I’m supposed to be scared silly.

He reaches into holes in the wall and takes out a few cylindrical containers. From the tallest one, he pulls a loaf of bread and rips it into two generous pieces. Next, he sets a few round bowls and two plastic water bottles on the table.

“Here are the blueberry and raspberry. This is brimberry jam,” he says, giving extra attention to the treat in his hand. It’s a variety of citrus and sweet fruits that grow in the forest.” He dips a piece of bread in the strange orange-yellow looking jam and hands it to me.

I take his offering and examine it closely. It looks like someone mixed watermelon with an orange. I sniff the foreign-looking food, not knowing what to expect and preparing myself for a foul scent. It doesn’t smell bad. In fact, there’s a subtly sweet smell that tickles my nose and makes me want to devour it. My stomach growls, urging me to stop wasting time and take a bite.

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to, but I don’t have anything else to offer right now. I don’t usually have company.”

“So the all-knowing Leshy didn’t know I’d be coming for dinner?” I tease. His frown doesn’t look like he appreciates my joke. I need to be more careful. I don’t know what he’s likely to do if he feels I insulted him. “This is fine.” I drum up the courage to take a bite and ignore the feel of his eyes burning into me. “Wow! It’s delicious! Beyond delicious, actually.”

He nods, dipping his bread in the brimberry bowl again. He takes a generous dollop. Before bringing it to his mouth, he looks at me, then back down at the jam soaking into his bread. Looking embarrassed, he uses the edge of the bowl to scrape some of the sticky substance off and return it.

“Brimberry is good for healing. Finish it. I’ll have more tomorrow.” He pauses, and the confidence in his voice disappears. “That way you can have a hearty breakfast before you leave.”

My heart races at his words and the thought of leaving. I need to get out of here as soon as possible because sitting here and talking to him, it’s hard to see him as a strange creature I should be afraid of. Instead, I see a man. A strong yet gentle man who makes my heart race and my mind wonder about the possibilities.

He dips his bread in the blueberry jam and scoops up the remaining contents, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’ll be outside if you need anything.” He takes a few steps away, and my teeth chatter.

I’m cold, hungry, and scared, but I don’t think that’s causing me to tremble. As much as I hate to admit it, the last thing I want is for him to leave me alone.

“Leshy!” I hate that desperation colors my voice.

He turns, and our eyes meet. Lock. In this soft light, the gold sparkles have overtaken his irises again. More than the change in the color of his eyes, I recognize the soft look of affection staring back at me. Something warms inside me. I don’t want to be the cause of sadness creeping back into him.

“Can you stay?”

He takes a step toward me, then stops suddenly. “Are you sure?”

“For a little while. It would be nice if you stayed here and talked to me.”

“Okay.” He nods.

He stays where he is as we engage in a silent stare down. A strange tingling runs up my spine as his eyes pierce mine. I look away, trying to analyze what this reaction means. The quiet makes me nervous. He’s not giving me any insight into what he’s feeling, or if he even has feelings. But I wish he’d say something.

“Why aren’t you eating?” He asks after we watch each other unmoving for a couple of minutes.

“Because you’re staring at me.” I wring my hands, hoping to hide my nerves.

“Didn’t you want me to stay with you?”

“Yes, but to talk, not to watch me. That’s creepy.” I look away, feeling invisible spikes roll up and down my back.

“Sorry.” He walks over slowly, bends down on his haunches, and takes my ankle in his hands. “It’s swollen,” he says, massaging it much more gently than I’d think possible. A healing warmth spreads through me. “Very swollen. I wouldn’t be surprised if you broke it.” He presses on pressure points, causing me to flinch for a second until the pain eases. “Better?” He carefully sets my foot back down on the floor.

“Yes.” I rotate my ankle.

“Keep it still.” He issues the order with a smile as he gets to his feet and reaches into a different set of holes in another wall of the cave. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’ll try to do better,” he says, pulling out another set of containers. “I have a salve that will help that ankle. Do you mind if I put it on you?”

“No.”

He dips a leaf into the salve and uses it to spread the balm over my skin, then covers it with long leaves that wrap around my ankle.

“How does that feel?”

“Kind of warm.”

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