Page 35 of Jayce

As I look at him, the longing I buried all those years ago stirs within me. My desire for the reassurance and stability that his presence promises springs to life.

His hands, weathered yet strong, are hands I need holding me. Hands that have the power to help me navigate the memories that threaten to engulf my every waking moment.

In him, I see a beacon of hope in a world that’s betrayed me too many times.

Only seconds have passed, but it feels like an eternity. He grabs my hand and croaks one word. “Mate.”

That word is all I need to shake myself from this fairytale that I don’t have time for.

“Idiot. Get up. I don’t have time for you. Where are they? Do you know where they are?” I must make him understand.

I notice his eyes roam as if unwillingly. I pivot to see what pulls his gaze from mine.

“Why don’t we have a seat while we wait for someone who can help you find them?” He puts his arm around me and coaxes me to a table.

“We must find them. Warn them. He knows.”

“Trust me, mate. We will. I’m Damian. Might I know your name?”

Damian. My Damian.

“Stop with this mate stuff. My daughters’ lives are at stake. Bring them to me.”

I sit because he gives me no other choice.

It feels as if Damian is purposely keeping me distracted. I’ll play along temporarily before all the hurt and rage buried inside flies out of me in his direction. Mate or not.

“Are you hungry?” Damian waves over a heifer waiting tables.

The men forbid the females in our herd from leaving the labyrinth and ensured that none of us ever worked outside of the home.

“My girls. Please.” I choke back tears.

He pushes the hair back that I keep arranging over my face to hide my scar. “Trust me.”

I huff and smooth my hair back down.

Damian grabs my wrist before I can accomplish my task. The gentleness in his touch is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. “I thought you were dead. I’ve wondered about this face every day. Please don’t take this from me.”

I sink back against the booth. His arm slides around me. As surely as an apple falls from a tree and hits the ground, my head falls against his body.

I have no other choice but to trust him.

“Emjay.”

“MJ? Is that your name?”

I nod without lifting my head.

“What do the M and the J stand for?”

“It’s not initials. It’s E-M-J-A-Y. Emjay.”

“Cool. I like it.”

I smile. I picked the name myself after I ran away. A story for another day.

We sit in silence for a while, both content to have found what we’d lost.

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