Page 20 of The Knotty Clause

“Come on!” Liam tugged at their hands, pulling both of them towards the hearth.

Yede lifted Liam up so he could reach the mantel, holding him securely as her son carefully arranged the ornaments. Liam’s laughter filled the room as he directed their placement.

“They’re beautiful,” she said when they’d finished, and Liam grinned at her.

“We should make more!”

“Not right now.” She put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you take a break?”

“But I’m not tired.” His face was already drooping. “I need to finish…”

He yawned, and she couldn’t help but smile. Her son was always the most stubborn when he was the most tired.

“Why don’t I tell you a story?”

“Okay,” he agreed reluctantly, but he snuggled close to her on the couch.

Yede settled next to her, his thigh once again pressing against hers. The heat of his body enveloped her like a comforting blanket. As she spun a tale of adventurous princes and brave princesses, his hand crept over to take hers. The small gesture felt like the most natural thing in the world, as if they’d done it countless times before. As if they were a family.

CHAPTER 10

Yede was dreaming. Sunlight bathed a garden filled with the vibrant flowers of his home world. Their scent filled the air, mingled with the cool air drifting down from the surrounding mountains—the scent of home.

Liam darted between the flower beds, his brown curls catching golden highlights in the sun. His small hands reached out to touch the petals as he ran, pure joy radiating from his face. The boy’s laughter echoed through the garden, light and musical.

Gemma chased after him, her loose braid swinging behind her. Her bare feet barely touched the ground as she moved, graceful and free. She paused to look back at him, her green eyes sparkling with mischief. With love.

Liam called out to him, waving from behind a tall patch of silver-petaled flowers. Gemma’s laughter joined her son’s, the sound weaving together in perfect harmony. The joy in their voices filled every corner of the garden, every space in his being.

She stretched out a hand towards him, calling him to join her. He wanted to take that hand, to feel the warmth of her touch. To feel the warmth of family again.

Before he could, a low rumble disturbed the peace. Dark clouds rolled across the sky, obscuring the sun and casting the garden into a twisted maze of shadow. Thunder cracked overhead, and the flowers withered into blackened stalks. He couldn’t see them any more.

“Gemma! Liam!” His voice echoed through the darkness as their laughter turned distant, coming from all directions at once.

He charged down the garden paths, his feet pounding against earth that seemed to shift beneath him. The paths stretched and warped, leading nowhere. His heart hammered against his ribs as panic clawed at his throat.

“Where are you?”

He searched desperately through the increasing darkness. A flash of auburn hair disappeared around a corner. The sound of running feet pulled him forward. There!

Gemma’s outline emerged from the shadows, her eyes wide with terror and Liam clutched in her arms. They stood at the edge of a growing void, their forms beginning to fade.

“No!”

He lunged forward, his hand outstretched, reaching for them. For a moment, he felt the brush of Gemma’s skin against his palm?—

They dissolved like smoke through his grasp, swallowed by the darkness, and the void expanded, consuming everything, even his anguished cry.

He jerked awake with a violent gasp, his body aching as if he’d run for miles, and stumbled away from the sleeping bench. The nightmare clung to him like cobwebs, impossible to brush away. He needed to see them, to know they were all right.

He was halfway down the corridor before he came to a halt.

I can’t do this.

If losing them in his dreams caused this much pain, how would he ever survive losing them in reality. He had to bring this to an end now, rebuild his walls, protect what was left of himself. He returned to his workshop, every step like wading through knee-high mud, and closed the door behind him with trembling hands. The door he hadn’t closed since the first day he’d brought them here.

The familiar scent of metal and oil wrapped around him as he turned to his workbench. The projects scattered across the surface were tangible things he could hold onto, problems he could solve.

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